Natasha stepped out of the interrogation room, took a cup of coffee from a colleague, leaned against the wall, took a sip, and sighed lightly, then turned to look at the observation window of the interrogation room door.
Another agent took over her work, but Wonder Woman was sitting there, dazed and silent. Ordinary people wouldn't last as long as a demigod even if they worked in three shifts; Natasha could hear the low complaints coming from the neighboring office.
It had been three days since she parachuted into the position of team leader for the special unit. As the first CIA agent team with law enforcement power within the Federation's history, Natasha took only three days to prove to Arkham Batman that his choice was correct.
But it wasn't easy. Natasha sighed again; she was also quite exhausted these days. Open fights and covert schemes, treacherous storms—she began seriously considering whether it was really necessary to stab every man in her bed.
Sipping the coffee slowly, Natasha recalled the day Arkham Batman came to find her.
Natasha never felt guilty for some minor amusement, mainly because people stabbed by her usually didn't live long enough to come for payback. Bucky Barnes was an exception, Clint Barton was an exception, and Arkham Batman was an exception among exceptions—because he was the only man to go through the entire process after being stabbed.
When he lay bare-chested after finishing that cigarette, Natasha knew this day would come. But when she saw that strong figure at the apartment window, she couldn't help feeling a bit guilty.
The female agent's hand reached for the gun, firing three shots in a second when the shadow made a move—resulting in six bullet fragments precisely cut by darts.
Before she could put the gun away, it felt like she was hit by a train and pinned against the wall. Natasha clearly heard the sound of her ribs breaking, but more importantly, she felt the chilling metal gauntlet on her spine.
"Let's talk this through." Natasha said, "Release me."
"So you do know how to talk things through," Arkham Batman had no intention of letting her go, his hand kept exploring the back of Natasha's neck, strangely gentle, gently strange.
"I don't have time for your games, boy." Natasha looked into his eyes and said, "I have work at S.H.I.E.L.D. tomorrow morning, let me have a good night's sleep."
"Do you have a habit of exercising before sleep?"
"Here? Seriously?" Natasha raised an eyebrow and said, "I bet the walls here are made of nano cameras. Although you should be proud of it, the members of the monitoring team probably find it difficult to openly express admiration for your prowess."
"What I mean is, when I move to snap your spine, you'll probably have two seconds left to struggle. That's enough exercise." Arkham Batman moved closer.
Natasha seemed uncomfortable with his metal armor and didn't even care about the hand on her neck but lightly pushed the man in front of her with her hand.
"State your conditions." Natasha said, "I'm sorry for your heart, but elsewhere, let's leave it at that."
"I need you to come with me to my cosmos." Arkham Batman seemed uninterested in flirting, as he said, "I will establish a special unit within the CIA with Federation law enforcement power, and I want you as the leader, then help me take care of things."
"Interesting," Natasha said, "The only issue is how you plan to convince Congress to hire a Slavic woman named 'Natasha Romanoff' as the head of your unit."
"There's no Congress anymore, Natasha." Arkham Batman said her name, and Natasha restrained her shivering impulse. The name of the girl appearing in countless Russian love novels, when pronounced in English by him, brought some warmth even to the desperate atmosphere in classic Russian literature—his voice sounded like a tombstone inscription for her.
"I can agree to that," Natasha said, "but I know it's not that simple; otherwise, you wouldn't come looking for me. You can just find any fool to take over. Who do you want me to catch?"
"Diana Prince, code name Wonder Woman."
Natasha took a light breath and said, "How did she offend you?"
"Besides capturing her, you also need to watch over her," Arkham Batman continued, "and Superman and the other members of the Justice League. I don't care what methods you use, keep them held up for at least a week."
"I can't do that," Natasha said bluntly, "I'm Black Widow, not The Hulk. Even The Hulk couldn't do it."
"I'll find you an assistant," Arkham Batman said.
"No assistant will do." Natasha grabbed Arkham Batman's wrist, trying to pry the hand around her neck away but didn't exert much force, just symbolically.
"Bucky Barnes."
"No way."
"Then Steve Rogers."
Natasha couldn't help but glare at him, "What misunderstanding do you have about the relationship among the three of us?"
"It doesn't seem like a misunderstanding now."
Natasha's eyes shifted, and she said, "It's not impossible for me to help you, but the assistant's choice needs to change."
"Who do you have in mind?"
"Shiller." Natasha looked up at him, her eyes full of amusement, seemingly forgetting how difficult she was before.
"Perfect," Arkham Batman said, "I've invited Shiller to join the Justice League as Moon Knight; he'll help you."
"No, no, no, not the doctor I'm familiar with," Natasha seemed to have thought of something and licked her lips, "I want the agent."
Arkham Batman squinted his eyes, carefully observing Natasha's expression, and said, "And then give him a stab?"
"Is it not possible?" Natasha's eyelashes fluttered, and she said, "He's so renowned, I should get a look at him."
Arkham Batman was silent for a moment.
"I think you've misunderstood the relationship between the three of us," Arkham Batman said.
"Which three? You, me, and the agent?" Natasha said dismissively, turning her head away. "There's nothing to misunderstand. If you can't handle it, I'm not going."
"I'll ask him." Arkham Batman finally withdrew his arm. Natasha stretched in place; her fractured ribs had long since healed. She touched the side of her neck and shook her head, asking, "Why capture Wonder Woman?"
"Are all Soviet agents so inquisitive?"
"Then why shouldn't I ask you why you're capturing Superman?"
Arkham Batman was silent again and then said, "What's happening in my cosmos has nothing to do with you. Once you're done here, we're square."
"If it were really that simple, that'd be nice." Natasha clearly didn't believe it. "I feel I'm not leaving anytime soon."
Leaning against the wall of the CIA base's hallway, Natasha lightly tapped her forehead with her hand. Her premonition had come true; this situation was a troublesome one, like something hot to handle.
"Boss, it's getting chaotic over there again," a subordinate said as he walked over. "You better take a look."
Natasha tossed the empty paper cup into the shredder and walked toward the room at the end of the hallway. As soon as she entered, she saw Superman standing in the center, the handcuffs broken into two pieces resembling unique bracelets, with two agents trembling in the room's corners.
"Hello, Mr. Clark Kent."
Superman turned his head and glared at her.
"Allow me to introduce myself: Former Soviet Red Room Agent Natasha Romanoff, known on the streets as Black Widow."
Superman's expression turned somewhat dazed. He hesitantly pursed his lips, looked at Natasha, and asked, "So, the legends are true?"
"What legends?" Natasha, arms folded, leaned against the door frame, watching him.
"About Soviet human experiments, brainwashing people, and training them to kill and such..."
"Human experiments are real; brainwashing is fake, and I'm not just trained to kill," Natasha said with a smile.
Superman looked at her with a hint of sympathy. The tension in his arms slightly eased as he asked, "They call you 'madam.' Your husband..."
"Of course, he's dead. But that was a long time ago." Natasha walked over. As she approached Superman, he took a step back; she stepped forward again, and Superman took another step back.
Until she cornered Superman, he raised his hands and said, "Don't come closer, ma'am. Consider the material of your handcuffs."
Natasha stood still, not leaving Superman much space, forcing him into a slightly embarrassed retreat against the wall, carefully controlling his strength so as not to collapse the wall behind him.
"My subordinate said you broke the handcuffs. Why did you do that?"
"They slandered me," Superman said. "Diana and I are friends. I believe he wouldn't engage in espionage, but they claim I'm covering up for him and demand that I confess quickly."
"That shouldn't anger you."
Superman was startled again, looked away, and then said, "They accused me of flying around Metropolis, scouting military bases, and asked if I'd given information to Diana."
"That's still not enough."
Superman pursed his lips and said, "They questioned if Diana and I were involved in... if we had an illicit affair..."
"I believe you don't, just a pure-hearted boy," Natasha laughed and stepped back, and it was like Superman was suddenly relieved of a great burden.
The female agent brushed her red hair back and said, "I think Batman should've told you by now that today's events are purely for political motives. So whether you're innocent or not, you can only stay here."
"How dare he assume I won't resist?" Superman said angrily, "I can't see any reason for all this. I could take everyone and leave right now!"
"If you really would do that, you wouldn't have come with us." Natasha shook her head and said, "Politics is simple, trust your instincts."
After speaking, Natasha left. In the room, Superman was troubled but still removed the unique bracelets, tossed them aside, swapped them for new handcuffs, and sat down at the interrogation table.
As Natasha reentered the hallway, she heard footsteps behind her, a series of heavy steps echoing at the end. She was too familiar with that sound, but as she turned her head, she was stunned.
The approaching group was a team of FBI agents, but the person leading them had a face Natasha recognized—the youthful Shiller. He wore a light blue shirt and a tactical vest emblazoned with the bright yellow letters "FBI." A Glock 17 was holstered at his waist, a far cry from the intellectual look Natasha often saw, seeming cold and sharp, yet perfectly fitting, as though he was born to be an agent.
Natasha looked him up and down, while Shiller had already walked over to shake her hand. Natasha shook his hand and then patted his arm, saying, "Long time no see, Agent Rodriguez."