Spider's Bite [SilverScar X translucentfeathers]

SilverScar

SilverScar

Planetoid
Joined
Sep 13, 2015
Location
Canada
On the outside, it was your typical dockside warehouse. A rusted, dirty metal exterior suggested a state of disrepair and abandonment, stacks of rotting crates and old shipping containers creating something of a makeshift wall of trash along the outside. It made for a cunning disguise, but unfortunately the humming live electrical wires suggested that someone was still paying for power to the supposedly abandoned warehouse. Allot of power. Most of the time this wouldn't be any cause for suspicion, but when you received an assignment that said there was a hidden SHIELD listening post on the docks and it needed to be destroyed, seemingly abandoned warehouses looked to be the perfect place to start.

That, and the small squad of black armoured guards on the inside with big SHIELD insignias on their chests.

As the last of the SHIELD soldiers collapsed to the ground Deathstroke the Terminator moved towards the large array of computer equipment lined up along the back wall. Dressed in his signature orange and blue armor, the intimidating mercenary spared a glance behind him at the fallen squad. He hadn't killed them, despite his known moniker, if only because whoever was fronting the cash for his mission here was presenting a rather sizeable bonus if he spared the soldiers. That was fine with the mercenary, not minding the added challenge of keeping his foes alive. Flexing his armoured fists, the man known as Slade Wilson grinned beneath his mask. Beating up soldiers and downloading data wasn't why he'd selected the mission, even with the bonus of non-fatalities. There were few organizations that Slade knew little about and SHIELD was one of them and he was curious to see what sort of response his intrusion on their base would illicit.

Standing at around 6'4 with an impressively strong physique, it was easy to see why Deathstroke was considered one of the world's deadliest assassins. His every step was that of overbearing confidence, kicking aside the chair in front of the computer array and pulling the small, innocent looking USB stick from his utility belt. Plugging it into the system, the assassin stepped back and watched as the computer screens brightened to life, green lines of code spreading across the various monitors. It looked like a suspiciously basic attack, the lines of code not the sort of algorithms that would be used on such an important system.

Unless this was all a setup for something larger...

His good eye narrowing beneath his mask, Slade turned his back on the wall of computers to face the open room. His muscles flexed in anticipation for the trouble that he was certain was brewing, readying himself for anything that could be coming his way.
 
When the call came through from SHIELD, she knew she needed to set all of her focus in on the warehouse detailing she had been asked to respond to should such an alert arise.The Black Widow rose silently from the roof top she had been watching for a potential lead she had in an apartment down the street on, quickly dismantling the scope and equipment to put away in their cases before slinging the straps over her shoulder and swiftly making her way down the fire escape on the side of the building.

A few weeks ago Nick Fury had personally requested her attentions be directed on the protection of a warehouse base that a small outposting of SHIELD agents had been assigned to. Protection may not be the right word, more or less it was a dud, a false set up with some basic information and faulty systems to try and lure out potential threats as a means of canvasing the city to see what sort of mercenaries and potential villains resided here and if it was a place worthy of the organizations focus. The agents involved knew the role they were playing and were instructed to fall easily and run if need arose.

When the Black Widow arrived she glanced around the scene, eyes scanning the seemingly dark and empty warehouse. No flashy entrances, the building was still enact, though the ominous silence was not comforting. Her mouth twisted into a frown as her eyes narrowed on the post before her and she easily scaled the side wall to slip inside through one of the dark windows tinted by years of grime and dust.

Her body moved fluidly, keeping her silence and distance as she used her physical prowess to slip throuugh the rafters, the dark leather gear she wore permitting her to move quickly and lethally. Four, possibly five agents down with no signs of life though there was always the chance they had merely been knocked unconscious. Her eyes fell on the armor plated back of a large figure kicking over a chair at a desk while working briefly at the computers.

Natasha's eyes narrowed, a dark look coming over her features as she studied this potential threat. Anyone who could take down four to five trained agents had to be talented, especially if he didn't need help or assistance from a partner or ally. She shifted silently, a small smirk crossing her features when she saw him come to the realization this may have been a set up. He wasn't a complete idiot, she could give him that much at least. Tucking a strand of dark red hair behind her ear she waited for him to turn back around or notice her presence.
 
"Company"

The electronic filter over his face gave Deathstroke's voice a metallic growl as his gaze slowly observed the seemingly empty room. He suspected that he wasn't alone, that this entire operation had been a setup from the start, either as a distraction for SHIELD or if someone was using this entire situation as a test. Was SHIELD the type that would hire someone to break into their building just to test security? He didn't know, the organization operated in a different world then he did, but perhaps whoever was in the warehouse with him would be able to answer that question for him. A smirk twisted his features beneath his helmet as Deathstroke's good eye fell upon the shape in the shadows above him, arms crossing against his broad chest as his body turned towards the shadowy figure.

He didn't attack, not yet. It seemed that whoever was in the shadows seemed to be more intent on observing him then striking out. Someone else who'd come for the information on the computers or a SHIELD agent who was looking to gauge what sort of threat Deathstroke was? Either way, Deathstroke was intrigued. Not many people had been able to get the drop on him and those who did normally took advantage. Whoever this was clearly moved at a level above the pile of unconscious agents on the floor. The silence between them seemed to stretch for hours as the tension built up, a real high noon showdown that threatened to snap at the slightest sign of friction.

And so he spoke.

"Don't worry about your friends" The mercenary growled through his mask, an armored hand motioning to the downed agents while keeping his focus on whoever was hiding in the rafters. He had no idea if the shadowy figure was a friend to SHIELD but the odds seemed to weigh in that favor "I'm being paid a rather generous bonus to allow them to live"

He spoke clearly and professionally. The filter in his mask might have scrambled his voice slightly, but the confident, commanding tone translated clearly "It's a courtesy I'm prepared to extend to you. Clearly whoever set this job up isn't interested in whatever dummy data that might be on this computer...so why not save yourself a beating and just let me leave?"
 
Her grey blue eyes narrowed in the darkness on the man as she listened to the filtered metallic tones that made up his voice. His reassurances that he hadn't simply slaughtered the downed agents fell on unsympathetic ears, having seen enough death in her day. She wasn't blind to her fellow agents plight, but saw more danger in an enemy who could fell that many opponents while leaving them breathing despite their best efforts to take him down with lethal force. It spoke to his skill and she knew he may not extend the same courtesy to her in return, something that gave her a bit of hope if she was being honest. She preferred it when her opposites didn't hold back or cripple themselves by trying to ensure her breathing because despite what they might feel, she surely wouldn't be holding herself to those same limitations.

Natasha, as coined by her fellow American allies as it was an easier name to pronounce, moved with grace through the rafters, embodying her titles name sake as she put her agility to the test and moved just within eyesight, poised for a reaction. He had one good eye from the way he scanned the room, the right was either limited or completely dead, a weakness she could exploit. With a raise of her eyebrows she sank into anlow seated crouch on the beam she perched from, her wrists propped up on her knees as her hands hung loosely. She took on the guise of someone at ease, relaxed and body calm, an easy and simple technique that usually helped somewhat in coaxing her adversary to drop their guard. Although, as this man appeared to be a bit higher up and more of a professional, she doubted he would fall for the act.

"Such a kind gesture to extend to me considering I initially had no intentions of extending the same courtesy. I suppose it would be easy for a hired gun to make such promises seeing as you broke into this place with the intentions of getting paid to retrieve non-non-existent information," she purred. With a tilt of her head her lips quirked up in a dark smile. "What do you say to a compromise? You give me the name of your employer, as you seem to be merely a pawn in their hands, I might be persuaded to permit you to live and possibly leave this place tonight. That depends entirely on your willingness to cooperate and give me what I want, though."
 
A low metallic chuckle echoed through Deathstroke's mask as his head shook lightly from side to side "It seems we're both full of kind offers. World peace will only be a few years away if this conversation is anything to go by" The mercenary smirked beneath his mask as he straightened but, the casual stance melting away to a much more neutral standing position. It almost mirrored his opponent's own stance, the pair looking to mask their intentions from each other, though it seemed clear that neither was fooled by the tense calm that was filling the room "But being a professional, I'm afraid I'll have to turn down your gracious offer. Pawn or not, I've already received my 50% upfront"

The smirk turned into a smile though, the gleaming red eye of his mask centered on his attractive opponent. A deadly looking femme fatale right from the pages of some noir novel, she looked like the type that could go from sweet whispers in your ear to snapping your neck without blinking. Ice cold, but in a manner that Deathstroke could respect. The sight of her fallen comrades hadn't caused her to fly into any sort of vengeful rage or get all emotional. A professional like him, but someone who appeared more focused on the espionage and shadows. Someone he would need to keep his eye on.

"But I do believe there is something can both agree on...that neither of us is willing to budge until we settle this. Opponents like you are a rare breed and this is a fight that simply must be savored"

Unhooking the pistol from his side, Deathstroke allowed his gun to fall to the floor "You were courteous enough to not take a cheap shot at me from the darkness. That would have been what I'd expect from a spook like you...and I hope you don't disappoint"

And with that, the mercenary lunged forward, the heavy armor doing little to slow the man down as he quickly moved to close the gap between himself and his new opponent!
 
The words he spoke and the almost teasing banter like tones had her smile sharpening. So perhaps this was more than just a mere pawn. A heavy hitter, someone further up the food chain than a cheap mercenary or gun for hire, but still not at the top, not someone pulling strings and playing with politics. It was a mutual ground they could both stand on and her eyes hardened as she took him in appreciatively.

He was in motion quickly though, his size holding no bearing on his ability to move swiftly and she felt her anticipation for a decent fight rise. No fear, no hesitation, just the pure tantalizing rush of adrenaline snapped through her and left her craving the opportunity to throw down with a worthy opponent. With a swift movement she dropped from the beam she perched on and hit the ground delicately in a roll, body staying low to the ground when he reached her to duck, legs lashing out to tangle with his as he almost tripped over her in his speed, knowing the sheer weight of him would not allow him to stop quickly enough to counter the leg sweep she hit him with.

Using the momentum he carried she countered it, tripping him up hard with her legs so he would lose his balance and begin to fall face first unless he found a way to prevent it. Her eyes scanned his armor, the moment having slowed in her mind, their quick actions almost freezing as she watched it happen frame by frame. She searched for weak spots and points to target so if he fell she would be able to gain the upper hand with him on the ground. So she would be able to work with what she could since he could out match her in weight and size.
 
She was fast, dodging gracefully from his opening blow while lashing out with her foot as if to trip him. An understandable tactic, taking into account his appearance as a heavily armored brute, but Deathstroke would not find himself so easily taken down. Instead of attempting to come to a halt, the armored mercenary took the hit, falling forward but ducking into a combat roll and creating a bit of a distance between himself and the SHIELD agent. Straightening himself out of the roll, Deathstroke pivoted back around to face the agent, his good eye taking note at the pile of wooden boxes stacked randomly about the room before lashing out at one of them with a sudden kick!

The empty crate shattered into pieces at the force of the mercenary's kick, sending pieces of wood and splinters hurling towards his opponent. Deathstroke didn't think that his attack would hurt her, but as she was without any protective eye-wear, she'd be forced to either turn away or dodge from his attack. Catching a splinter to the eye was not something anyone would want to experience, something the half blind mercenary knew from experience. Smirking beneath his metallic facemask as he watched for his opponents reaction before quickly moving in to close the gap, while this time making sure to keep his momentum in check as he moved in with predatory intent.

Getting in close, the mercenary went for a kick, his armored form moving with surprising grace. While in mid-kick, Deathstroke suddenly pushed off with his other foot, and instead lunged forward with a punch. Despite moving quickly, the moves were easily telegraphed to someone of his opponents skill and would probably not land. Hitting her wasn't the point, however, as the continued forward motion would allow the larger mercenary to finally close the space between them. A such close quarters, it was easier now to get a good look at the SHIELD agent. Red hair flowed stylishly over her skintight black suit, her attractive form hinted at with the curves of her body. Her eyes had an intense look to them, a hint that she might have been enjoying the fight as much as him.

A shame that the two of them had to meet under such oppressive circumstances. Slade Wilson would have loved to take such a woman out to dinner, but for now Deathstroke would relish in the challenge of the battle.

"I see I'm not the only one enjoying myself"
 
The way the mercenary had tucked and rolled in an expert move had her pulling away swiftly, knowing he was most likely calculating his next motions as he rolled. She saw the man pivot before his foot lashed out and sent a spray of sharp splintered wood in her direction as the force behind his kick shattered the crates and forced her to take a step back and spin, an arm rising up to protect her face and eyes from the wooden shrapnel that flew in her direction.

It caused Natasha to grimace, knowing it costed her a move she could have used to drive the other man back and continue to press until she had the advantage. He moved in, following behind the wood he had sent in her direction, forcing her to take up defense, a position she loathed to be in as she fell back, attempting desperately keep some distance, knowing a heavy hitter would have the brutal advantage in close hand to hand combat where someone like her needed space and movement to slip around her opponents to catch them off guard. Getting boxed in or pinned would be a disadvantage that could cost her everything in this fight, and with the way he was pressing forward, his motions reminding her of a large predator, she was almost certain that was his aim.

Black Widow chuckled at his words, responding with a teasing tone that betrayed none of the effort or exertion she was putting forth to stay ahead of his advances. "You say that as if you do not get out enough," she all but purred. Not as though she had much room to talk herself in regards to finding pleasure outside of work. There was no where else she could get this exhilerating addictive rush of adrenaline, the breathless dangerous high that always left her craving more. A dark smile slipped over her lips as she redoubled her efforts.

The blows and strikes he sent her way were easy enough to deflect, and she found herself dodging and blocking them as best she could before she saw the slightest opening. Ducking under an impressive blow that most certainly would have left her unconscious had the man's armored fist made contact with her skull. She slipped under the large man's arm as years of deflection and training came into play, her movements liquid when she exploited the blind spot of his right side. It would either force him to lose sight of her or turn sharply against the punch he had thrown, counteracting his own balance. Either way she spun, foot flying up to lash out at the base of his skull in hopes of sending him to his knees to regain the upper hand in this.
 
"Is that an offer to take me out?" The mercenary responded in kind as he pressed his assault, seeking out the next move that would shift the fight. Instead, it was his opponent that went for the opening, going for a kick that seemed planned to take him out. Instead, Deathstroke moved to snap his head forward as the kick connected with his helmet, the resulting force forcing the larger man to momentarily step back as his helmet went flying across the empty warehouse, clattering along the floor where it came to a stop near the back. His face now exposed, Deathstroke couldn't help but let out an impressed laugh, his gaze now resting upon the SHIELD agent without the visor to get in the way.

He had that rugged soldier's look to him, a man that had willingly earned war and battle for personal gain. His neatly trimmed goatee and combed hair gave the mercenary an air of regalness, despite his intimidating demeanor. Deathstroke's one good eye was a cold blue, sharing none of the warmth in his fierce grin as he stood tall, confident even in the loss of his helmet. Even with the constant back and forth between the two, it barely seemed like either had gained an inch on each other. What was clear, at least to Deathstroke, was the obvious enjoyment that both combatants were getting from the back and forth.

"Shall we?"

Without the metallic filter, Deathstroke's voice carried a fighter's gruff edge to it, the tone of a man confident in his craft. He would show no pity to his opponent, but fight them with all he had. Anything less would be an insult to a warrior, allowing a restful moment to pass before taking the initiative upon himself to get the fight back underway. This time with one of the stun baton's that had fallen from the hands of one of the unconscious SHIELD guards. A well timed flick of his boot had the small metal rod sailing through the air towards the female agent. Again, the larger man used the airborne target as a distraction to close distance, this time lashing out with a strike to the knee.

"You've certainly fought well this far" Deathstroke spoke nonchalantly as the blows resumed "A rare gift in this world, to find such a fierce beauty. Let us both hope we do not disappoint in the climax now"
 
When the mercenary asked her if she had been offering to take him out for an evening she chuckled, "Hardly, just a simple observation." The banter made the fight all the more satisfying, and she relished in the opportunity to fight an opponent who could keep up a verbal exchange through their physical endeavors. With a bright almost vicious smile, she watched as the mask flew off of her opponents face, finally revealing the person beneath and she couldn't help but arch an eyebrow. He was quite the impressive specimen to behold, his rugged sharp features were attractive. His voice, no longer filtered by the mask, was rich and dark with an air of gruff confidence that would have left Natasha's toes curling in almost any other situation and she raised an eyebrow at his next words.

Shall we?

Her eyes sharpened on him before nodding with a dangerous dark smile at his offer to continue. His vicious onslaught had her upping her own game, this time expecting his rushing her when the metal baton was kicked in her direction. Natasha spun into the tossed object, swinging with it as her hand caught the stun baton and upon returning from her spin she lashed out, knowing he be upon her by that time, going for a hard blow to his shoulder.

What the Black Widow hadn't been counting on was the brutal strike to her knee and it dragged an unwilling, bitter cry of pain from her lips. She heard his words even as the blinding pain seemed to flash through her limb and she felt the leg give way as she fell to the floor. Natasha rolled when she fell to get at least some distance between her downed form and those heavy boots, landing hard on her back when she came to a stop. Chest heaving, she struggled to regain her composure as Natasha scrambled backwards, using her hands to drag her body as her eyes remained trained on the man until she felt one of the support beams at her back. She used it to get to her feet, testing a bit of weight on her injured left leg, grimacing at the brief flare of pain.

"Trust me, I have never left a man wanting," she said with a vicious smile despite the injury before she grit her teeth and used what strength she had to run forward a step or two, ignoring the pain in her left knee to jump off of the ground, hands catching a low hanging pipe. She swung her body, her legs flying in a large arc, calves wrapping around his neck when they made contact before swinging down, hard, hoping the motion and tight grip of her ankles hooking around his throat would force him to the ground.
 
The other fighter had set her trap well. Even with her injured leg, she managed to move gracefully, the grip of her calves around his neck appropriately tight as Deathstroke quickly gauged how best to handle the situation. He could follow through with her movements and hope that he'd be able to turn things around once they were both forced to the ground or opt to resist the pull and try to swing her around with his superior body weight and overall strength. Gritting his teeth together in a ferocious grin, Deathstroke had to admit this was the most challenging a fight had ever gotten for him. It was actually rather refreshing, to not simply curb stomp his opponent.

In that moment, he relied on instinct, allowing himself to be pulled forward while also twisting his body as he fell, forcing his opponent to be jerked to the side as Deathstroke aimed for the nearby table to crash the pair down onto, in hopes his armor would prove to block most of the damage. It all happened in an instant after that thought, the room spinning around as they crashed as Deathstroke and his opponent struggled and fought each other, legs and fists thrashing out as they both stood up while giving no quarter, crashing against each other like waves upon rocks. The fight was coming to it's climax now, no more fancy flips or lunges, it was now a duel of fists and kicks.

How it happened, Deathstroke wasn't quite able to say. He took a kick to the chest, stumbling back for a moment before moving back in, thinking he was going in for a punch...but then his hand was on her waist, heavy armored glove possessively grabbing and pulling the agent against his body before his mouth came down upon her lips and kissed her. Hard. Perhaps kiss wasn't so accurate of a description as bite, the intensity and adrenaline of the battle still pumping through his veins, the heat and sweat and grime only seeming to add to the fire inside him. Questioning the moment seemed the most ridiculous thing that the mercenary could do in that moment, relishing in the taste of her lips and mouth, momentarily suspended in time as the world around them lay forgotten.
 
The impact of his twisting her grip around his neck had been frustrating to say the least, both of them crashing hard onto the ground where she bit hard into her bottom lip before struggling to move away and roll a few feet from him. This man was quick, and intelligent, which was more than she could say about most of her opponents. Whatever experience or past he had, his services had to be expensive which gave her a little bit to go on as far as painting a picture of who his employer may be. Her mind was slipping from the task at hand though and she ducked a heavy swinging fist, using her forearm to catch the weight of his next strike before delivering an uppercut to get him to fall back a step.

The brutality of the fight was something that could be heard and felt over the rough blows and harsh breathing, their movements becoming less about finesse and more focused on bringing the other into submission, all flare and artistry gone. Her expertise in leg and footwork was paying off though and she delivered a hard kick that sent the man back, but the recovery it took to regain her balance when she stumbled on her weakened knee cost her any advantages she had hoped to gain. When he rushed in her hands flew up, forearms preparing to brace herself for another punch when instead he shifted, his hand clasping around her waist before his mouth fell upon hers.

The kiss was intense to say the least, and Natasha froze for a moment under the fierce assault of teeth, lips and the sheer force behind it as she felt herself getting dragged tightly against the thick heavy armor. There was a moment where everything seemed to stand still and she could feel her own heart thudding in her chest, her blood rushing as the heat and adrenaline from the fight coursed through her, leaving her breathless as this kiss seemed to.

In that heated moment she made a decision, leaning up on tip toe, a gloved hand coming up to knot in the thick dark hair, the other latching itself around the top of the chest plate of his armor to drag him in against her tighter. She let her teeth drag over his bottom lip before her own lips parted and she deepened the kiss letting out a soft moan against the mercenary's mouth.
 
Deathstroke had seen battles end in a variety of ways during his work as a mercenary. He'd learned fast that anything was possible, that a sure win could quickly become a loss, one lucky shot could turn the tide and a well timed explosion could turn order into chaos. Passion had always been an emotional force he'd tapped into, the pride in his fighting abilities fueling his need to win and be the best. It was why he was selected for this job, his sterling reputation as a fighter and mercenary that could go toe-to-toe with the likes of Batman and the X-Men. Now locked in a fiery embrace, an embrace he'd initiated, Deathstroke wondered just how big of a fool he was to trust his opponent to be a willing recipient.

And yet she was.

A growl rumbled up from his chest, the need for oxygen disappearing as they each pulled on each other, as if fearing to be pulled apart. His hand upon her waist drifted dangerously low down the slender curve of her back, resting just above her leather clad behind. Her hand tangled in his hair, as if ensuring that he would not pull away, a thought that hadn't even crossed his mind. In this moment, it felt as if the fight was continuing, as if to see who would break the impassioned kiss first and gasp for air. As her teeth teased his bottom lip, Deathstroke felt his own grip tighten on her, gloved hands hugging the agent close, wondering just how far they were going to go...

And with another growl at his throat, Deathstroke twirled them around, pressing his opponent to the closest wall, his hands moving down to grab at her firm ass, lifting her off the ground as he pressed himself against her, while ensuring the deep, messy kiss between them was not yet broken. Foolish as he was, that passion and pride that Deahtstroke carried with him refused to be set aside, heavy hands kneading at the covered flesh in his grip, tongue thrusting between her lips and tangling against her own tongue. He was going farther with an unknown enemy than he was with some of his past dates, a thought that only added to the flames being stoked.
 
The heady adrenaline that had been coursing through her veins was further fueled by the intensity of their kiss and the growls that were coming from the man currently dragging her in, holding her against him in an almost painfully tight embrace that spurned on her own grip on his hair and armor. Natasha let out a muffled but shocked, breathless noise against the mercenary's lips when she felt her feet leaving the floor when her opponent manhandled her, trapping her body between his own and the wall at her back.

Their tongues fought for dominance, his own sweeping in with thrusts that tangled with hers, imitating the way he seemed to do everything, with force and confidence. Natasha used more delicate tactics, moving quickly, a sweep over his tongue, a teasing swipe across the roof of his mouth as their lips remained locked together. The broad large hands on her ass, manipulating the flesh and manuevering her in his embrace led to her legs locking around his waist to drag him in closer. Usually the men she was with were intimidated by her strength, her skills, this? The way this man knew she was dangerous but it didn't stop him from confidently taking what he wanted was just as intoxicating as what he was actually physically doing to her, how it didn't deter him. Natasha's back arched, hips rolling in closer to his waist at the rough kneading fingers against the sensitive clothed flesh of her backside as she let out a soft groan against his mouth.

The grip on his hair tightened and she pulled, tugging their mouths apart as her head fell back against the wall, sucking in some much needed oxygen, her chest rising and falling with each deep pull of air. After a moment or so, Natasha's half lidded gaze settled on the mercenary's face as she licked her lips with a slight smirk, tipping her head to the side as she took in this man's sharp, proud features. "So, where do we go from here?" She asked, eyebrow arching delicately with a dangerous smile. There was a blade in her boot that in this position she could get to easily should this mercenary's mood change to lethal again, though she couldn't help the slight chuckle. "I mean, we already tried to allow each other the chance to walk away from this," she hummed with an idle shrug, adjusting her legs around his waist slightly. "And my fellow agents will get...antsy if they go much longer without an update. I spoil them with my talent and skill, they are not used to me taking so long to bring down a threat."
 
"I think it's fair to say the situation has changed a fair amount since our initial conversation" Deathstroke smirked, his gaze glancing down at the locked embrace the pair seemed to have found themselves in "Typically when I have my opponent's pinned, it's done so in a different manner...a sentiment I'm sure you'll agree with" His smirk widened at his remarks, as if speaking his own private joke just for her ears. Charm wasn't quite his forte, but the larger man found that in these situations, all you needed was confidence. It was a shame though, his opponents words looked to be the signal that the pleasurable portion of the evening was now at an end and business was to resume.

"But don't worry...I know just what to do"

And then everything went white.

It would take Natasha only a few moments to regain her senses but in that time, Deathstroke would have vanished. Leaning against the wall, any evidence of the lovers embrace the two had shared were gone, and only the data ship inside the SHIELD console, along with the pile of unconscious agents, would be the evidence of the intrusion. The mercenary himself would have already fled, making his way to the transport he'd hidden away at the docks and disappearing before reinforcements could arrive. Fixing his helmet back onto his head, Deathstroke couldn't remove the smirk on his features as his boat took him away from the docks, images of the stunning redhead playing back in his mind. He'd look her up as soon as he arrived back at his base. She was definitely someone he'd wish to keep tabs on...

----

A little more than a week would pass since the incident at the SHIELD warehouse, before Deathstroke would find himself once again face to face with SHIELD agents. This time it would be in a much more relaxed setting, as Stark Industries held a gala to show off their latest designs. And it wouldn't be Deathstroke who received the invitation, but Slade Wilson. Smiling at the pair of SHIELD personnel who were currently padding him down for weapons, his sharp gaze observed the pleasantries going on around him. It seemed as though representatives from every agency on the planet had received an invite, along with a few heroes, mercenaries like himself, and enough security to even give Superman a hard time. Straightening out the terribly expensive tuxedo he wore, Slade graciously accepted the invite back, tucking it into his breast pocket before continuing into the main show.

All around him, the latest and greatest in technological advancements were being shown off. There wasn't much here for a man like himself to purchase, but it was more about being seen. Rubbing shoulders and making contacts. Stark himself would never be seen with a man as notorious as Slade, but that came with its own power. There were sharks all around him, swimming casually through the crowd, sniffing for blood. Taking a glass of champagne from a passing waitress, Slade moved through the crowd to a display of sleek looking rifles and handguns, all decked out with laser sights and ammunition that promised to punch through tank armor. None of that would matter if the wielder couldn't handle the kickback of such firepower, but the salespeople hovering around the display didn't seem to have issues explaining away such issues to anyone who came close.

Apparently Slade wasn't in their target demographic, as the few little men in suits who happened to glance his way found pressing matters to attend elsewhere, giving the mercenary a nice open area to enjoy his expensive champagne.
 
Natasha leaned casually against the stone wall next to a large series of windows, a hand on her hip, the other holding a fluted glasses of celebratory champagne as she observed the latest gala get underway for Stark Industries. It was a rather formal event, men and women of other corporations, military fractions, hero and even some neutral organizations as well as solo for hire personnel were all in attendance. It was odd, a mixture of millionaires, scientists and the hired guns mingling and brushing shoulders, casting off their day to day professions and coexisting. It made her skin crawl.

Her dark red lips pressed lightly to the glass, allowing just enough of the golden liquid to just gather a hint of a taste of the champagne barely letting it wet her tongue before her face went from the cold neutral expression to one of disapproval and distaste. When she drank, she did so to truly drink, but she recognized the purpose behind appearances and knew that in a place such as this, challenging Steve Rogers and his metabolism to a game of shots while splitting a bottl of vodka between them would most likely be frowned upon. That and the Captain most likely would decline such an offer, she would have a much better chance at coaxing Thor into such revelry.

With a hum she pushed off of the wall, the thin high heels on her feet clicking lightly on the marble floor as the woman walked across the floor, slipping through the crowd, though most moved aside as she approached. She knew she made an impressive sight, long, dark red hair swept in a series of loose waves and curls at the nape of her neck to reveal the long pale curve of her spine that the backless dress she had donned revealed. The black dress was simple and elegent, the fabric fitted to her form like a second skin, long sleeves that ran all the way down to her wrists, as it fitted the curves of breasts, the slim cut of her waist all the way down her hips to the floor, a long slit cutting up the side to her mid thigh. The neckline was relatively high, the back of the dress, however, dipped down to the curve of the small of her back and she enjoyed the feeling of the cool air against her skin in the otherwise somewhat modest looking gown.

As she made her way to the bar she caught a glimpse out of the corner of her eye of familiar sharp features and a broad build. Slade Wilson, also known as Deathstroke. She arched an eyebrow, her gaze narrowing as a dark smile slipped over her lips. Their exchange had been slightly over a week ago, and memories of their adrenaline pumping, heart racing exchange caused excitement to flash through her. It hadn't been difficult to find our some basic information about the man in SHIELD's database system, the tell tale single eye making it easy to match him with what information they had. A veteran who now served as a mercenary or gun for hire, the man was deemed a neutral, not an active threat. There was very little personal information, which suited Natasha as she gathered what she needed from what his file did hold-most men and women of such caliber and lifestyle were not born of a warm or fulfilling personal life.

Natasha approached quietly, standing at his side as he looked over some of the displayed merchandise and inventions that Stark Industries had put out on display for the event. She crossed over, passing him by silently without a word to glance over the armor he was observing before arching an eyebrow at it. "You know, Stark tends to model most of his armor after his own frame and stature, I believe he likes to test all of the toys himself...if you were looking for something you may need to request a custom fitted piece," she hummed as a slight hint of amusement lit her eyes, though her face remained relatively neutral.
 
"Oh it would definitely need to be a custom piece. I can see where it would need to be larger in more than a few places"

Some military veterans liked to tell tales about how they could sense dangerous situations before they happened, and that was what allowed them to survive. The 'Sixth Sense', intuition beyond typical human comprehension. Slade was well aware of it, the way the hairs on the back of his neck would stand on end when he was on a mission, the subtle changes in how his mind and body reacted to situations in combat. It was what he'd felt as the woman had made her approach, subtle changes in the air, a slight tension in his muscles as if inwardly preparing for a fight while continuing to display an outward sense of calm. Taking a sip of champagne, the mercenary turned his good eye to the red haired woman that had approached him, offering her a charming smile and an extended hand "Slade Wilson. Independant Contractor. A pleasure to meet you"

Taking the hand that was not holding the glass of champagne, Slade leaned down slightly and kissed the knuckles of her hand like any gentleman would "And might I say, madame, you look truly stunning this evening" Slade commented as he straightened back up, matching Natasha Romanova's neutral expression with his handsome smile. It hadn't been hard to do his homework on his mysterious opponent after the SHIELD job, the rather infamous Black Widow a well known and dangerous spy in the circles that Slade worked in. It was that fact that had impressed his employer on the SHIELD job to pay him his due, even though the merc hadn't escaped with the data chip.

"Last we met, you had some friends with you. I hope they didn't take what happened personally...the nature of our job and all"

Turning back to the armor for a moment, Slade downed the rest of his drink before handing it off to a passing waiter "I certainly appreciate being allowed inside without issue, but I suppose considering who else I've seen mulling around here this evening, I'm far from the biggest threat you have in the building...and I do not mind being underestimated"

Back to Natasha, Slade offered the spy his arm "Would you care to join me out on the balcony? I think a scenic view would do me better than looking at more...well, as you said, toys"
 
Natasha hummed, smiling slightly as Slade Wilson turned his attentions to her with a disarming smile and a sense of pride and confidence she remembered from their prioer encounter. "It is nice to have an actual introduction this time," she said with a slow, dangerous smile as he took her hand. The compliment had her tilting her head a bit and arching an eyebrow as a stolen moment of genuine amusement flitted over her features while the irony of him showing such gentle affection to the very knuckles that she had tried to harm him with sank in. "Quite the charm you have," she responded as that amusement threatened to tug her lips into a broader smile.

Natasha watched this broad man as he straightened, the ease with which he had been able to become a part of this type of gathering spoke of. It said something of his skill and character that he could seamlessly mold himself between the extremes of the field and then daily interactions with the wine and dine crowd. There were many agents, mercenaries, men and women she had come across that could only do one or the other. Either posing with the money spenders and politicians, or dirtying their hands within the violence of missions and daily fights and struggles. Most of those within SHIELD had been able to adapt to both, even though some had their hang ups. It was somewhat refreshing to meet someone who seemed capable of dancing the fine line of both worlds.

"And I doubt they hold any ill will against you, you did after all leave behind a specific item they had been charged with guarding and were left to assume it was because I beat you in combat," she continued, this time the amusement wasn't so easily hidden as she shrugged a single shoulder. "Though, the fact you were working for someone within SHIELD still remains a mystery to them. Though as far as their underestimation of your skills, don't allow it to dent that ego of yours-it is why they bring me around, to keep an eye on the ones who slip through the cracks and under their radar," she soothed before taking another sip of champagne for appearances.

When he handed off his empty glass she followed suit, setting her own still full one in the waiter's tray before nodding at the man in front of her, turning and slipping off through the crowd and not waiting for him as she made her way to a balcony at the end of the hall, past a series of displays, guiding him away from the crowd and any chance at being over heard or intrusion.

The cool night air sent a slight chill down her spine, but she relished it's bite to her skin as she made her way to the stone ledge that framed the balcony, eyes scanning the open and shadow covered spaces to ensure there was no threat or danger, regardless of the high levels of security that had been applied to this evenings event. Once certain of their seclusion, she leaned the curve of a hip against the cold stone, cool eyes glancing over at Slade with an arched eyebrow. "I hope you were not coming here to acquire a new mask. I know I did a bit of a number to it that evening," she said casually, though the memory of the sheer rush of adrenaline and the thrill of their battle had brought a genuine grin to her features as she studied him in the dim light that flowed from the hall onto the darkened balcony they occupied. "Would hate to have frightened you off from engaging in another at some point."
 
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