MARVEL'S MONSTER HUNTER WORLD

Natasha Romanoff lay on the sofa, her sharp mind dulled slightly by the warmth of the evening. But Watson's question cut through the haze like a blade.

"It was a while back… Aunt Liya was attacked by two men at a supermarket. I happened to be on duty and stepped in."

Snap!

The ceramic cup in Watson's hand shattered, shards scattering onto the floor.

Natasha felt it immediately—the air in the room dropped, turning cold as ice.

Danger. Serious danger.

Her instincts screamed at her before she even processed what was happening. She shot up from the sofa, her body moving on autopilot, dropping into a defensive stance. Years of training had ingrained this response deep in her bones.

The alcohol-induced haze was gone, replaced by razor-sharp awareness.

She had felt many things in her life—fear, adrenaline, pain. But this… this was different.

She felt like prey.

Watson turned his head toward her, his eyes no longer those of a man but something far more primal.

Not even the Red Room had made her feel this way.

"What do you want to do?" she asked, voice firm, masking the unease creeping into her bones.

Watson's reply was eerily calm. "The NYPD can't keep a cop like you? That's a shame. But I'm not doing anything."

Derick knew this wasn't some elaborate S.H.I.E.L.D. trick. It was too sloppy, too full of holes. They could never fully comprehend what Watson was, because he wasn't static—he was evolving.

And Watson had only recently discovered something terrifying.

If he focused on someone, truly fixated on them, and unleashed the full force of his intent—the unfiltered, unrestrained desire to kill—something happened.

Watson called it the Gaze of the Dragon.

It wasn't some flashy superpower. The system hadn't acknowledged it. But it worked.

He took a step forward. Natasha felt it like a vice tightening around her lungs.

Another step. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.

One more, and she was seconds away from attacking, from breaking the tension before it broke her.

Then, as suddenly as it appeared, the suffocating pressure vanished.

Derick grabbed her chin, leaned in, and spoke in a low, controlled voice.

"It's simple. I want information. Who were they? Where did they come from?"

She could feel his breath, his presence overwhelming, but the cold, calculated part of her mind kept control.

She swallowed, forcing herself to steady her voice. "Yes. I'll make the call. Whatever you need."

"Go."

Watson sat back, his expression unreadable. But inside, his anger hadn't fully dissipated.

At first, he had been furious. But then… he realized something.

The infamous Black Widow, the assassin who could stare down gods, had just faltered under his gaze.

That was… interesting.

As Natasha pulled out her phone, he reclined, watching with mild amusement.

"Sir, it's me—Natasha," she said, exhaling as she connected to Fury.

"…You've been made?"

"Yes. He wants details on the two who attacked Aunt Liya."

A pause.

"…Give him what he wants. From now on, he's your responsibility. But… Aunt Liya? What's going on?"

"There's nothing, sir."

She ended the call.

Elsewhere...

Nick Fury frowned, his fingers steepled under his chin.

"Natasha… I hope you're not about to pull a Hawkeye on me. Now's not the time for retirement."

He exhaled through his nose.

"I really hope I'm wrong."

Back in the apartment...

"So," Watson said suddenly, tilting his head. "What should I call you now? Agent Romanoff?"

He smirked, but the look in his eyes was sharp.

Natasha didn't know why, but that look unsettled her.

She thought about Aunt Liya. The dinner. The warmth.

After tonight, that feeling might be gone forever.

She shoved the thought away and extended her hand. "Natasha Romanoff. Senior agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., assigned to oversee your case. The files and the people you need will be delivered tomorrow."

Watson glanced at her outstretched hand but didn't take it.

"Sit."

She lowered her hand, unfazed, and sat down beside him.

Silence stretched between them before she finally spoke. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"

"Don't apologize to me," Watson interrupted. His voice was cold, his expression unreadable. "Save it for Aunt Liya and Uncle Polk."

Natasha pressed her lips together. She had no response to that.

After a beat, she asked, "What kind of person are you?"

Watson turned to her. "You're the agent. What do you think?"

Natasha studied him. "You're… different. The man I had dinner with and the one sitting here now feel like two different people. But they're both real.

"You come across as selfish—someone who will do absolutely anything to protect his own, no limits, no hesitation. And you have a power that makes you a prime S.H.I.E.L.D. target.

"But when we investigated you, after your last… mission… the conclusion was clear." She met his gaze. "There was no deception. No manipulation.

"You have principles."

Watson was quiet for a moment.

Clever. She was clever.

But instead of responding, he changed the subject.

"Come upstairs," he said, standing. "There's a balcony outside my room. Great view of the moon."

Natasha hesitated.

Then, wordlessly, she followed.

Upstairs…

Watson was already on the balcony when he heard her approach. A slight smirk pulled at his lips.

She sat across from him, eyes scanning the skyline.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Watson broke the silence.

"I'll tell you a story."

Natasha arched a brow. "A story?"

Watson's gaze darkened. "Do you know what happens if a human unlocks 100% of their brain's potential?"

Natasha blinked. "No… I don't. What happens?"

Watson leaned forward. "Once, there was a girl. Beautiful. Deadly. A lot like you."

Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"One day, her boyfriend tricked her into delivering a package to a crime syndicate. To keep her under control, they locked her in cuffs. She watched, helpless, as gang members executed her boyfriend in cold blood.

"She begged for help. No one helped her.

"She was taken to their leader, a man who spoke no English. He told her that if she wanted to live, she'd obey."

Watson's eyes gleamed. "Then he made her open the package. Inside were drugs. A new kind. Something… experimental."

Silence stretched between them.

Then Watson asked, "If that girl were you, what would you do?"

Natasha's expression didn't change.

"I'd kill them all."

Watson chuckled softly, shaking his head.

"That's such an agent's answer."