Classroom.
"What did you do to get called into the guidance office?" Gwen asked, her tone curious but laced with genuine concern.
Vincent smirked. "Maybe she just heard I'm handsome."
"You're so narcissistic," Gwen laughed, punching him lightly on the arm.
She glanced at the door where Ms. Juliet had just left. Lowering her voice, she whispered, "Did you notice Ms. Juliet looks... different today? Prettier?"
"Nope," Vincent shrugged, spreading his hands. "My eyes are only focused on you. How could I notice anyone else?"
It was a cheesy line, but effective. Gwen beamed, instantly forgetting about the shape-shifting teacher.
"I told my parents I'm going to Long Island with a classmate for a study trip," Gwen whispered excitedly. "My bags are already in my locker. We can leave right after school."
"Your parents didn't ask which classmate?" Vincent raised an eyebrow.
Gwen rolled her eyes. "They know when to take a hint."
Vincent groaned internally. Take a hint? That means they know.
It meant he was officially on the radar of Police Commissioner Stacy. If he messed this up, he'd have the NYPD breathing down his neck.
"Alright," Vincent said. "After your session, we head straight to the estate."
Gwen blushed but didn't argue.
Since they started dating, Vincent had been the perfect boyfriend. They had connected on every level. Tonight, they would take the next step.
Guidance Counselor's Office.
Vincent knocked on the door.
"Come in."
A mature, silky voice answered.
Vincent took a breath. He wasn't just a high school student anymore. He was the Ice Demon. He held the cards.
Even if she was the Black Widow, he wouldn't lose his composure.
He opened the door, wearing a warm, disarming smile.
But his eyes were sharp. Mature.
Natasha Romanoff saw it immediately. This isn't a kid. This is a veteran.
Vincent looked at her.
She looked exactly like Scarlett Johansson, but with an added layer of dangerous charisma that the screen couldn't capture. Even in a conservative blouse and glasses, she radiated a lethal sexuality. Every movement was calculated to disarm and seduce.
"Mr. Hall. Please, sit down."
Natasha was still processing the intel. This teenager had wiped out the Kingpin. He had slaughtered an entire criminal empire in one night. And yet, here he was, acting like a model student.
"Ms. Rushman," Vincent said, sitting down and staring directly into her eyes. "You're very beautiful."
Natasha smiled, her dimples showing. "Thank you, Vincent. But flattery won't get you out of this session. Let's start with—"
"No rush," Vincent interrupted, his smile widening but not reaching his eyes.
Natasha's instincts screamed. Alert.
She remembered Coulson's report. He knew who we were instantly.
"Is there something you want to tell me, Vincent?" she asked softly, leaning forward.
Vincent chuckled.
"Actually, yes. I have no ill will towards SHIELD. We might even work together in the future. But you guys seem to misunderstand your position. Maybe I need to fly down to D.C. and have a friendly chat with Director Fury about boundaries."
He dropped the bomb casually.
He knew about Fury. He knew about the Triskelion.
And implied he knew about HYDRA growing inside SHIELD like a cancer.
Natasha stiffened. Her muscles tensed under the desk.
The pressure coming off this boy was immense. If he wanted to, he could freeze this room and shatter her into red ice cubes before she could draw her Glock.
"You seem to know a lot about me," Natasha said, dropping the guidance counselor act. Her voice was now cold, professional.
"Do you think my knowledge is about your past... or your future?"
Vincent leaned forward, mirroring her posture.
Natasha clenched her fist under the table.
"What does it matter?" she challenged. She leaned further, the buttons of her blouse straining. " The past is a tragedy I can't escape. The future is a tragedy I can't predict."
Vincent looked at her with a strange expression.
He wasn't looking at her chest. He was looking at her.
He saw the Red Room. He saw the years of blood. He saw the lonely sacrifice on Vormir that lay ahead of her.
The Black Widow was a tragic figure. She fought for a home she never had, and died for a family she found too late.
"The past is unchangeable," Vincent said softly. "But the future... choices can be made."
He saw a flicker of pain in her eyes.
"If you could choose again, would you still choose the fall?"
Natasha blinked. The fall? Was he talking about her defecting? Or something else?
Vincent pulled out a black business card. It had no name, just a snowflake symbol.
"Ms. Rushman. Have you ever heard of a Deal with the Devil?"
Natasha looked up, meeting his gaze. He wasn't hiding his admiration for her beauty, but there was something else. Pity? Respect?
"One day, when you need to change your fate... or save a life... call me. I can make it happen."
Vincent stood up. He didn't mention SHIELD again.
He had established dominance. He had planted the seed.
"What's the price?" Natasha asked, taking the card.
Vincent smiled at the door.
"That depends on what you're willing to offer. But I promise... my deals are always fair."
He walked out, leaving the Black Widow sitting in silence, staring at the snowflake on the card.
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