"Control, this is Echo-Two. We are in position outside target location. Visual confirmation on building exterior matches intel packet. No visible surveillance or countersurveillance in immediate area. Request final go."
A voice responded through the earpiece. "Echo-Two, this is Control. You are cleared to proceed. Breach and clear. Priority is live capture if subject is present. Non-lethal force authorized. Report status on entry."
Kessler nodded to Ramirez.
Ramirez returned the nod.
Both men drew compact pistols from inside their jackets and kept them against their thighs so the barrels pointed toward the pavement. They crossed the street quickly and entered the building through the front door. The lobby smelled of old carpet and faint cooking grease and an elevator stood open on the ground floor. They ignored it and moved to the stairwell on the right side. Kessler took point. He climbed the stairs two at a time with his pistol raised in a low-ready position. Ramirez followed three steps behind and covered the rear angle.
They reached the fourth floor without encountering anyone, when they pushed through the door into the hallway it stretched straight ahead with four doors on each side. Apartment 4C sat at the far end. The door had a brass number plate screwed into the wood and a small brass knocker shaped like a bell.
Kessler stopped three feet from the door and Ramirez moved up beside him. They exchanged another nod then Kessler raised his left boot and drove the heel into the lock just above the knob and the wood splintered around the knob of the door. The door then flew inward and banged against the interior wall.
Both agents swept inside with pistols up, Ramirez cleared left toward the kitchen alcove and Kessler cleared right toward the living room. The apartment consisted of one main room, a small kitchen separated by a half-wall, and a single bedroom visible through an open doorway.
Ramirez moved to the kitchen counter, checked behind the refrigerator and under the small table.
Nothing.
Kessler advanced into the living room and scanned behind the couch and inside the narrow closet beside the television.
Empty.
He stepped into the bedroom and looked around, the bed had no sheets and the closet held only a few hangers. He cursed under his breath before returning to the main room.
Ramirez stood at the small dining table near the window where a single sheet of white paper rested in the center.
Ramirez holstered his pistol and picked up the note. "Beers in the fridge. Help yourselves. Sorry I missed you. -N."
Kessler let out a short breath through his nose and touched his earpiece. "Control, Echo-Two. Apartment is clear. No sign of Agent Romanoff, the subject left a note on the table, it's clear she knew we were coming. The whole location has been sanitized, I doubt we'll find anything here."
Control responded immediately. "Echo-Two, acknowledged. Secure the note for evidence recovery. Sweep for any secondary devices or traces. Then extract. Control out."
Ramirez folded the note and slipped it into an evidence bag from his jacket pocket.
Kessler opened the refrigerator and saw four unopened bottles of lager sat on the middle shelf. "Damn bitch..." he muttered before closing the door without touching them.
Both agents conducted one final sweep of the apartment, but sadly for them they found nothing else, so with nothing else left to do they exited the apartment and pulled the damaged door closed behind them as best they could. They then descended the stairs and walked back out to the street.
Meanwhile across the street, inside a narrow coffee shop called Brew & Bean, Natasha Romanoff sat at a window table. She wore a charcoal gray wool coat with the collar turned up and a black scarf wrapped loosely around her neck. She had a platinum blonde wig on and dark sunglasses on the bridge of her nose even though the day was overcast.
A large mug of black coffee sat in front of her which she held in both hands, she watched through the window as Ramirez and Kessler emerged from the building. They spoke briefly into their earpieces, then walked toward a black SUV parked two blocks down.
They climbed inside and drove away.
Natasha sighed as she set the mug down on the table.
The problem with working for a spy agency is they always know where your safe houses are.
She lifted the mug again and took a small sip, the coffee wasn't that good it tasted bitter and slightly burnt, though she barely noticed.
This marked the fifth safe house SHIELD had compromised in the last thirty-six hours. The brownstone in Brooklyn. The walk-up in Hell's Kitchen. The sublet in Chelsea. The studio in the East Village. Now this one on the Upper West Side. She doubted the remaining two would last much longer. SHIELD moved methodically when they wanted someone contained and no doubt they would keep tightening the net until no options remained.
She placed her right hand on her stomach beneath the table and pressed gently. Obviously she couldn't feel any movement yet, but still, knowing there was a baby growing inside her comforted her in a way she'd never felt before.
Despite how bad this situation was she felt happy in a way she had never expected. Still, it was difficult not to think about how this was impossible. The Red Room had performed the surgery when she turned sixteen. The procedure had not simply sterilized her, the surgeons had removed her uterus and ovaries entirely, the doctors had told her the change was permanent. Irreversible. And she had believed them for more than a decade.
She still did not understand how Mark had managed to get her pregnant. The biology refused to align with everything she knew about her own body. Yet the ultrasound image from the medical bay remained burned into her memory.
It was true, even if it was impossible.
She pushed the thought aside for now.
Survival came first.
She needed somewhere SHIELD would not think to look, somewhere they would hesitate to approach even if they did find it. Mark's apartment in Harlem surfaced immediately in her mind. She knew the address, she had lived there for months after all.
Natasha knew that he would not turn her away, he would not let anyone harm her or the baby and SHIELD would back off rather than risk direct confrontation with him. Invincible carried too much public goodwill and too much raw power, they would not want that fight unless the stakes left him no choice.
But how long would that safety last?
SHIELD never stopped developing weapons, whether they were technological, biological or even esoteric in nature, SHIELD would have their hand in it. The moment Mark debuted at the Stark Expo SHIELD had been trying to develop a weapon capable of neutralising Mark.
What happens when they succeeded?
She wondered whether she should drag Mark into this at all. She had already lied to him for months. She had spied on him for SHIELD and broke his heart when she told the truth.
She'd also told him that she couldn't have children, that it was impossible. Now she carried his child. Dropping this on him felt like another betrayal. But even considering that she knew ne would help her, she was certain of that. He would feel compelled to protect them both… the more she thought about it the more she felt she could not force that burden on him after everything else she had done.
She sighed heavily again before she lifted the mug and drained the last of the coffee then set it back on the saucer.
She could sit here all day and think about the morality of telling Mark or not, but it wouldn't help her now.
What she needed was a safe place with medical oversight. The pregnancy defied every medical fact she understood about her own history. She required someone who could monitor her without alerting SHIELD. Someone with access to advanced equipment and no ties to government agencies.
Only one name came to mind.
She stood up from the table. She left a ten-dollar bill beside the empty mug and pushed through the glass door and stepped onto the sidewalk. She turned south and started walking toward Midtown.
The Baxter Building was twenty-five blocks away.
____________________________________
Meanwhile twenty-five blocks away Colleen Wing and Sue Storm faced one another on the padded mats in the Baxter Building gym, the wide training space occupying most of the thirty-second floor. Thick rubber flooring stretched wall to walland a rack of free weights lined the opposite wall, and two mirrored panels reflected the room from different angles so fighters could study their form in real time.
Colleen wore black athletic shorts and a gray tank top that clung to her shoulders with sweat. Sue stood opposite her in navy leggings and a fitted white sports bra. Both women had their hair pulled back into tight ponytails, and as they began to circle, their hands hovered in loose guard positions, testing distance without committing.
Sue moved first, stepping in with a quick jab aimed at Colleen's face. Colleen tilted her head just enough for the punch to graze past her cheek, and before Sue could reset, she followed with a right cross. Colleen absorbed the impact on her left forearm, pivoted slightly to bleed off the force, and stepped back to widen the gap between them. Sue refused to yield ground. She advanced again, snapping a low kick toward Colleen's lead leg, but Colleen checked it with her shin and answered with a jab that forced Sue to duck.
Rather than retreat, Sue pressed harder, throwing a three-punch combination. Colleen blocked the first two strikes on her forearms and slid off-line before the third could land cleanly. Sue lunged with a straight right, extending fully through her shoulder, yet Colleen leaned back at the last second, the punch cutting through empty air just inches from her nose.
Frustration flickered across Sue's face, though she masked it quickly and closed the distance in an attempt to clinch. Colleen read the shift in posture, pivoted on her back foot, and caught Sue's extended arm mid-transition. With a quick pull and a turn of her hips, she redirected Sue's forward momentum and flipped her cleanly over her hip. Sue hit the mat with a solid thud, air rushing from her lungs as the impact echoed faintly in the room.
Colleen wasted no time. She dropped down, slid behind Sue's shoulders, and wrapped her arm around her neck in a rear naked choke. She tightened the hold just enough to apply pressure without restricting airflow, maintaining complete control while giving Sue space to respond. Sue struggled for a few seconds, testing the grip and trying to pry at Colleen's forearm, but the leverage was perfect. Finally, she tapped twice against Colleen's arm.
Colleen released her immediately and rolled aside, sitting cross-legged on the mat while she caught her breath. Sue remained flat on her back for a moment longer, staring up at the ceiling as her chest rose and fell. When Colleen extended her hand, Sue accepted it, allowing herself to be pulled upright into a seated position.
"You're improving," Colleen said, brushing sweat from her brow with the back of her wrist. "Over the past few weeks, you've picked up the fundamentals faster than most people I train. Your footwork is better, your punches snap instead of push, and you're starting to anticipate setups rather than just reacting to them."
Sue groaned softly and rubbed the back of her neck. "That's encouraging, but I still haven't beaten you once."
Colleen smiled. "If you did, I'd start questioning my life choices. I've been training since I was six. You started a few weeks ago. So give yourself some credit."
Sue stretched her arms overhead and rolled her shoulders, feeling the burn settle into her muscles. She had begun training with Colleen a few weeks earlier, partly at Colleen's suggestion and partly because she needed an outlet. Working alongside Reed and her father on the GeoCore Stabilizer drained her mentally, while cleaning up after Ben and Johnny exhausted her patience. The lessons gave her something tangible to focus on, plus it was a pretty good workout.
They crossed the gym toward a small fridge beside a water cooler. Colleen opened it first, pulled out two bottles of water, and handed one to Sue. They sat shoulder to shoulder on a bench along the wall, drinking in silence until Sue finally exhaled in frustration.
"Lately, this has been... a lot," Sue admitted, twisting the cap between her fingers. "I spend half my day cleaning up after Ben and Johnny. Ben leaves rock fragments everywhere, and Johnny has been setting fires like it's a competitive sport. Meanwhile, I'm running the entire building. Dad and Reed are so buried in the GeoCore project that they forget the foundation still has to function. Grants need filing, donors want updates, payroll has to clear. I'm one part scientist, four parts housekeeper, and five parts CEO."
Colleen nodded thoughtfully. "I get it. I've had a few bosses who put impossible expectations on me. They wanted results yesterday and did not care how many hours it took. You are juggling more than most people could handle, I think you should take a break m."
Sue leaned back against the wall. "I would settle for one day where nothing breaks, ignites, or requires my signature."
Both the women finished the water and stood up before leaving the gym.
(AN: I'm sure many of you think Natasha is stupid for not getting in contact with Mark and objectively she is. But at the moment she's not thinking clearly. She still feels tremendous amounts of guilt over what she's done and sees any action she takes as something that will only make the situation worse. Anyway it won't be like this forever dw. Hope you enjoy.)
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