Chapter Text
Somewhere in New York City, a black car came to a screeching hold on the side of the road. The passenger door was pushed open and a young blond man jumped out, wearing a grey uniform with a purple arrow emblem on the front. On the driver’s side, a young red-haired woman left the car, in jeans, a white t-shirt, and a leather jacket, carelessly thrown on top. Together, the unlikely pair ran off through the streets.
“Miss Romanoff and Mr. Barton approaching on five o’clock, Sir,” J.A.R.V.I.S, Tony Stark’s all-knowing AI informed its master. Tony turned around to see the two spies running towards him. Clint lifted up his hand and waved.
“Romanoff online,” Natasha’s voice came through his comm, followed by a slightly delayed “Ah, yeah, I’m here, too” by Clint.
Tony frowned, not that they could see it.
“Why are you not in uniform?” he asked Natasha, a hint of surprised reproach in his voice, it was a mission and he had expected her of all people to take it seriously.
Clint laughed before she could reply.
“Hey, stop complaining, oh wise leader. If you pull us out of the middle of lunch again, I swear to god...”
He lifted up his fist playfully. Natasha scoffed.
“For real, though, Tony, can you make this a little less urgent next time? I’m not Clint, I don’t forget my uniform everywhere and therefore always find it in cars. If I get killed today, it’s totally on you.”
Tony chuckled at her nonchalance and then spoke to the rest of the team.
“Okay guys, protect Romanoff at all costs, I don’t want to be murdered by Barton.”
In his ear, he could hear Steve snort-laugh and the Hulk growl, and then Thor’s booming voice.
“Friend Stark, when will you join our forces again?”
Tony looked back at the battlefield where the rest of the Avengers was fending off a sheer mass of heavily armed soldiers and way more robots than anyone could ever need in their life and grimaced.
“Right away, Thor.” With that, he blasted back into the sky and started the fire.
“Okay, Stark, where do you need us?” Natasha asked as she and Clint joined the fight as well.
“You over there with Cap, and Barton on the right,” he replied.
“Copy that. Hey Hulk?” she called as the green giant ran past them. He stopped, grunting as he turned to her, but the fact that he had stopped running just because of a call… “Can you give me a lift?”
He extended his hand to her and she climbed onto his palm. The Hulk gave her a boost, strong enough to send her very close to Cap, but in a nice arch. Natasha landed elegantly like she had never done anything else. Clint shook his head.
“Why does he only throw her that nicely, can someone tell me that?”
Tony snickered.
“He’s a gentleman, Barton, that’s why.”
Hulk growled in agreement and Natasha laughed.
For a while, the team was fully occupied with fighting, because the robots seemed to have a nasty habit of multiplying, no matter how many Hulk mowed down.
At some point, Cap and Natasha managed to get inside the facility and retrieve the piece of electronics that the whole mission had been about, and Tony sent Hulk to clean up inside. Outside, that meant they were slightly outnumbered.
Natasha, on the far end of the battlefield, found herself surrounded by a group of human soldiers. Apparently, they had had the idea to go for the smallest Avenger, thinking she would be an easier mark. Bad mistake.
Natasha had taken down two before they had even caught up with her movement, a gunshot missed her by far and hit a third man who went to the ground, howling.
Using her jacket like a makeshift sling -since her real one was at the Avengers Tower with her utility belt, she brought one of the men to the ground.
Just three more to go.
She used her favorite combination on the last one, ended up on the ground on top of him, and waited for him to stop struggling. Effortlessly, she got back to her feet and her eyes were drawn to the rest of the team, briefly checking if any of them was in need of help…
A slashing noise tore through the air and before Natasha could fully comprehend it, she was hit by a whip that cut through her t-shirt and left a long wound on her shoulder blade.
Gasping, she spun around, protectively crossing her arms in front of her face. From behind the shield, she saw a man, tall and dark-haired and a part of her knew that he didn’t look at all like that one person… The whip slashed her arm, from her wrist almost to her elbow. He was too close for getting into attack mode, but for the Black Widow, there was always some way out.
The thong ripped through the skin on her torso, again and again, but she just stood there, unable to move, not even hearing what he was saying, but she heard a voice, harsh and cruel.
I swear, you worthless piece of trash... I said, get up! No wailing, No. 12, ten lashes for each sound you make! Get up, useless brat! I’ll teach you; thinking you even deserve to live!
Natasha stood still, each whiplash like a strike of lightning, she felt blood running down her chest, soaking the torn remains of her shirt. They had told her to take it off back then, so it wouldn’t be ruined.
Her mind drifted to the present, tried to persuade her to defend herself, at least do anything, but couldn’t get a grasp and she was back in the small room in the basement and waited for the punishment to end, for them to believe she had learned her lesson.