Chapter 3
Natasha is seventeen at the dawn of a new century and millennium. It is November of 1999. Around the globe, especially and most notably in the United States of America, a phenomenon known as Y2K has convinced people that the world is going to end on New Year’s. Natasha thinks this idea is preposterous; computers can’t cause problems nearly as bad as people can.
Humans are odd. They think order and chaos are somehow opposites and try to control what won’t be. But there is grace in their failings.
Nevertheless, the United States and the Russian Federation have created an operation called the Center for Year 2000 Strategic Stability to assure that the other nation won’t launch a nuclear attack at the turn of the century.
Well, the Russian Federation promised. The Red Room…not so much.
Natasha is in Times Square for New Year’s Eve. Around her, crowds stampede down the street, desperately trying to get as close as possible to the ball drop. Natasha herself is in no hurry.
Her mission is simple: she must evacuate and eradicate the people monitoring security in New York City so that the Red Room can launch a missile without being detected. They told her she will not be able to survive their impending nuclear attack. Natasha doesn’t care too much, and no, she’s not lying. Not one bit.
Truth is a matter of circumstances. It’s not all things to all people all the time, and neither am I.
Okay, maybe she’s lying a tiny bit. As she looks around at girls her own age, taking pictures of each other on disposable cameras, laughing, hugging, with the possibility of entire lives in their eyes, she can’t help but feel a little jealous.
She finds the operation room for security easily enough. Kills the men easily enough. She contacts the Red Room and tells them she’s ready.
The missile never comes.
It turns out the Winter Soldier, back from being frozen, figures it would be better for the Red Room to bide their time. Wait for the right moment. Natasha clenches her fists. He always seems to come back at the wrong times. She had been prepared to die.
As she’s leaving New York, she sees on one of the screens in Times Square the country’s youngest billionaire: Anthony “Tony” Stark, waving to the crowds, happily chugging from a bottle in his hand. Natasha scoffs to herself. She finds it odd that the country loves someone whose important parents died nearly a decade prior and used that as an excuse to get drunk and make weapons that kill people. Americans.
Natasha swears she’ll never become one of them. She does like the lights of Times Square, though. But it’s not like she’ll ever be back.
~
“Look,” Gamora exclaims.
She points to a small pod ship, placed delicately in the dirt ahead of them. Natasha’s not sure how long they’ve been walking for, but the ship is a welcome sight.
“Nice,” Tony muses as they get closer. He runs his fingers alongside it. “Give me a couple hours, tops, I should be able to get this up and running.”
“Whose is this?” Natasha asks suspiciously. Why would there be an abandoned ship in the middle of nowhere? “Gamora, you recognize it?”
“Many planets use pods similar to this one,” Gamora answers, looking around. “Most of them require a pilot.”
The three of them are silent, the unspoken question looming in the air: where is the pilot of this ship?
“Maybe he crashed and died,” Tony suggests, already climbing inside and tampering with it. “That would make our lives easier, no?”
“Careful, Tony,” Natasha warns. The hair on the back of her neck is tingling. No way they would get this lucky and have an abandoned ship ready for them to hijack. “Fallaces sunt rerum species.”
The appearances of things are deceptive. She’d told Tony that, before. He didn’t listen then.
“You would be correct.”
The three of them instantaneously turn at the sound of a voice. Natasha and Gamora hold their knives up, ready to fight, and Tony reaches for a blaster resting on the seat of the pod.
The man in front of them is dressed entirely in gold. When Natasha looks closer, she sees his skin is the same shiny shade as well.
“Uh, okay, C-3PO, who’s right?” Tony chirps. “Me, right? Please say me. We can just take this ship here and make our way to—”
“Not you. Your friend,” the man answers, gazing at Natasha. She doesn’t let herself flinch. “That is my ship there. My Omnicraft. I’m afraid you can’t take it.”
“He’s a Sovereign,” Gamora tells them, lowering her knife. Her defensive position doesn’t waver. “Their High Priestess tried to kill me and my friends once.”
“Ayesha,” the man confirms. “Yes. That was a little bit ago, was it not? I’d hoped you all had forgotten that. That was before I was made, of course.”
“Made?” Tony questions.
“The Sovereign genetically engineer themselves,” Gamora explains. “They age faster, live longer, possess more strength. They’re…designed. Their bodies and their minds.” She cocks her head at the man. “I can’t believe that Ayesha would let one of you just go as you please. What are you doing here?”
“Well, Gamora, daughter of Thanos,” the man says conversationally. Natasha internally shakes her head. She knew something was wrong. “I was here, looking for you and your team, actually.”
“Why?”
“That is my purpose,” the man answers, grinning. Even his teeth are gold. “I am the superior Sovereign. I am called Adam Warlock.”
~
Before planning the Time Heist, Natasha had been missing fights. It had been awhile since she’d done serious hand-to-hand combat with a true enemy and not practice-sparring with Steve or Okoye when she could visit.
She regretted ever thinking that now.
It hadn’t taken Gamora long to deduce that Adam had been designed and created shortly after the Guardians had gotten the upper hand over his High Priestess, Ayesha, many years ago. Gamora had wasted no time launching herself at Adam, unleashing the pent-up rage of being alone for five years.
Tony waves at Natasha. She’d been about ready to go to Gamora’s aid. “What, Stark?”
“Let’s go,” he whispers, fiddling with some of the controls of the Omnicraft. “I think I figured out how to fly this thing.”
Natasha gives him a flat look. “You aren’t serious.”
“Little help here!” Gamora grunts, getting slammed into the ground by Adam. He doesn’t look the least bit tired. Damn genetically engineered beings.
Natasha gives Tony a look before he sighs, conceding, and they grip their weapons tighter and charge at Adam.
Tony manages to get two shots out of the blaster before Adam wrenches it out of his grasp and heaves it. Natasha tries not to flinch at his apparent super-strength, but the blaster is thrown far out of her sight, kilometers away.
Gamora staggers to her feet, yells, and charges at Adam again. He easily sidesteps her, manages to get her blade, and slash the side of her torso. He uses the other side of the blade to stab Tony’s arm. He turns to stab Natasha.
He doesn’t get the chance. She’s up on his back, wrapping her thighs around his neck, trying to choke him. She readies her knife to stab it into his shoulder when she’s thrown off. They spar for a few minutes, Natasha getting in her fair share of punches and kicks, but slowly getting outmatched by Adam.
Adam isn’t even breaking a sweat. By the time Natasha realizes this, she can feel her muscles aching, her adrenaline slowing. A more intelligent person would have given in and given up far earlier in the fight.
Or a more foolish one.
This is monsters and magic and nothing we were ever trained for.
“Stop,” Gamora croaks out, struggling to sit up. She raises a hand. “Adam, stop. You could literally do this forever. She can’t.” She takes a shaky breath. “We can’t.”
Adam stops to look at her. Natasha rests her hands on her hips, breathing heavily.
“Why would I waste my time doing this forever?” he asks seriously. “That seems like an awfully depressing life to live.” He turns back to Natasha, studying her, like an adult would to a child who just threw a temper tantrum.
Natasha steels her gaze and raises her chin, locking eyes with him. She’s fought stronger beings and she’s dealt with more arrogant men. This asshole isn’t going to get the better of her.
“And what life do you want to live?” Natasha asks him, raising an eyebrow. Adam may be more powerful, but she has more experience. She can make him he’s got the best of her all while learning what she needs to know.
If she can outwit the god of mischief in her second encounter with him, she can do this.
Thank you...for your cooperation.
“One worth living,” Adam replies cautiously. His stance is relaxed, but Natasha doesn’t risk getting any closer to speak.
“Following everything your mother says isn’t living,” Natasha points out. “It’s surviving.”
Adam scoffs. “Oh, and you live a life worth living?”
“I did,” Natasha sharply answers. “I stopped following orders from people I knew were wrong. I made my own choices. I had red in my ledger; I wiped it out. I–“
I used to have nothing. And then I got this...job. This family.
“–loved and I lost,” she finishes, her eyes watering. “And that’s...that’s what makes a life worth living. Have people and things to love. Having something worth losing. Can you say the same about your life?”
“The people you love come close to death. Yes, that sounds very intriguing,” Adam says mockingly. “You never once mentioned the things you did for yourself. The things you wanted to do. I want to do these things. Ayesha doesn’t force me to. I–“
“When I was eight, I wanted to know what it was like to have a best friend. I got that. When I was fifteen, I wanted to know what it was like to go to Paris without having to kill someone. I got that. When I was sixteen, I wanted to know what it would be like to hold a newborn baby. I got that,” Natasha spits, closing the distance between them. She glares up at the Sovereign. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Gamora helping Tony to his feet.
Adam laughs. “You call that a life? You call those dreams?” He shakes his head, laughing, near hysteria. “I want to help people weaker than me. I want to destroy corrupt governments. I want to create a star. I want to be known across the galaxy!”
There it is.
“We can help you do that,” Natasha tells him seriously, ignoring Gamora and Tony’s shocked expressions. “You bring us to Sovereign, undetected. You help us. Train with us. Help us become a match for the Sovereign and anyone else who wants to stop you. Then you help us locate Quill and his team, then Earth.”
Adam regards her, even more suspiciously than before. “And why would I do that?”
You’re not going to put me in a prison. You’re not going to put any of us in a prison. You know why?
Because you need us.
“You said it yourself, Warlock,” Natasha muses, looking up at him, looking as innocent as possible. “The High Priestess isn’t going to just let you do what you think is right. You have to do what she says. We bring you back to Earth, or another part of the galaxy where she can’t find you, you can do whatever you want to do there.”
Natasha can picture herself, back on Earth, organizing missions with Steve. If the snap had worked like Tony said, then Sam will be back with them too. Wanda. Rhodey. Clint, when she can convince him. Tony, when he’s bored and Morgan is in school. She wants, needs, Adam to say yes.
She’ll never let him know that.
Adam is staring off into the distance, obviously contemplating her offer. She doesn’t blame him, honestly. He’s definitely getting the short end of the stick. She purposefully left out the detail that Earth probably won’t take too kindly to other-worldly beings after Loki and everything else that followed. It was difficult enough persuading the UN to let Thor and the few Asgardians who were left take a deserted swatch of land in Norway.
“It will take some time,” Adam finally says, still not officially agreeing. “Patience will be of utmost importance. The Sovereign do not enjoy being fooled. The cost of transgression is death.”
“We’ve got a minute or two,” Natasha assures him, smirking. “No one’s expecting us back anytime soon.”
“Uh, actually, I’d love to make it back in time for Morgan’s pre-school graduation,” Tony interjects, holding up his finger. When Natasha and Gamora both glare at him, he raises his hands in defense. “No, you’re right, you’re right. Kindergarten is the only one that matters, anyway. They’re not even cute after that. Patience. We got it.”
Adam regards the three of them seriously. “If I bring you back to Sovereign...it will be a lonely existence for you all. It will be difficult. You will be pushed, harder than you ever have before.”
“I beg to differ,” Gamora says. She nods toward the Omnicraft. “So. Do we have a deal?”
Natasha holds out her hand for Adam. He grabs it, shakes it, and grins, his golden teeth glimmering.
“You have no idea what you’re in for.”
~
“I don’t know about this. Do you really think this is believable?”
“This is the most realistic version, anyway,” Natasha points out.
It’s 2016, no one has been able to pinpoint a location on Bruce yet, the Winter Soldier – who turns out to be Steve’s best friend from the war, go figure – doesn’t recognize her, the Avengers are falling apart, and Laura is going to kill both Natasha and Clint if they don’t make it back to the farm in time for baby Nate’s first birthday party.
And yes, that list is in order of least to most threatening to Natasha.
Clint sighs, running his hand through his hair. The Skype call freezes for a moment before resuming clearly.
“I just feel like I should take Stark’s side on this one. You’ve broken the law way more than I have,” he says, grinning.
Natasha rolls her eyes, letting herself smile for a split second. “He knows me better than he knows you. He’ll feel more confident with me on his side. No offense.”
“Normally I would be offended, but the opposing side is Captain fucking America, so I can’t be too mad.”
“Wanda will be there too. She’ll trust you quicker,” Natasha adds. “Vision will be on Stark’s side. Make sure they don’t bang each other up too badly before you even make it off the compound.”
“I’m a great babysitter,” Clint sighs.
Natasha narrows her eyes seriously. “Clint, I’m not kidding. We have to be looking out for everyone. It’s just up to us. T’Challa is out for blood with Barnes and Steve loses any rationale when it comes to Bucky.”
“And you?” Clint asks, popping a pretzel in his mouth. He chews for a second before clarifying, “How do you feel about Barnes?”
“I feel like you shouldn’t talk with your mouth open. What will your kids learn?” Natasha quips, smirking. Then her expression sobers. “I feel about Barnes how I feel about Barnes. That isn’t something we need to deal with right now. All we need to do is make sure our friends don’t all kill each other.” She sighs. “If you don’t want to be on Steve’s side...I get it. You have kids. You’ll be a criminal. I can do it.”
“Nah, I’m kind of running with this idea now that it’s out in the open,” Clint says, eating another pretzel. This time he finishes chewing before saying, “I mean, worst-case scenario, we get locked up. Then you just come break me out and I live in secrecy for the rest of my life on the farm. There are worse ways to live.”
“There are,” Natasha agrees.
Both of them sit in silence for a minute before a scream is heard from behind Clint.
“Ah, the kids just got roller blades, someone fell,” Clint explains, standing up. He bends down to look into his camera at Natasha, who’s gone pale at the sound of his kids. “Hey, Nat, seriously. Don’t worry about them or me. We’ll be okay. You just worry about keeping T’Challa from murdering Barnes and Tony from pissing off even more people. I’ll head out to get Wanda later tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Natasha concedes, still not satisfied. She hates this whole situation. This is what she gets for working with a team and even getting attached to them. “And the party’s next Friday at three, right?”
“Yeah, but you have to be here before lunch to help us set up,” Clint tells her, winking and turning off his computer before she can protest. Damn, she hates decorating.
She sits back in her chair and sighs. The team that saved New York from an alien invasion is fighting over a couple of papers. Madame B would have made Natasha go to bed without dinner for a week for just being associated with this mess.
And that’s exactly why she has to involve herself even more.
Just because it’s the path of least resistance doesn’t mean it’s the wrong path.
~
“So technically, you’re the youngest one here,” Tony tells Adam, waving his hand. “So, by seniority, I get the seat.”
“If we’re going by experience in space, I get the seat,” Gamora counters.
They’re all standing, crouched, inside the Omnicraft. The glass hasn’t closed yet, but Natasha knows it will be an even tighter squeeze once it does. There’s only one seat and barely enough room for the remaining three of them to fit behind it.
“If we’re going by size, I get the seat,” Adam argues. “I’m the tallest one. It makes sense that I get the seat.”
Natasha rolls her eyes at all of them and plops down in the seat. When the three of them sharply look at her, she innocently shrugs, smirking. “You guys finished?”
Tony gives her a wry smile before sitting down on the ground, scrunching his knees to his chest. “Yeah, I’m okay with this. Your driving skills aren’t too rusty.”
“Better than yours, Stark,” Natasha quips.
Gamora and Adam settle in next to him, neither one looking too pleased.
Adam gives Natasha coordinates. “Before we get there, slow down. I’ll need to disguise you all as we enter. And calibrate the defense system in case we run into anything we don’t want to.”
“Roger that,” Natasha mutters, familiarizing herself with the controls. It’s not too different than the controls of the Helicarrier. She can follow orders. That’s easy. She died following orders.
Watch each other’s six, Rhodey had told her and Clint. And she had. She’d had Clint’s back through his first time in space, climbing up the mountain on Vormir. She’d watched Clint’s back as he launched himself off the cliff, the most graceful she’s ever seen him, and so she did the only she could have.
She’d saved him. She’d watched his six.
Now she just had to get back to him so he could return the favor. Strike Team Delta, back in business.
“You know, last time I was in space, I nearly died,” Tony says conversationally. “I got to say, I hope this time around goes a little better.”
Natasha hopes so, too.