# **December 18th, 1991**
**Walter Reed National Military Medical Center**
**10:23 AM**
Adrian was sitting up in bed—still hurt like hell, but the doctors had cleared him for limited movement—when Peggy Carter entered his room. Alone this time. No Fury. No agents. Just her.
She pulled up a chair beside his bed, and Adrian immediately recognized the expression on her face. He'd seen it before, in another life, on Bruce Wayne's face when interrogating someone who knew more than they were saying.
This wasn't going to be a friendly chat.
"Good morning, Adrian," Peggy said, her British accent crisp and professional. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I got hit by a truck. Or a super soldier. Pretty similar, actually."
"I imagine so." Peggy folded her hands in her lap. The picture of composure. "Your mother and Tony have gone to make funeral arrangements. Ana and Edwin are handling logistics at the mansion. Which means you and I have some time to talk. Privately."
*Here it comes.*
"Director Carter, if this is about HYDRA—"
"It's about the serum, Adrian."
That stopped him cold.
Peggy's expression didn't change, but her eyes were sharp. Evaluating. Reading his reaction.
"Howard's super soldier serum," she continued. "The one you photographed and hid. The one HYDRA stole—or rather, the *fake* one you replaced it with. Let's talk about that."
Adrian tried to keep his expression neutral. Batman's poker face was excellent, but Peggy Carter was legendary. She'd worked with Captain America. She'd founded SHIELD. She didn't miss much.
"What about it?"
"I had our biochemists analyze the film you preserved. The real formula. Do you know what they found?"
"That it works?"
"That it's incomplete."
Adrian's stomach dropped.
*Shit. I knew Howard's version had problems. I knew I could improve it. But I didn't think SHIELD's analysts would notice that fast.*
Peggy leaned forward slightly. "Howard's formula would work, yes. It would create enhanced individuals. But it has inefficiencies. Suboptimal ratios. A radiation component that would cause uneven enhancement and potential complications. The biochemists estimate a seventy percent success rate. Maybe seventy-five on a good day."
"That's what Dad told me. Seventy percent."
"Yes. But here's what's interesting, Adrian." Peggy's voice sharpened. "The formula you photographed—the *real* one you saved from HYDRA—has been annotated. In the margins. In pencil. Someone made notes about the inefficiencies. Someone identified the exact problems our analysts found. Someone who understood the biochemistry at a level that rivals Howard's own expertise."
*Fuck. I made notes. I didn't think about anyone seeing them.*
"And the handwriting," Peggy continued, "matches yours. I compared it to the letter you left. Same hand. Same person."
Adrian didn't respond. Just waited. Batman had taught him that sometimes silence was the best defense.
"So let me ask you directly, Adrian: Did you alter the fake research because Howard's formula was incomplete? Because you recognized the flaws and knew that even if HYDRA stole it, they'd fail?"
Adrian considered his options. Peggy wasn't Fury—she wouldn't push if he refused to answer. But she also wasn't stupid. And lying to her would only make things worse.
"Yes," he said finally.
"How did you know the formula was incomplete?"
"I reviewed Dad's research. Spent hours with him going over the biochemistry. I have two doctorates in progress—Biomedical Engineering and Advanced Materials Science. I understand cellular enhancement. I understand polymer chemistry. And when I looked at Dad's work, I saw the problems."
"You saw problems that Howard Stark—one of the greatest minds of our generation—didn't see?"
"I saw them because I was looking for them. Dad was so focused on making the formula *work* that he didn't step back and ask if it was *optimal*. He spent forty years getting to seventy percent. That was his victory. But seventy percent isn't good enough."
Peggy studied him. "What would be good enough?"
"Ninety-five percent. Maybe higher." Adrian shifted carefully in the bed, wincing as his ribs protested. "The stabilizing polymer Dad used is overcomplicated. The enhancement compound ratios are slightly off—specifically the neural optimization component is overrepresented by about eight percent, which increases the risk of psychological amplification effects. And the Vita-Radiation source is unstable. It would drift during the transformation process, causing uneven cellular enhancement."
Peggy's eyebrows rose. "You identified all of that from reviewing the research with Howard?"
"And from my own analysis. I'm not as smart as my father, Director Carter, but I'm smart enough. Especially when it comes to biochemistry."
"Smart enough to sabotage classified government research."
"Smart enough to save it from HYDRA."
They looked at each other for a long moment. Peggy's expression was unreadable.
"Did Howard know?" she asked quietly. "Did he know the formula was incomplete?"
"I don't think so. Or if he did, he didn't want to admit it. Dad spent his entire life trying to recreate Erskine's work. To prove it was possible. Admitting the formula was flawed would have meant admitting he'd failed. Again."
"And you didn't tell him."
"What would I have said? 'Dad, your life's work is incomplete. Here's how to fix it.' He would have either gotten defensive or—" Adrian stopped. "Or he would have wanted to test it on me immediately. Which brings us to the other thing you came here to ask about."
Peggy's expression shifted slightly. "Go on."
"Dad wanted me to be the test subject. For the serum. He'd been preparing me for it my entire life, probably without realizing it. All the comparisons to Steve Rogers. All the focus on my physical training. All of it was leading to this—making me into the next Captain America."
"And you knew this."
"I figured it out. Dad wasn't subtle about it. And when he showed me the research two days before the attack, he made it explicit. Said I was the ideal candidate. Young. Healthy. Peak physical condition. Good moral foundation."
"What did you tell him?"
"That I'd think about it. That I needed to understand the science first. That I wanted to make an informed decision." Adrian looked directly at Peggy. "I was stalling. Because I knew the formula wasn't ready. And I knew HYDRA was coming. So I told Dad what he wanted to hear while I prepared for what was actually going to happen."
"Which was saving the real research and replacing it with sabotaged versions."
"Yes."
"Adrian, do you understand what you did? You altered classified government research. You compromised a national security program. You withheld information about a HYDRA threat. Any one of those things could land you in prison."
"I also saved my mother's life. Prevented HYDRA from getting a working super soldier formula. And preserved Dad's research for future use. Seems like a net positive to me."
Peggy's lips twitched slightly. Almost a smile. "You're just like your father. Brilliant. Arrogant. Absolutely convinced you know better than everyone else."
"Is that a compliment or an insult?"
"Both." Peggy stood up, walked to the window. Looked out at the city. "Howard told me he wanted you as the test subject. He called me two nights before the attack. Said he'd finally cracked the formula. Said he wanted to begin trials immediately. With you."
"What did you tell him?"
"I told him he was insane. That you were eighteen years old. That the risks were too high. That he should test it on volunteers from SHIELD first—people who signed up for this kind of danger."
"What did he say?"
"He said you were special. That you had Steve's potential. That if anyone could handle the serum, it was you." Peggy turned back to face him. "He also said you'd already agreed to consider it. Is that true?"
"Yes. But I wasn't actually going to do it. Not with his formula. Not with a seventy percent success rate."
"But you would have done it with a better formula."
Adrian hesitated. This was dangerous territory. Admitting he wanted the serum could open doors he wasn't ready to open.
But Peggy Carter deserved honesty. She'd been Steve's partner. Howard's friend. She understood what the serum meant—both its potential and its risks.
"Yes," Adrian said finally. "If the formula was optimized. If the success rate was high enough. If the safeguards were in place. Then yes, I would consider it."
"Why?"
"Because I couldn't protect my parents with just training and preparation. Because I fought the Winter Soldier and lost. Because if I'd been enhanced—if I'd had Steve's strength and speed and healing—I might have saved both of them instead of just one."
Peggy's expression softened. "Adrian, you did everything humanly possible. Everything. What happened to Howard isn't your fault."
"It feels like it is."
"I know. But feelings aren't facts." Peggy returned to her chair, sat down. "Let me tell you something about Steve Rogers. Something most people don't know."
Adrian listened.
"Steve wasn't special because of the serum," Peggy said. "The serum amplified what was already there—yes. But what made Steve extraordinary was his heart. His refusal to give up. His willingness to sacrifice himself for others. You have that same quality, Adrian. I saw it in your actions. You knew the attack was coming. You could have stayed home. But you went anyway. You fought. You protected Maria. That's not the serum. That's *you*."
"But I wasn't strong enough."
"You were strong enough to save one life. That matters more than you know."
They sat in silence for a moment.
"The research," Peggy said finally. "The real formula. What do you want done with it?"
"Improve it. Fix the flaws. Make it work properly. Then—" Adrian paused. "Then use it carefully. Only on people who deserve it. People like Steve. Not soldiers. Not weapons. Heroes."
"And you think you're a hero?"
"I think I want to be. I think I tried to be. I think—" Adrian's voice caught. "I think I failed. But I want another chance."
Peggy reached out, took his hand gently. "You didn't fail, Adrian. You saved your mother. You preserved your father's work. You fought harder than anyone should have to fight. That's not failure. That's heroism."
"It doesn't feel like heroism."
"It never does. Ask anyone who's ever done something brave—they'll tell you they were terrified. That they didn't think. That they just acted." Peggy squeezed his hand. "That's what you did. You acted. When it mattered most, you stood up and fought. Your father would be proud. Steve would be proud. *I'm* proud."
Adrian felt tears threatening. Batman's emotional control was the only thing keeping him from completely breaking down.
"Thank you, Director Carter."
"Call me Peggy. You've earned that right." She stood up. "I'm going to have our biochemists work on improving the formula. Using your notes as a starting point. When it's ready—if it's ever ready—we'll revisit the question of test subjects. But Adrian, that's a decision for you to make when you're recovered. When you've had time to grieve. When you're thinking clearly."
"I understand."
"Good." Peggy moved toward the door, then stopped. "One more thing. Agent Fury is going to keep pushing for answers. He's suspicious of how you knew about the attack. He thinks you're hiding something."
"I am hiding something."
"I know. We all have secrets, Adrian. The question is whether those secrets hurt people or protect them. As long as yours are the latter, I won't press. But Fury is different. He's a good man, but he's also paranoid and relentless. Be careful what you tell him."
"I will. Thank you, Peggy."
She left, closing the door behind her.
Adrian lay back in his bed, exhausted from the conversation, and thought about everything Peggy had said.
*The formula is incomplete. They know I identified the flaws. They know Howard wanted me as the test subject.*
*But they don't know about Batman. They don't know about the ROB. They don't know I'm from another universe.*
*And they can't know. Ever.*
He looked at his hands—still bruised and cut from the fight with the Winter Soldier. Peak human strength. Batman's training. All of it wasn't enough.
*But with the serum, it would be. With proper enhancement, I could protect people. Could stop threats before they destroyed families. Could be the hero this universe needs.*
*Steve Rogers used the serum to fight Nazis and save the world.*
*I could use it to fight HYDRA. To protect my family. To make sure what happened to Dad never happens to anyone else.*
*But first, I need to recover. Need to survive. Need to make sure Mom and Tony are okay.*
*Then I can worry about becoming a super soldier.*
*One crisis at a time.*
Adrian closed his eyes and let exhaustion take him.
The path forward was becoming clearer. Difficult. Dangerous. But clear.
He'd saved one parent. Lost another. Preserved his father's life's work. Fought a super soldier and survived.
And somewhere out there, HYDRA was realizing their stolen research was useless. The Winter Soldier was being debriefed. Bucky Barnes was trapped inside a weapon he couldn't control.
*I'm coming for you,* Adrian thought as sleep claimed him. *HYDRA. The Winter Soldier. All of you.*
*You killed my father. You nearly killed me. You've been hiding for fifty years.*
*But not anymore.*
*I know you exist. I know what you are. And I'm going to find you.*
*And when I do, you're going to wish you'd killed me when you had the chance.*
In his dreams, Adrian fought the Winter Soldier again. But this time, he was stronger. Faster. Enhanced.
This time, he won.
---
## **December 18th, 1991**
**Elsewhere**
**3:47 PM**
In a secure SHIELD research facility, biochemists were analyzing Adrian's notes on the super soldier formula.
In the Stark mansion, Edwin and Ana were preparing for a funeral that would shake the nation.
In Tony's hotel room, Rhodey was watching his friend stare at engineering schematics while grief ate him alive.
And somewhere in the shadows, HYDRA was realizing they'd been played.
The research they'd stolen was useless. Deliberately sabotaged. The Stark kid—the one the Winter Soldier had been told to eliminate—had outsmarted them all.
Which meant HYDRA had a new problem.
Adrian Stark was a threat. A smart, capable, dangerous threat who knew they existed.
Something would have to be done about that.
But not yet. Not while SHIELD was watching. Not while the family was protected.
HYDRA could be patient. They'd been patient for fifty years. They could wait a little longer.
And when the opportunity came, they'd finish what the Winter Soldier had started.
The game had changed. The pieces were moving.
And Adrian Stark—reincarnated isekai protagonist, Batman-trained fighter, and unwitting catalyst for everything that was coming—was right in the center of it all.
Whether he was ready or not.
---
# **December 19th, 1991**
**Red Room Academy**
**Classified Location, Russia**
**9:34 AM Local Time**
General Dreykov stood in the observation room overlooking Training Hall Three, watching two dozen young women move through combat drills with lethal precision. Each one was a weapon in development. Each one would become a ghost—an untraceable asset capable of infiltration, seduction, assassination.
The Red Room's finest products.
But today, Dreykov's attention was elsewhere. On a manila folder lying open on his desk. On grainy photographs taken from surveillance footage. On reports that had arrived via encrypted channels from their HYDRA contacts.
Reports about a failure.
The door opened. Madame Melina Vostokoff entered, moving with the controlled grace of someone who'd once been one of the Red Room's deadliest operatives before transitioning to training the next generation.
"You asked to see me, General?" Her Russian was flawless, aristocratic. The accent of old Moscow nobility.
"Close the door, Melina."
She did, then approached his desk. Her eyes flicked to the photographs. Her expression didn't change, but Dreykov saw the minute shift in her posture. Recognition. Interest.
"HYDRA's Winter Soldier failed a mission," Dreykov said, gesturing to the photos. "First time in his operational history. Do you know why?"
"I assume you're about to tell me."
Dreykov pushed the photographs across the desk. "An eighteen-year-old boy. American. College student. No military training on record. No intelligence background. Nothing that should have made him a threat."
Melina picked up the photos. They showed a highway scene. A wrecked car. Blood on pavement. Evidence markers everywhere. And in one photo, a young man being loaded into an ambulance—tall, blond, built like an athlete. Face swollen and bruised but still visible.
"Adrian Stark," Dreykov continued. "Son of Howard Stark, the weapons manufacturer. The Winter Soldier was sent to eliminate Howard Stark and retrieve super soldier serum research. The mission was successful in part—Howard Stark is dead. But this boy—" he tapped the photo "—fought the Winter Soldier. For several minutes. Made him bleed. Survived."
Melina's eyebrows rose fractionally. "The Winter Soldier is enhanced. Super soldier formula. Decades of combat experience. How did a college student survive?"
"That's what HYDRA wants to know. That's what *I* want to know." Dreykov pulled out another file. "Background check on Adrian Stark shows extensive martial arts training. Multiple disciplines. Competition records. Peak physical conditioning. But nothing that explains how he fought an enhanced operative and lived."
"Perhaps he was lucky."
"Luck doesn't leave forensic evidence of tactical combat. Luck doesn't disarm the Winter Soldier and draw blood with improvised weapons. Luck doesn't protect a target long enough for reinforcements to arrive." Dreykov's voice hardened. "This boy is trained, Melina. Really trained. By someone who knew what they were doing. And HYDRA wants to know who and why."
"And you care about this because?"
"Because HYDRA has requested our assistance. They can't send the Winter Soldier back to America—SHIELD is now aware he exists and is hunting him. They can't send their own operatives—too much attention on the Stark family. But we can send someone who won't be suspected. Someone who can get close to Adrian Stark. Learn his secrets. Determine if he's a threat."
Melina understood immediately. "You want to send a Widow."
"Not just any Widow. I want to send the best of your current training class. Someone skilled enough to handle herself if the Stark boy is as dangerous as the evidence suggests. Someone smart enough to extract information without arousing suspicion. Someone—" Dreykov paused "—who can seduce a young man mourning his father."
"You want Natasha."
"Is there anyone better?"
Melina was quiet for a moment, considering. Natasha Romanova was indeed the best of the current batch. Eighteen years old, fluent in six languages, expert in seventeen forms of combat, trained in infiltration and espionage since she was a child. She'd completed every mission assigned to her with cold efficiency.
She was also one graduation ceremony away from becoming a full Widow. One final procedure that would sever the last biological tie that could create weakness or distraction, and grant her the enhanced capabilities that made the Red Room's graduates truly exceptional.
"Natasha hasn't graduated yet," Melina said carefully. "She's not been through the final procedure. Sending her on a long-term deep cover operation before graduation is... irregular."
"The graduation can wait. This is more important."
"General, the procedure serves a purpose." Melina chose her words carefully. "The sterilization ensures complete loyalty. Complete focus. A Widow who can still bear children is a Widow who can still be emotionally compromised. And the Infinity Formula—" she paused significantly "—provides the enhanced longevity, healing, and physical capabilities that keep our Widows operational for decades. Natasha will be at a disadvantage without it."
Dreykov waved dismissively. "Natasha won't need enhanced abilities for this mission. The Stark boy is a baseline human. And her biological capability may actually be an asset—he's eighteen, American, probably romantic. A beautiful young woman who can discuss having a future with him? That's a cover story that writes itself."
Melina's expression tightened. She knew what Dreykov was suggesting. Use Natasha's biology as a weapon. Let the Stark boy think he could have a real relationship, a real future. Make him lower his guard.
It was effective. It was also cruel in a way that went beyond the usual Red Room operations.
"Without the Infinity Formula, Natasha will age normally," Melina pointed out. "She'll be more vulnerable to injury. Her operational lifespan will be measured in years, not decades. We'll be sacrificing one of our best potential assets."
"Then we'll graduate her when she returns. The procedure can be done at any time." Dreykov's tone made it clear the discussion was over. "Besides, not having the Formula's enhancements might work in our favor. SHIELD has files on confirmed Red Room graduates—they know the signs of Infinity Formula enhancement. Natasha will present as completely baseline human. More believable."
Melina wanted to argue that sending an un-enhanced operative against a target who'd survived the Winter Soldier was tactically unsound. That Natasha deserved the protection the Infinity Formula provided before being deployed on such a dangerous mission.
But the Red Room wasn't a democracy. Dreykov gave orders. Subordinates followed them.
"How long would this assignment last?" Melina asked.
"As long as necessary. Weeks. Months. However long it takes to determine if Adrian Stark is a threat and, if so, how to neutralize him."
"And the cover story?"
"We'll create an identity. American. College student. Someone with a background that puts her in Adrian Stark's social circle. MIT or Columbia, perhaps. Engineering or science—something that gives her common ground with the Stark family." Dreykov pulled out another file. "HYDRA has already prepared documentation. Social security number. Birth certificate. Academic records. All flawless."
"And if Natasha is compromised? If SHIELD discovers what she is?"
"Then she's deniable. The Red Room doesn't officially exist. Russia will claim no knowledge. She'll be on her own." Dreykov's expression hardened. "And without the Infinity Formula's healing factor, she'll be easier to eliminate if she becomes a liability."
Melina felt cold anger in her chest but kept her face neutral. Dreykov was willing to sacrifice Natasha if necessary. Send her in without the enhancements that would keep her alive, use her as a disposable asset.
*This is wrong. Natasha has earned her graduation. Earned the protection the Formula provides.*
But Melina said nothing. Couldn't say anything.
"When does she deploy?" Melina asked.
"Two weeks. Enough time to finalize her cover identity and brief her on the mission parameters. You'll handle her preparation personally."
"Of course, General." Melina picked up the files, studying the photographs of Adrian Stark one more time. "What exactly does HYDRA think this boy is? What's their working theory?"
"They don't know. That's why they want intelligence. But the evidence suggests he had foreknowledge of the attack. He altered his father's research before it could be stolen—replaced the real formula with sabotaged versions. He positioned himself to intercept the Winter Soldier. He fought with training that exceeds his documented background." Dreykov's eyes narrowed. "Either Adrian Stark is a prodigy who's been hiding his capabilities, or he's been recruited by an intelligence agency we don't know about. Either way, HYDRA wants answers."
"And if we determine he's a threat? What then?"
"Then Natasha eliminates him. Make it look like an accident. Grief-stricken young man, recently lost his father, tragic suicide or overdose. SHIELD might suspect, but they won't be able to prove anything."
Melina nodded. It was clean. Professional. The kind of operation the Red Room specialized in.
Except Natasha would be doing it without the enhanced healing that could save her life if something went wrong. Without the slowed aging that would let her disappear and build new covers. Without the physical advantages that made Red Room graduates nearly superhuman.
*She'll be vulnerable. Mortal. Breakable.*
*And Dreykov doesn't care.*
"I'll inform Natasha and begin her preparation."
"Good. And Melina—" Dreykov's voice stopped her at the door. "This mission is critical. If Adrian Stark is connected to something larger, if he represents a threat to HYDRA or to us, I need to know. Use whatever methods necessary. Natasha is authorized to form whatever attachments are required to complete the mission. Do you understand?"
"I understand, General."
She left, the files tucked under her arm, her mind already working through the logistics.
*Two weeks to prepare Natasha for deep cover in America. Two weeks to create a perfect false identity. Two weeks to turn one of our most dangerous Widows into a college student who can seduce secrets from a grieving teenager.*
*And she'll be doing it without the enhancements that could keep her alive.*
*This should be simple. Natasha has done harder things.*
*But something about this feels wrong.*
Melina walked through the corridors of the Red Room facility, past training rooms where young women were being broken and rebuilt into weapons, past dormitories where future assassins slept dreamlessly, past the medical wing where the graduation procedure would eventually happen.
Where Natasha should have already undergone the procedure. Where the Infinity Formula waited to give her the enhanced capabilities she'd earned through years of brutal training.
*If I had any power here, I'd refuse this mission. I'd insist Natasha be graduated first.*
*But I'm not in command. I'm just a trainer.*
*And Natasha is just another weapon in Dreykov's arsenal.*
She found Natasha in the advanced combat training room, sparring with three opponents simultaneously. The girl moved like water—fluid, graceful, deadly. Each strike precise. Each block perfectly timed. She dropped one opponent with a leg sweep, disarmed the second with a wrist lock, and put the third in a chokehold in under fifteen seconds.
Perfect execution.
Melina watched and thought about how much better Natasha would be with the Infinity Formula enhancing her reflexes, her healing, her physical capabilities. How much safer she'd be on a mission that was already dangerous.
*But orders are orders.*
"Natasha," Melina called. "With me. Now."
Natasha released her training partner, stepped back, and bowed with perfect form. Then she grabbed a towel and followed Melina to a private briefing room.
Melina closed the door, activated the soundproofing, and spread the files on the table.
"New assignment," Melina said. "Long-term deep cover. America."
Natasha's expression didn't change, but Melina saw the flash of interest in her eyes. America was the ultimate proving ground. The heart of SHIELD. The most difficult operational environment.
"Target?" Natasha asked. Her English was perfect—American accent, no trace of Russian.
"Adrian Stark. Eighteen years old. Son of Howard Stark, recently deceased. You're going to get close to him. Become his friend. His confidant. His—" Melina paused "—girlfriend, if necessary. Whatever it takes to learn his secrets."
She showed Natasha the photographs. The crime scene. The evidence of combat. The hospital images.
"He fought the Winter Soldier," Melina said. "Survived. Made him bleed. HYDRA wants to know how."
Natasha studied the images with professional detachment. "Background?"
"Officially? College student. Biochemistry and engineering. Martial arts enthusiast. Peak physical conditioning. No intelligence connections. No military training beyond recreational competition fighting."
"Unofficially?"
"Unknown. That's what you're going to find out." Melina pulled out the cover identity documents. "You'll be Natalie Rushman. American citizen. MIT student. Engineering major. Transferred from a West Coast university. You'll engineer an introduction to Adrian Stark—probably through his brother Tony, who's also at MIT. You'll establish a relationship. Extract information. Report back."
"Timeline?"
"As long as it takes. Weeks. Months. This is deep cover, Natasha. You'll be living as Natalie Rushman full-time. No contact with the Red Room except through encrypted channels. No backup. If you're compromised, you're on your own."
Natasha absorbed this without reaction. "And if I determine he's a threat?"
"Eliminate him. Make it look like an accident."
"Understood." Natasha looked at the photos again, then back at Melina. "Will I be graduated before deployment?"
There it was. The question Melina had been dreading.
"No," Melina said quietly. "You'll deploy as you are. The graduation will happen when you return."
Natasha's expression didn't change, but Melina saw the microscopic tension in her shoulders. Natasha understood what that meant. She'd be going into one of the most dangerous operational environments in the world—America, the heart of SHIELD territory—without the enhanced healing, longevity, and physical capabilities that the Infinity Formula provided.
She'd be mortal. Vulnerable. Completely human.
"I see," Natasha said neutrally. "May I ask why?"
"The General believes that presenting as baseline human will make your cover more believable. SHIELD has files on Red Room graduates. They know the signs of Infinity Formula enhancement. Without it, you'll pass any medical examination as a normal college student."
It was a reasonable tactical explanation. It was also a lie of omission—Dreykov simply didn't want to invest the Formula in an operative who might not return.
Natasha was silent for a moment, processing. Then she nodded. "Tactically sound. The Stark boy is reportedly baseline human. I won't need enhancements to handle him."
"Natasha—" Melina hesitated. "This target survived the Winter Soldier. He's more dangerous than his file suggests. Without the Formula, you need to be extremely careful. No unnecessary risks. Extract information and maintain distance if you sense any genuine threat."
"I understand, Madame Vostokoff." Natasha's voice was perfectly professional, but Melina heard the unspoken message underneath: *You're sending me in vulnerable, and we both know it.*
"You have two weeks to prepare," Melina said. "Learn everything about MIT. About American college culture. About the Stark family. Practice your cover identity until it's second nature. When you deploy, you *are* Natalie Rushman. Understand?"
"Yes, Madame Vostokoff."
"Good. Dismissed. Begin your preparation."
Natasha gathered the files and left without another word.
Melina sat alone in the briefing room and allowed herself a moment of doubt.
*She's not graduated. She can still feel. Still connect. Still potentially be compromised.*
*And she doesn't have the Formula's protection. If the mission goes wrong, she'll die just like any other human.*
*Sending her against a target who proved capable of surviving the Winter Soldier might be a mistake.*
*But orders are orders.*
*And the Red Room doesn't make mistakes.*
*We make weapons.*
*Even if we don't properly protect them.*
---
## **December 19th, 1991**
**Red Room - Natasha's Quarters**
**11:47 PM Local Time**
Natasha Romanova sat on her bunk, reading through the files on Adrian Stark, and allowed herself something she rarely did.
Curiosity.
The boy was interesting. Really interesting.
Fought a super soldier. Survived. Protected his mother. Saved his father's research. Did it all at eighteen with nothing but martial arts training and preparation.
*He's like me,* Natasha thought. *Trained. Prepared. Willing to sacrifice.*
*But he did it by choice. I never had a choice.*
She studied his photograph. Tall. Blond. Handsome in that clean-cut American way. He looked kind. Gentle. The face of someone who smiled easily and meant it.
*That face nearly died two days ago. That face fought the Winter Soldier and lived.*
*What are you hiding, Adrian Stark? What aren't they telling us about you?*
Natasha had been on dozens of missions. Had seduced targets before—older men, usually. Lonely. Predictable. Easy to manipulate.
But this was different. Adrian Stark was young. Her age, more or less. He'd be at MIT, probably dealing with grief and trauma and recovering from serious injuries.
And she'd be going in without graduation. Without the Infinity Formula that would enhance her healing, her physical capabilities, her longevity. Without the final procedure that would complete her transformation into a true Black Widow.
*I'll be human. Just human. Against a target who survived the Winter Soldier.*
*They're sending me in vulnerable.*
Natasha understood the tactical reasoning—presenting as completely baseline would make her cover more believable. But she also understood the real reason: Dreykov didn't want to invest the Formula in an operative who might not return.
She was expendable. A tool to be used and discarded if necessary.
*I've always been expendable. This is nothing new.*
*But it would be nice to have the enhanced healing in case things go wrong.*
She pushed the thought away. Sentiment was weakness. The Red Room had taught her that. Had beaten it into her during years of training.
Adrian Stark was a target. Nothing more. And she didn't need the Infinity Formula to handle a grief-stricken college student.
Even one who'd fought the Winter Soldier and survived.
*I'm supposed to become his girlfriend. Make him trust me. Love me, maybe. Then betray him.*
*It's what I do. It's what I was made for.*
*So why does this mission feel different?*
Maybe because she was going in without the safety net. Without the enhancements that separated Red Room graduates from ordinary humans. Without the healing factor that would save her if Adrian Stark turned out to be as dangerous as the evidence suggested.
Or maybe because some part of her—the part that hadn't been completely trained out—recognized something in Adrian Stark's file. Someone who'd tried to save his family. Someone who'd fought when he should have run. Someone who'd chosen to be a hero.
*Stop,* Natasha told herself firmly. *That kind of thinking gets you killed.*
She returned to the file, memorizing every detail. Adrian's academic records—brilliant, but not superhuman. His martial arts competitions—impressive, but within human norms. His social connections—small circle, close relationships, loyal friend.
The profile of someone genuinely good.
*Which makes this harder. It's easier to betray monsters than heroes.*
*But I don't have a choice.*
Natasha set down the file and walked to her small mirror. Practiced her smile. Her laugh. Her American mannerisms.
"Hi, I'm Natalie. Natalie Rushman. I'm new at MIT. Engineering major. It's so nice to meet you."
Perfect. Friendly. Harmless.
The perfect mask for a Black Widow.
Even one who'd be going in mortal. Human. Vulnerable.
*Two weeks,* Natasha thought. *Two weeks and I deploy.*
*Two weeks to become someone else. Someone who can get close to Adrian Stark without him suspecting.*
*And then we'll see what secrets you're hiding.*
*And whether I survive long enough to report them back.*
She looked at herself in the mirror one more time. Eighteen years old. Trained since childhood. One of the Red Room's best.
But not graduated. Not enhanced. Not protected by the Infinity Formula that would make her more than human.
*Just me. Just Natasha. Going up against a boy who fought the Winter Soldier.*
*I hope I'm enough.*
But she didn't say it out loud. Doubt was weakness. And the Red Room didn't tolerate weakness.
Natasha returned to the files and began memorizing. Every detail of Natalie Rushman's fabricated life. Every nuance of American college culture. Every fact about MIT and the Stark family.
By the time she deployed, Natalie Rushman would be real. More real than Natasha Romanova had ever been allowed to be.
And Adrian Stark would never see the trap closing around him.
*I'm sorry,* Natasha thought, looking at Adrian's photograph one more time. *You seem like a good person. You probably don't deserve what's coming.*
*But I don't have a choice. And you're in HYDRA's crosshairs now.*
*At least I'll make it quick if it comes to that. It's more mercy than most of my targets get.*
She closed the file and began her physical training routine. Pushups. Sit-ups. Combat forms. Everything she could do to maintain her edge without the enhancements she should have received.
Because in two weeks, she'd be in America.
And Adrian Stark would meet a beautiful girl named Natalie who seemed too good to be true.
Because she was.
---
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