Shovel, Meet Dirt.

She was still bleeding from the fight she’d been in earlier when the white uniformed guards escorted the aging scientist into the interrogation room for her. The guards dropped him in the metal chair that was bolted to the floor and tried to back away as quickly as they could. The old guy gave off a bad vibe, and he had a worse reputation. The two burly males smartly took one glance at the woman seated opposite Brian Banner with her back to the wall and easily decided they didn't want to be that close to the redheaded, pissed-off Avenger either. As required, they had delivered the inmate, so they each mumbled their apologies and retreated to their positions by the door as quickly as possible. Getting caught in the crossfire between these two bitter combatants wasn’t in their job description.

“What took so long?” she asked, addressing the cowed guards just as much as she was Brian Banner himself. While the former government scientist didn’t look quite as pants-pissingly frightened as they did, the guards were still considering the blood-covered woman before them with wary eyes, quickly discovering most of the blood wasn't hers. This made them want to be involved in whatever beef she had with Brian Banner even less.

The old man hesitated and took a few moments to look her over while she stared him down with a completely blank expression. He’d already made the mistake of underestimating her during their first meeting about six months ago, but now… now, he was slowly beginning to realize exactly how much. He thought on her last visit that her face hadn’t given anything away because she wouldn’t be able to back up her threats, but he had been wrong. Now, he was about to find out how dead wrong he was to have called her bluff.

“I take it you got into a little tussle and you want to blame me for it, Natalia of the Red Room?” the older man asked, mostly to buy time and get a rise out of her. He noticed the cut above her left eye was slowly healing right in front of him. If he hadn't been watching so intently, he might have missed it.

She smiled sweetly, her chin balanced on her hand. “I don’t want to blame you,” she paused staring at him, warmly, “but I just can’t help myself. I do blame you for it.”

“What makes you think I had a thing to do with anything outside this facility? I’m locked up in here!” He waved his hands around, growing more nervous by the millisecond. What did she know?

At this Nat broke out into a laugh, an actual full belly laugh that nearly had her doubled over. “Whew, I’m sorry,” she finally said and wiped a tear from her eye. “You ever hear the phrase, ‘Crazy, not stupid,’ Brian?” He nodded and swallowed. “That’s most people who are locked up in asylums. The people who work here get used to their behaviors, their idiosyncrasies, and they begin treating them like the wild wolf they think they've tamed and then begin to feed scraps closer and closer to their house until the wolf has made its way all the way inside. They forget the wolf is still feral and the reason it’s been kept away from everyone else is because,” she shrugged, “… maybe it did something truly savage, and it just isn't going to be tamed.” She leaned back in her seat and raised an eyebrow at him.  

Brian Banner relaxed in his chair, feeling a little more in his element now. Sneering at her, he proclaimed, “Let me guess, I’m the wolf and I’ve bitten someone?” He sighed loudly, “Really, this is a rather stupid analogy, Ms. Romanoff. I expected more …”

She slammed both her fists on the table in front of him, jarring it even closer to him as the anchoring screws gave way. “No, you insignificant little cunt. I’m the wolf and you’re my dinner!” She slammed his face into the table before grabbing herself a handful of his hair and dragging him out of his chair and across the table. With her left hand, she forced his right arm to the middle of his back, pinning him to the tabletop. The former assassin held a knife in front of his eyes so the man would see it, swinging the blade casually back and forth like a pendulum between her fingers.

While pinned to the metal surface, he couldn't get any purchase, so the man had no choice but to stay subdued and helpless since she didn’t seem to be wavering and the guards had chosen self-preservation over saving his sorry ass.

“Remember our last discussion, Brian?” He didn’t say anything. “Bri-an,” she said in a creepily singsong way, “remember what we talked about?”

He was finally able to get out a sound that resembled “Yes.” She smiled an evil crooked smile down at him, “What did I say you were supposed to do if you heard from General Ross or anyone else inquiring about Bruce?”

“To—To call you.” The tears were starting to spill from his eyes, not because of anything he’d done to his son. The situation was much worse than he’d thought. The redheaded spy definitely knew!

“But did you?” Natasha sounded as if she was scolding a five year old.

“Nnn—No!” he sobbed.

“Why is that, Brian? And I’m not in the mood to be lied to. That's already happened today and well, as you can tell from my uniform, that didn't go so well. So at this point,” she set her jaw and flipped him over so he was facing her, his back against the cold table. “To be totally honest, there’s a pretty good chance I may just rip off your own arm and beat you to death right here and now. I don’t think these two gentlemen by the door would object.” She glanced up at the guards who were frozen in place. She pressed her knife against his throat. Suddenly, her face softened and she gave the old man a sweet smile as she leaned closer down to him. “It’s really up to you. So, now that I’m here, how truthful are you going to be with me, Brian?”

To watch someone manipulate her own emotions and expressions like that was one of the scariest things the older Banner had ever seen. After her first visit, he’d called in a few of the favors he had left to find out everything he could about what was going on in his son’s and this Romanoff woman’s lives. Before long he’d gone back to doing a few odd jobs here and there he could get away with while inside the asylum for less than scrupulous people like Ross. Consulting work kept him comfortable and well informed about what he was missing in the outside world, especially about his monstrous progeny. However, in his current painful position against the cold metal surface of the interview table, he realized something very important. He’d fucked up. He’d fucked up horribly. He’d fucked up so badly, he might be about to die. His remorseful tears and other fluids were running down his face and pooling under his head as he sobbed.

Whereas Bruce might turn into a physical monster, Natasha Romanoff, the former scientist had discovered, was an actual legend who lived up to the tales of seduction, espionage, and murder Brian’s sources had reported. She was THE Black Widow. Russia retired the mantle after her: she was that good. Even before the woman received the serum, she was an amazing student by all accounts. Now, he’d gone and done something stupid—not only had he gotten back on her radar, he’d pissed her off.

His sources reported she had been administered a working albeit not perfect serum. Natasha was only about ten years younger than Steve Rogers; however, while Rogers slept for seventy years, she trained and completed missions, hundreds, possibly thousands of operations. As a child, Natasha killed her first man. There was no wonder why Ross had wanted to make sure Bruce and Romanoff were never together. Teamed up, they were potentially an unstoppable force. Even without the destructive power of the monster, his son’s brilliance and her cunning … They could take over countries if they wanted. War Dogs and Black Ops be damned, they could have had the world on its knees via seduction, sedition, and force. A wave of disappointment and jealousy swept through his guts.

The former spy exhaled an exasperated breath, “Bri-an? You there?”

The old man had had enough of covering up. “Thunderbolt wanted me to look at a prototype weapon and tell him what was wrong with it since Stark’s out of the arms business. Clean energy or some save-the-world bullshit now. Ross told me if I didn’t cooperate, things would get worse. Said he knew about you and Bruce and how disgusting it was. You’d think he’d drop it once his daughter was out of the picture.” Natasha applied a little more pressure to keep the older Banner on track, and he gritted his teeth as he got her message, the wound from her arm dripping blood onto his shirt. “Ross brought me a slide to examine, so I could verify your treatment. Let’s just say he got a bit more interested when I told him about you having a different strain of super-soldier serum than Rogers running through those veins of yours.”

The old man could see it. She broke into a wide smile. “If the blowhard thinks that plan’s going to work, he’s a bigger idiot than I thought. He really is stupid.” That was all she needed from the inmate. Natasha stood up to leave, blood droplets dripping to the floor from a saturated bandage as she relaxed her grip and stepped back. “Next time he comes in, give him this.”

“Oh-Okay,” the shocked inmate answered shakily as he adjusted to the fact he wasn’t going to die today.

She handed him a flat 9” x 12” box wrapped with homemade paper and a red ribbon tied in a bow on top. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

Nat turned to walk out of the room. She gave the old man a last glance over her shoulder. “Brian, he’ll open it in front of you. Don’t worry. I know you want to know what’s in it. It’s not deadly or harmful. It’s just a little joke between the General and me. Keep it safe till then.”

“I-I will,” he stammered. “Y-you better get that arm looked after.”

“That’s sweet of you to notice. I wouldn’t worry though. Your son takes excellent care of me.”

He nodded and held himself together until she’d passed through the doorway. Brian Banner fell into a shaky, hyperventilating heap as she walked down the tiled corridor. He could hear her chuckling softly as her steps echoed from further and further away from him. It was all he could do not to soil himself.

~*~

“Do you think he knows anything?” Cap asked from the next room as Bruce finished bandaging Natasha’s arm. She’d stripped out of her bloodied uniform and taken a quick shower in the infirmary's bathroom to get the grime off once he had the bleeding stopped and applied liquid stitches. The wound had looked dramatic for the interview, but she was already starting to heal as she walked out. The fact that it had made a convincing prop for their little charade at the asylum was like getting her cake and sharing it with Bruce, but he clearly didn’t quite see it that way.

“Nothing substantial,” Natasha responded to Steve’s query. She’d left the door to the infirmary bathroom open, so they could still talk while Bruce worked and fussed over her arm. Her Doc was so cute when he was being protective like this. Bruce refused to come out of his huff until she pulled him close and gave him a lingering kiss on the mouth. He resisted at first, but not for long. She ran her fingers through the curls at the back of his neck, enjoying the feel of his fingers digging possessively into her hips.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Bruce whispered in a low voice, so the others couldn’t hear.

“Sorry,” she said with a crooked smile. Bruce sighed and shook his head. “Down payment for later, Doc.”

Some days he just wanted to layer her in bubble wrap and have Hulk hold her down safe in one spot. Like that was ever going to happen. He rolled his eyes and then gathered up the remaining medical supplies before he left her to finish putting herself in order.

“It’s probably like he said,” Tony remarked. The engineer had his feet propped up on a table, waiting for the pizzas they’d ordered and eating popcorn in the meantime. “Ross asked him about the design build of something, and he did come clean to you.” Tony tossed a few kernels in the air and caught them all in his mouth. “Ross probably promised him time off his sentence or some bullshit like that,” the engineer speculated. The mention of that made Bruce visibly cringe as he closed the infirmary’s supply cabinet.

Hair still on the damp side, Natasha joined her teammates in the larger room. “No,” Nat shook her head, “there's more to it than that. I just can't put my finger on it.”

“Ross wants what he always wants,” Bruce said from across the room as he leaned back against a cabinet. “Me.”

Nat walked over to him and ran her fingers down his worried face, “I’ll be the first to tell him, ‘No,’ because you’re mine.” She pulled him closer down to her and kissed his forehead. “I thought we had this talk last night. Do we need another one of ‘those’ talks?”

He slid his arms around her and finally smiled. “It’s not like I’d protest having another one of those talks a little later.”

“I didn’t think you would, Doc. I’ve been told I have a special way of saying things.” He affirmed that by holding her just a bit closer.

Cap cleared his throat, “Pizza first. ‘Talking’ or fondue or whatever later.”

“Hold, friend, I desire to hear what Natasha has to say,” Thor started to object.

“Trust me, Thor. No, you don’t,” Clint advised as he guided the Asgardian out the door and the rest of the team followed. 

~*~ Two Weeks Later

“Thunderbolt's there!” Tony yelled excitedly from the Commons living room, upping the volume on the feed from their surveillance equipment as Nat’s plan finally paid off.

They’d received the tip from their source at the institution about an hour ago, so they were all close by. The team members settled quickly in front of the large display in the living room, so they could view the conversation between Gen. Thaddeus Ross and Brian Banner. The lone exception was Bruce who’d settled near the door instead, leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest because he felt too agitated to sit.

“What do you mean she gave you this to give to me?” Ross growled as he eyed the flat box Natasha had left with the inmate.

“Romanoff said to give you the box. It was a joke between the two of you. It wasn't going to hurt you or anything,” the former scientist declared with an arrogant sneer. He looked absolutely bored by the conversation now that his bravado had returned. “Open the damn box or let me go back to my cell, General.”

Ross glared at the other man before setting the box on the table and gingerly untying the perfect red bow. Inside the container were several sets of official papers. On top was a page of Tony Stark’s personal stationary with a nicely rendered sketch of a black widow spider and a radiation symbol beside it surrounded with numerous hearts. Ross crumpled it in his fist and threw the wadded page on the table. Brian Banner scooped it up and uncrumpled the paper. He smoothed it out and smirked at the drawing. Even he thought this was going to be good entertainment.

The first attached set of documents was an interstate restraining order instructing Ross to stay fifty or more yards away from Robert Bruce Banner aka “The Hulk.” The second was an official brevet demotion removing one of his stars as a U.S. General, which was signed by the Secretary of the Army. Ross’s face paled at that. The third was an official statement from the World Council of Nations to cease and desist from harassment of any and all Avengers, Defenders, “mutants,” “Inhumans,” and other “enhanced” individuals and teams. For years Council members had heard rumors and now they had proof that Ross's means of doing business was unsavory and unethical; therefore, they were withdrawing past authorizations and severing ties with him and his representatives. Many of the signers included addendums that went further with their sanctions. One noted that if possible her nation would find him a cell underneath their lowest prison after discovering he’d condoned and in some cases authorized experimentation on and destruction of numerous “normal” individuals as well as those with special abilities. Others made it clear Ross and his representatives were no longer welcomed past their borders. Ross was officially persona non grata in 90% of the nations on the globe.

“I didn't know a man's ears could turn that red that fast,” Pepper observed from the doorway where she stood supportively beside Bruce.

From his front row seat, the engineer snorted. “It was that beet red look we were going for, was it not, Tasha?”

“I believe it was, Tony,” the redhead said dryly.

“Verily, your goal has been met and then some if one might judge by the villain’s entire countenance,” the Thunder God cheerily admonished.

Steve was trying hard not to crack up, but he was soon chuckling behind his hand. Clint slapped his back and started laughing in anticipation, “Oh, get ready! Here it comes.”

The same burly guards as before opened the door, and a smartly dressed green-haired man with blue skin walked into the room and handed the apoplectic military man another envelope. “What the Hell is this?” Ross demanded with a roar.

The colorful official gave him a full-toothed smile, “General Ross, you've been served.”

Tony and Nat high-fived each other and the others cheered and laughed.

Bruce had come forward to join Natasha on the couch, and he sat there dumbfounded. “What does this mean?”

Nat squeezed his arm, “He can't touch you, Babe. He can't have someone else do it either. Ross won’t be bothering you again unless he goes completely rogue. If that happens, we can absolutely nail his ass.”

Clint put his hand on Bruce's shoulder. “You're free, buddy.” The archer grinned at the dazed scientist, “Well, at least as free as the rest of us are.”

“I'm not going to tell you there won't always be someone gunning for you,” Nat said, “but that son of a bitch will be tied up in court and jail. He'll be too busy to think of anything else. We made sure of it. He liked the Raft so much. Well, he’ll get to enjoy a prison I designed.”

Bruce smiled as the reality hit home, “I just, I …”

Tony stood up followed by everyone else but Nat, “Put the words together later, bud. Let it sink in. Give it a few days and get back to us.” The guys patted Bruce on the back or arm on their way out the door while Pepper lingered a moment to give him a hug.

Then, Bruce turned to Nat, “Thank you. I have no idea how to thank you properly for this.”

“I can think of a few …” Natasha winked at him, knowing all of them involved going back to the privacy of their apartment.