It's a Spider Thing. {Peter Parker and Natasha Romanoff}

{1} like I'm a tragedy

IT HAD STARTED WITH VOICES.

The harsh orders that were barked out carried biting undertones that echoed around the docks, seeming to silence the surrounding area. Then there were the gunshots.

Usually, Natasha tended to steer clear of the docks, adhering to the unspoken boundary line that had been established by the vigilantes of New York- she knew better than to lurk without reason in a place that was frequented by enhanced beings in costumes that could break her like a twig if they were so inclined and her back was turned. But Natasha reluctantly owed Nick Fury a favour that outweighed her caution so she'd dutifully followed the coordinates he'd sent, only giving a slight eye roll at the lack of specifics. Natasha would dig around through Shield's systems later for answers.

The building in front of the assassin looked old and rundown. Her eyes zeroed in on the rusted hinges and the metal that had been warped and beaten by nature and the passage of time.

A set of double doors loomed in front of her as she stepped out from her hiding place- the shadows seemed to melt away from Natasha as she settled comfortably in a wide stance, simply observing. The gravel beneath her feet was silent and her gaze narrowed minutely in concentration, ears straining to hear past the walls- another round of sharp gunshots broke the almost tranquil feeling of the docks. If Natasha hadn't grown up with the familiar sound ringing in her ears, she'd have flinched back from the offending noise shattering the quiet around her. However, only her fingers twitched slightly- more in preparation than surprise- the movement was masked by the dark while a strange sense of determination and adrenaline weighed down in her chest.

With one fluid movement Natasha's leg struck out, her heavy boot connecting with the metal door. It screeched hideously in protest as it swung open, startling the occupants inside. Surprise flitted across the closest man's face. Natasha hardly spared him a glance as she marched inside. Once over the initial shock, the man's face reddened with anger at the assassin's sudden and unwelcome entrance. "Bad time?" She asked, almost sweetly despite the cold air that radiated around her. He rushed forwards on instinct, eliciting a cry of outrage before clumsily attempting an assault- Natasha huffed at the clear inexperience and merely stepped backwards, avoiding the blundering punch he had aimed in her direction. She clenched her jaw and swung her leg out; it impacted with the man's stomach, hard enough for him to double over.

He stammered out a breathy curse while Natasha withdrew her usual handgun, it fitted comfortably against her palm. Her eyes flicked to the man as he dropped to the ground in a heap of his own limbs.

The recoil of the gun didn't deter Natasha's aim and the bullet buried itself in its target with scary accuracy. Letting out a small breath, she glanced around the rest of the interior of the warehouse, eyes trailing over the bare walls before resting on her next target- she cocked her head to the side, amusement dancing in her eyes as he flexed his fingers as if to intimidate.

There were thirteen enemies within the building. All poor excuses for fighters.

A case of cash had been discarded on the floor, forgotten in the firefight that had broken out.

And a teenage boy- who was bloodied and bruised- with a collar around his neck.

Finally, the man came within reach, (Natasha didn't see reason in wasting a good bullet), his chest heaving. She waited for him to strike first- his fists clenched until the knuckles had turned white before he struck out, but Natasha was faster and dropped to a defensive crouch on the cold concrete floor. A single kick to the man's exposed legs knocked him off balance, sending him stumbling backwards from the force; a murderous look glinted in his eyes for a moment as he growled at the woman who stared calmly back, almost taunting him with the way the corner of her lips curled upwards in an unspoken challenge- he lunged.