Nowadays, I felt a little more secure going outside when it wasn't night.
S.H.I.E.L.D. was apparently still looking for a red-eyed, black-haired man, which I was neither.
Of course, I wasn't exactly making televised appearances, but I felt secure enough to venture outside my apartment to some local establishments.
The coffee shop I was currently in was mediocre, but being outside itself was good enough for me.
Thanks to the poor coffee and staff service, few people came here, a fact I appreciated.
Though today, that didn't seem to be the case.
'You know what, fuck it. Let's farm.'
I clocked the red-haired woman as soon as she entered the door.
Natasha Romanov, the Black Widow.
Her presence unnerved me, completely breaking down any semblance of privacy I thought I had gained from Fisk's work.
'Useless fat asshole.'
For a moment, I thought about leaving, but a larger part of me wanted to deal with S.H.I.E.L.D. somehow. I needed to get them off my back.
Clearly, they didn't want me dead, so that was something. They didn't want to capture me either, from the looks of it.
I was strong, sure, but if they put their mind to it, there would be nothing I could do to fend them off.
I kept my expression neutral and took another sip of my shitty coffee.
As expected, she approached me.
"Sorry, do you mind? Every other table's taken." She spoke with a friendly, slightly flirtatious tone.
I glanced around the coffee shop.
Three empty tables.
Honestly, if I didn't know how much danger I was in and who she was, I would've already folded.
I looked back at her.
"Sure."
She settled in across from me with a relaxed body language, then ordered something from the passing staff member. Next, she pulled out her phone in the way people did when they wanted to appear occupied without actually being occupied.
I thought about opening the weather app myself.
I set my coffee down whilst glancing at her.
I was no secret agent myself, but even I could tell that she was good. Scarily good. Her body language was perfect, relaxed without being performative. If I didn't know who she was, I'd probably be thanking God for blessing me.
But I did know, so I could only curse him instead.
She hadn't initiated a conversation yet, instead opting to do whatever she was doing on her phone, so I began to think.
What exactly did I want out of this encounter?
There were two things.
First, get S.H.I.E.L.D. off my back. If I had to cooperate with them, so be it. I could do it to an extent.
Second, extract fear from her. Obviously, I didn't want to go as far as I did with Hawkeye. A small to moderate amount of fear would be enough; there was no need to designate myself a second nemesis.
Speaking of Hawkeye, that bow-bearing bastard was probably somewhere around here, a fact that brought me no comfort.
Anyway, the ideal scenario right now would be to walk out with both of those goals accomplished.
After I finally concluded my thoughts, she looked up from her phone and smiled at me again.
"You look like you're thinking very hard about something," she said with curiosity.
I thought about how to answer her.
Should I be direct? Should I go along with the conversation? Should I say something completely insane to throw her off?
For now, I went with the second.
"The coffee tastes terrible, but I keep buying it." I gave a plain response.
Her smile widened at that, as if she found my answer to be charming in some way.
Once again, I was reminded of just how dangerous she was.
"Why do you keep coming back then?"
"This place feels safe," My words were honest, well, it felt safe up until now.
I picked up my cup and took another sip of the disgusting coffee.
"I'm Natalie," she introduced herself, extending a hand across the table.
It seemed she was going by the alias of Natalie Rushman.
Well, since I was going by my own alias, I suppose that it was fair enough.
I shook her hand.
"Marcus."
She probably knew my real name, but whatever, I had to at least maintain some appearances.
She settled back in her chair after having raised slightly to shake my hand.
"You live around here?" She asked.
I was already growing tired of this farce. It was a guarantee that she knew where I lived; chances were that she had already watched me for a while.
"Nearby," I went with a vague response, not interested in carrying the conversation myself. I'd leave that job to her.
"Me too, just moved in, actually." She glanced around the coffee shop with an expression of mild amusement. "Still figuring out the neighbourhood, you know?"
An intrusive thought entered my mind; to just shoot a spike out of my chest and impale her on the spot. Of course, I let it pass almost instantly; that was probably the most retarded decision I could make at the moment.
I continued the conversation.
"This place isn't representative of the neighbourhood, hell, the coffee shop two streets over is ten times better."
She raised an eyebrow. "Then, why are you here?"
I looked out the window for a moment.
It would probably be interesting to see where this went. I was sure Natasha planned on playing the long haul, probably seduce me or whatever and get information out of me over the course of months if necessary.
Naturally, getting seduced by the Black Widow sounded like a very fun time, but time was not something I had in droves.
I finalised my decision.
The few patrons of this lousy coffee shop, as well as the single employee, fell to the floor in an instant.
"Well, I don't really know, I was trying to avoid certain S.H.I.E.L.D. agents by the names of Natasha Romanov and Clint Barton, but it seems I've already failed at that task."