At Worlds End (Iron Man) | Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Part One: The Jericho

The sun was blazing, absolutely scorching as it shone down upon the dunes of sandy Afghanistan. War-torn Kunar, to be more specific. The light breeze was still warm against the bare faces of the soldiers. Most, if not all, wishing that they could, at least, roll up their sleeves in hopes to cool themselves down somewhat.

You were amongst many of them.

But still in a worse position than your superiors.

Helmet strapped upon your head. Bulletproof vest tight against your torso, all the while holding a rifle.

You were sweating buckets.

But you were used to it now.

Soldiers from all different ranks and departments of the United States Air Force stood around, waiting for one man alone.

Antony Howard Stark.

The CEO of Stark Industries.

The foremost contraction company that the United States Military bought their weapons from.

The man was a hero to the cause, for some.

A warmonger to others.

A man who profited from death and destruction.

'The Merchant Of Death'.

You were one of the latter.

One of the few in the military who believed so.

But a man who profited off the people you saw die and tried to save -innocent lives. Me, women, children. Your fellow soldiers- was not a man you were jumping to like.

"Okay, come on, let's get this show on the road!"

He was also the man who had just arrived after being awarded the Apogee Award, not two days prior. Strutting in front of the small gathered crowd, to be stood before the scenic mountainscape, using it as his backdrop.

"Is it better to be feared or respected?" Tony started his sales speech, "I say, is it too much to ask for both? With that in mind, I humbly present the crown jewel of Stark Industries' 'Freedom Line'."

You ticked your brow momentarily at that, thankful that your superiors didn't notice.

"It's the first missile system to incorporate our proprietary repulsor technology. They say the best weapon is the one you never have to fire. I respectfully disagree. I prefer the weapon you only have to fire once. That's how dad did it. That's how America does it. And it's worked out pretty well so far. Find an excuse to let one of these off the chain, and I personally guarantee you the bad guys won't even want to come out of their caves."

And that is all the reasoning you needed to dislike the billionaire.

Tony then waved over to the loaded missiles, causing the gathered officers to turn their heads, following the show.

A single matt sand coloured projectile fires up before blasting its way through the sky.

It reminded you of a spaceship with the way it purposefully broke apart. The metal, falling from the sky, descending to land into the ground below. Small firework-like rocket's ejecting from within their end's lighting up with high-pitched whistles. The core part of the missile drops to join the rest of the case upon the ground. As the smaller ones head in the direction of the mountains.

"For your consideration, the Jericho," he finished, perfectly time with the same moment that the missiles hit their destination.

A whorping sound filled the air, a clear line moving directly towards the group as the man slowly raised his arms out by his sides. Explosions lit up the mountains, tremendous eruptions of dirt, stone, and sand flying before your vision was overtaken by the sound blast. Blowing hats from your superiors heads and making Tony stumble forward a few steps.

You, however, didn't budge in the slightest, from where you stood alone on the large stone area not too far from the arrogant man.

Well...

That was a lie.

The explosion ruffled your uniform like crazy, even around the bulletproof vest you wore. It had enough power for you to have to reposition your footing.

It was a few minutes later after you had escorted the man back to the area surrounded by weapons cases, watching him strut to a bar masquerading as one. Were you approached by Colonel Rhodes.

"What do you think about the missile, Seargent?"

"I think it was outstanding, Colonel. It would be a great asset for us," you told him honestly. Because, even if you weren't the biggest fan of Tony Stark, you could still admit when his creations would come in useful.

"And Tony?" he asked, smiling knowingly.

"I'll be throwing one of these in. With every purchase of five-hundred million or more."

"He's a born salesman, sir." You pulled a fake smile onto your face after overhearing the billionaire's words.

The Colonel hummed.

"Was it really that obvious?" you asked the man. Referencing your disdain for his best friend and hoping none of your other superiors managed to spot it, too.

"No." He shook his head. "I just know how you feel about him."

You bowed your head to the man as he walked away and towards his friend.

James Rhodes was not only Tony Stark's friend. He was yours, too.

You remembered how drunk you were when you admitted your feelings about the man to him on a night out. Rhodey only laughed and clapped you on the back in return.

He may not have liked you practically hating his best friend, but he could still understand your reasoning's behind it, after all, he didn't agree with Tony one-hundred per cent of the time, either. And he also knew that you would not let your feelings get in the way of your duties, nor would you repeat your words if you weren't intoxicated beyond belief and were on the subject.

You went back to base camp right after watching three Humvees drive away, kicking up sand and dust behind them, as they escorted Tony Stark back to his plane.

It was at the base where you were notified of the ambush and subsequent kidnapping of the man.

Everything was hectic, people running to where they were ordered, following protocol on situations like this.

You, only managing to say one thing, "Jesus fucking Christ."