IMPORTANT NOTE:
This is my P_A_T_R_E_O_N link please support me. Thank you guys
patrèon.com/Tony_stark_3000
remove the è and put a normal e.
If Patrèon is not your cup of tea, then buy me a coffee 😉.
https://buymeacoffee.com/Tony_Stark_3000
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Sorry for the delay over the last few days, guys.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Jack smiled faintly, the kind of smile that carried both amusement and something darker beneath it.
"We went in a full circle," he said casually. "After all that struggle, all that resistance… we ended up right back at the starting point." His gaze lingered on Natasha, sharp and deliberate. "You used so much effort, and in the end… you're still under me."
His tone wasn't loud, but it carried weight—mocking, controlled, and confident.
Natasha's eyes burned with cold fury.
"Jack," she said slowly, each word sharp like a blade, "I will kill you. What you've done today… I will return it a hundred times over."
Her voice was steady, but beneath it was something volatile—rage held tightly under discipline.
Jack tilted his head slightly, as if considering her words.
"If you can do it," he replied lightly, "I'll congratulate you." His lips curved into a faint grin. "Enough talk. Time for your punishment. Ready?"
Natasha's expression didn't change, but her muscles tightened slightly.
"What do you want?" she asked.
Jack's eyes narrowed just a fraction.
"A small repayment," he said. "You fired quite a few bullets at me earlier. So… I'll return it in my own way."
Natasha instantly understood the implication.
Her eyes widened for a brief moment, and then hardened again.
"You wouldn't dare," she said sharply.
For her, that kind of humiliation wasn't just physical—it was psychological. Worse than injury. Worse than death.
Jack didn't answer.
Instead—
A sharp sound cut through the air.
Pa!
The impact echoed.
Natasha's body jolted slightly, her balance shifting as heat rushed to her face.
"Now do you think I wouldn't?" Jack said calmly, almost casually.
Natasha's breathing became uneven for a split second.
"I'll kill you!" she snapped, her composure cracking.
Jack chuckled.
"Still this bold?" he said. "Interesting."
Another sharp motion followed—controlled, deliberate.
He wasn't rushing. That made it worse.
Natasha's fists clenched tightly against the ground beneath her. Her mind was racing, trying to find a way out, calculating possibilities—but every conclusion led to the same result.
No escape.
"Stop," she said, her voice low but filled with restrained anger. "Just kill me."
Jack shook his head slightly.
"Kill you?" he repeated. "That would be a waste. And honestly… not very interesting."
His tone remained almost conversational.
"This is more… engaging."
"Then do it," Natasha shot back. "If you have the ability, finish it."
Jack let out a quiet laugh.
"A moment ago you told me to let you go," he said. "Now you're asking me to kill you." He paused, studying her expression. "So this is what bothers you… your pride."
Another controlled motion.
"Seems like I should continue," he added lightly. "Help you… adjust."
"Ah—!"
Natasha let out a short, involuntary sound, her body tensing again.
"Jack," she said through clenched teeth, her voice trembling slightly despite her effort to control it, "I will make you regret this. I swear it. I will make you wish you were dead."
All composure had vanished now.
Only anger remained.
Jack didn't react negatively.
Instead, he smiled.
"Say whatever you want," he replied. "Every sentence… earns you another."
His tone carried a strange logic—twisted, but consistent.
"If you think that's fair," he added, "keep going."
Natasha bit down hard, so hard that the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. But she didn't stop.
"Do it," she said coldly. "Continue. If you think I'll beg… you're dreaming."
Jack paused.
Then—
He clapped his hands lightly once, almost like applause.
"Impressive," he said. "You recover quickly. As expected of Black Widow."
His eyes sharpened slightly.
"Since you insist," he continued, "I'll meet your expectations."
Natasha didn't respond this time.
Her silence spoke louder than words.
"I'll remember this," she said finally, her voice quiet but filled with lethal intent. "Every time. One day… you will fall into my hands. And when that happens…"
Her gaze locked onto his.
"I will make you understand what real despair feels like."
Jack tilted his head, amused.
"A grand ambition," he said. "But for now… it's just a fantasy."
Another deliberate motion followed.
Natasha's body stiffened, but she didn't make a sound this time.
Her silence was defiance.
Jack noticed.
"That's better," he said. "This expression… suits you."
He leaned slightly closer, his voice lowering.
"Breaking someone like you," he added, "is… satisfying."
"Perverted," Natasha muttered.
Jack didn't deny it.
"To deal with someone like you," he said calmly, "you first break the pride. Tear apart the illusion. Make you understand… you're not untouchable."
Natasha's eyes flashed.
"You won't succeed," she said coldly. "Do you think I care about this?"
Jack looked at her carefully.
"…Don't you?"
"I don't," she replied instantly. "As long as I kill you… none of this matters."
Jack let out a soft laugh.
"That's just self-comfort," he said. "No matter what happens later… this moment already exists."
Another motion followed.
"Like now," he added. "This is real."
Natasha's breathing deepened slightly, but she held her silence.
"Go on," Jack said lightly. "Keep pretending."
Natasha finally spoke again.
"I can erase this," she said. "S.H.I.E.L.D. has the technology. Memory deletion."
Jack's expression changed slightly.
"That's an interesting idea," he said. "Too bad… you told me."
His eyes shifted—subtle, but dangerous.
Natasha suddenly felt a sharp pain in her head.
"What did you do?" she demanded, her voice strained. "Stop—!"
"Your memory," Jack said calmly. "Locked."
The pain faded as quickly as it came.
"But now," he continued, "you won't be able to erase this. Ever."
Natasha's eyes widened.
"You… monster," she said.
Jack stood up slowly, stepping back.
Natasha immediately pushed herself up as well, retreating several steps, putting distance between them. Her expression was filled with cold hatred now—no disguise, no control.
"Enough for today," Jack said casually. "I've done what I wanted."
He looked at her, a faint smile returning.
"We'll meet again."
And then—
He vanished.
Just like that.
Natasha stood there, breathing slowly, her body still tense.
"Jack…" she said quietly. "I swear… what you did today… I will return it a hundred times."
Above her, a helicopter descended, the sound of its blades cutting through the night air.
Several S.H.I.E.L.D. agents rushed out.
"Ma'am, are you alright?"
Natasha didn't look at them.
"I'm fine," she said coldly.
She walked toward the helicopter without another word.
As it lifted into the sky, disappearing into the distance—
Far away, Jack watched, his expression thoughtful.
"This is getting interesting," he murmured.
---
Night fell over Kolkata, the city alive with distant lights and quiet movement.
In this vast, crowded place, one man lived in obscurity—helping the sick, treating those who couldn't afford care.
Few knew his past.
Fewer understood what he truly was.
Bruce Banner
A doctor.
And something far more dangerous.
Late that night, a little girl ran into his clinic, tears streaming down her face.
"Please… save my father!"
Banner hesitated for only a moment before nodding.
"Alright," he said gently. "Take me there."
He followed her into the outskirts of the city, into a quiet, isolated area.
They reached a worn-down house.
The girl ran inside.
Then—
She was gone.
Through the window.
Fast.
Banner stopped.
He sighed softly.
"…I should've charged first."
His eyes sharpened slightly.
"It's a trap."
A voice came from behind him.
"Shouldn't you stay away from trouble? Why choose a place like this to hide?"
Banner turned.
A woman stood there.
Beautiful.
Calm.
Not Indian—but dressed like a local.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Staying away from trouble isn't exactly my specialty," he said quietly. "Who are you?"
The woman stepped forward slightly.
Her gaze met his.
Natasha Romanoff
"My name," she said calmly,
"is Natasha Romanoff."