Defending the Shadows, 1/5. NC-17.
Title: Defending The Shadows
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Natasha/Bucky
Disclaimer: Not mine! Some comic backstory is incorporated into characterizations, but this is still primarily based off of the movieverse.
Spoilers/Warnings: AU to the MCU. Inspired by this gifset on Tumblr. Warning for mentions of suicide, violence and mayhem in line with various vampire myths where they don't sparkle.
Summary: In the years since a virus turned some of the infected dead into vampires, hunters rose and formed groups to protect the living. It kept the vampire numbers lower than they would have been otherwise, but they were still far too dangerous. Natasha Romanoff, newly transferred to New York City, knew all this. But some of her beliefs were about to change.
One - The City That Never Sleeps
Natasha Romanoff wished magic was real. That would make hunting so much easier, as spells could bottle sunlight, enchant weapons with necromantic power, possibly reverse the curse binding the undead into their bodies. Assuming it was a curse; no one ever questioned the creatures as to their origins, so there were only rumors to go by. She had been trained since early childhood to fight vampires and whatever other uglies could walk the night. Ivan used to tell her that he rescued her form a vampire trying to eat her family. It had definitely killed her mother, and her father had been missing but too much blood had been spilled. Ivan had staked the vampire and cut off its head, then burned down the house just to be sure it-and years later, Natasha understood the implication about feeding and potentially being turned-and no one else rose to stalk the living.
Raised with a veritable army, the lithe red haired and green-eyed girl grew into a solemn young woman. A number of their army had fallen over the years, and Natasha's lovers Nicholai and Alexei had been among them. She had been the one to find Nicholai, bled dry into a husk of a man, and had to desecrate the body to ensure he didn't rise. The trauma had broken her in a way that seeing ravaged strangers hadn't. She retreated into herself, barely eating, sleeping, or moving. Then, to compound her horror, she lost the child she hadn't even realized she had been carrying. The despair had been utterly complete, devastating her; Alexei had saved her from hanging herself.
From there, they had comforted each other and became something of a fixture in the Red Room hunter's cell. Older hunters wished them well, knowing happiness was all too fleeting. Alexei was a strong warrior within the group, with the code name Red Guardian. He saved so many lives, and was considered a hero to the people. At his side, Natasha became the Red Avenger, or Russian Avenger when she was spoken of outside of Russia. She cared about people, tried hard to save them from the creatures hiding in the dark.
And when Alexei was killed in a spectacularly brutal fashion, dismembered and decapitated, Natasha began being called the Black Widow.
Isolating herself didn't stop the whispers. Anyone romantically involved with her eventually would be marked for death. Friends were safe for the most part, but crueler tongues listed her parents and unborn child as other lives lost to her cursed touch. She held herself aloof and strong while in public, but it hurt and she fell apart in private.
Knowing her resolve to save her fellow Russians was fading, Ivan took to the radios. He found someone willing to take her on, a Nicholas Fury in America. He was the leader of the main American force known as SHIELD; they didn't operate in separate isolated cells as they did in Russia. Then again, Americans were sure of themselves and their ability to stop master vampires with little outside help. The Russians and Europeans were aware that cooperation was key when the enemy could run fast, ensorcel minds and had incredible strength and stamina. A vampire could easily cross multiple borders in an evening.
"I heard about you," Fury said when Natasha arrived. He was a tall black man, dressed perpetually in black tactical gear, a black eye patch covering the damaged socket. Rumor said a vampire's claw did the damage, and Fury had still cut him open and ripped out his heart. Natasha could believe he was capable of such a thing.
Natasha remained silent, even when Fury clearly expected her to speak. Silence tended to unnerve people, but she wasn't interested in making any friends. She wanted to kill vampires, save humans, and hope to whatever God that might exist that her conscience could be wiped clean someday.
"Strong, silent, deadly," Fury continued, unperturbed by her silence. "What I didn't hear is why you left Russia when their infestation is pretty damn horrific."
"My past is my own," Natasha said in low, flat tones, "and you'll never know what I was before."
"Dramatic," Fury remarked dryly. "I think I have a good team for you to join up. They call themselves the Avengers."
Natasha startled internally, blinked externally. "Who are they?"
"Clint Barton's the sniper. His call sign's Hawkeye. Bruce Banner is our biochemist, and he's stronger than he looks. Some people call him Hulk. Steve Rogers is former Army. His squad got decimated wiping out a nest, so he transferred to us. Captain Rogers is a damn fine tactician, so listen to what he says. Tony Stark does munitions for the team, and fights in some kind of armor. Crazy SOB, but effective. Sometimes Thor Odinson comes in, and his girlfriend Jane Foster studied pathophysiology of the virus causing vampirism."
"Virus?" Natasha echoed, startled.
"Well, yeah. How else would they create new vamps?"
"Stories tell they feed on mortals, then the bodies rise if not cleansed."
"Meaning burned."
"Among other things."
"She's trying to find a way to reverse it," Fury told her. "Bruce is working with her, some kind of side project. No need to lose good people if we can help it."
"Who was lost?" Natasha asked, curious.
"Hank Pym. His wife couldn't handle the reminders, so Janet moved to another team just last month. That's why we advertised for a new fighter."
"You spoke with Ivan."
"Good fighter, mostly solo work, he said. Think you can work on a team?"
"If I have to."
"I have a number of good teams under my command. We couldn't keep the major cities safe otherwise," Fury told her.
"And the smaller cities? Or the country?" Natasha asked, recalling the empty houses she'd seen in Russia while on the road.
Fury's lips twisted into a grimace. "We can't always get out that way. By now, most people know that living in the country equals being survivalists. Or living in goddamn bunkers overnight. Most of 'em were preppers before the virus hit."
Natasha hadn't heard the term before, but understood what it meant in context. "So what territory does the Avengers patrol?"
"Manhattan. Spider Squad's got Queens. Brooklyn's got the Fantastic Four. Staten Island's got the Dump Squad. The X Men patrol the Bronx and Westchester."
"Dump Squad?"
"Half the island's a landfill," Fury replied drolly. "Hey, they picked it, not me. Charles Xavier has it handled up north, and Long Island's got a handful of vigilantes at work."
"I'm surprised you're not sending me to Queens." At his blank look, Natasha smiled thinly. "Black Widow is my most common alias."
"Not the only one," Fury replied with a shrug. "And someone needs to keep the boys in line. They're self-destructive fools to a one."
"I'm not a babysitter," Natasha snapped. "I've killed ravenous vampires with no other weapons than my bare hands. I'm not here to keep boys from being stupid."
"Hear, hear," came a playful voice behind her.
Natasha turned slowly, unamused. She hadn't heard footsteps approach, and she immediately realized why; he was hanging out of the ceiling vent. The man was blond, with warm brown eyes, and she could tell he was fairly well built by the way he was hanging out of the vent. That took great arm and core muscle strength to stay so steady.
"Hawkeye," she guessed, seeing arm guards strapped on. By his grin, it was correct. "I take it you're not interested in a babysitter."
"Aw, hell no. Nobody signs up for this job to play it safe. Most of us here have got nothing left to lose. That's what bothers Fury."
He didn't deny it, but was clearly irritated. "Barton..." he began in a warning tone.
"I actually came looking for you because Coulson's back with a bus full of recruits. Your secretary didn't believe me when I said you'd want to know."
"Don't call Maria a secretary," Fury growled. She'll gouge out your eyes if you do."
"Obviously, I like to live dangerously," Clint snarked. "Hey, new girl. Once he's done scaring the pants off you, come to the eighty-fifth floor. That's residential. Most of us are hanging around while daylight's out. If you want, you can come on patrol after sundown."
A patrol on her first day? Perfect.
"I'll be there," she promised, making Fury scowl.
"Fantastic. It'll be a party."
"Don't lose your fool head just when you've got here," Fury warned her. "New York City is not like Russia."
"Vampires are vampires," she replied evenly. "They're dead and need to be put down for good."
"Plenty of good people die thinking the same thing. But out here, they're smart. Their nests are protected, they've got a network. Every nest of 'em we smoke out, another takes its place. And I don't think we're just emptying out New Jersey's supply."
"Eleven million people in Manhattan alone," Natasha reminded him, voice still even. "It's not hard to find replacement cannon fodder."
"Maybe not," Fury sighed. "Just don't be one of them and don't be part of the menu."
"Not part of my game plan," she agreed.
***
There was no official floor eighty-five; elevators only ran to eighty-four. She went by stairwell from there, and Natasha approved of the paranoia. The hunters made sure their living quarters were protected, just in case the scientists on the lower floors sold them out.
Clint had some beers and handed her one. "Fantastic. Let's do introductions."
It was amazing how cheerful he seemed to be, given the morbid line of work he was in. Tony drank far too much scotch the entire time, eyes dark and shadowed. He apparently had an artificial heart thanks to a particularly vicious attack that left him nearly dead. He still had the family company to help fund the team and give him an air of legitimacy. Pepper Potts, his able assistant, ran the company in his name and kept up the funds for his weapons research. The strawberry blonde had feelings for him, that much Natasha could tell on sight, but it was difficult to tell if she was a tempering influence on him at all. Tony's best friend Rhodey wasn't present, as he was part of the US Air Force. He apparently visited as often as he could, and kicked serious vampire ass.
Steve was a tall, muscular blond man with such sincerity and devotion to the cause that it was blinding. He'd signed up for vampire elimination squads on multiple occasions since age twelve, and eventually his best friend Bucky was drafted in. Steve wrangled his way in, and the two had been assigned to Brooklyn. The Howling Commandoes kept the streets safe, and had an impressive kill rate until the night they were ambushed, much of the team slaughtered. The only part of Bucky left that Steve had found had been an arm; having that in the coffin had to have been cold comfort for the Barnes family. It certainly was no comfort to Steve.
Bruce was quiet, with no outward sign of the "stunning rage issues" that people talked about. Natasha didn't doubt it was there, but likely the circumstances that triggered his rage weren't met. Tony was a bit of an ass, explaining to Natasha that Colonel Ross of the US Army used to contract Bruce's services to try to find toxins to bring down vampires. When he fell in love with his fellow researcher, Betty Ross, the general sent him away, canceling the research contract. He didn't want anyone with his daughter, full stop, and there was no explanation why. The abrupt departure looked bad on Bruce's record, so it had been impossible to find a new post until Fury snapped him up. Fury and Ross were often at odds, and no one else in Ross' research division could come close to Bruce's intellect.
"Ross is a self-serving ass," Tony declared while Bruce glowered at him. "I could use a scotch. You want some, Romanoff? Or is it stereotypical to offer the Russian vodka?"
"It's what we have," she replied evenly. "But I'll drink that."
Steve and Pepper both appeared disapproving, but remained silent. Natasha downed the scotch quickly, ignoring the burn of the alcohol down her throat. "Thank you," she said with a dismissive tone. "Let me settle in, sleep for a while, then we can patrol. Teach me the rhythms of the city I'll defend."
"But-" Pepper began.
"I'll need at least six hours of sleep, though I've gotten by with less. If you want my reflexes at their sharpest, though, I'd really prefer eight hours of sleep."
Steve's eyes shone with approval. He must have been relieved she wasn't a drunk like Tony. Natasha was no soldier, not really, but wanted to work. She wanted to hunt. These people didn't know her history of loss and heartbreak. She was a fighter, perhaps a spy, and she was a welcome addition to a reduced team.
Clint passed her a shot glass. "One on me."
"Not hard to do with it's my booze, Barton," Tony snarked.
Natasha slammed it back. "Rotgut," she declared with approval, smiling at him. "I like it. Later, we can improve on your recipe."
"What are you doing making alcohol when I have top shelf liquor right here?" Tony groused.
"I like making things," Clint replied easily. To Natasha, it sounded like an oft-repeated argument that would never really be settled. "C'mon, Natasha, I'll show you where you'll be staying."
The suite of rooms was sparsely furnished, but everything was tastefully done in high quality material. Natasha assumed they were Pepper's doing. Natasha threw her bags down and face planted onto the bed. The pillow was plus, covers soft and warm. Exhausted from travel, Natasha immediately fell asleep.
***
The next few weeks were a flurry of activity. Natasha learned the ins and outs of her new city, feeling the rhythm of an ordinary night and what it felt like when the undead were near. She met the others stalking vampires in the shadows, singly or in pairs, not having or caring about official SHIELD sanction. They were glad to meet her. "Fresh blood on the street is good," the man calling himself Daredevil had said with a smile when they met. "We get so used to now things are, we sometimes forget weirdness."
"Forget weirdness," Natasha had echoed dubiously.
"Seriously. It happens," he assured her.
"If I ever lose my edge, tell me and get me off the street."
"Will do," he said. They worked together off and on after that, mostly if Hell's Kitchen seemed to be overrun with undead or mafiosos. Steve wasn't the stickler that Tony thought he was, and hadn't minded the team up at all.
Steve only cared about getting the job done, saving the people from the horrors in the dark. He had a wicked sense of humor, so Natasha often found herself on patrols with him and Clint. Bruce was in the lab a lot, and Tony had his own lab to design and create armor. Occasionally he came out with them, encased in his flashy metallic armor. That certainly made it harder for vampires to bite into him, and Natasha asked him to come up with gauntlets and a neck guard for her. She couldn't do the same level of armor that he used for her fighting style. Of course that meant he not only developed a pair of gauntlets that had tasers, grappling hooks, knockout gas, transmitters and single shot guns, but he also made an entire suit of reinforced Kevlar for her. Blades could still rend the material, but it was harder for teeth and nails to rip her apart. The jumpsuit even had a high collar, protecting her neck. The gauntlets shone gold against the black of her jumpsuit, and the utility belt was also gold. Tony painted a red hourglass on the center of the buckle in honor of the Black Widow moniker. "It's a deadly spider," he'd told her defensively when she questioned him about it. "Wasn't that why you picked it?"
They thought this identity was a choice. They thought she wanted to be a deadly loner, wanted to be a fearsome killer. Better that than cursed to die alone and mocked, she supposed.
"It's thoughtful," she told the anxious Tony. "Thank you."
"Yeah, well, your suit doesn't have much ornamentation otherwise."
That was certainly true. The holsters for her Glock 19 and 22 pistols and extra magazines were all black. She didn't personalize the grips on the pistols, which were black, and even her throwing knives and the tactical blades all had matte black handles. "Fits the Black Widow moniker," she had replied with a slight smile. "Though in Russia, they also called me the Red Avenger for a while."
Tony grinned at that. "And we're the Avengers. And you have red hair. Kismet! I love it!"
"Why did you choose the name Avengers, anyway?"
"Because if we can't save the people of New York, we're damn well going to avenge them," Tony immediately replied.
"Makes sense."
Names conferred identity, belonging, camaraderie, teamwork. There hadn't been such a thing for her team in Russia. The Red Room group was an identifier, but she didn't feel the same sense of camaraderie. If anything, there was competition, bullying, and backstabbing to be the top hunter. The leaderboards hadn't meant anything to Natasha, but it had to the others. Having her name at the top when she didn't even care about it seemed to be insult to injury for them. Here, it was more of a friendly challenge if they even kept track.
In the downtime between patrols, they trained or relaxed. Natasha went through records Pepper kept on the team dynamics, and also whatever SHIELD databases Fury let her have access to. He must have trusted her pretty well, as she had scarily high access without having to hack her way in. That was possibly Ivan's doing, penance for introducing her to her dead lovers. He might have introduced them, but Natasha had been the one to love them, to mourn them when they died.
A rash of attacks on the Upper West Side began to occur about four months after Natasha arrived. At first, the wealthy citizens had wanted to use their private security teams; the Avengers got the job done, but sometimes there was property damage and the injury of innocent bystanders. As fall moved into winter and the attacks continued, however, the wealthy Upper West Siders had to admit they needed help. Their expensive security teams were turning up dead, sprays of blood and missing limbs terrifying the privileged children; there had always been dead and dying in the projects, unfortunately. Police retreated once night fell, and the commissioner defended the action, stating they were trained to deal with drug dealers and mortal wrongdoers, not supernatural monsters lurking in the shadows. Outdoor crimes and the homeless population had plummeted, but it soon became a credible and terrifying threat to lock someone outside of building after nightfall.
Natasha remembered that tactic in Russia. It kept women with abusive spouses, gave the mafia incredible power at night. She remembered beating a few men that beat their wives, then kicking them out of windows (open or not) or off a roof. She would impassively look down at the broken bodies, knowing the shifting shadows would finish them off. Those foul men also served as wonderful lures to draw out nests of vampires for their teams to hunt down and destroy.
For most people, even with the vampires, life continued uninterrupted. Bars on windows and armored cars were commonplace now, and any third shift job now included hazard pay bonuses to keep people on staff. The Avengers, managed by SHIELD, had generous government pay and benefits, though the government generally saved a lot in bonuses or benefits because of the low life expectancy.
She didn't care about all of that, though. The imposing brownstones and high rises hid a new nest of vampires; there was no other reason for there to be so many new dead bodies and deaths. Older and wiser vampires hid their predations, allowing them to escape undetected for a time. Natasha had a sense for hiding places, though she'd only search them in the daytime. Vampires were weakest then, and sunlight would help her eliminate the threat. The Avengers employed similar tactics, though Tony also had high intensity UV lights on his armor. They could still stalk nesting places into dusk and even after nightfall.
With the last death creeping up toward Morningside Heights, the other neighborhood and college communities were starting to fear for their lives. They requested the Avengers come in, and some students chipped in to obtain new silvered weapons. None of the Avengers had the heart to refuse them, seeing the gifts for what they were - attempts to repay the effort to keep them safe when they were unable to do it themselves. Most people they tried to help ultimately gave gifts of some kind; weapons or food were favorites, as the team could definitely use them.
Most of the deaths seemed to dot the west eighties, so the team focused their attentions in that part of the Upper West Side. Natasha looked into the basement accesses, the stairwells leading below street level, the alleys between high rises. Daredevil liked stalking alleys, with their dumpsters and piles of trash bags between pick up days. Baby vampires created by accident or kicked out of nests often landed in those areas, so it was easy pickup in Hell's Kitchen.
None of those places had yielded much in daytime, so they had all returned at dusk. As the skies darkened, the streets emptied, the shutters and bars were locked into place, and the streetlights kicked on. It was eerie; New York City nightlife used to be fabled for its restaurant, club and bar scene. The theater basked in the brightly lit glory of signs and flood lights, and Times Square had always been full after dark, even after most illicit activities had moved over to Ninth Avenue. Now, theaters partnered with local restaurants and buildings, keeping bright lights, UV flood lamps at the perimeter and hotels inside it to lure the theater crazed. Everyone else thought their lives were far too precious for that, but the theater crowd thought it was brilliant and paid the surcharges gladly.
There was none of that in the Upper West Side, though. It was largely residential, with few commercial interests. As a result, everyone paid attention to dusk times and when their building's lockout period was. The Avengers were caught outside of it, looking for vampires in the area.
Shadows shifted, and Steve had them turn on their comms. "Look alive, everyone."
"That's the easy part," Clint joked. "It's the looking dead part that's hard."
Natasha snorted and looked around, alert. "It's too quiet, even for this neighborhood."
"Think that means they got all the rats? You don't even see 'em on the subway tracks anymore," Clint replied, looking around as well.
Steve and Natasha looked at him. "The 6 line runs near here," Steve said. "I didn't check it."
"I didn't either," Natasha replied. "I focused on building and alleys."
"Not me," Clint replied as they stared at him.
"So we could be looking at a subway dweller."
"Makes sense. It's really the only place a baby vamp could hide away from us at this point," Clint pointed out.
"Which means it can go anywhere else in the city. Or if it gets to Grand Central, take a PATH train into New Jersey," Natasha intoned.
Steve slung an arm around Natasha's shoulders, a jovial and eager expression on his face. "Not if we kill it first."
Clint retrieved his collapsible bow and snapped it open. "Oh, yeah."
"Archaic," Natasha commented, patting her Glock. "I'll take these."
"Well, sure, but I can get pretty damn far. Silver bullets are a pain to smith properly, but arrowheads? Easy. Pierce their hearts and they're just as dead."
"I used to use a sword, too," Natasha remarked.
"Ah, decapitation," Steve murmured. "Definitely works. Disturbs the locals when they witness it. Too much blood."
"Is that why you use the shield?" Natasha asked. "That covers up the damage from view?"
"Part of the reason," he agreed. "The other is that it can prevent one from grabbing me and sinking his fangs into my neck."
"You don't like the neck guards?" Natasha asked curiously.
"Feels too much like I'm being choked," Steve replied, shaking his head. "I used to have asthma pretty bad as a little kid. It's kinda like that, not being able to breathe."
"That sucks," Clint muttered. "I can do the reinforced collars, at least."
Natasha brought her hand to her throat. She supposed it did feel like a fairly tight choker. But it was additional protection, and she didn't mind the feel of a choker. "As long as you stay safe, Steve," she murmured.
"That's the idea," he replied with a grin.
"This may sound counter to that," Clint began, "but I do think we should split up."
"That's a dumbass idea."
"The subways are lit with dual UV and visible light spectra. We'll cover more ground that way."
Natasha and Steve exchanged glances, and both did the mental calculations. Natasha shrugged, indicating she didn't think it would a problem to break into the locked stations to explore.
"Sam would've enjoyed this kind of thing," Steve said, pointing in the direction of the station. At Natasha's confused look, Steve smiled. "My friend, ex-paramilitary rescue in Afghanistan. Right now he's in DC, but he's planning on moving soon. He'd be a great asset to the team."
"Our own medic, huh? That's quite the coup," Natasha agreed.
"Great guy, good sense of humor," Steve said as they began to walk. "Goes by Falcon."
"I like it," she said with a smile.
"Don't tell him that," Steve teased, grinning at her. "His ego is big enough as it is."
She chuckled and looked over at Clint, whose brows had started to furrow. "See something?"
"Not sure. So let's say yes and be pleasantly surprised if nothing is actually there," Clint said quietly, hand tightening on his bow.
They all had the same sentiment, and proceeded cautiously. After all, vampires were stronger, faster and had better night vision. Descending into a closed station at night was normally a suicidal gesture, but they were trained professionals. Their training in the tower included dimly lit obstacle courses and simulated vampires. They knew what they were getting themselves into.
They jumped over the low fencing and proceeded slowly. The station was empty, their footsteps echoing in the cavernous space. Nothing aboveground, so they climbed down the escalator steps. There were only a handful of lights on, so their eyes adjusted as they descended. By the time they got to the platform, they were used to the gloom.
The platform was empty, and there was no longer any risk of subway cars coming. Patrons generally stopped using the subway or buses at night, as Metro Transit Authority couldn't enforce security through all of its connections. Their hours now followed the length of the solar day, so the subway lines could very well be nesting sites for all vampires as far as they knew. Most fighting teams assumed that, as well as abandoned building that haven't been knocked down yet.
Splitting the platform into three, they began to search it closely, both uptown and downtown sections. Natasha nearly jumped down to the tracks on a few occasions, but looking up, she caught Steve's incredulous expression. If Clint had been in the next section, he would only encourage her to do it, and possibly do it as well. As it was, she sighed and kept to the platform, running up and down the stairs to get across and down when necessary.
"I think we're good," Clint called out from the far end of the platform.
Natasha turned her head to call out to Steve, but the shadows shifted just beyond the emergency lighting marking the station for subway drivers. "Hey, wait, I-"
The shadow had the glint of eyes, and it rushed at Natasha. She brought up her Glock 19, even managed to squeeze off a shot before it hit her. Steve and Clint ran toward her, but she knew they wouldn't reach her in time. Another shot as she took out her tactical knife, slashing upward. The sound echoed, and Natasha thought she would go deaf like Clint. Steve was screaming her name as the shadow pulled her off the platform and down onto the track.
While they avoided the third rail, the shadow spun Natasha around. She saw blood splashed on the platform, knew it wasn't hers, and felt a flash of pride.
Right before her head connected with the tiled wall, knocking her out completely.
***
***
To Chapter Two - Naming A Shadow
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Natasha/Bucky
Disclaimer: Not mine! Some comic backstory is incorporated into characterizations, but this is still primarily based off of the movieverse.
Spoilers/Warnings: AU to the MCU. Inspired by this gifset on Tumblr. Warning for mentions of suicide, violence and mayhem in line with various vampire myths where they don't sparkle.
Summary: In the years since a virus turned some of the infected dead into vampires, hunters rose and formed groups to protect the living. It kept the vampire numbers lower than they would have been otherwise, but they were still far too dangerous. Natasha Romanoff, newly transferred to New York City, knew all this. But some of her beliefs were about to change.
One - The City That Never Sleeps
Natasha Romanoff wished magic was real. That would make hunting so much easier, as spells could bottle sunlight, enchant weapons with necromantic power, possibly reverse the curse binding the undead into their bodies. Assuming it was a curse; no one ever questioned the creatures as to their origins, so there were only rumors to go by. She had been trained since early childhood to fight vampires and whatever other uglies could walk the night. Ivan used to tell her that he rescued her form a vampire trying to eat her family. It had definitely killed her mother, and her father had been missing but too much blood had been spilled. Ivan had staked the vampire and cut off its head, then burned down the house just to be sure it-and years later, Natasha understood the implication about feeding and potentially being turned-and no one else rose to stalk the living.
Raised with a veritable army, the lithe red haired and green-eyed girl grew into a solemn young woman. A number of their army had fallen over the years, and Natasha's lovers Nicholai and Alexei had been among them. She had been the one to find Nicholai, bled dry into a husk of a man, and had to desecrate the body to ensure he didn't rise. The trauma had broken her in a way that seeing ravaged strangers hadn't. She retreated into herself, barely eating, sleeping, or moving. Then, to compound her horror, she lost the child she hadn't even realized she had been carrying. The despair had been utterly complete, devastating her; Alexei had saved her from hanging herself.
From there, they had comforted each other and became something of a fixture in the Red Room hunter's cell. Older hunters wished them well, knowing happiness was all too fleeting. Alexei was a strong warrior within the group, with the code name Red Guardian. He saved so many lives, and was considered a hero to the people. At his side, Natasha became the Red Avenger, or Russian Avenger when she was spoken of outside of Russia. She cared about people, tried hard to save them from the creatures hiding in the dark.
And when Alexei was killed in a spectacularly brutal fashion, dismembered and decapitated, Natasha began being called the Black Widow.
Isolating herself didn't stop the whispers. Anyone romantically involved with her eventually would be marked for death. Friends were safe for the most part, but crueler tongues listed her parents and unborn child as other lives lost to her cursed touch. She held herself aloof and strong while in public, but it hurt and she fell apart in private.
Knowing her resolve to save her fellow Russians was fading, Ivan took to the radios. He found someone willing to take her on, a Nicholas Fury in America. He was the leader of the main American force known as SHIELD; they didn't operate in separate isolated cells as they did in Russia. Then again, Americans were sure of themselves and their ability to stop master vampires with little outside help. The Russians and Europeans were aware that cooperation was key when the enemy could run fast, ensorcel minds and had incredible strength and stamina. A vampire could easily cross multiple borders in an evening.
"I heard about you," Fury said when Natasha arrived. He was a tall black man, dressed perpetually in black tactical gear, a black eye patch covering the damaged socket. Rumor said a vampire's claw did the damage, and Fury had still cut him open and ripped out his heart. Natasha could believe he was capable of such a thing.
Natasha remained silent, even when Fury clearly expected her to speak. Silence tended to unnerve people, but she wasn't interested in making any friends. She wanted to kill vampires, save humans, and hope to whatever God that might exist that her conscience could be wiped clean someday.
"Strong, silent, deadly," Fury continued, unperturbed by her silence. "What I didn't hear is why you left Russia when their infestation is pretty damn horrific."
"My past is my own," Natasha said in low, flat tones, "and you'll never know what I was before."
"Dramatic," Fury remarked dryly. "I think I have a good team for you to join up. They call themselves the Avengers."
Natasha startled internally, blinked externally. "Who are they?"
"Clint Barton's the sniper. His call sign's Hawkeye. Bruce Banner is our biochemist, and he's stronger than he looks. Some people call him Hulk. Steve Rogers is former Army. His squad got decimated wiping out a nest, so he transferred to us. Captain Rogers is a damn fine tactician, so listen to what he says. Tony Stark does munitions for the team, and fights in some kind of armor. Crazy SOB, but effective. Sometimes Thor Odinson comes in, and his girlfriend Jane Foster studied pathophysiology of the virus causing vampirism."
"Virus?" Natasha echoed, startled.
"Well, yeah. How else would they create new vamps?"
"Stories tell they feed on mortals, then the bodies rise if not cleansed."
"Meaning burned."
"Among other things."
"She's trying to find a way to reverse it," Fury told her. "Bruce is working with her, some kind of side project. No need to lose good people if we can help it."
"Who was lost?" Natasha asked, curious.
"Hank Pym. His wife couldn't handle the reminders, so Janet moved to another team just last month. That's why we advertised for a new fighter."
"You spoke with Ivan."
"Good fighter, mostly solo work, he said. Think you can work on a team?"
"If I have to."
"I have a number of good teams under my command. We couldn't keep the major cities safe otherwise," Fury told her.
"And the smaller cities? Or the country?" Natasha asked, recalling the empty houses she'd seen in Russia while on the road.
Fury's lips twisted into a grimace. "We can't always get out that way. By now, most people know that living in the country equals being survivalists. Or living in goddamn bunkers overnight. Most of 'em were preppers before the virus hit."
Natasha hadn't heard the term before, but understood what it meant in context. "So what territory does the Avengers patrol?"
"Manhattan. Spider Squad's got Queens. Brooklyn's got the Fantastic Four. Staten Island's got the Dump Squad. The X Men patrol the Bronx and Westchester."
"Dump Squad?"
"Half the island's a landfill," Fury replied drolly. "Hey, they picked it, not me. Charles Xavier has it handled up north, and Long Island's got a handful of vigilantes at work."
"I'm surprised you're not sending me to Queens." At his blank look, Natasha smiled thinly. "Black Widow is my most common alias."
"Not the only one," Fury replied with a shrug. "And someone needs to keep the boys in line. They're self-destructive fools to a one."
"I'm not a babysitter," Natasha snapped. "I've killed ravenous vampires with no other weapons than my bare hands. I'm not here to keep boys from being stupid."
"Hear, hear," came a playful voice behind her.
Natasha turned slowly, unamused. She hadn't heard footsteps approach, and she immediately realized why; he was hanging out of the ceiling vent. The man was blond, with warm brown eyes, and she could tell he was fairly well built by the way he was hanging out of the vent. That took great arm and core muscle strength to stay so steady.
"Hawkeye," she guessed, seeing arm guards strapped on. By his grin, it was correct. "I take it you're not interested in a babysitter."
"Aw, hell no. Nobody signs up for this job to play it safe. Most of us here have got nothing left to lose. That's what bothers Fury."
He didn't deny it, but was clearly irritated. "Barton..." he began in a warning tone.
"I actually came looking for you because Coulson's back with a bus full of recruits. Your secretary didn't believe me when I said you'd want to know."
"Don't call Maria a secretary," Fury growled. She'll gouge out your eyes if you do."
"Obviously, I like to live dangerously," Clint snarked. "Hey, new girl. Once he's done scaring the pants off you, come to the eighty-fifth floor. That's residential. Most of us are hanging around while daylight's out. If you want, you can come on patrol after sundown."
A patrol on her first day? Perfect.
"I'll be there," she promised, making Fury scowl.
"Fantastic. It'll be a party."
"Don't lose your fool head just when you've got here," Fury warned her. "New York City is not like Russia."
"Vampires are vampires," she replied evenly. "They're dead and need to be put down for good."
"Plenty of good people die thinking the same thing. But out here, they're smart. Their nests are protected, they've got a network. Every nest of 'em we smoke out, another takes its place. And I don't think we're just emptying out New Jersey's supply."
"Eleven million people in Manhattan alone," Natasha reminded him, voice still even. "It's not hard to find replacement cannon fodder."
"Maybe not," Fury sighed. "Just don't be one of them and don't be part of the menu."
"Not part of my game plan," she agreed.
***
There was no official floor eighty-five; elevators only ran to eighty-four. She went by stairwell from there, and Natasha approved of the paranoia. The hunters made sure their living quarters were protected, just in case the scientists on the lower floors sold them out.
Clint had some beers and handed her one. "Fantastic. Let's do introductions."
It was amazing how cheerful he seemed to be, given the morbid line of work he was in. Tony drank far too much scotch the entire time, eyes dark and shadowed. He apparently had an artificial heart thanks to a particularly vicious attack that left him nearly dead. He still had the family company to help fund the team and give him an air of legitimacy. Pepper Potts, his able assistant, ran the company in his name and kept up the funds for his weapons research. The strawberry blonde had feelings for him, that much Natasha could tell on sight, but it was difficult to tell if she was a tempering influence on him at all. Tony's best friend Rhodey wasn't present, as he was part of the US Air Force. He apparently visited as often as he could, and kicked serious vampire ass.
Steve was a tall, muscular blond man with such sincerity and devotion to the cause that it was blinding. He'd signed up for vampire elimination squads on multiple occasions since age twelve, and eventually his best friend Bucky was drafted in. Steve wrangled his way in, and the two had been assigned to Brooklyn. The Howling Commandoes kept the streets safe, and had an impressive kill rate until the night they were ambushed, much of the team slaughtered. The only part of Bucky left that Steve had found had been an arm; having that in the coffin had to have been cold comfort for the Barnes family. It certainly was no comfort to Steve.
Bruce was quiet, with no outward sign of the "stunning rage issues" that people talked about. Natasha didn't doubt it was there, but likely the circumstances that triggered his rage weren't met. Tony was a bit of an ass, explaining to Natasha that Colonel Ross of the US Army used to contract Bruce's services to try to find toxins to bring down vampires. When he fell in love with his fellow researcher, Betty Ross, the general sent him away, canceling the research contract. He didn't want anyone with his daughter, full stop, and there was no explanation why. The abrupt departure looked bad on Bruce's record, so it had been impossible to find a new post until Fury snapped him up. Fury and Ross were often at odds, and no one else in Ross' research division could come close to Bruce's intellect.
"Ross is a self-serving ass," Tony declared while Bruce glowered at him. "I could use a scotch. You want some, Romanoff? Or is it stereotypical to offer the Russian vodka?"
"It's what we have," she replied evenly. "But I'll drink that."
Steve and Pepper both appeared disapproving, but remained silent. Natasha downed the scotch quickly, ignoring the burn of the alcohol down her throat. "Thank you," she said with a dismissive tone. "Let me settle in, sleep for a while, then we can patrol. Teach me the rhythms of the city I'll defend."
"But-" Pepper began.
"I'll need at least six hours of sleep, though I've gotten by with less. If you want my reflexes at their sharpest, though, I'd really prefer eight hours of sleep."
Steve's eyes shone with approval. He must have been relieved she wasn't a drunk like Tony. Natasha was no soldier, not really, but wanted to work. She wanted to hunt. These people didn't know her history of loss and heartbreak. She was a fighter, perhaps a spy, and she was a welcome addition to a reduced team.
Clint passed her a shot glass. "One on me."
"Not hard to do with it's my booze, Barton," Tony snarked.
Natasha slammed it back. "Rotgut," she declared with approval, smiling at him. "I like it. Later, we can improve on your recipe."
"What are you doing making alcohol when I have top shelf liquor right here?" Tony groused.
"I like making things," Clint replied easily. To Natasha, it sounded like an oft-repeated argument that would never really be settled. "C'mon, Natasha, I'll show you where you'll be staying."
The suite of rooms was sparsely furnished, but everything was tastefully done in high quality material. Natasha assumed they were Pepper's doing. Natasha threw her bags down and face planted onto the bed. The pillow was plus, covers soft and warm. Exhausted from travel, Natasha immediately fell asleep.
***
The next few weeks were a flurry of activity. Natasha learned the ins and outs of her new city, feeling the rhythm of an ordinary night and what it felt like when the undead were near. She met the others stalking vampires in the shadows, singly or in pairs, not having or caring about official SHIELD sanction. They were glad to meet her. "Fresh blood on the street is good," the man calling himself Daredevil had said with a smile when they met. "We get so used to now things are, we sometimes forget weirdness."
"Forget weirdness," Natasha had echoed dubiously.
"Seriously. It happens," he assured her.
"If I ever lose my edge, tell me and get me off the street."
"Will do," he said. They worked together off and on after that, mostly if Hell's Kitchen seemed to be overrun with undead or mafiosos. Steve wasn't the stickler that Tony thought he was, and hadn't minded the team up at all.
Steve only cared about getting the job done, saving the people from the horrors in the dark. He had a wicked sense of humor, so Natasha often found herself on patrols with him and Clint. Bruce was in the lab a lot, and Tony had his own lab to design and create armor. Occasionally he came out with them, encased in his flashy metallic armor. That certainly made it harder for vampires to bite into him, and Natasha asked him to come up with gauntlets and a neck guard for her. She couldn't do the same level of armor that he used for her fighting style. Of course that meant he not only developed a pair of gauntlets that had tasers, grappling hooks, knockout gas, transmitters and single shot guns, but he also made an entire suit of reinforced Kevlar for her. Blades could still rend the material, but it was harder for teeth and nails to rip her apart. The jumpsuit even had a high collar, protecting her neck. The gauntlets shone gold against the black of her jumpsuit, and the utility belt was also gold. Tony painted a red hourglass on the center of the buckle in honor of the Black Widow moniker. "It's a deadly spider," he'd told her defensively when she questioned him about it. "Wasn't that why you picked it?"
They thought this identity was a choice. They thought she wanted to be a deadly loner, wanted to be a fearsome killer. Better that than cursed to die alone and mocked, she supposed.
"It's thoughtful," she told the anxious Tony. "Thank you."
"Yeah, well, your suit doesn't have much ornamentation otherwise."
That was certainly true. The holsters for her Glock 19 and 22 pistols and extra magazines were all black. She didn't personalize the grips on the pistols, which were black, and even her throwing knives and the tactical blades all had matte black handles. "Fits the Black Widow moniker," she had replied with a slight smile. "Though in Russia, they also called me the Red Avenger for a while."
Tony grinned at that. "And we're the Avengers. And you have red hair. Kismet! I love it!"
"Why did you choose the name Avengers, anyway?"
"Because if we can't save the people of New York, we're damn well going to avenge them," Tony immediately replied.
"Makes sense."
Names conferred identity, belonging, camaraderie, teamwork. There hadn't been such a thing for her team in Russia. The Red Room group was an identifier, but she didn't feel the same sense of camaraderie. If anything, there was competition, bullying, and backstabbing to be the top hunter. The leaderboards hadn't meant anything to Natasha, but it had to the others. Having her name at the top when she didn't even care about it seemed to be insult to injury for them. Here, it was more of a friendly challenge if they even kept track.
In the downtime between patrols, they trained or relaxed. Natasha went through records Pepper kept on the team dynamics, and also whatever SHIELD databases Fury let her have access to. He must have trusted her pretty well, as she had scarily high access without having to hack her way in. That was possibly Ivan's doing, penance for introducing her to her dead lovers. He might have introduced them, but Natasha had been the one to love them, to mourn them when they died.
A rash of attacks on the Upper West Side began to occur about four months after Natasha arrived. At first, the wealthy citizens had wanted to use their private security teams; the Avengers got the job done, but sometimes there was property damage and the injury of innocent bystanders. As fall moved into winter and the attacks continued, however, the wealthy Upper West Siders had to admit they needed help. Their expensive security teams were turning up dead, sprays of blood and missing limbs terrifying the privileged children; there had always been dead and dying in the projects, unfortunately. Police retreated once night fell, and the commissioner defended the action, stating they were trained to deal with drug dealers and mortal wrongdoers, not supernatural monsters lurking in the shadows. Outdoor crimes and the homeless population had plummeted, but it soon became a credible and terrifying threat to lock someone outside of building after nightfall.
Natasha remembered that tactic in Russia. It kept women with abusive spouses, gave the mafia incredible power at night. She remembered beating a few men that beat their wives, then kicking them out of windows (open or not) or off a roof. She would impassively look down at the broken bodies, knowing the shifting shadows would finish them off. Those foul men also served as wonderful lures to draw out nests of vampires for their teams to hunt down and destroy.
For most people, even with the vampires, life continued uninterrupted. Bars on windows and armored cars were commonplace now, and any third shift job now included hazard pay bonuses to keep people on staff. The Avengers, managed by SHIELD, had generous government pay and benefits, though the government generally saved a lot in bonuses or benefits because of the low life expectancy.
She didn't care about all of that, though. The imposing brownstones and high rises hid a new nest of vampires; there was no other reason for there to be so many new dead bodies and deaths. Older and wiser vampires hid their predations, allowing them to escape undetected for a time. Natasha had a sense for hiding places, though she'd only search them in the daytime. Vampires were weakest then, and sunlight would help her eliminate the threat. The Avengers employed similar tactics, though Tony also had high intensity UV lights on his armor. They could still stalk nesting places into dusk and even after nightfall.
With the last death creeping up toward Morningside Heights, the other neighborhood and college communities were starting to fear for their lives. They requested the Avengers come in, and some students chipped in to obtain new silvered weapons. None of the Avengers had the heart to refuse them, seeing the gifts for what they were - attempts to repay the effort to keep them safe when they were unable to do it themselves. Most people they tried to help ultimately gave gifts of some kind; weapons or food were favorites, as the team could definitely use them.
Most of the deaths seemed to dot the west eighties, so the team focused their attentions in that part of the Upper West Side. Natasha looked into the basement accesses, the stairwells leading below street level, the alleys between high rises. Daredevil liked stalking alleys, with their dumpsters and piles of trash bags between pick up days. Baby vampires created by accident or kicked out of nests often landed in those areas, so it was easy pickup in Hell's Kitchen.
None of those places had yielded much in daytime, so they had all returned at dusk. As the skies darkened, the streets emptied, the shutters and bars were locked into place, and the streetlights kicked on. It was eerie; New York City nightlife used to be fabled for its restaurant, club and bar scene. The theater basked in the brightly lit glory of signs and flood lights, and Times Square had always been full after dark, even after most illicit activities had moved over to Ninth Avenue. Now, theaters partnered with local restaurants and buildings, keeping bright lights, UV flood lamps at the perimeter and hotels inside it to lure the theater crazed. Everyone else thought their lives were far too precious for that, but the theater crowd thought it was brilliant and paid the surcharges gladly.
There was none of that in the Upper West Side, though. It was largely residential, with few commercial interests. As a result, everyone paid attention to dusk times and when their building's lockout period was. The Avengers were caught outside of it, looking for vampires in the area.
Shadows shifted, and Steve had them turn on their comms. "Look alive, everyone."
"That's the easy part," Clint joked. "It's the looking dead part that's hard."
Natasha snorted and looked around, alert. "It's too quiet, even for this neighborhood."
"Think that means they got all the rats? You don't even see 'em on the subway tracks anymore," Clint replied, looking around as well.
Steve and Natasha looked at him. "The 6 line runs near here," Steve said. "I didn't check it."
"I didn't either," Natasha replied. "I focused on building and alleys."
"Not me," Clint replied as they stared at him.
"So we could be looking at a subway dweller."
"Makes sense. It's really the only place a baby vamp could hide away from us at this point," Clint pointed out.
"Which means it can go anywhere else in the city. Or if it gets to Grand Central, take a PATH train into New Jersey," Natasha intoned.
Steve slung an arm around Natasha's shoulders, a jovial and eager expression on his face. "Not if we kill it first."
Clint retrieved his collapsible bow and snapped it open. "Oh, yeah."
"Archaic," Natasha commented, patting her Glock. "I'll take these."
"Well, sure, but I can get pretty damn far. Silver bullets are a pain to smith properly, but arrowheads? Easy. Pierce their hearts and they're just as dead."
"I used to use a sword, too," Natasha remarked.
"Ah, decapitation," Steve murmured. "Definitely works. Disturbs the locals when they witness it. Too much blood."
"Is that why you use the shield?" Natasha asked. "That covers up the damage from view?"
"Part of the reason," he agreed. "The other is that it can prevent one from grabbing me and sinking his fangs into my neck."
"You don't like the neck guards?" Natasha asked curiously.
"Feels too much like I'm being choked," Steve replied, shaking his head. "I used to have asthma pretty bad as a little kid. It's kinda like that, not being able to breathe."
"That sucks," Clint muttered. "I can do the reinforced collars, at least."
Natasha brought her hand to her throat. She supposed it did feel like a fairly tight choker. But it was additional protection, and she didn't mind the feel of a choker. "As long as you stay safe, Steve," she murmured.
"That's the idea," he replied with a grin.
"This may sound counter to that," Clint began, "but I do think we should split up."
"That's a dumbass idea."
"The subways are lit with dual UV and visible light spectra. We'll cover more ground that way."
Natasha and Steve exchanged glances, and both did the mental calculations. Natasha shrugged, indicating she didn't think it would a problem to break into the locked stations to explore.
"Sam would've enjoyed this kind of thing," Steve said, pointing in the direction of the station. At Natasha's confused look, Steve smiled. "My friend, ex-paramilitary rescue in Afghanistan. Right now he's in DC, but he's planning on moving soon. He'd be a great asset to the team."
"Our own medic, huh? That's quite the coup," Natasha agreed.
"Great guy, good sense of humor," Steve said as they began to walk. "Goes by Falcon."
"I like it," she said with a smile.
"Don't tell him that," Steve teased, grinning at her. "His ego is big enough as it is."
She chuckled and looked over at Clint, whose brows had started to furrow. "See something?"
"Not sure. So let's say yes and be pleasantly surprised if nothing is actually there," Clint said quietly, hand tightening on his bow.
They all had the same sentiment, and proceeded cautiously. After all, vampires were stronger, faster and had better night vision. Descending into a closed station at night was normally a suicidal gesture, but they were trained professionals. Their training in the tower included dimly lit obstacle courses and simulated vampires. They knew what they were getting themselves into.
They jumped over the low fencing and proceeded slowly. The station was empty, their footsteps echoing in the cavernous space. Nothing aboveground, so they climbed down the escalator steps. There were only a handful of lights on, so their eyes adjusted as they descended. By the time they got to the platform, they were used to the gloom.
The platform was empty, and there was no longer any risk of subway cars coming. Patrons generally stopped using the subway or buses at night, as Metro Transit Authority couldn't enforce security through all of its connections. Their hours now followed the length of the solar day, so the subway lines could very well be nesting sites for all vampires as far as they knew. Most fighting teams assumed that, as well as abandoned building that haven't been knocked down yet.
Splitting the platform into three, they began to search it closely, both uptown and downtown sections. Natasha nearly jumped down to the tracks on a few occasions, but looking up, she caught Steve's incredulous expression. If Clint had been in the next section, he would only encourage her to do it, and possibly do it as well. As it was, she sighed and kept to the platform, running up and down the stairs to get across and down when necessary.
"I think we're good," Clint called out from the far end of the platform.
Natasha turned her head to call out to Steve, but the shadows shifted just beyond the emergency lighting marking the station for subway drivers. "Hey, wait, I-"
The shadow had the glint of eyes, and it rushed at Natasha. She brought up her Glock 19, even managed to squeeze off a shot before it hit her. Steve and Clint ran toward her, but she knew they wouldn't reach her in time. Another shot as she took out her tactical knife, slashing upward. The sound echoed, and Natasha thought she would go deaf like Clint. Steve was screaming her name as the shadow pulled her off the platform and down onto the track.
While they avoided the third rail, the shadow spun Natasha around. She saw blood splashed on the platform, knew it wasn't hers, and felt a flash of pride.
Right before her head connected with the tiled wall, knocking her out completely.
***
***
To Chapter Two - Naming A Shadow