Deadly Attachment

Chapter 1

-you couldn't kill me if you tried for a hundred years

I kept my hands from fidgeting, that was the easy part. But keeping them from shaking was an entirely different story. I clasped them together, hoping to stop the shaking, but to no avail. The plane landed, and I quickly gathered my things when it was safe to leave our seats.

Stepping onto solid ground, I skipped baggage claim, and immediately went to the parking lot. I'd find the supposed agent waiting for me, and they'd take me to the Tower. At least, that's the way it played out in my mind.

But as I soon found out, I didn't find them, they found me. A black car nearly hit me, and as I stood there, panting at the scare, they rolled the window down and ordered me inside. I obeyed, and found myself in the backseat of a car, driving into the city.

There were two men in black, with black glasses in the front seat. The one driving spoke, saying, "Welcome, Katya Volkov. We are eager to have you in our organization," he nodded to the second man, who repeated everything he said, but translated it into Russian.

I resisted a smirk. They thought I didn't speak English. "Spasibo." I responded in Russian. They think I didn't speak English? I won't speak English until I feel like it, and I wasn't sure when that would be.

They reached the large tower, and stopped the car. This must be the place. The passenger got out, and escorted me up to the elevator. "Oni zhdut vas." The agent told me, and I nodded. So they were waiting for me? I wondered what it would be like when I walked in. Would Captain America be sporting his shield, or Iron Man in his iron suit? What about Spider-Man, would he be hanging from the ceiling in spiderly-fashion?

The elevator door opened, and I stepped into a very open room that was almost covered in windows. It seemed very expensive. But my imagination was wrong, no one wore their suits. Not like I'd imagined.

The agent with me spoke, saying, "This is the new recruit, Katya Volkov. Also known as Black Mamba." He motioned me forward, and began pointing out each hero, translating their hero names to Russian. I thanked him, and stared at each of their faces.

"She doesn't speak English?" Tony Stark was the first of the group to speak.

"Not that we know of, Mr. Stark, Sir." The agent said, and I kept down my smile. Of course you didn't know, because I didn't let you know. I made sure that no organization had any bit of information on me except my name and where I was born. I liked seeing people squirm, not knowing and uncomfortable.

I felt eyes on me, and turned to make eye contact with a pair of fierce blue eyes. I studied her face, moving to her aggressive red hair, and her stoic expression. She walked towards me, and held out her hand. "Natasha Romanova," She introduced herself.

"Katya Volkov." I responded, noticing her firm handshake. I knew about her, I researched her and I watched her for a time. She was from the Red Room, and I almost felt sorry for her. That was the most aggressive assassin group I had ever known.

"Dobro pozhalovat' v Ameriku." Her welcoming me to America made the corner of my mouth twitch, hinting at a smile that never surfaced.

"Eto ne moy pervyy raz." When I told her it wasn't my first time, she tilted her head and raised an eyebrow.

Captain America shook my hand in the next moment, and told me he was glad that I was on the team now. "I'm Steve," He said. "It's nice to meet you Katya." The agent that had followed me opened his mouth to translate, but I held my hand up, silencing him.

"It's nice to meet you as well, Steve." My first sentence of English surprised everyone, except Natasha who only gave the ghost of a smirk.

"So she does speak English." Tony raised his glass, and handed me the other one in his hands. "I'm Tony Stark." He introduced himself, and then pointed out Wanda, Pietro, and Clint.

"Thank you," I accepted his offer, and took a little sip. It was strong, and it was whiskey. He was a hard liquor kind of man, I see.

"So what can you do?" Pietro's sturdy voice had my attention. It was obvious he had a Russian accent.

Before I had time to reply, Natasha spoke up, not lifting her eyes from me. "She can do exactly what I can do." Everyone turned to look at her, including myself. "Except, maybe not as good." It seemed only I could detect the teasing in her voice, because all the others turned to look at me, nervous at what I was going to do.

"Correct." I nodded, not breaking eye contact with the redhead. She smirked, and I returned the look. "I didn't undergo as intense training as you, in the Krasnaya komnata, Natasha." When I said Red Room in Russian, something flew across Natasha's eyes, and I knew I triggered a memory. Perhaps it was cruel, but I wanted to see what the effect was. "But I did go through something similar, but it was by the USSR, or what's left of it."

Pietro and Wanda looked to Natasha, then back to me. I could tell by the look on their faces, they thought the way I pushed Natasha was suicide. It was written all over everyone's face.

The tension in the room was relieved when a young voice broke out from everyone else, and a boy in a Spider-Man costume walked from the balcony, with his mask in hand. It took me a second to realize that this boy was Spider-Man.

"Hey guys, am I late?" He got quiet when he looked to me, and slowed his jog to a walk. Did I really look that dangerous? Or perhaps Spider-Man was just a real wuss. "Oh," His voice was quiet. "Hello, I'm Peter Parker." When no one said anything, he looked around and asked, "Does she speak English?"

"Yes, I do." I responded. "I'm Katya Volkov. You are the Spider-Man?" I asked, and Peter nodded, bashfully scratching the back of his neck.

"Yeah," He gave a shy smile. "Spider-Man. That's me."

I hummed, interested. He was in high school for sure. I would like to look at him and see him as a young child, but I'm sure the others put me in the same category as Peter. If I were a normal child, I'd be a college student, at twenty-two years old.

"So, Chernaya mamba," Natasha smirked. Black Mamba in Russian was much more intimidating than Black Mamba in English. "Let's see what you can do." She motioned towards a room that was separated by a glass window, and it held an entire training facility.

"Why, Chernaya vdov, I'd love to." I responded, giving her my own smirk, which in my opinion was much better than hers. Same with my hero name in Russia against her hero name in our native language. I thought mine sounded much better. And was a little easier to say.

But I was really looking forward to this little show of skill. To prove myself to the Black Widow was something I've wanted to do since I knew who she was.