After some light conversation, Mark suddenly leaned in with a mischievous glint in his eye.
"Actually" he said, lowering his voice
"I have an ability no one else knows about. But since I feel like we get along well, Natasha, I'll make an exception and let you in on the secret."
Natasha's eyes lit up with intrigue. She thought their casual exchange might have caused the boy to lower his guard.
"What kind of ability?" she asked, curious yet cautious.
Mark gave her a confident smirk and spoke as if unveiling something profound.
"Well, it's not something I was born with, it's more like a high-level skill I've been training in since I was a kid. I can read people's fates by looking at the lines in their hands. In some places, that's known as fortune-telling."
(T/N: Bullshit)
Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Is that real?"
She was skeptical. The idea seemed far-fetched and more like a child's bluff than a serious claim.
Mark didn't miss a beat. "Of course it's real. Don't believe me? Let me show you."
Without waiting for a response, he gently took Natasha's hand, slipped off her glove, and held her palm close to his face. He stared at it for a few seconds, feigning intense focus. Then, with a theatrical sigh, he furrowed his brow and shook his head slowly.
"Natasha," he said gravely
"you're destined to walk a lonely path. A hard childhood, and a future that may never bring you marriage or children."
Natasha blinked. "What do you mean? Is that some kind of bad luck reading?"
Mark nodded with feigned solemnity. "It means your life may be full of trials. No matter how strong or accomplished you become, your fate might be one of solitude."
Of course, Mark didn't believe in palmistry, nor did he actually have any clairvoyant power. He was just messing with her, using information he knew about from the movies. After all, she had been trying to pry information from him.
Natasha froze. The boy's tone, combined with the eerie accuracy of his statement, unsettled her more than she expected. Emotion flickered behind her eyes.
She had been born in the Soviet Union in 1984, an abandoned infant, later taken in by a secretive government agency. Raised and trained as a covert operative, she had been part of a fabricated family sent to Ohio to carry out espionage missions alongside others like her. When the operation failed, she was recalled and subjected to harsher conditioning under a program known only by codenames.
During that time, she had been forcibly sterilized and enhanced genetically, her reproductive capabilities permanently stripped away. She went on to become one of the most effective operatives in the field, an assassin, a spy, a ghost. Her hands had ended the lives of many, including innocents and children.
It wasn't until two years ago, when Clint Barton, Hawkeye was sent to eliminate her, that everything changed. He had given her a second chance instead of executing his mission, and she'd taken it. She joined S.H.I.E.L.D., hoping to atone for the past.
And now, this boy she barely knew had managed to touch the nerve she thought she'd buried long ago.
"Will I really be alone for the rest of my life?" she murmured under her breath.
Clint, standing nearby, noticed the shift in her demeanor. He narrowed his eyes. He didn't believe for a second that Mark could actually read anyone's fate.
To prove it, he extended his hand. "Alright, Mister Fortune-Teller. Why don't you read mine?"
He hoped the act would expose Mark as a fraud and help Natasha see that this was all coincidence.
Mark gave Clint's hand a quick glance, then smirked again.
"Hmm. You're actually quite fortunate. Your lines suggest a large family. Many children, and a peaceful future."
He traced the lines with his finger as he continued:
"Your youth wasn't easy, probably due to family circumstances. But things will improve. I see marriage to a colleague, and at least three children in your future."
Clint, who had just lifted a glass of water, paused mid-sip.
He really had grown up in a troubled home. He and his mother were once attacked in a convenience store. He killed the assailant, but his mother was arrested and imprisoned as a result. It had left a deep scar.
Now, at thirty, he was in a steady relationship with another S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and they were considering marriage within the next couple of years.
'Could it be… that this kid actually knows something? Will I really have three kids?'
The thought left him reeling. A part of him wanted Mark to be wrong, because if Natasha's lonely fate were true, he didn't want to accept it. But another part of him wished Mark's words were real because the future he described sounded good.
Just then, the lounge door opened and Agent Hill stepped inside. Her eyes scanned the room and narrowed at the strange expressions on Natasha and Clint's faces, one looked distressed, the other lost in thought.
"What's going on with you two?" she asked, mildly concerned.
Before either could reply, Mark stood up and smiled innocently.
"Oh, have we reached an agreement? Great. Then I guess we're leaving."
He turned to Natasha and Clint with a parting wave. "It was great chatting with you both. Let's do it again sometime."
With that, he followed Hill out of the lounge. Mystique fell into step beside him.
As they walked toward the director's office, she spoke quietly, keeping her tone neutral.
"Do you actually know how to read people's futures?"
Though she'd sat silently in the room, her senses had picked up everything. Not a single word had escaped her.
There were, after all, a few rare mutants like Caliban in the black market who could glimpse fragments of the future. Maybe Mark was one of them.
Mark gave a sly grin. "What do you think?"
His answer was vague on purpose. If people believed he could read fate, they'd take his words seriously. And if events later proved him wrong, well he had never truly confirmed anything. Their belief would be their own burden, not his responsibility.
Raven smirked and reached over to pinch his cheek.
"You little rascal. I should call you Destiny Boy."
"No" Mark said with mock indignation. "It's Mr. Destiny." he said, striking a superhero pose
Raven laughed. Happily indulging in the boy's antics.
The two of them arrived back at the office just as Nick Fury was wrapping up a surprisingly friendly conversation with Professor Xavier and Magneto.
"I hope we can continue working together" Fury said, wearing an expression rarely seen on his face a smile.
Professor Xavier had proven more diplomatic than expected. As long as mutant safety remained a priority, many compromises could be made. Magneto was far more militant and wary of humans, but Fury had managed to keep him engaged in the discussion.
All things considered, the talks had gone better than anyone anticipated.
Mark stepped forward casually. "Professor, I'm starving. Isn't it about time for lunch?"
"You're right. Let's get lunch. I know a newly opened French place, five stars." Fury said immediately.
Mark's lips curled upward.
Perfect.
Soon, the compound inside Stryker's system would transform into poison. And when that happened, if they were dining publicly with Director Fury, no one would suspect them of involvement.
Sometimes, timing was everything.
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