Starting anew

Location: Afghanistan

Date: May 1 2008

It did not take long to find another car. It was a small Toyota covered in decade-old dust. I was fine to fit in, but anyone close to 6' high would be kissing his knees. Maybe that's why the owner sold it cheap? Doesn't really matter. It's not like I will keep it longer than a week.

The road back to Islamabad was uneventful. Most likely, it was due to a dirty car that had not seen water since the last rain season, if they had any here.

Sand, more sand and sand again.

I kept alert. It's not a place for daydreaming.

In the end, it took me two days to get back to Islamabad. Then, I spent another two days waiting until Jarvis gave me the green light. He was working his magic on my backstory - putting me in databases and social networks and, in general, leaving digital footprints of my previous existence.

He also triggered a passport emergency reissue, and I got a shiny, crispy new US passport. Now, it is legally printed, properly registered, and has all the necessary entries, so I am safe to cross a border with the US.

He organised the delivery of a suitcase for me, with all the small things that I needed to fit into a picture of a tourist coming back home — everything that would make me inconspicuous and prove my backstory.

He has already prepared everything in LA: apartment, car, and office for my PI business. He followed up my suggestion to screw my story a bit. So now I have a low credit score, am listed as a dropout from the university and have a Ducati 999S that I allegedly bought after my first big lucky trip to Las Vegas.

Seeing Jarvis pull something like arranging for me an apartment with an established history of living there was frightening. There are people on the darknet who organise stuff like that for cash, and Jarvis knows them.

I can only guess what Stark was up to in his earliest days if his AI can do things like that all by itself.

Instead of focusing on possible doom days, courtesy of Jarvis, I spent my time on polishing my backstory, learning some bits of local culture and whatnot.

The usual pre-infiltration mission routine.

It was familiar. It was grounding. It was letting me forget that I was in the past, that nobody knew me, that I flew blind here with no plan. It sounds crazy. I know it is crazy. I don't know how Stark believed me.

Doubts. Since the Snap, I have become accustomed to them. The constant flow of what if that I had a hard time suppressing. And if before they were about the past, now they are about the future. What if I fucked it up, what if I made it all worse. What if…

Stop, Natasha, just Breathe in. Two. One. Breath out. Three. Two. One.

Again.

Breath in. Two. One. Breath out. Three. Two. One.

Again.

🕷

I expected to be stopped by customs when I landed in the LAX. I made sure that I didn't have anything illegal on me. I felt naked without any weapon, but it was too important to mess up. So, I was as ready as I could be, with Jarvis's help, of course.

SHIELD was not going to ignore me so easily. I know that, and it was accounted for.

I proved right to be ready when, after my passport was checked, I was pulled aside and escorted to the interrogation room.

I stayed calm.

The next hour I spent chewing bubble gum and looking at the ceiling, thinking about what I should do next. I need to tighten up my ends with the Red Room — I should not ignore that. In the original timeline, I tried to blow Dreykov up somewhere soon. This time around, I am going to put him down and salt his corpse. There is not going to be another chance for the Red Room to continue.

🕷

They let me steam by myself for an hour or so. Eventually, the door opened, and Clint, in a border officer uniform, came in. All proper and tight up.

I perked up and said in my best California accent:

"Dude, what took you so long? Were you stuck on the 101 or something? I've been waiting forever!"

He gave me a look, dropped a thick folder on the table and only then sat. He made a show of opening it and flipping pages.

"Officer Barton." he made a heavy pause after the introduction.

"Miss Romanova, you were detained under The Patriot Act. Please be advised that anything you said can and will be used in a court."

Ah, so this is how they want to do it. Well, let's dance a bit here, Clint.

"I ain't playin' around. You gonna have to release me or I'll just sit tight 'til I get my lawyer, ya feel me?"

"Don't you have a degree yourself?" He looked over the folder, which he was still busy flipping pages in.

I just blew a hairlock from my face and smirked at him, saying nothing.

"Listen, Miss Romanova. We ask a few questions, you answer them, and you are free to go. It's simple like that." he tried again.

"Are you all chill now? Keep it up, officer." I smirked and blew a bubble of gum, and popped it loudly.

"You departed the US two months ago, last known location London, Great Britain. Then you came back from Pakistan. What was the nature of your trip?" he probed again.

"It was a business trip. Gotta keep that client confidentiality and all that stuff," I replied with a smirk.

"We need more than that, Miss Romanova," he replied with a stern voice and look.

"Your funeral then." I shrugged my shoulders.

"Step out of bounds, and I'll sue you 'til you're broke. Go and talk to your boss. Either let me go or I'm calling my lawyer. No more chit-chat." I crossed my hands under my bust and popped another bubble.

He looked at me once more. Flipped folder pages a few more times and stood up.

"I suggest you think about your actions once more, Miss Romanova."

I watched him go with a smirk. I know Clint; he has nothing on me so far, or he would choose a different approach right now. His actions told me all I needed to know about what SHIELD would do next.

They will monitor my actions and connections and wait for an opportunity — exactly what I need them to do.

Fifteen minutes tops, and I am out. I bet they bug my luggage and put someone on my tail.

That's fine. I accounted for that, too.

🕷

I was out in exactly fifteen minutes. I took a cab, as soon as I left the airport. I did not try to skip the first or second one. There was no point in avoiding a SHIELD-issued one, and I bet 20 bucks that it would be a SHIELD-issued one if anyone would bet on that at all.

"Where to?" The driver asked as soon as we started to move.

"Brentwood. 1204 McClellan Dr. Fill me up on what is good in our la-la land? Feels like forever since I dipped out for work."

He beamed at me in a mirror and replied:

"So, like, where did you go? Was it, like, a good trip?"

"Yeah, it was rad. I even got a fat bonus." I beamed back at him.

We chatted a bit. I blended in with no problems and kept up with driver gossip and complaints: about street construction, traffic, and all that local stuff that you have to know if you are from this place, if you are Angeleno.

Fortunately, my new apartment was not so far away from the airport, and it was not a traffic time.

I gave the driver some good tips and went to check out my new living arrangement. On the way up to the second floor, I picked up bills and some random printed ads from an overflowing mailbox.

When I got inside, I kept my ruse. There is a good chance that the place is already bugged to the gills.

"Casa dulce casa," I said in a low tone and dropped my shoes. 

I unloaded all the clothes from my luggage to the laundry machine and then did the same with everything I wore. I wished for a safe trip to heaven for tags and bugs that SHIELD put on my clothes. It doesn't matter, they probably have more already inside my apartment, but I feel like being a bit bitchy.

I went through the kitchen to take a bottle of wine with the glass, dropped bills on the counter, and went to the bathroom, where, to my surprise, a jacuzzi was waiting for me.

It was a spacious bathroom, easily the size of the third bedroom, with a separate shower cabin, a TV mounted on a wall and a nice stereo system.

I put the TV news on, albeit on silent, and turned on the CD player with whatever was inside. I ended up listening to an old one for me but the latest for everyone else: Madonna's album American Life — Hollywood.

Someone did their work with a bit of creativity and humour, it looks like.

After that, I turned on the jacuzzi to fill it up and took a quick shower.

Home sweet home indeed.

🕷

Hours later, when I had almost finished cleaning up the apartment, there was a ringing from downstairs. The intercom showed a regular delivery guy with a small package with a high-priority strip on it.

A few minutes later, with one signature down, I had the same fancy phone that JARVIS had previously provided me — the one that Stark had taken with him. There was a new message.

J> Please drop by your office when you find it convenient, Miss Romanova.

Looks like Stark already wants to do a recap.

N> On it. ETA 25.

In my closet, I found a red leather jacket, pans, sport-style motorcycle shoes, and a helmet all in my size. J. really went for an all-red look with it.

Opening a safe box hidden in the closet's wall, I found my PI badge and a gun. They were all legit, with properly filled paperwork and credentials. It looked like I had been carrying them around for a few years. At this rate, I will start to believe that I always lived in LA.

I was out and down in the garage in ten minutes.

There, I found another piece of my backstory - the Ducati 999 S.

When I turned the ignition on, a purring mixed with a low bass vroom filled the garage. I had never owned a motorcycle before; I did not have such luxury things to be attached to.

Even Stark AI knows how to please a girl.

I did a quick detour on the 101 - I had some tail to shake off. They definitely were not ready to see me going all throttle out. I laughed a bit, imagining their faces.

Eventually, I went to the office building's underground garage and found my way to the room - I had it in my file, provided by Jarvis. I even had an office key on my chain.

Inside, I found a small and narrow office with no reception section — just a table with a computer, a single spare chair, and a window.

Bare walls were empty. No flowers, no pictures or frames.

As soon as I dropped in front of the computer and turned it on, the camera on top of the screen lit up with a red dot, and I looked at Stark on the screen.

"Miss Romanova," he greeted me.

"Stark." I nodded back to him.

"How did it go? Jarvis saw that you were detained in the airport."

"It went well. All thanks to Jarvis." I replied honestly.

Stark rolled his eyes and said:

"Jarvis will monitor the activity around you and inform you of any developments."

I gave him a nod of acknowledgement.

"I will be busy with the Stark Industries and weapons dealings for a while. Is there anything critical I need to know?"

"Except Stane tried to kill you, I have nothing important to add. Well, you know already that he originally got his hands on a prototype. That's pretty much all I know about this time." I replied.

"J is keeping an eye on Stane, but I need to get access to his work computer. At this point, it is safe to assume that any SI personnel compromised and I need outside help. Can you break into SI tonight?" Stark asked with a complicated face.

"I thought J. can break in anywhere?" I asked curiously.

Stark made a face and said: "I may or may not have done something to the SI HQ firewall while I was drunk some years ago. It's easier to break in than to figure out what I actually did back then. So, are you in?"

"Sure, give me the details", is all that I said.

🕷

At midnight, I walked through the security of Stark Industries HQ all the way to Stane's office. Stark gave me all the inside information I needed; it was a walk in the park.

It is much easier to break in when you have such information and support.

Still, I planned it all ahead, of course. I got the necessary tools to get into the office through a window on the twentieth floor.

The small cut in a few places and hard wire to pull it open is all it took to break in.

It did not take long to connect the phone to Stane's computer and start uploading the backdoor.

"Miss, Stane just drove in and is on his way up," I heard Jarvis saying in my earpiece.

"Do we have enough time to finish the upload?" I asked back.

"A minute to spare," replied Jarvis.

I finished preparing my escape back through the window and waited for the upload to finish. As soon as "done" popped out, I detached everything, turned the screen off and was out of the office.

I barely finished locking the window back when the door opened, and lights illuminated the window. I took a small mirror out and checked what he was doing inside.

Stane went to the bar and poured himself a full glass of whiskey with ice. He looked troubled. Then, he spent some time just going over the files on his computer. Eventually, I saw him making a video call.

"Can you tap me in?" I asked into my earpiece.

I immediately heard Stane speaking in Arabic. He was talking with Ten Rings, Raza, the terrorist leader who was holding Stark in captivity. Stane was pushing him for crossing him over and not finishing the job. Raza promised to give him good retribution and requested more weapons for a good price, of course.

They arranged to meet five days later. I made a comment to Jarvis that Raza might have something related to the Iron Man prototype that he is going to bargain with Stane about.

My path back was as easy as my path in, and at 3 a.m., I was back at my apartment, playing a bit tipsy person who had a good night but was able to drive home.

🕷

The next morning, I spent doing home chores and keeping myself busy. Groceries, small items, and other necessities took a solid two hours to get from the nearest supermarket. Well, at least the Civic Honda that I found next to my new shiny red toy was in working order and good enough not to break down on a shopping trip.

After that, I went over all the papers and documents that I had. When I found an expired old LA Fitness card, I decided that going to the gym was as good an idea as any to spend the afternoon. A quick search for the nearest gym with a walk-in policy got me on my way.

I need to get used to my younger body and be 100 per cent sure of what I am capable of right now.

On the way to the gym, I saw RadioShack and stopped to buy an iPod or something.

Back in the future, I used to have everything on my phone, so the need to have a music player as a separate device was really annoying. Even the phone provided by Jarvis was just that — a phone. Maybe I can nudge Stark to make his Stark phone faster?

Fortunately, I was also able to buy some music. Funny enough, they had the American Life Madonna album on sale.

Training felt nice and right. I have been doing it for so long now that it has become a part of my being. It twitches and twists something inside me if I am on a dry streak without training unless I am on a mission.

I had to do a thoughtful review of my physical capabilities. I don't really remember what my limits were fifteen years ago. I needed to learn them all again, so I did cardio, worked on different groups of muscles, and tested my strength.

Then I went to throw punches in a sandbag.

"Hey Babe! Need a hand?" I heard a voice throw music in my ears.

Turning around, I saw a tall guy with biceps the size of my thighs, dressed in Nike pants and a singlet. He was clearly shaven, had blue eyes, and had blond hair. He was looking at me expectantly.

I took out my headphones and asked, "Did you say something?"

He smiled back and repeated: "Need a hand? I can give you tips on how to throw a punch"

I rolled my eyes. I bet he is looking to put his hands up instead of giving tips.

"No, thanks," I replied with clear annoyance in my voice and turned around to pick up a bottle.

At that moment, his big hand caught me by the left upper arm, and I heard him saying:

"Don't ignore me babe!"

Fucking moron.

With a loud enough, "Don't babe me", I spun to close quarters, levelled myself down and jabbed his jingle bells. After that, I caught his head with both hands when he curled his body forward from pain and introduced my knee to his face.

Then I stepped back and let him collapse at my feet. I heard him whining in a high-pitched voice, "You fucking gnarly"

I sat down and, in a hush, forceful voice, told him, "Try and touch me again, and I'll show you my gnarly side. Got it?"

When he said nothing, I grabbed him by the hair and made him look in my eyes: "I said, got it?"

He almost squealed like a girl: "Got it! Got it!" 

Satisfied, I drank some water and looked around. Everyone was pretending that nothing happened. If girls were pretending that they saw nothing (maybe it was ordinary for boys here to be forceful?), boys purposefully were looking elsewhere. At least nobody was going to uphold the honour of the fallen macho.

I went back to my punching. Something was wrong with my balance when I threw my left punch. I was not putting enough weight behind it.

 🕷

After training and a quick shower at the gym, I went for the ride. I need to sort things out in my head. I noticed that I was too shaken out by time travel. While I was able to get into the zone while I was looking for Stark, after that, I was adrift.

That's why I found myself at the beach, watching the sunset and thinking.

Right now, I am not a young and highly trained assassin anymore. It has been almost ten years since I did that. After the Snap, I was abandoning Black Widow behavior more and more. Guilt, self-blaming, and awareness of my sins were changing me, and I had to adapt to it or just jump the bridge. In the end, that was exactly what I did, didn't I?

And while back then, in the future, I had people who knew me or thought that they knew me and had some expectations of me, here I am — nobody knows me, nobody knows Natasha. She doesn't even exist anymore.

I am Natalie Romanova. PI with some education in law (albeit unfinished) and private practice. I don't need to be flirty. I don't need to manipulate people. I can be me: as fucked up as I want, as gnarly as I can manage.

I felt like a mountain had dropped from my shoulders, and I breathed with a new resolve.

I should be fine.

Maybe It's my new, this time true, chance at life.

🕷