Happy Sweet Sixteen
"What do you mean?" Wanda slurred as a waiter approached with another round of drinks. Maria turned him away with a subtle shake of her head, leaving the three women to sit with the full weight of Natasha's confession.
But instead of answering Wanda's question, Nat climbed out of the booth, gesturing for Maria and Wanda to follow. "We need to find Y/N. Right now."
Maria nodded as the three women walked back down the narrow aisle to the door. They were almost there when a shocked and tipsy Wanda had the wherewithal to blurt out, "But we didn't pay!"
"Relax," Maria said, grabbing Wanda's arm and steadying her as they stepped into the dim twilight outside the nondescript building. "I've got a tab."
Nat's car was already waiting for them out front, the young valet clearly enjoying himself as he revved the engine.
"Out," Natasha ordered, and the valet quickly scrambled onto the sidewalk, holding open the door to Nat with a deferential bow. Maria smirked as she folded down the passenger seat to slide into the back, letting Wanda sit in front.
"Crack the window, Wanda," Maria said, eyeing the young woman's growing intoxication. "Natasha doesn't fuck around with her upholstery."
Wanda sucked in air from the window as Nat sped off, seemingly unaffected by the alcohol. Maria leaned forward, elbows on her knees. "Mind filling us in while you drive?"
Nat let out a frustrated sigh as she blew through a red light, barely missing an oncoming car and earning a flurry of angry honks that didn't even register on the ex-assassin's face. "1569 Chester Street is home to an old Red Room apartment. It's where we'd stay whenever we had a mission in New York."
"Killing Y/N's mom was one of your missions?" Wanda asked in an unsteady voice.
Nat shook her head. "Lydia Streykova wasn't a mission. She was a widow."
"Wait," Maria cut in. "I thought all widows were sterilized when they turned sixteen. How did she manage to have a kid?"
Wanda stared at Nat in horrified shock, clearly hearing this piece of her Red Room backstory for the first time.
"We were sterilized because of her," Nat said, stone-faced. "Before Lydia, all widows had to do was swear a vow of chastity outside missions. But she broke it, and every widow after her was forced to pay the price."
You had to admit it felt good. The thief didn't even know what hit him, and before he had a chance to stand, you'd grabbed the backpack and were already on your way back to the bridge. The woman was ecstatic, thanking you and offering to buy you dinner, which you politely refused, growing more anxious by the minute as several nearby tourists filmed you, no doubt in awe of your superhuman speed.
By the time you'd finally gotten free, the streetlights were turning on and the sidewalks were mostly empty. The walk to 1569 Chester Street was eerie, more shadow than light, and you almost missed the small, four-story brick apartment building set back from the street and half-covered by overgrown bushes.
You honestly thought it was abandoned until a delivery man pulled up on a bike, crossing the tall, unkept grass to ring the buzzer with pizza in hand. As soon as he was inside you ran up on the door, catching the knob centimeters before it closed.
The lobby was small; the checkered marble floor covered in scuffs and grime. You checked the directory, but it clearly hadn't been updated in years. The record Seb found listed your mom's address as apartment 403, but the space in the directory was blank. You peered into the small mailbox window but it was empty.
Your heart beat in your chest and you had a flash of panic, worried that maybe this was the moment some hidden serum side effect would choose to reveal itself, lying dormant until your anxiety was at its peak. You took three deep breaths but they didn't help. You knew there was only one thing that would. And the only thing between you and it was four flights of stairs.
You nodded at the delivery man as he passed you on the landing. If you wanted to, you could've made it to the top in ten seconds flat. But you took your time. What Kilroy used to call "stalling," counting the number of stairs, trying to find interesting patterns in the marble like a kid finding shapes in the clouds.
Still, it didn't take long enough, and soon you found yourself standing outside apartment 403. You didn't even have to put your ear to the door to know it was empty. There was no movement, no breathing, no creaks of feet on old floorboards. Even the pipes were silent. You stared at the door, again regretting your lack of finesse when it came to picking locks. If you wanted to get inside, it would be up to brute force.
Nat sped across the bridge into Brooklyn; the same one that had landed you on Maria's radar in the first place. The mood in the car was tense as Natasha continued to explain what had happened. "It was my first mission after living undercover in Ohio."
Maria did the math in her head. "That makes you what? Thirteen? Fourteen?"
Nat nodded as she turned onto Chester Street. "It was a loyalty test to make sure I had been fully reintegrated into the Red Room. And I failed."
"How?" Wanda asked, holding her head, dizzy from the drive.
Maria studied Nat's troubled face in the rearview mirror. "You only completed half your mission, didn't you?"
Nat's lack of response was all the confirmation Maria needed and she shook her head in disgust. "Jesus Christ, Romanoff. And here I was thinking I'd heard all your Red Room horror stories. They ordered you to kill a baby?"
Nat's lips formed a thin line as she turned onto Chester Street. "You know how Dreykov feels about loose ends. If he finds out Y/N is still alive––"
Maria cut her off, incredulous. "You really think he'd come after her after all these years?"
Nat signed as the road narrowed and she was finally forced to tap the brakes. "In his eyes, she's the property of the Red Room. And if he finds out about the serum, what she can do, he'll only accept two outcomes: recruit her, or eliminate her."
In one swift motion you turned the knob while driving your shoulder into the edge of the door, trying to do as little damage as possible. You could feel the lock give and the door swung inward, your momentum carrying you inside whether you were ready or not.
"Shit," you said reflexively, your body finally coming to a halt in a small entryway. The apartment was dark, the heavy curtains keeping out any outside light. You spied a light switch and flipped it on, hopeful the apartment still had electricity.
But nothing happened. You flipped it up and down a couple times, but the apartment remained just as obstinately dark as before.
"Fine," you said aloud. "I guess I'll just have to rely on my excellent night vision."
You took a couple more steps into the small living room. What little furniture there was sat obscured under dust sheets, and there was a distinct lack of any personal touches: no art on the walls, no pictures above the fireplace. You were about to move into the bedroom when something caught your attention high on the wall. It was hard to make out in the dark so you stood on the couch, a cloud of dust rising into the air as you extended your arm, brushing against a bulge in the otherwise flush crown molding.
Still unsure what it was, you gave it a blind tug, pulling it loose in one go and sending a shower of paint chips down on your head. You lifted back the curtain, letting in a streak of golden light from the street outside. Finally, you opened your hand, staring at your palm. In the center sat a discreet, high-tech security camera. Even ripped from the wall, the red light confirmed your worst fear: it was still broadcasting.
"Motherfucker," Nat swerved the car hard, coming to a jolting stop next to the curb. Both Wanda and Maria groaned as Nat pointed to a black van double parked across the street. "Dreykov still keeps tabs on old safe houses in case informants need to get in touch. Y/N must already be inside."
"Let me guess," Maria asked sarcastically, "those guys aren't going to be too welcoming when they realize Y/N is the daughter of a disgraced widow."
"Probably not," Nat agreed, jumping out of the car and popping the trunk. "Lucky for us, those aren't widows, just local muscle hired to monitor the security feed. Still," she said, digging out a pair of handguns, "it doesn't hurt to be too careful. Hill, you want to pick out a toy or two?"
Maria studied Nat's portable arsenal, eventually selecting a handgun and retractable baton, which she practiced flicking open with an approving nod.
"Wands, you feel good enough to get us onto the roof?" Nat studied Wanda, who leaned against the side of the car, head bowed and arms crossed.
Wanda raised her head and tried to look nonchalant. "Yeah, no problem." She cracked her knuckles and shook out her hands. Soon, the tips of her fingers glowed with red magic.
Maria looked apprehensive and Nat couldn't help but lean over and whisper into her friend's ear. "Relax, we practice this all the time. And if you fall, there's a big bush to catch you."
Maria rolled her eyes at Natasha's cocky grin, the two of them facing the building with Wanda a few feet behind, ready to levitate them onto the roof with her magic.
"Okay, Wanda. Try to give Maria a gentle first time." Nat called out. "On the count of three. One, two, three!"
Wanda's palms shot out a pulse of steady red magic, which enveloped Nat and Maria before lifting them onto the roof. Once Wanda guided them over the edge, she started to carefully set them down, using her magic to feel for the ground without a clear line of sight.
"Oof," Wanda huffed as something crashed into her side, knocking her onto the grass and breaking her concentration. She felt Nat's dress ride up her thighs and knew whoever hit her was getting an eyeful. Wanda quickly refocused her magic and shot an orb of red energy into the chest of a half-masked man, knocking him hard into the wall of the next building.
The sudden disappearance of Wanda's magic left Nat and Maria in free fall, still four feet above the roof. Both tumbled as best they could, but it was Maria who landed on her feet and immediately sprinted to the edge.
"Wanda!" Maria stopped as she took in Wanda's pissed off face and the unconscious man slumped against the wall.
Nat brushed herself off and joined Maria at the edge, looking down as Wanda self-consciously adjusted her dress. "What happened?"
Wanda examined a scrape on her shoulder. "I knew this dress was a bad idea."
Nat sighed, relieved that Wanda was mostly uninjured. "Block anyone else from coming inside and we'll be back with Y/N."
You knew you should've left as soon as you saw the camera. Security cameras were bad news; Kilroy had drilled that into your head since day one. Security cameras that people went to the trouble to hide were much worse.
You closed your palm and squeezed, feeling the plastic crack and twist until you were certain even the smallest circuit had been destroyed beyond repair. And then you kept squeezing, fascinated by your newfound strength as you felt the molded plastic turn to dust. When you finally opened your hand, the camera was unrecognizable, the pieces so fine you couldn't tell which had been wire or which had been battery.
Boots echoed down the hallway and you froze. You could tell by their steady, practiced rhythm they weren't residents returning home and you made a split-second decision, running into the bedroom and locking the door behind you.
But your adrenaline was quickly replaced by surprise. Instead of a single bed, you found four bunk beds, all with thin mattresses and even thinner blankets. You grabbed the closest bunk and shoved it against the door, following up with another one for good measure, especially once you remembered the splintered front door.
"What the--" the boots stopped outside. "What happened to the camera?" The surprise was evident in their voices and you realized you had the upper hand. For all you knew, they weren't even carrying weapons.
Speaking of weapons, it wouldn't hurt if you could find something suitable yourself. Sure, your fists would clearly do in a pinch, but there was nothing like feeling prepared, not to mention you were pretty sure your little crime fighting stunt had ripped what few stitches you had left.
You opened the closet, hoping for a sturdy wooden rod or maybe even an old vacuum cleaner. Instead, you found a crib. It was ornate, handmade out of solid wood. Intricate carvings covered every square inch: flowers, trees, the sun and moon. It would've felt out of place almost anywhere, but in this spartan apartment it felt downright alien.
The boots were caught off guard and there was a scuffle in the living room. One went down, then another. A few more showed up and the fighting continued. Against whom, you didn't care; your eyes were fixated on the crib. Could this have been your crib? The thought was all-consuming. Maybe this apartment wasn't a complete dead end after all.
Inside, there was a carefully folded baby blanket. You picked it up. Just like the crib itself, it was much nicer than anything else in the apartment. You lifted it to your face and something slid onto the floor.
You felt around under the crib until your hand landed on top of an old polaroid picture. Nervous, you stood and looked at the photo.
It was clearly taken in the same, only slightly homier, apartment. A beautiful brunette woman sat holding a newborn baby. Sitting next to her was a young teenager with strawberry blonde hair, tinged greenish blue at the ends.
You flipped the photo over. Three names were neatly written on the back: Lydia, Natalia, and... baby Y/N. You stared more closely at the photo. That was your mom, it had to be. But then who was Natalia? The teenage girl in the photo smiled wide, staring intently at the camera. She looked familiar; something about the eyes, the jawline. And then, you saw it, the insignia on her belt buckle, an angular red hourglass. You admittedly didn't know much about the Red Room, but you'd read enough magazine profiles of Natasha Romanoff to know it was where she'd earned the nickname Black Widow before defecting to SHIELD.
"Y/N!" Nat's voiced called through the bedroom door. "Are you okay?"
You stared at the door as the handle turned before meeting the lock. You didn't know what to say.
"Y/N? I don't know what you found, but I can explain."
You stared at the photo. "Did you know who I was?" It wasn't your only question, but it seemed like the most logical place to start.
"No," Nat said through the door. "Not until Wanda told us your mom's name." Even without seeing her face, Nat's answer seemed sincere.
"She's dead, isn't she?" It wasn't so much a question as a confirmation of what you already knew.
"Yes," Nat's voice was softer now, and you could hear the creak of the door as she leaned her hand against it. "I'm sorry."
You should've been angry. Furious. Even sad would've been appropriate. But instead, you were numb. In a week where every day had been the worst, most absurd day of your life, what was one more shocking revelation? Hell, until Seb gave you the address, you already assumed the worst; it was easier to forgive a mom who was dead than one who was alive yet didn't want you. But there was still one question you needed answered. You zeroed in on teenage Natalia's smiling face. You seriously doubted the Red Room would send a widow halfway across the world to throw a baby shower.
"It was you, wasn't it? How did you do it?"
"Open the door, Y/N. I can explain everything."
The edge in Natasha's voice was all the confirmation you needed.
You sat down on the side of a bunk bed, trying to wrap your head around it all. Maybe it was the elevated serum still in your bloodstream, but you were struggling to think straight, and your vision started to swim, your eyelids heavy. You looked down at the picture to center yourself. Except instead of one Natalia, there were two. Then three.
"Y/N! Get out of there!" Natasha pounded on the door but it sounded far away. Your eyes threatened to close just as a baton splintered the wood, clanging against the metal of the nearest bunk bed.
The last thing you remembered was a flash of red and then you were flying.