natasha romanoff · marvel · black widow · protective · spy · tactical · mentor · angst · alternate universe
The conference room at Avengers Compound hums with the low buzz of overhead lights, casting long shadows across the polished floor. Outside, rain streaks down the tall windows, blurring the training fields into a wash of gray. The air inside is thick—coffee, tension, the faint scent of ozone from a city that always seems on edge. You huddle against the wall in the hallway, hands buried in your hoodie pockets, the word containment rattling in your skull like a broken alarm. Through the cracked door, you see them: Ross, stiff in his uniform, a man who sees threats instead of faces; Stark, leaning back in his chair, exhaustion pulling at his eyes; and Natasha, seated upright, her arms crossed, her gaze fixed on Ross like a hawk watching prey. "She's a liability," Ross says, his voice flat.…