"So that little crash just now was your doing?"
Natasha Romanoff wasn’t particularly surprised to see Rowan rcer step out of the shadows. What had happened at the wall clearly wasn’t an accident. Whether it was a force field, telekinesis, or so other ability, it had Rowan written all over it.
Being discovered wasn’t a disaster. She had planned to talk sooner or later anyway. Ideally, she would have scouted first, counted numbers, assessed risks. But plans were flexible. Negotiation could co before force.
"If you insist on blaming soone," Rowan said lightly, "then yes. You could say it was ."
He hadn’t attacked her directly. He’d simply forgotten to deactivate the ward covering the periter. Still, since he’d built it, the result was the sa.
"So," he continued, hands clasped behind his back, "what brings a beautiful woman sneaking into a school in the middle of the night?"
Natasha smiled and leaned into it. "What else? I ca to see the man who heartlessly abandoned back at the base."
Rowan’s eyes lit up in mock realization. "Ah. So it was love at first sight. In that case, I suppose I can accept responsibility."
He casually shrugged out of his jacket.
Natasha raised an eyebrow. "If that’s what you want, it’s not impossible. But this outfit isn’t ideal. And doing it by the gate feels rushed. Why don’t we go sowhere private and talk properly?"
"No need," Rowan said cheerfully. "I’ll fix the outfit."
He pointed at her. "Wardrobe Shift."
In an instant, Natasha’s custom black combat suit transford into a revealing, semi-transparent black lace undergarnt.
Rowan nodded appreciatively. "Much better. And honestly, talking at the front gate has its charm."
Before she could process what had just happened, he flicked his wrist again.
"Disarm."
Her Widow’s Bite flew off her wrist, and a powerful force slamd her back against the wall.
"Oh?" Rowan added, tilting his head. "You like being pinned to walls? Interesting."
"Bind."
Thick ropes materialized midair, coiling around Natasha like living snakes. In seconds, she was tightly bound and hoisted upside-down against a nearby tree, completely immobilized.
Rowan strolled over, hands in his pockets, openly inspecting the scene. "That’s... a bit much for . Still, if you insist, I can try to be accommodating. Front or back?"
Natasha took a slow breath. The flirting act was over.
"Mr. rcer," she said evenly, "you know who I am. That was a joke. I’m here on official business, representing S.H.I.E.L.D. We want to talk. We want to help."
"If you wanted to help," Rowan replied coolly, "you’d knock on the door during the day instead of sneaking in at night."
She hesitated. There was no good answer.
"I admit the approach was inappropriate," she said carefully. "But our intentions—"
"Spare ." Rowan waved a hand. "Trespass first. Punishnt first. Then we talk, if I’m still in the mood."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out an absurdly large alloy spiked club disguised as a wand.
Natasha’s blood ran cold.
That thing would kill her outright.
She was already preparing to call in the teams hidden outside when Rowan paused.
"Oh. Sorry. Wrong one."
The club vanished. In its place appeared a thin tal rod, no thicker than a thumb.
Natasha relaxed slightly.
"Go."
The rod snapped through the air, striking her squarely. Again. And again. Each blow landed with precise, humiliating accuracy. Sweat broke out across her forehead as she clenched her teeth, refusing to scream.
Finally, she gasped, "Are you done? Can we talk now?"
Rowan flicked his fingers. The ropes dissolved. Her clothing reverted instantly, though the damage was obvious. When she dropped to the ground, her legs nearly gave out.
"Alright," Rowan said. "Talk."
Rubbing her bruised hip, Natasha straightened with effort. "You’ve worked with Pepper Potts. You know who we are. S.H.I.E.L.D. is recognized by every major governnt on Earth. We handle threats others can’t."
"Is that supposed to scare ?" Rowan asked flatly.
"No," she said quickly. "It’s context. We can make the CIA drop its hunt for Professor Xavier. We can provide the best dical treatnt available for his condition. We can place mutant children into normal families, give them education, freedom, real lives. Without hiding."
Rowan listened without expression.
"But," he said, "there’s a price."
"Yes," Natasha admitted. "Adopted children remain under observation. For safety. Professor Xavier would need to be transferred to one of our facilities. And finally... we’d like you and Wolverine to join the Avengers Initiative."
She waited.
The night air felt suddenly very still.
"It sounds tempting," Rowan said at last.
Then his eyes sharpened.
"Now convince why I shouldn’t say no."
...
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