Natasha Who Refuses to Give Up
New York — Manhattan, inside a quiet Western restaurant.
"I told you already—it's just a thank-you for protecting Annie. You don't need to do this," Xu Mo said casually, chewing on a piece of steak.
"Of course I do," Natasha replied firmly, eyes serious.
"I may have been assigned to protect Annie, but that's S.H.I.E.L.D. paying me. What you gave me is something else entirely."
She was speaking about the Thunder Blade technique Xu Mo had taught her. The more she practiced it, the more she realized its worth. With her current progress, taking down ten versions of her past self would be effortless. For a spy, survivability meant everything—and this technique had elevated hers to a whole new level.
Xu Mo didn't answer right away.
The truth was, he had only given her the first five layers of Thunder Blade, without the deeper methods of channeling or cultivating genetic energy. Training with the technique alone could raise one's strength slowly, but it had limits. At best, someone gifted might reach the level of a junior warrior—comparable, with effort, to an intermediate fighter. But against a true seasoned warrior? They'd falter.
Thunder Blade amplified power in bursts, but the human body couldn't sustain that intensity constantly. A junior fighter simply didn't have the stamina of an intermediate one.
After sipping his wine, Xu Mo asked deliberately, "Have you ever thought about… changing jobs?"
Natasha blinked in surprise, then smirked. "You're not talking about Stark Industries, are you? You mean leaving S.H.I.E.L.D. to work for you?"
Xu Mo nodded. "Exactly."
It was why he'd given her Thunder Blade in the first place. If Natasha could rise to the Avengers' ranks with nothing but grit, training, and gadgets—imagine what she could achieve with cultivation. With something like the super soldier serum on top of that, she'd outclass Steve Rogers himself.
Her Red Room conditioning had turned her into a weapon. Cultivation would only sharpen that edge.
Natasha's smile faded as she considered it seriously. For her, S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't just an employer—it was Clint Barton, the one man who had given her a sense of family. That bond wasn't easy to abandon.
After a long pause, she shook her head. "Sorry. I appreciate the offer, but I'm not leaving S.H.I.E.L.D."
Xu Mo only nodded. He'd expected that. If Black Widow were so easily swayed, she wouldn't be Black Widow. He was just planting a seed. After Hydra's fall, she might rethink things.
Dinner ended, and Xu Mo drove her home.
At the curb, Natasha hesitated before saying, "Want to come in?"
"Is that… convenient?" Xu Mo asked with mock hesitation.
"Of course. I live alone."
It was nearly eleven. With such a clear invitation, Xu Mo saw no reason to refuse.
Her Manhattan apartment was neat, minimalist. While Xu Mo took it in, Natasha fetched a bottle of wine.
"Another glass?"
"Sure."
One bottle became two. An hour later, Natasha's cheeks were flushed. She leaned toward Xu Mo, eyes glinting.
"I've been learning a lot about you lately…"
"Why? Are you interested?" Xu Mo teased.
"A little," Natasha admitted, voice low, brushing her hand across his cheek.
Xu Mo chuckled, pulling her into his lap. "After tonight, it'll be more than a little."
…
It was a sleepless night.
By the time the sun crept up, they collapsed into brief, heavy sleep.
Then a phone rang. Xu Mo groggily answered.
"Who is this?"
"Xu Mo?!" came Tony Stark's incredulous voice.
On the top floor of Stark Tower, Tony stared at the caller ID. Natasha's number.
Realization hit instantly. Natasha hadn't shown up for work. Xu Mo had answered her phone—half asleep. The conclusion was obvious.
Tony's imagination filled in the blanks with painful clarity.
His voice turned sour. "Xu, this is low—even for you. You've still got shares in the company. And now you're distracting employees, interfering with Stark Industries operations—"
He was cut off by a click. Xu Mo had hung up.
Tony nearly hurled his phone across the room.
Back in the apartment, Natasha stirred, her body sore but her spirit still stubborn. She glanced at her phone: 10:00 a.m. Less than two hours of sleep. Anyone else would have collapsed.
Xu Mo, on the other hand, looked irritatingly energized.
Natasha narrowed her eyes. Her pride flared. She shoved him back against the bed.
"What now?" Xu Mo blinked at her determined gaze.
"You gave me Thunder Blade. You must be an expert in force techniques, right?"
He nodded cautiously.
Her lips curved in a dangerous smile. "Then you can judge for yourself—whether my method of exerting force is correct."
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