The Shadow // Natasha Romanoff x OC

Chapter 7 - John Cena Cosplay

Azara's pov

"Well, well, well. I must begin with my heartfelt seasons greetings as it is Christmas morning after all. I'm terribly sorry and do hope you can accept my sincerest apologies, for there's no stocking hanging by the fire place for you this fine morning, daughter of our most esteemed mechanic. Dr Alarie has missed you." A German accent swam through my subconscious.

"Welcome to HYDRA. I am Baron Strucker. And I know you very well, Azra's daughter, very well indeed."

3 days before

The contrast of the bright lights of Leicester Square at Christmas time and the dim alleyway gloom just a minute walk from the Embankment station, made my eyes squint.

Even for a demigod, a dark alleyway at just gone midnight in mid December for a wholly unarmed woman, isn't the safest environment.

I know what you're thinking: "she literally has voodoo teleportation powers, a sword made of pure darkness and wings of a bloody demon, just... karate Kai your way out of any danger".

But, in the past year, I've had a peaceful life because I haven't used my powers once, not even to get to an interview when I was running late, or even something as simple as around the house. I feel... normal.

And it's nice.

I work at one of the largest architectural firms in London and have been praised on my 'neo-renaissance meets Ancient Rome' style. If only they knew why I knew what it all looked like: my mother had seen it all and had passed it onto me.

And no, I haven't visited the Avengers. I did see in the news about Tony and some Killian guy (who was glowing like a child's night light for some reason) blew up an oil rig and hug the president above it all in War Machine's - sorry, Iron Patriot's - suit like a tea towel on a washing line.

But I didn't need the attention. Knowing my luck, I'd visit Tony just as another national or international crisis struck and I'd be guilt tripped into helping. Stupid righteousness. Why can't I just not give one.

But don't be fooled, that's not me saying I don't feel bad. I promised and I lied but it's for the best. I thanked him and now I have a clear conscience.

Anyways, back to the sketchy alley.

It was just a bulk standard, cocaine smelling, heroine syringe and mysterious white powdered metal tray scattered alley. Until it wasn't.

Two men, both looking like they'd eaten a small child for breakfast, begin to follow me. Dressed in all black and staring intensely into the back of my head, it wasn't a wild guess to presume the weren't a happily married couple on holiday from Brighton going on a nice nighttime, sightseeing stroll.

I was out of practice, ok?

And I maybe - maybe is the important word in this sentence - just maybe, didn't notice the massive baseball bat being swung at my head from my left side because I was side-eyeing the John Cena cosplayers (I mean, I've got to give it to the guy who swung the baseball bat at my face because he definitely had the most realistic costume because I couldn't even see him, but that's besides the point).

And next thing I know, this Strucker guy is wishing me a Merry Christmas as I tried to get out of the handcuffs keeping me on the chair. I know people have weird kinks, but consent is key kids.