"I don't think I ca at the right ti," Natasha said, pointing to the door as both of them turned to look at her.
"Natasha! You—You brought Superman here! You damn—"
Bang!
Dreykov barely got the words out before Malrick slamd his palm into the back of his head, driving it into the table with a sickening crunch. Blood splattered as his skull cracked.
"This guy talks too much—and looks like a beast in a suit. Makes you want to slap him on instinct."
Malrick wiped a streak of blood off his arm. Turning to Natasha, he asked casually, "You don't mind killing him, do you?"
Natasha shrugged without a hint of remorse. "I've wanted to do that for years."
"But how did you manage it?" she asked as she stepped closer. "The pheromone he ntioned—it stops people from attacking him. We've all experienced it. Why weren't you affected?"
Malrick grabbed Dreykov's lifeless body and tossed it aside. His eyes lit up, and in a burst of red energy, he reduced the corpse to ashes.
"Pheromones like that don't last a second in my system. They can't affect ." He brushed off imaginary dust from his hands. "That man was delusional."
Unless it's magic or psychic interference, you can't control a Kryptonian who's been basking in the sun for over half a year. That's just not happening.
Natasha stared at the pile of ash on the floor, mouth slightly open.
"Heat vision. Huh. Another new surprise."
"I'm getting used to being amazed by you," she added with a smirk. "Treasure boy, what's next? What else are you hiding?"
She laughed under her breath. "But seriously, na your price for helping . I'll agree to any condition."
Malrick raised a brow. "Natasha, you sound like one of those tired thirty-sothings who hits up a bar looking for a hot model to forget the stress of work."
The room held a massive screen, and opposite it was a desk with a built-in control panel. Malrick walked over and started fiddling with it.
"If you want to repay , get the Widows to work for . First, we need to free them from global control."
"I'm in," Natasha replied, joining him at the desk. "I'll check on the Widows aboard the Helicarrier. You handle the system and get a list of agents around the world, deal?"
"Too easy." Just as Malrick said it, a red warning interface popped up on the screen. It required palm print recognition to unlock.
"Palm print lock?"
He tried several tis but failed.
"...Okay, maybe I was too impulsive. Should've kept Dreykov alive a bit longer."
Malrick pulled out his phone. "Luckily, I've got Jarvis. He'll crack this."
He plugged in a data cable, linking his phone to the panel. Monts later, Jarvis's voice filled the room.
"Master Malrick, Mr. Stark would like to know if you're coming ho tonight."
Malrick scowled. "No. Tell him to behave while I'm gone. Otherwise, I'll have Pepper make him go to work."
"Very well. I'll inform Mr. Stark. He also said: if you're out tonight, be safe, and don't let anyone scam you."
Malrick rubbed his temple. "That old man treats like a child. I was more mature at three years old than he is now."
"Pfft—cough." Natasha couldn't contain her laughter.
Malrick glared at her. Natasha tucked a lock of red hair behind her ear and looked away.
"One day, I'll introduce you to Tony. You'll see how annoying he is." Malrick sighed and turned back to the screen. "Jarvis, start cracking the Red Room's system."
Suddenly, he felt sothing soft brush his cheek. He turned quickly, but Natasha had already turned away, walking toward the door.
"Honestly, one childish Stark is enough for ," she said with a wave as she disappeared down the hallway.
Malrick blinked. "...Another childish guy?"
Just then, Jarvis chid in. "Congratulations, Master Malrick."
"On what?"
"On finding your fourth girlfriend."
Malrick groaned. "They're not my girlfriends. The last three only dated for two weeks before Tony paid them off."
"Indeed. Each received a check from Mr. Stark after a few nights with you. He believed they were only after your money."
"He ruined my youth!" Malrick exclaid, clenching his fists. "I'd just start dating, and boom—he waves a million-dollar check!"
"To be fair, they were all after your money. Mr. Stark acted as Miss Potts would in his shoes."
Malrick sighed. "Still. Every ti, a million dollars? Who wouldn't leave?"
"Will you stop Mr. Stark this ti?"
"No. Because Natasha and I… we'll never be together."
He glanced at the corner of the hallway where he knew she was still hiding, eavesdropping.
"But your relationship seems promising," Jarvis said, failing to interpret emotional nuance.
Malrick shook his head. "It's different."
He continued, "Natasha doesn't need a lover. She needs a place where she belongs."
"She grew up surrounded by lies. Her adoptive parents were undercover agents. Her childhood was fake."
"When that fake family fell apart, she was sent to the Red Room. Brainwashed. Trained as a killer. She lost all sense of identity."
"She's like driftwood in the ocean—rootless, directionless."
"What she needs is sowhere to anchor. A place to settle, with others like her. Not a lover—a family."
"That's why we'll never be together."
Malrick knew her past. He knew her future. He knew her heart.
Natasha would have people she cared for—but always at a distance.
That distance was her armor. Her survival instinct. Her way of staying whole.
Thunk.
Sothing hit the ground outside. Footsteps echoed, then faded away.
Clearly, Natasha had heard everything—and slipped away.
"Miss Romanoff was outside," Jarvis confird.
"I know," Malrick replied.
"You seem to understand her well. Do you like her but fear getting close?"
"My Jarvis, don't go full Tony on . I respect her. That's all."
"So you don't want to be with her?"
"Our relationship is simple. We can share thoughts, keep each other company at night."
"According to Mr. Stark's logic, 'talking at night' usually becos… sothing else."
"That's Tony's logic."
---
"Enjoyed the chapters? Good. Now, cough up those Powerstones~ (＾▽＾)"
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