The Shadow // Natasha Romanoff x OC

Chapter 2 - Azara Alarie, Lisensed to Kill

Tony's pov

After Thor's little... episode... I head towards my room (or to be more precise: my entire floor).

"Jarvis, dim the windows."

"Of course, sir."

As the lights of my city below dim, I change into my nightclothes, dramatically falling spread-eagle in the centre of my bed.

"J, can you debrief me of anything that happened today," I sigh as I crawl beneath the covers.

"Well sir, there was a temporary security breach not ten minutes before you came upstairs."

"How do you have only a 'temporary security breach'? Was it dealt with?" Jarvis' words perk my interest.

"No sir, there was nothing to be dealt with. She appeared and disappeared from the shadows on the main floor at the same time you an Thor had your little... disagreement."

"That's putting it lightly," I grumble under my breath.

"My security camera systems picked her up. She looked incredibly scared and confused sir, and appeared to stumble back and dissolve into the wall as Thor approached in her direction. I've swept every camera, sensor and door monitor but, alas, nothing, sir. She simply disappeared from the building."

Jarvis finishes with a solemn tone, evidently disgruntled that she had evaded him.

"Do you know who she is?" I ask.

"Yes, sir: she didn't even attempt to conceal her appearance with something even as simple as a ski mask. Despite being really quite wounded and bloody, my files can confirm her name to be Azara Kamaria Alarie, aged 24, daughter of Winston Alarie; her mother is unknown. She lives in Queens, by the Metro station with her father."

"Do you know where she is now? Any security cameras pick anything up across the city?"

"No sir, not yet, but it hasn't been too long since she left. I will alert you if there's another breach and I'll scan through the night. Goodnight, sir."

"Thank you, Jarvis," I roll over and try to shake the feeling that she's important - dangerous even - despite the fact she looked so terrified and confused at her own entrance.

Azara's pov

Dad still wasn't home.

I phoned every hospital and every police station in Queens and asked further afield as well. I even went back to the street where it happened, retracing my steps to see if I missed anything.

But, just as last night: nothing. Not a single scratch or bubble of tarmac. Not a single report of a crash; there hadn't been one on that road for a decade apparently.

I pull down my hood as I enter a little shop to grab lunch, glad to be out of the rain.

Safely home and showered after getting splashed by a 40ft truck, I throw myself on the sofa, a bag of pitta chips in hand.

I know what you're thinking: "why aren't you more worried? Why are you lazily scrolling through Netflix like it's an average Saturday morning; acting as if your dad didn't just disappear into thin air after a violent car crash when you reappeared after your little impromptu teleportation to the most high tech building in New York?"