After the meeting broke up, Peter and Blade immediately started prepping gear for their first recon run.
Beast retreated to his lab, vanishing into the maze of instruments and readouts, tuning the comm equipment to optimal frequency between experiments.
Colossus, armed with structural blueprints Hank had dug up, began puzzling over the bunker's layout, working out where to carve new living quarters.
The base hummed with purpose.
Veyric watched it all unfold and felt something quiet bloom in his chest. Pride, maybe. Or something close to it. He was a transmigrator with the lowest combat rating on the team, but at least he could hold this group together. That counted for something.
"Don't let it go to your head, Veyric."
Venom's voice slithered through his mind.
"You forgot about this afternoon, didn't you? You've got a real fight coming."
He blinked. Then Natasha's words floated back to him: I won't go easy on you.
A chill crawled down his spine.
"Good reminder. I need to eat first. A lot."
---
Noon.
Veyric raided the supply room. A vacuum-sealed steak, several chicken breasts, all shoved into the microwave. Milk, chocolate, anything high-protein and calorie-dense he could get his hands on. Fuel for what was coming.
He shoveled food down and tried to strategize between bites.
"Veyric, is this your last meal or something?"
Peter wandered past with a coffee mug, caught the spectacle, and laughed.
"Natasha's training is no joke. I saw what it looked like back with the Avengers. The people she usually sparred with were Hawkeye, Cap, people like that. For a regular person..."
He trailed off, expression shifting.
"It's hell difficulty."
Veyric swallowed the last bite of steak, wiped his mouth, and exhaled.
"These days, hell's all we've got. The whole planet already qualifies."
Peter clapped him on the shoulder.
"Good luck, Captain. Try to come back alive."
---
Two o'clock.
Veyric arrived at the training room door right on time.
He pushed it open. Natasha was already waiting inside.
She'd changed into a fitted black combat suit.
His gaze snagged there for exactly one second before he wrenched it away, making a show of scanning the training room layout.
"Seen enough, Captain? You can't afford distractions in a real fight."
Her voice carried a teasing edge.
Veyric scratched the back of his head, heat creeping up his neck.
"I was just examining the material of your combat suit. Looks well-suited for hand-to-hand."
"Oh?" Natasha stepped closer, arms folded. "And what did your examination reveal?"
"Uh... good elasticity?"
She laughed. "Then you'd better pray yours protects you just as well."
She turned and walked to the center of the training area, glancing back over her shoulder.
"I told you this would be strict. Ready?"
Veyric drew a deep breath and stepped forward.
"Ready."
"Good." A short nod. "We start with fundamentals."
For the next half hour, Natasha drilled him on the most basic fighting stances. Rooting, footwork, how to throw a proper punch. Every movement had to be exact.
"Drop your shoulders. Lower your center of gravity."
She moved behind him, pressing her palm against his shoulder, pushing down with steady force.
"You're too tense. That kills your reaction time."
"Breathe steady. Eyes on your opponent."
She continued guiding him, her hand sliding from his shoulder to his waist, tapping it lightly.
"The core generates your power. Stop relying on your arms alone."
Her instruction was precise and professional, and Veyric picked it up fast. They spent the full half hour correcting fundamentals, building a proper foundation.
"You learn the basics quickly. But you'll need to drill these every single day from now on."
Natasha stepped back two paces and settled into a fighting stance.
"Now show me what you've got in a live situation."
Veyric took a breath and mirrored the stance she'd just taught him.
"Ready?"
"Let's go."
The instant the words left his mouth, Natasha closed the distance like a ghost.
She was fast. Impossibly fast. His vision blurred and a straight punch was already rocketing toward his face.
But in that fraction of a second...
Spider-Sense fired.
A crackling jolt exploded from the base of his skull, and his body lurched left on pure instinct.
Her fist grazed his cheek, close enough to feel the draft.
"Hm?"
Surprise flickered through Natasha's eyes, but her body never paused. The punch flowed into an elbow strike aimed at his ribs.
Spider-Sense screamed again.
Veyric threw himself backward, dodging by a razor's margin.
Two near-misses against Black Widow. He clutched his chest, breathing hard, barely believing it himself.
"So you're not a complete beginner after all. Interesting..."
The corner of her mouth lifted, and her attacks sharpened.
Three rapid punches. Two knee strikes. A sweeping kick. Every blow targeted a vital point, each one lethal in its precision.
But with Spider-Sense guiding him, dodging the killing blows by fractions of inches every time.
"Your reaction speed is well beyond normal human range." Natasha pressed the assault, talking through it. "Some kind of ability?"
"Something like that..." he panted. The constant evasion was bleeding his stamina dry.
"Then let's see how long you can keep it up."
Her eyes hardened. The tempo surged.
A dizzying combination of strikes, then a vicious roundhouse aimed straight at his midsection.
This time, instinct screamed at him to dodge, but his body had nothing left to give. Spider-Sense shrieked warnings through his skull, but his muscles responded half a beat too late.
Thwack.
The kick connected flush with his side and launched him off his feet. He hit the training mat hard, bouncing once before sprawling flat.
"Ngh..."
He curled around his waist.
"Already at your limit, Captain?"
Natasha stood over him, looking down.
"Your perception is impressive, but your body can't keep pace. We'll need to fix that going forward."
She crouched beside him and extended a hand, pulling him up.
"Your awareness is excellent. But you have to make your body match it. Otherwise, even if you see the danger coming, you won't be able to get out of the way. Understand?"
"...Understood."
"Good."
She patted his shoulder. "Pain's gone, right? Again."