Chapter 53

  Arc 5 - Ch 6: Bck Widow

  Date: Tuesday, May 31, 2011.

  Location: Randy’s Donuts, Inglewood, CA

  The m sun cast its warm glow across the Los Angeles cityscape, bathing the buildings in a soft, golden light. Atop the iidy's Donuts sign, Tony Stark, still wearing the red and gold Iron Man armor, sat leisurely in the giant donut with a box of donuts resting in his p. Though his posture was rexed, it cked the charisma and heroism typically associated with the man ihe suit. His helmet was retracted, instead, he wore dark suhat did little to hide the evidence of his headache from the previous night's drinking, or the fight, likely both.

  The se was ical yet vaguely discerting. There sat Tony, seemingly disected from the world around him, lost in his thoughts. The Iron Man armor that usually symbolized strength noeared to be little more than a gilded shell he was hiding behind.

  The peaceful m tranquility tly shattered by the arrival of a bck sedan pulling up to the curb. As the car doors opened, a man emerged exuding an air of authority and calm and. a long bck coat and sp his iic eye patch was SHIELD Director Nick Fury. With an irritated scowl, Fury strode purposefully toward the restaurant.

  "Sir!" Fury called out, "I'm going to have to ask you to exit the donut."

  Stark seemed momentarily taken aback by the sudden appearance of the spymaster. Rec quickly, Tony reached up with a casual yet deliberate motion and slowly slid his sungsses down his he absurdity of the situation was not lost oher man. But beh the surface humor, both uood the gravity underlying Fury's arrival.

  This was no social call.

  Mier, the unlikely pair sat across from each other in a vinyl booth within the donut shop's interior. Stark was still encased in the Iron Man armor and looked out of p the humble setting. Leaning back against the booth's cracked faux leather, he studied Fury with weary resignation. Breaking the heavy sileweeony quipped sardonically, "I told you, I don't want to join your super secret boy band."

  Fury, unruffled by Tony's sarcasm, responded, "No, no, no. I remember you do everything yourself. How's that w out for you?" His tone remained light, but his words hi the greater issues Tony faced.

  "It's, it's, it's..." Sensing the seriousness lurkih the surface of Fury's words, Tony attempted to steer the versation onto a more frivolous ta. "I'm sorry, I don't want to get off on the wrong foot here. Do I look at the eyepatch or the eye? Holy, I'm a little hungover and there was this illusionist at my birthday party st night. I don't even know if you're real right now."

  Fury leaned forward, his lone eye b into Tony's intensely. "I am very real. I'm the realest motherfucker you're ever going to meet." His words left no room to doubt the gravity of his presence.

  Somewhat disarmed by the direess of Fury's respoony half-joked in exasperation, "Just my luck." Looking around the empty shop, he added, "Where is the staff in this pyway?"

  Tony surveyed the shop as Fury focused on the discoloration marring Tony's neck. It was a ing sign of paldium poisoning from the arc reabedded in his chest. With a tone of sarcasti, Fury ented, "That's not looking so good."

  Tony's hand instinctively went to his neck, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his face at the observation. The tense versation was interrupted by heels clig fidently across the floor, heralding new arrivals. Natasha Romanoff, known privately to Tony as 'Natalie Rushman', strode purposefully into view, with anure at her side; someoony hadn't expected to see in this text. Mirage.

  Natasha addressed the men at the table in a professional tone. "We've secured the perimeter. Surprisingly easily with the help of our sultant."

  Tony, still seated, looked up at Natalie over the rim of his sungsses, a gesture veying his attempt to grasp her ued appearance. He looked at Mirage and asked, is she real?" Mirage nodded. After a brief pause, Tourned his attention to Natalie and decred, "You're fired." slurring slightly, a remnant of his earlier drunkenness,

  Natasha unfazed by the pronou, responded crisply, "That's not up to you." Her words were a biting remihat Tony was no longer in charge of the pany that bore his name.

  Seizing the moment, Fury introduced the two properly. "Tony, I want you to meet Agent Romanoff. And you already know our sultant, Mirage."

  Mirage stepped forward, adding, "Don't feel bad, she got me too. Posed as my gym teacher for a while."

  Tony, always quick with a quip, replied, "A little hot for teacher, huh? Not surprised it worked."

  Fury interrupted Tony before he tinued, "You should be thanking Mirage here. His impromptu illusion show covered up your disastrous birthday battle."

  Tony sidered Fury's words for a long moment, his expression softening as he reized the truth. Setting aside his usual bravado, Tony ture aended his sihanks for the man's assistahe previous night. Mirage nodded in aowledgment as Tony's attention shifted back to the woman he had known as Natalie Rushman when she began speaking.

  "I'm a SHIELD shadow," she stated bluntly, her voice devoid of apology. "Once Director Fury became aware of your illness, I was assigo you."

  Tony absorbed this new information, leaning ba his chair with his elbow propped oable and his resting in his hand. "Well then, Natalie, or whatever your real name is, I suggest you apologize." His words held a biting mix of sarcasm and seriousness.

  Fury's unpromising voice cut through the tension, "You've been very busy tely, Stark. Handing your pany over to yirl, giving away all your stuff. Hell, you eve your friend Rhodes fly off with one of your suits." His tone was accusatory, highlighti erratid foolish decisions Tony made. "Now, if I didn’t know better…"

  Tony's expression darkened defensively at the criticism. Though, when he spoke, everyone heard the resignation in his voice. "You don’t know better. I didn't give Rhodes the suit. He took it."

  Fury looked incredulous, "He took it? You're supposed to be Iron Man, and he just took it? The little brother walked in there, kicked your ass, and took your suit?" Disbelief dripped from Fury's words. The director turo Natasha, one eyebrow raised iion. "Is that even possible?"

  Natasha responded evenly, "Acc to Stark's database security protocols, multiple redundancies prevent unauthorized usage of the suits."

  Mirage interrupted, using his unique abilities. With a casual wave of his hand, the air before them seemed to ripple and waver, a shimmering illusion maed ience just above the table. Stark and Fury looked on, as the image crified into a vivid split-s proje, capturing every detail of the battle from the previous night with stunning crity.

  On the left, was War Mae, and to the right was Iron Man. The two faced each other down iony's decimated home.

  Tysoed the illusionary se to highlight Tony's words.

  "You think you've got what it takes to wear that suit?"

  "You want to be the War Mae?"

  "Take it!"

  With those final shouted words, the proje dissolved into wisps of curling mist, leaving a weighty sileony's expression was clouded, the repy affeg him despite his outward nonce. He turo study Mirage with newfound resped curiosity.

  "Caught that, huh?" he mused, grudgingly impressed, "Pretty sharp. Are you sure you're just a kid?"

  Mirage replied lightly, "Yup. Don't be too impressed. I went over the fight dozens of times before I realized."

  Tyson ed to mention that he had watched the ematic battle tless times in his previous life.

  Tony turned back to Fury and Natasha, his expression shifted from defeo inquisitive. "What do you want from me?" he asked them directly.

  Fury maintained his authoritative posture, unmoved by Tony's shift in demeanor. "What do we want from you?" he responded sharply. "No. What do you want from me? You've bee a problem. A problem I have to deal with. trary to your belief, you are not the ter of my universe." His words were biting, making it clear that Tony's as had broader implications than the billionaire realized.

  The bluntness of Fury's response visibly took Tony aback. "Yeah, I get it," he replied after a moment, a rare humbleness in his voice.

  Fury did not miss a beat. "I've got bigger problems than you brewing in the southwest region," he said crisply.

  As he spoke, Fury snapped his fingers decisively. Taking the cue, Natasha approached Tony from the side and delivered an iion into his neck before he could react.

  Tony groaned in disfort. "Oh god, are you going to steal my kidney and sell it?" he quipped, even as he flinched from the strike. "Could you please not do anything awful for five seds?" Though faced with the sudden pain, his words still held their usual wit.

  However, as Natasha stepped back, the dark markings on Tony's neck began slowly reg. Whatever co she had administered, its effects were already noticeable.

  Tony questioned, "What did she just do to me?"

  Fury corrected, "What did we just do… For. You." a knowing look in his single eye. "That's lithium dioxide. It's going to take the edge off. We're trying to get you back to work."

  True to form, Tony responded with his characteristic humive me a couple boxes of that, and I'll be right as rain."

  Natasha was quick to dispel any fanciful notions. "It's not a cure, it just abates the symptoms," she stated pinly.

  Fury observed Tony closely, "Doesn't look like it's going to be an easy fix," he noted gravely. His assessment enpassed more than Tony's physical state; it reflected the plex challenge before him.

  "Trust me, I know, I'm good at this stuff," Tony asserted with a stubboro his jaw. "I've been looking for a suitable rept for paldium. I've tried every bination, every permutation of every know." Frustration colored his words.

  "Well, I'm here to tell you, you haven't tried them all," Fury responded heavily.

  For oony Stark found himself without a clever retort.

  — Rogue Rept —

  Tony Stark and Nick Fury sat in deck chairs overlooking the breathtaking California coastlihe endless expanse of o and horizon trasting the se of destru behind them. The main level of Tony's mansion y in ruins, proof that the battle with Rhodey had been real.

  Fury informed, "That thing in your chest is based on unfieology."

  "No, it was finished," Tony replied, "It has never been particurly effective until I miniaturized it and put it in my..."

  Mirage interrupted, "Whoa…. TMI!"

  Fury rolled his eye and gred at the teenage superhero, willing him to remain silent before tinuing, "Howard said the arc reactor was the stepping stoo something greater. He was about to kick off an energy race that would dwarf the arms race. He was on to something big, something so big it would make the nuclear reactor look like a triple-A battery."

  Tony pieced together the new information and its es to his history. His question ointed, seeking crity. "Just him, or was Anton Vanko in on this too?"

  Fury answered, "Anton saw it as a way to get rich. When your father found out, he had Vanko deported. The Russians weren't happy that Vanko couldn't deliver, so they shipped him off to Siberia where he spent twenty years stewing in vodka-fueled rage. Not the best enviroo raise a son, the son you had the misfortune of crossing paths with in Monaco."

  Wanting to refocus on his immediate , Tony shifted the versation. "You said I haven't tried everything. What do you mean? What haven't I tried yet?" Frustration colored his voice.

  Fury looked at him ily. "Your father said you were the only oh the means and knowledge to finish what he started. Are you that man, Stark? you solve the riddle of your heart?"

  Tony scoffed, years of unresolved feelings bubbling up. "I don't know where you get your information, but he was never my biggest fan. He was cold and calg. He old me he loved me, never even said he liked me. So it's hard to swallow when you say the whole future was riding ohat he assing the torch. I was shipped off to b school, and that was the happiest day of his life. If you think differently, you knew my old maer than I did."

  Fury met his outburst with quiet authority. "As a matter of fact. I did. Howard was one of the founding members of SHIELD."

  The sudden arrival of several agents hauling boxes into the room sighe end of their versation. Fury checked his watd said, "I got a two o'clock."

  Caught off-guard by this sudden turn of events, Tony stuttered with evident fusion as he eyed the boxes, "Wait, wait, wait, wait. What's this?"

  Pausing at the room's threshold, Fury turned back to look at Tony. He asked challengingly, "You got this? Right? Right?" Though phrased as questions, his words carried an expectation.

  Still processing this abrupt upheaval of his life, Tony replied with a hint of exasperation, "Got what? I don’t even know what I’m supposed to get."

  Fury's parting instrus were delivered in the same unwavering tohat had characterized their entire versation. "Natasha will remain a floater at Stark with her cover intact. You remember Agent Coulsht? Well, he’s your new babysitter." His lips quirked up. "And Tony, remember, I got my eye on you."

  With that, Fury strode out, coattails fring behind him. Natasha's husky voice followed after. "We’ve disabled all unications. No tact with the outside world. Good luck."

  As Natasha sashayed out, Tyson's gaze drifted to her shapely backside, uo prevent his eyes from wandering, regardless of Tony's serious situation. Stark caught Mirage's wandering eyes and couldn't resist quipping, "Still hot for teacher, huh?"

  With Fury and Romanoff goony was left with Agent Coulson as an overseer. Tony started, "Please. First thing, I need a little bodywork. I’ll put in a little time at the b. If we could send one of yoon squad down to The Coffee Bean, Cross Creek, for a Starbucks run, or something like that, that’d be nice." he requested with characteristic levity.

  Coulson, however, remaioid unmoved by Tony's charm. "I'm not here for that," he stated ftly. "Director Fury has authorized me to use any means necessary to keep you on-site. Try to leave, or py games, I'll tase you and watch Supernanny, while you drool into the carpet. Are we clear?" His no-nonsense warni no room for misinterpretation.

  Reizing the futility of resisting, Tony nodded. "Yeah, I got it," he said, relutly accepting his new reality under Coulson's watch.

  As Coulson turo leave, he threarting remark over his shoulder. "Enjoy yht."

  Now, without any distras, Tony pted the box of information Fury's team had left behind.

  Tyson uood the dire implications of Tony's paldium predit but chose not to interfere. He kark needed space to process this life-or-death challenge on his terms. Though it irked him to sit back , Tyshis was Tony's crucible to ehis trial was important for the man's development.

  With some agents beginning to clear out, Tyson seized an opportunity. Approag one of the suits, he requested their car for a quick errand. Soon Tyson was en route to The Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf, assuming this had been Tony's desired location for a coffee run.

  Upon arriving at the bustling coffee shop, Tyson strode to the ter. When prompted for his order, he requested "the usual Tony Stark order," hoping the barista would uand the particur preferences of the celebrity er. To his surprise, the barista nodded knowingly and began preparing the specialty drink. Tyson added, "Actually, make that two."

  After acquiring the eborate coffee cos, Tyson drove his borrowed gover vehicle back to Stark's seaside mansion.

  Tyson found Tony alone, watg an antique film projector. In the image, Tysnized Howard Stark. Approag slowly, Tysoehe coffee order.

  Tony gnced up. Spotting the proffered coffee, he managed a weak quip, "You might have just saved my life with that." Though his tone remained lighthearted, it carried an undercurrent of legitimate given his situation.

  "I certainly hope so," Mirage returned with an easy chuckle, pying against the billionaire's characteristic humor. Tyso it was time to exit. But also pelled to try helping this brilliant man. "Listen, Tony, I don't want to abandon you, but I'm afraid I'd be useless trying to solve this paldium issue. I had a hard enough time with high school physid chemistry, I couldn't begin to uand the advauff needed here. I wish I could do more, but I think I'd only get in your way."

  Tony looked up, clearly exhausted but appreciative of Mirage's siy. "Don't worry about it, you've done enough already," he reassured. "This is my problem. I'll figure it out. It's what I do." Tony spoke fidently, though his trademark swagger was subdued.

  Tyson nodded. "Well, I hope so. I'm heading back to New York, but ime you're in town, give me a ring. Good luck, Tony." He extended his hand which Tony shook firmly.

  As Tyson turo leave, he gnced bace more at the projected film. "Iing yout for that Expo," he ented. "Your father had quite the vision."

  With his subtle hint dropped, Tyson took his leave, having done what little he could to point Tony in a potentially helpful dire and provide him with coffee as fuel.

  As he stepped back out into the courtyard, Tyson took a moment to appreciate the strikiy of Tony's cliffside property. Despite the damage, the sweeping Pacifiorama was truly breathtaking. With a lingering look across the waves, Tyson walked on. His role here was plete, and Tony Stark's fate now rested solely in his own hands.

  As Tyson he group of agents, Coulson stepped away from them with a folder in his hands. His expression was serious as he addressed Director Fury. "Sir, we've intercepted some data that points to something unpreted. It appears we may have discovered evidence of aein-Rosen Bridge."

  Fury took the proffered folder, quickly sing its tents. His eye narrowed in thought as he processed the information.

  "Coulson, you're being reassigo New Mexico," Fury replied after a moment, "We need eyes on the ground there. Monitor Stark's situation for a few hours, make sure he's oraight and narrow, then head out."

  Coulson nodded crisply in uanding, long aced to the rapid shifts in mission priorities that were part and parcel of his work with SHIELD. He turned and began issuing quick, cise orders to the agents around him, mobilizing them for his impendiure.

  As the agents sprang into a in respoo Coulson's directives, Tyson observed the flurry of activity with a pensive expression. The versation had triggered a sense of familiarity, it only took Tyson a moment to recall what it meant. Aein-Rosen Bridge was another name for a wormhole, it sighe beginning of the events surrounding Thor.

  Notig Tyson's ptive state, Fury turo him, a hint of curiosity pierg his otherwise stern demeanor. "Any thoughts, Agent Smith?" he inquired.

  Tyson spoke with quiet fidence. "I believe Tony will find the solution before he runs out of time," he replied casually. "As for the Einstein-Rosen Bridge...I'm afraid Physics was never my strong suit. I only passed the css because I didn't need sleep and could study all night. But it sounds like some weird stuff. Anything involving weird stuff… that I handle. Mutants, monsters, aliens, I'm yuy."

  Fury sidered Tyson for a moment, finally, he nodded, ing to a decision. "You head back to New York for now," Fury stated. "I know you've got your show to do, and we don't have anything pressing that requires your attentioly. But if any 'weird stuff' es up, I'll keep you in mind."

  Tyson nodded, pleased that Fury had accepted his offer to help if needed. If his suspis about New Mexico proved true, it would likely qualify as 'weird stuff'. Hopefully, Fury would call him ihe time came.

  — Rogue Rept —

  Tyson enjoyed a rare moment of pea his penthouse suite high above the streets of New York City… until his cell ph. He gnced down at the caller ID dispy. He reized the number.

  It was Natasha.

  He swiped his thumb across the s to ahe call. "Ms. Rushman. To what do I owe the pleasure of your call this afternoon?"

  Her voice came through the speaker, "I'm heading back to the city tonight for Hammer's big presentation tomorrow. Thanks to your damage trol at the party, you made my job much easier." There was a note of genuine gratitude ione.

  Tyson leaned bato the plush leather couch, "Gd to hear I could help."

  Natasha's voice warmed slightly as she tinued, "Since I have the evening off, I thought I might take you up on that date I owe you, Mr. Smith."

  Tyson responded, pleased at her words, "I think I arrange something suitable for the occasion. Do you have any preference for the evening?"

  Natasha responded with a challenge, "Impress me. Or surprise me."

  Tysoally sifted through his knowledge of her preferences and tastes, but all he could definitively pinpoint was her appreciation for fine wine. But thanks to his es with Felicia and the frequent attendance of New York's rid elite at his shows, he had some ideas. She informed him she could e to his apartment, expeg to arrive around 7 pm. Tyson firmed the time would work perfectly for him as well.

  With the basi set in motion, Tyson now had the task of creating an evening that would not only suffitly impress the dising Natasha, but also provide a ce for them to e a more personal level.

  Tyson reached for the suite's phone. He dialed the cierge service, knowing the staff would meet his requests promptly. Tyson appreciated how the staff catered to his every need without hesitation. He suspected they did so for all VIP guests like himself, but their effid attention to detail never failed to impress. This time, Tyson had an unusual request; he asked the cierge to procure a vintage 1920s fpper dress, plete with long satin gloves and accessories. He requested a stylish grey suit for himself, remi of the era, intending to plement her dress and craft an immersive experieher than just a simple date. He hoped surprising Natasha with this uheme would impress her refiastes. True to his expectations, the cierge assured they would be able to deliver, and that they held the dress measurements from st time.

  Tyson ran his show at House of M, then rushed back to the Four Seasons. As expected, around 7 pm, a brisk knock sou the door. Tyson ope to find Natasha standing there. Her red hair cascaded in tight curls, and she wore an ivory blouse tucked into a figure-hugging skirt. Though her makeup was uated, it enhanced her strikiures. Tyson's face brighte the sight of her. After a warm hug, he weled Natasha inside. Sensing she might appreciate a ce to freshen up after her travels, he politely offered the use of his shower.

  "Please, ght ahead," he enced.

  "Thank you, I'd love that," Natasha replied gratefully.

  As Natasha turowards the bathroom, she stopped and gnced back, "Do I o call for a dress?" she asked, curious about the evening's pns and recalling how she had done so on their first 'date'.

  In respoysoed a box with a slight flourish. "I've taken care of everything this time," he procimed proudly.

  "Good to know you're learning," Natasha remarked in surprise. She approved, clearly impressed by his pnning. She yson was iing effort into creating a special night and she was eager to discover what other thoughtful surprises he had in store.

  Tysoreated to the bedroom to ge into his outfit for the evening, giving Natasha the bathroom to freshen up and dotire. His vintage gray suit hugged his broad shoulders and fit just right along his muscur frame. The suit was a soft, elegant gray with subtle pinstripes adding ara touch of css. He paired it with a crisp white shirt and a dark tie. His shoes shoh a fresh polish. The overall effect was one of timeless sophistication.

  I, Tyson poured two gsses of Natasha's favorite wine. He gnced up as she entered. Her appearance was nothing short of stunning. She wore the bck fpper dress, its intricate beading and fringe shimmering as she moved. The scooped nee fttered her form, and the long gloves reag past her elbows added a touch of sophistication. Her hair was styled in soft waves, and her makeup atuated her features with bold lips and smoky eyes.

  "You're breathtaking," Tyson said sincerely.

  Natasha's face lit up as she accepted the gss of wine he offered. She appraised their viire. "Are we going to a speakeasy tonight? This feels like a se straight out of the R Twenties."

  Tyson maintained an air of mystery. "Something like that. I'm gd yhe style and did your hair to match," he replied vaguely, wanting to preserve the surprise.

  He made o call to the cierge, requesting a ride to arrive shortly, giving Natasha time to finish her wiheir destination was only a mile and a half away, but the timing o be perfect. Tyson wahe evening to unfold fwlessly.

  The limousine glided through the city streets, its smooth ride gently rog Natasha and Tyson as they versed. Natasha mentiohat Tony Stark had visited the Stark Industries headquarters earlier that day after Tyson had left California. "Pepper was so cold to him. He brought her strawberries. All those years they worked together and he didn't remember that she's allergic to them," Natasha added, shaking her head. "Also, Agent Coulson got reassigo New Mexico to iigate some astronomical event."

  Tyson leased to hear that Tony seemed to be on the right track to finding the solution to the paldium poisoning. But sensing the versation drifting too close to their work lives, Tyson tenderly took Natasha's hand. "Remember, tonight we're just Tyson and Nat," he said softly.

  Natasha responded, "I remember. Just us, no masks... It's been a while since I've had the luxury of being just Nat. Not sure if I remember how." She gave a wry smile. "Does this mean I shouldn’t have brought a on?” She joked lightly, “I'll try to restrain myself."

  Tyson looked at her and said with a hint of mischief, "Well, if you need help with restraint, I'm sure I could lend a hand," the words were a flirtatious callback to their banter months earlier in the coffee shop. "But part of me is curious to see what happens when you don't hold back."

  Natasha matched his tone, her voice carrying a daring challenge. “Likewise,” she replied, her eyes log with his in tacit uanding. “When we sparred, I know you always held back. One day I'd like to see what happens when you cut loose."

  — Rogue Rept —

  The bck limousine glided to a stop on Norfolk Street in Manhattan's Lower East Side neighborhood. The area teemed with an eclectic mix of sights and sounds; graffitied walls, boisterous clusters of teenagers, the rhythmic thump of hip hop from passing cars, but nothing that immediately brought to mind a typical date spot.

  Natasha gnced around in mild fusion as she took in their surroundings. The upscale restaurant attire they both wore seemed ingruous with the urban backdrop. A humble Mexi restaurant down the block caught her eye but seemed far too casual given their formal dress. She studied Tyson curiously as he fidently strode toward a metal gate that enclosed a stairway leading down below street level. To Natasha, it appeared to lead to a basement or underground ste area for one of the nearby buildings. Her intrigue grew as she noticed a small sign affixed to the gate.

  "THE LOWER EAST SIDE TOY PANY"

  The peculiar name offered no obvious clues as to anything romantic or date-worthy, only deepening the mystery around the evening's pns.

  Tyson uhe gate aured for Natasha to desd the crete steps ahead of him. She grasped the etal railing and carefully walked dowairs, the sounds of the city fading behind her, repced by a tingling sense of anticipation about what y ahead. After desding the stairway and tinuing down a dim alley, Tyson and Natasha asded another set of steps, leading them inside a nondescript building.

  As they emerged, they stepped into a se far removed from the New York streets.

  Soft notes of jazz floated and swirled through The Ba speakeasy. The lighting was subtly subdued, with warm golden hues cast by vintage mps, instilling the space with a cozy and inviting ambiance. Plush velvet sofas and richly upholstered armchairs invited patrons to sit bad linger. Dark, cquered wood paneling lihe walls, remi of the Jazz Age's iic establishments. Period-appropriate art and photographs adorhe walls, adding authentic flourishes that brought the space to life.

  The bar was the room's terpiece, crafted from highly polished oak and mahogany and lined with gssware and bottles. Some were modern, but others were vintage designs straight from prohibition, their curved shapes ached bels showg the cssic spirits and cocktails of the time.

  Small tables dotted the room but were spaced enough to allow each group a feeling of seclusion. As they wound their way toward the bar, genuine delight lit up Natasha's face as she took in the viails.

  "Wow, Tyson, this is... not what I expected," she remarked, her voice tinged with surprise. "I thought we might find a throwback restaurant, but this?"

  Tyson, pleased by her rea, said, "I had a hunight appreciate somepce off the beaten path. A spot where we rex away from everything."

  Natasha's expression softened as her eyes roamed. "It's been ages since I've been ahat felt this removed. It's quite a nice ge."

  "I figured you don't oftehe ce to unplug," Tyson replied.

  She ughed, the sound light and melodic. "You're just full of surprises, aren't you? I have to admit. You've successfully impressed me."

  Settling into the speakeasy, Tyson and Natasha perused the cocktail menu. It was an eclectic colle of cssics reied with unique modern twists.

  Natasha perused the eclectic cocktail menu. "Why don't we make this iing and choose each other's drinks?" she suggested pyfully.

  Tyson's grin wide the prospect. He'd looked over the menu online earlier. "I'm game. Hope you're ready to be impressed by my mixology prowess," he joked.

  After a few moments of ption, Tyson decisively tapped his finger on the menu. "The Bees Knees for you. I have a good feeling about this one."

  Natasha pursed her lips, sidering the options carefully before pointing to one further down the menu. "The Pink Slipper. That's the one for you."

  When the bartender returyson reyed their seles. Soon enough, the cocktails arrived, artfully presented in vieacups rather than traditional gsses. The charming touch suited the prohibition vibe perfectly. Tyson raised his teacup in an impromptu toast. "To surprises and hiddehs," he procimed.

  Natasha gently ked her teacup against his. "I'll drink to that."

  As they both lifted the teacups to sample their chosen drinks, Tysarded Natasha thoughtfully. "Let me expin my reasoning behind The Bees Knees," he began "First, it has yers and nuao it. That reminded me of you. There are so many facets to your personality and character. You 't be summed up in a single descriptive word." He took a slow sip of the Pink Slipper, sidering his words. "Then there's the interpy of fvors; the smoothness of the vodka tempered by the sweet honey and bright citrus. Powerful yet graceful. Which is how I think of you." Tyso his teacup down, his expression ear. "And finally, the element of surprise. At first g seems like a straightforward cocktail. But when you taste it, you realize there's more plexity than expected. Likewise, when I think I have you figured out, you reveal something new, another yer." He finished, "In many ways, this drink captures your essence. plex, graceful, surprising. That's why I chose The Bees Knees for you."

  The siy woven through his words was easy to deteatasha realized that even in something as simple as choosing a cocktail, he had put real thought into uanding who she was at her core. The insight uedly touched her. "It's not often someoakes the time to see beyond the... surface," she mused.

  Natasha then looked up, meeting Tyson's eyes with a newfound appreciation. "You've surprised me, and that's not an easy feat. I'm used to being the observer, not the observed. It's...different, being on this side of such siention." Her words were genuine, but a slight disfort flickered across her face, betraying her unacedo such open and ho fttery. She quickly masked it with a small, appreciative smile. "Thank you, Tyson. For seeing... well, for seeing more than most do." Her gratitude was sincere, yet the way she held herself, the slight tension in her posture, spoke of a world where vulnerability could be a liability.

  Reizing that his previous ent had made Natasha a bit guarded, Tyson admitted, "I won't lie. I looked over the drink menu before you arrived at my apartment. So I had a head start."

  Natasha ughed and joked, "I just wao see you sipping on a pink slipper."

  Chug, Tyson asked in mock surprise, "Is that innuendo?"

  But then he decided to open up, sharing a part of his life that dispyed his vulnerability to match what he'd pointed out in Nat. He leaned back slightly in his chair, choosing his words.

  "I know what it's like to have to hide from everyo's a little different for me," he said, "You know about me not being able to touch without causing harm. Since my power maed, there are only two people I've been able to touch, I mean touch with my hands, without nearly killing them. It gets lonely, and I imagihat's what it's like for you, not being able to be your real self." he hoped opening up about his isotion might help put Natasha at ease and build a sense of mutual trust between them.

  Natasha studied Tyson, her guard momentarily lowered by his openness. She leaned forward, curious. "What's it like when you toueone?" she asked.

  Tyson's voice held a mix nation and refle as he answered. "From my perspective, I get a fshback, like a quick summary of their life. Then access to their memories. If I focus, I remember anything they remember." His eyes clouded with sadness. "For them, I hear it feels like dying. It's not just physical, but deeper. A normal person only sts a few seds before losing sciousness, then falling into a a, and finally death. If I kill someoh my touch, I get an imprint of their personality or copy of their soul, I'm not sure what, inside me."

  Natasha's earlier apprehension faded away. "You get all their memories?" She asked, leaning in, intrigued.

  Tyson nodded solemnly. "I absorb their essence. Everything that makes them, them. Their memories, skills, experiences. It all bees a part of me."

  Natasha's eyes sparkled with i. "What's the stra memory you've gotten?" she asked.

  Tyson sidered his response carefully. "Well," he began slowly, "I said there were only two people I've been able to touch since my powers maed. One of them, we only had a little while together, so we made the most of the time." He mentioned somewhat bashfully.

  Natasha raised an eyebrow, "You 't stop there. You're just getting to the juicy part," she enced.

  Tyson rolled his eyes in mock exasperation, though his lips quirked at the ers. "Alright, fi was my ex-girlfriend. We had sex." He took a deep breath before tinuing. "But that's not the strange part. What was bizarre was that I saw her again a few days ago. We kissed, and in that moment I gained her memories. Things got a little heavy, and my thoughts wao the intimate ones of us being together." Tyson shook his head. "So I remembered our time together, and suddenly I also had her memories… of our time together. I knew what it felt like to be on both ends of our lovemaking."

  Natasha had been listening ily, enraptured by his story. At this revetion, she couldn't restrain her ughter at the absurdity and uniqueness of the situation. Her bark of ughter broke any lingering tensioween them. "I don't even know how to respond to that." She admitted.

  Tyso out a dramatic sigh, "her do I." Natasha's eyes filled with mirth.

  But then Tyson's expression turned solemn. "I have a fession to make," he said, prompting Natasha to focus her fully on him.

  "Go on," she urged.

  "This outfit looks stunning on you, but I didn’t add the gloves purely for aesthetic reasons. The truth is, I included them so that I could hold your hand without risking actally toug your skin."

  Natasha's expression softe his words. She was touched he had sidered proteg her privad shielding her from his life drain. And wanting to hold hands might have been the sweetest thing anyone had wao do with her in years.

  Tyson held his hand out in an offer waiting patiently to be accepted or deed. He spoke, not shielding the siy in his voice, "I don’t presume to know how difficult true e is for you, or if you’re afraid of what others might see if you let yuard down. But if you haven’t realized it, I’m ly normal. I've battled actual monsters, seen into their minds, and lived their lives, if only for a short time." His tone grew ear as he finished, "If you just want to have a fun time together, I'm all for that... But if you're open to it, I’d like the ce to e a deeper level." He ined his head slightly toward his outstretched hand, indig he exte in invitation.

  Natasha regarded his hand thoughtfully. She had always sidered herself the product of her dark past and the terrible deeds that haunted her. But Tyson cimed to have seen into the minds of true monsters. Could someone who had witnessed such evil still see something in her worth reag out for? His willio push past barriers and offer for more than a superficial tryst touched a part of her long ago buried under yers of self-preservation. Here was Tyson, with his own burdens araordinary experiences, the ce to explore a real e without judgment or fear. It portunity to be herself. Not the Bck Widow, not the spy, not the assassin. Just Natasha.

  Slowly, she extended her hand and pced it lightly in Tyson's. It was a small gesture, but one heavy with meaning. It was an acceptance of his offer, an aowledgment of her willio pluo the depths he preseyson's smile in response was warm and geyson grabbed her hand, leading Natasha to a more secluded er of the lively speakeasy, leaving their empty teacups behind.

  ging their table marked a transition point in their date. They'd moved from casual chatting to a deeper, more intimate versation.

  "You're aware of my abilities and how I obtaihem," Tyson began, "But perhaps not all the details. I was attacked st June by a mutant named Victor Creed, Sabertooth, who attempted to kidnap me. I fought bad ended up killing him, abs his memories in the process. That's why I have this physique, the man was massive. For a time, having that murderous, raping psychopath in my mind was a torment. I would get fshes of his cruel psyche, though now they usually surface at appropriate moments, like in the heat of battle."

  Natasha hung on his every word. Tyson held her stare, veying the gravity of the experience he was sharing. "I have all of his memories as far back as when he was born in 1772. And while this is my first time in this speakeasy, he had been here before." He allowed the significe of this revetion to settle over Natasha. "Sabertooth fought in World War I, then traveled to Turkey where he participated in their war for independence, relishing the ce to fight endlessly without fear of death. A few years ter, he returo New York City, in the middle of prohibition. At that time, this pce was he Back of Ratner's.' It served as a meeting spot for movie stars, theater performers, and even infamous mobsters. The secret entrance remains unged from Sabertooth's first visit all those years ago. This speakeasy was located at the back of Ratner's, which was, at the time, a vegetarian kosher restaurant."

  Natasha listened with rapt attention, picturing the ses he described as if they pyed out before her. She studied Tyson as he shared his stlimpsing the plex inner world behind his stoic exterior. Natasha uood well the burden of a haunting past. Her own carried regrets and sorrows that lingered despite her efforts to make up for them. But Tyson's memories spanned lifetimes. The insight gave Natasha a new perspective on him.

  "That's...incredible," she finally said, shaking her head. "At first I thought that I might be too old for you. But it might be the opposite. You've lived lifetimes. And to carry not just your memories, but those of someone who witnessed so much history, it's almost unimaginable."

  Tyson's eyes were distant, "It be a unique burden," he said softly, "having Sabertooth's experiences mingled with my own. Especially sidering the life he led and everything he did and saw. It took me time to embrace all his memories. But I've witnessed turies, and remember being part of great moments and bloody battles. It weighs o times, when the darker thoughts surface. But it also gives me a perspective few prehend."

  Natasha nodded slowly, her green eyes filled with empathy. "It must be like walking through history, but with a personal guide who's seen it all. Now it makes sense why you speak so many nguages. Yet, carrying those memories, particurly the painful ones, 't be easy. I uand what it's like, having a past that haunts you, that you 't escape."

  For a moment, the gulf of their different worlds seemed to narrow.

  Tyson squeezed her hand and led Natasha through the speakeasy, guidio an area dominated by a rge, oak bookcase. Though it appeared an ordinary relic of the past, perfectly blending with the 1920s aesthetiatasha noticed how Tyson's knowing look turoward a specifiovel on the shelf. He adjusted the book ever so slightly. In respohe bookcase swung open, revealing a hidden passage beyond.

  As they passed through, Natasha found herself in the exclusive VIP lounge. Dim, amber lightbulbs provided a soft radiao the space, creating a cozy atmosphere. Plush velvet furniture invited lounging and versation, with sofas and armchairs, and tables arrao allow for privacy. A small, circur bar stood at the room's ter. An aged bartender in a crisp white shirt mahe ter, as much a part of the setting as the antique bottles lining the shelves.

  Tyson guided Natasha to a shadowed booth upholstered in tufted velvet, a perfect view of the small stage in the VIP area. As they settled in, the privad intimacy of the spaveloped them.

  "I have some questions," she said directly.

  "Shoot," he replied. His open expression bid her tinue.

  "Are you immortal?" She asked pinly, foing the preamble. "You said Sabertooth was born in the 1770s, and since you absorbed him, you should have his lifespan nht?"

  Tyson shook his head, a hint of sorrow in the gesture. "Sabertooth would have lived a long time, but it won't be the same for me." He extended his hand allowing his cws to slide free with a soft snikt, dispying their metalliature. "I mentioned Alkali Lake before. I was captured, brought there, and experimented on. Adamantium, an unbreakable metal was grafted to my bones."

  He sighed, the weight of his reality evident in his voice. "I heal from nearly anything. I think my body is stantly trying to fight off the adamantium, like heavy metal poisoning, but it's fused to me, a part of me. I'm not an expert in biology or medie. But my best guess… The healing factor is stantly trying to expel the adamantium. But sihe body ’t break it down et it out, it'll eventually burn out my healing. As far as I tell, I’ll start seeing symptoms in about 35 years or so. In 50 years I won’t be able to heal anymore. Then it's only a matter of time until I die."

  Natasha absorbed his words in silence, processing the gravity of his situation. After a long moment she responded gently, "That sounds sad when you put it like that, but in our profession, living that long is a good run. Is there anything you do about it?"

  Tyson's shoulders lifted in a shrug, "Sure, solutio. There's a powerful mutant hunting me, i on using me i awisted experiment. He manipute magic fields aals. He's strong enough to pull the adamantium from my bones. But of course, he's the one person who won't help me willingly."

  "So that's it then?" Natasha asked, etg delicate lines across her brow. "Just start the tdown to your death?"

  Tyson shook his head firmly, "I have other ideas. Only time will tell if they're possible."

  Curiosity kindled in Natasha's expression as she delved into another facet of Tysoraordinary experiences. "You mentioned fighting literal monsters. I assume you mean more than just the Lizard?" she probed, keen i c her tone.

  "There are dimensions and realms beyoh. I've traveled to one such pce several times. Limbo. Though not the theological Limbo, it shares some simirities." Tysoated as if gathering the words to describe what he'd felt and witnessed. "Demons run rampant there. Feral mohat stantly kill for survival, to gain strength, or for amusement. I've sin many demons there, temporarily abs their memories. The savagery I witnessed..." His voice trailed off, leaving the rest to Natasha's imagination.

  Tyson gained a faraway look as he delved deeper into the darker aspects of his psyche. "At least I didn't permaly keep any of the demon's memories. Sabertooth is aory, his are always with me. Every year he used to hunt down his brother on his birthday a him senseless. One year he couldn’t find his brother, because another man had already killed him. Sabertooth tracked this other man down and realized he was immortal like himself. So instead, every year after that, Sabertooth would hunt this immortal man down as a birthday celebration, a him within an inch of his life. If Sabertooth ever found the man happy, he’d do whatever it took to ruin his life. Including rape and murder of his lover, destroying his livelihood, anything to make him suffer." Tyson suppressed a shudder at the vivid recolle.

  Natasha's expression turned into a ed frown. "Do you feel urges to follow in Sabertooth’s footsteps?" she asked, worry evident in her voice.

  Tyson responded with a so-so haure indig his uainty. "That immortal man Sabertooth used to torment is a friend of mine now. A few days ago, I lured him out and fought him, though not nearly as brutally as Sabertooth would have. But I ot deny the desire to unleash my full fury upon him remained deep inside. I tried to turn our battle into something more pyful and friendly, but I admit it was at least partly an attempt to satisfy the dark drive I feel leftover from Sabertooth."

  Natasha could see the flict etched on his face as he described the dark desires that still lingered within him, the vicious urges that he stantly struggled to resist. Though he tried to el those violent impulses into less destructive outlets, it was clear he still battled remnants of Sabertooth's psyche and memories. Tyson's did admission resonated deeply with Natasha, stirring thoughts of her shadowed past. As a spy, she uood the stant effort required to toe the lihout crossing it. Her life had forced her to embrace the darkness, to use it as a tool when needed. Yet like Tyson, Natasha had always strode to maintain her sense of self and fight the darkness ing her. In Tyson's struggle, Natasha saw a refle of her journey.

  As Natasha's thoughts lingered on the shadows of her past, a jazz band took the small stage in the louhe band members were cssic jazz-era garb, but the highlight was the sultry singer whose rich voice filled the room with hauntingly beautiful melodies.

  "Now that you know me," Tyson said, "tell me about yourself."

  Natasha regarded him silently for a moment, then, a hint of pyfulness entered her voice as she proposed an alternative. "Or we could kiss instead. I could tell you about myself, or we could kiss and you would gain all my memories, and know everything about me. My likes and dislikes, strengths and weaknesses, fears and desires."

  Tyson sidered the tempting offer. "We could," he replied slowly, "and I would. But that feels like cheating... plus, 'Truth or Strip' was more fun. Besides, draining the life from you for information sounds a lot like w for SHIELD, and we're off duty." Tyson teroffered, "How about this instead? I'll tell you what I think I know about you so far. And you reward me if I'm right."

  Natasha appraised him over the rim of her teacup with renewed i. "I like it."

  Tyson said, "I know you're partial to a certain vintage of wine, but that feels too easy to guess… You like motorcycles. You have one of your own, and you've ridden mine before. There are enough taxis and public transportation options that you wouldn't need a vehicle iy."

  Natasha tilted her head in cession, "Point for you. What else do you think you've uncovered?" she asked, intrigued by this game.

  Bolstered by her i, Tyson tinued, "Despite the tough exterior you show the world, you have a strong sense of empathy underh. It's subtle, but it's there. You uand what motivates people, and what they fear. That insight makes you more than just a skilled agent."

  Natasha merely his time, but it was enough. Her usual guardedness had lowered, if only a fra, allowing Tyson glimpses of the person behind the spy.

  "Fashion," Tyson stated with fidence. "I've never seen you looking anythihan impeccable. Whether it's business professional, those dresses you pick, or even your SHIELD uniform. You make it work. Maybe it's just because yeous and could make a burp sack look good, but I think it runs deeper than that."

  "Ftterer," Natasha accused lightly, though she ceded his point with a small nod. "But I'll give you that ooo," she allowed, seeming both pleased and amused by his observations.

  Tysoured, more intuitive than factual, drawn from his meta-knowledge. "Now I'm going to start reag," he said, tilting his head slightly. "You move gracefully, but it's more than just martial arts training. My bet is you were trained in dance. But you said you were born in the Soviet Union, so I'm not thinking jazz or tap. Probably ballet."

  Natasha's lips puckered ever so slightly, but she nodded in aowledgment. "That was a good dedu. I'm surprised. Surprise me with one mood one, and you'll get a prize."

  Tyson wracked his brain. Natasha was an enigma, skilled at cealirue self behind yers of deception. He sifted through their past iions, searg for a clue, a hint she might have iently revealed about her character.

  After a moment, Tyson leaned back slightly, his expression thoughtful as he sidered Natasha's challenge. "Okay, here's my guess." He spoke slowly, "You have a strong sense of loyalty. It's not just about being a good agent or following orders. You must have had opportuo walk away or disappear, but you didn't. It's not about allegiao an anization, but to people, to causes you believe in. It's personal for you."

  Natasha's expression remained posed, but her eyes flickered with a hint of surprise at his insight. "That was more than a good dedu. You've earned your prize."

  Tyson's observations had moved beyond simple facts to uanding her character and values. This depth of insight was unknown to Natasha, who was aced to people seeing only the facade she preseyson's ability to perceive the person behind the persona was both disarming and intriguing to her.

  Natasha leaned in, her voice dropping to a sultry tone, a hint of challenge in her words. "Bonus round? That st one retty deep." Her breath was warm against Tyson's ear as she spoke. "Think you go deeper?"

  Tyson replied, "Deeper. Okay." He gathered his thoughts. "So you know enhanced senses are one of my powers. But one of them feels like it goes beyond that description. I smell people, but not like, I track your st. I do that, but there's more to it. It's almost like I smell their essence. Each st is unique. I've even e across a qui of es, and each of them was ever subtly different from each other. I wouldn't be able to tell them apart if I was trag them, but up close, I could tell their unique sts."

  Natasha asked softly, "What do I smell like?"

  Tyson inhaled deeply, his nostrils fring as he analyzed her st. It hadn't ged since he first saw her in the high sonths earlier. "Leather, exotic spices, a cool winter breeze, with the fairace of gunpowder." His description recise, painting a vivid picture of her essence.

  Natasha sidered this, then said, "I like that." She prompted him to tih a tilt of her head. "Where are you going with this?"

  Tyson leaned closer, his tourning serious. "Just saying, my nose is good. Good enough to smell when a woman is aroused..." Natasha's face remained impassive, giving nothing away. Uerred, Tyson tinued, "When we were in the coffee shop the day after capturing Green Goblin. I pulled my Itachi illusion routine, and I smelled your arousal... Something I did set you off. It could've been that I held the kunai to your throat, like a danger fetish. Or that I had you restrained, maybe a bondage kink, or a submissive. Or maybe I'm not the only otaku and Itachi got you going."

  Natasha stared at him unblinking, the tensioween them palpable. After a moment, she finally spoke, "So which was it?"

  Tyson's eyes narrowed as he analyzed the options, fidently navigating through his dedus. "Oh, how I wished it was an aish, but no. That's not you." He shook his head slightly. "So that leaves danger, bondage, or submissive." He dismissed another possibility. "Bondage is out too, you mentioned Spiderman's webs in the FMK question when we pyed Truth or Strip. I didn't smell any arousal stemming from you then."

  Natasha aowledged his reasoning, "Good memory," she ented.

  "Thanks." Tyson tinued, weighing the remaining options. "So either you're a sub or you have a danger fetish." He sidered his words carefully. "You're always calm, collected, and in trol. Acc to Sabertooth's memories, people like that sometimes want the opposite ihey want to be able to give up trol." He frowned slightly. "But I'm sure I shouldn't trust Sabertooth's perspective on women."

  Tyson shifted his focus to the other possibility. "Oher hand, danger seems right up your alley. The motorcycles, your profession, it fits. Plus, you're on a date with me and know how dangerous I am."

  A subtle shift rippled through her demeanor. "You're right," she admitted softly, "Danger does have a certain appeal to me. The adrenalihe uability of it. It's where I feel most alive."

  A pause lingered between them. Before she spoke again, "In our line of work, trol is everything. But being on the edge, fag risks head-on… I find that undeniably thrilling."

  Tyson's intuition had pierced through the mystery toug upon a truth. The vulnerability in her eyes was fleeting, but it showed the trust she had pced in him at that moment.

  The intimate atmosphere of the VIP loutled around them as the jazz band seamlessly transitioned into a slow, melodie. The singer's smoky voice filled the room with a soulful melody that seemed to slow the passage of time itself.

  It was the perfeent.

  Tyson stood smoothly from his seat aended a hand toward her, palm up, fingers gently curled in invitation. "May I have this dance?" he asked.

  Without a word, Natasha pced her hand in his and allowed him to draw her to her feet. They moved together to the small parquet dance floor. They fell into an easy rhythm, their bodies beginning to move in graceful cert to the rise and fall of the music. Tyson led with his hand firm yet gentle in the small of her back as he guided her through the steps. Natasha respoo his subtle cues, her body swayed in harmony with his. As they lost themselves in the dahe rest of the world seemed to fall away, narrowing down to just the two of them and the music.

  AN: So there's a new poll up oREON. Same user name over there. Poll is for Natasha’s power-up! Voting costs nothing. Patrons have had access to the poll sihis chapter became avaible two weeks ago.

  Behind the Ses

  - The Ba speakeasy is a real p Manhattan.

  - I used the viting as a backdrop to explore some of Tyson's history via Sabertooth. Arc 4 was light on inner flict, but I tried to throw more into this Arc.

  - Also Tyson finally talks openly about adamantium poison. That plot point got a lot of hate during Arc 2. The adamantium skeleton hasn't pyed a major factor in most of the story, but it allowed Tyson to get the jump on Azazel in Arc 3, and we saw it being a Drawback against Mago in Arc 2, and again with the fusioor in this Arc. This is a long-term problem that Tyson hasn't fotten.

  - If you 't tell, I like writing Tyson and Natasha. Arc 4 was supposed to be about Felicia and Tyson, but Natasha got slightly more 's time' than Felicia did in that Arc. Likewise in Arc 5, she gets more attention than any character besides Tyson. This was not doentionally. Since we see so much of Natasha in the MCU, I have a much more solid perspective and familiarity with her character than I do characters like Illyana and Felicia. I think I have Illyana down, but I'm still feeling out writing Felicia's character. For those who don't like Natasha, she isn't promily featured in Arcs 6 or 7.