Manhattan — a dimly lit bar pulsing with hypnotic music.
"Natasha," Anton said suddenly, glancing at the red-haired woman beside him. "Has anyone ever told you that you look like someone?"
"Who?" Natasha raised her glass, clinking it lightly against his.
"Catwoman. From the Batman movies."
Anton's eyes roamed over her figure, lingering for a few seconds before he smiled. "You give me the same feeling—seductive, dangerous, alluring. But most of all…" He smirked. "It's that body of yours."
"So what you're saying," Natasha replied with a teasing smile, "is that you'd really like to see me in a Catwoman outfit?"
Her expression shifted in an instant. The flirtatious warmth vanished, replaced by a cold, steely look."But I'm not that kind of woman," she said sharply.
"That's enough for tonight, boss."
With that, she stood up decisively, swayed her hips, and walked out of the bar, disappearing from Anton's sight.
"Anton, looks like you've finally met a woman you can't handle," the bartender—an old acquaintance—said with a grin as he poured him another drink.
"This one's on the house," he added. "Hope you have a pleasant dream in this lonely night."
"Lonely?" Anton snorted. "You think I'm lonely? If I so much as crook a finger, there'd be women lined up outside this place begging to come up."
The bartender chuckled and shrugged. "If you say so, boss."
"Whatever."
Anton downed his drink, rose from his seat, and walked out of the bar.
He caught sight of Natasha just as she was stepping into a cab. There was no irritation or embarrassment on his face—only mild amusement as he watched the taxi drive away.
Anton didn't believe for a second that the legendary Natasha Romanoff would storm off just because of a few teasing words.
Obviously, it was a deliberate act—classic "playing hard to get."
"Sooner or later, I'll have you wearing that Catwoman suit," he murmured with a grin, rubbing his chin before flagging down another cab.
Inside the taxi where Natasha sat—
"Well?"
The driver glanced at her through the mirror. "Did you find anything?"
If Anton were here, he'd immediately recognize the man—it was Clint Barton, Hawkeye himself, the one he'd previously given a beating.
"Looks like nothing more than a playboy," Natasha said, shaking her head. Then she paused. "But… he did have a brief talk with Eddie from The Daily Bugle today. I don't know the details—probably just business-related."
"If he really is Batman," Clint said, "do you think he'd consider joining the super team the Director's trying to form?"
"Hard to say," Natasha replied. "But I doubt Batman would ever take orders from anyone. Every time he appears, he's the one in control…"
She glanced at Clint, adding quietly, "Besides, I get the feeling you don't want him to join us."
"Agents don't work off feelings," Clint said flatly. "If he's useful, I've got no problem working with him.Of course…" He smirked faintly. "That doesn't mean I won't take another shot at him someday."
"Fine." Natasha shrugged. "Suit yourself."
A few days later.
Anton saw Natasha at work again—calm, composed, as if nothing had happened. She quickly blended in with the office staff and greeted him each day with a professional smile.
Outwardly, Anton stayed composed. Inwardly, he knew that the Black Widow was not someone easily conquered.
That anger she'd shown at the bar had clearly been an act—but that didn't mean he could win her over just by flashing his wealth and title.
Still, it made him curious—how the hell had Bruce Banner managed to charm her in the original timeline?Anton seriously doubted the Hulk had wooed her with physics lectures.
Ding!
His phone buzzed.A message—from Tony Stark.
Surprised, he opened it.A party invitation.
That very night.
After a moment's thought, Anton stood and said to Natasha, "Have my private jet prepped. We're flying to Los Angeles immediately."
Then, as she turned to leave, he added casually, "By the way, I need a date tonight. Are you free, Natasha?"
"Of course," she said after a brief pause—remembering the recent intel she'd received from Coulson. Then, with a faint smirk, she added, "But don't get any funny ideas."
"I'm not the kind of guy who forces women," Anton replied, raising his hands. "You don't really distrust your boss's character that much, do you?"
That night — Los Angeles.
Waves crashed against the cliffs below a magnificent seaside mansion. Moonlight spilled like silver over the waves and glass.
Tony Stark's mansion was alive with music and chatter—a gathering of the rich and famous.
Word of Tony's first party since his return had drawn reporters like moths to flame. Some even tried sneaking in—only to end up escorted straight to the LAPD by security.
A few particularly attractive reporters managed to get in—on the arms of wealthy heirs.
At the gate, Anton arrived in a tailored suit, radiating confidence, with the stunning Natasha on his arm. They passed through both security and JARVIS's facial scan with ease.
His eyes immediately found Tony—surrounded by beautiful women—as well as several of his own old party friends.
"Anton! Long time no see!"
"You've been skipping our parties lately!"
"Man, you beat Tony Stark at his own game! I made a fortune betting on you—cheers to that!"
They greeted him enthusiastically, sneaking appreciative glances at Natasha before turning back to exchange friendly words with the now-famous director.
Anton laughed and responded in kind, then made his way over to Tony.
As he left, the group exchanged knowing looks.
"Gentlemen, shall we keep the bet going tonight?"
"This time, no need to draw lots."
"I'm putting my money on Anton."
"No way—I still think Tony's gonna win."
By Tony's side stood an older bald man. The two were chatting casually.
Anton recognized him immediately—the man behind Tony's three-month disappearance in Afghanistan: Obadiah Stane.
"Hey, Anton," Obadiah greeted him with a broad, host-like smile, extending his hand. "I'm Obadiah."
"Pleasure to meet you," Anton said with equal warmth. "The famous CEO of Stark Industries—an honor indeed."
"Hah! Says the man behind The Daily Bugle and DC Entertainment—two thriving enterprises," Obadiah replied amiably. "You young men have such energy. I think Stark Industries and The Bugle will have plenty of opportunities to collaborate in the future. Oh, and…"
He paused, then continued, "In about two weeks, Stark Industries and Oscorp will be conducting a joint public demonstration in New York—the 'Artificial Sun Project.' I'd love for The Daily Bugle to attend. You're New York's most trusted paper, after all."
"Of course," Anton replied with a slight narrowing of his eyes. "We'll be there."
"Excellent! Well then, I'll leave you two young men to your conversation."
With a genial smile, Obadiah excused himself, moving off to mingle with the other guests—leaving the floor to Anton and Tony.
-----------------------
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