SUPREMACY / P. MAXIMOFF

haste

"I sense there is a missing piece to this equation," Tony mused, resting his head on his open palm lazily. His eyes swiveled past the large assortment of idiosyncraticies Fury had assembled in the last two days. One was missing. His narrowed eyes fixated themselves on the door.

"Huh?" Steve wondered, head tilting to the side, resembling a lost puppy. Natasha rolled her eyes and sat back in her chair, gripping the leather armrests and watching as her fingers sunk into the fabric.

"The Avengers Initiative was active long before you were found Captain, we trained and recruited as many gifted individuals that we had found in our database. Some qualified," Natasha glanced sideways at Tony, who sneered at her. "Some did not. When the initiative proved to be a failure, one of the members I recruited was committed to the organization because of her service. And also because-"

"You and Barton adopted her," Tony drawled out, bored. "Didn't know you went anywhere without pipsqueak on your hip, Romanoff?" He rolled his eyes at Steve's incredulous expression, and the hint of sentiment painted on Natasha's porcelain face.

"A child? You're bringing a child into this? That's absurd!" Steve hollered. Tony hummed and waved him off.

"Wasn't the draft age like sixteen when you were spry and wiggling?" Tony question, circling around a nervous looking Banner with a "pokey thing" twirling in between his nimble fingers.

Steve glared at him. "Eighteen as of 1942. But this is different."

"Different? Is it really different, old man?"

Everyone's eyes focused in on the petite figure lingering in the doorway, clad in black from head to toe, frizzy brown hair tied up on the top of her head in an equally frizzy ponytail. She looked smug.

"Ah, there she is. Little Natasha, how are you?"

"Bite me, Stark," Anastazya hissed, sauntering over to Natasha, hands planted firmly on her hips.

"I told you this was a bad time to send me away, now look what's happened. Clint is brainwashed and we are at the brink of intergalactic war and all we have to show for it is a man with a record breaking need for an anger management class, a billionaire playboy asshole, a man who has spent way too much time in Drapes and Things and a human Creamsicle. Not to mention the Twisted Sister cackling to himself underground."

The room was silent for a few moments, and Ana glanced around the room apprehensively.

"No offense."

"None taken," Tony chuckled, looking slightly impressed. Natasha raised a sculpted eyebrow at Ana.

"It's not my fault you went and exploded again. You needed some time to cool off after that last mission."

"Oh, so I'm not the only one who throws temper tantrums? The spawn does too?" Bruce asked, looking amused with the conversation.

"My name is Anastazya, and I don't throw temper tantrums-"

"Oh of course not, just natural disasters," Tony butted in, looking smug. Ana winked at him.

"Adds a little more style don't you think."

"Anastazya."

"Anastazya! What are you doing?" Clint shouted over the madness. Anastazya's eyes never left Tony's limp figure falling from the sky, nuke clutched in his hands. Her heart beat spastically in her chest.

"I-I l-ost p-ow-er," Tony's voice cut in and out of the radio static in Ana's ear. Her body was moving before her mind could catch up. She collapsed to the floor as she was tackled down by one of the Chitauri. But it was enough, her body temperature spiked as she began to absorb the energy of everything around her. Her mind couldn't fathom what she was doing, but she knew it would work. She shakily stood to her feet, vision spotting.