A/N :- This wasn't actually supposed to be a story. It began as a character sketch, that grew into a concept that evolved into a theme that developed into a storyline that morphed into a challenge that finally took on a life of its own and refused to let me go until I had ironed out every small detail. And it was all downhill from there.

She was sitting in the tavern, all alone in her blessed solitude, pretending to drink whatever it was that passed for drink in that place when he walked in.

Walked wasn't really the right word. Walking would imply moving with an intent, to a predetermined destination. Walking implied purpose. Everything in this man's demeanor seemed specifically designed to imply the exact opposite. It would be more accurate to say that he drifted in, like an errant leaf blowing across a yard on a windy winter night, and just as unremarkable.

She certainly had to admire his technique, she mused as she took another sip of the tasteless brew in her mug, even though it had caused her far more complications than she had initially anticipated. Her line of work required a certain proficiency at inconspicuousness and subterfuge, there were many who had raised it into an art, herself among them. This one however had gone a step further and made it into an entire science. She knew an expert when she saw one, and this one was a master.

At first glance - and second, third, fourth and fifth glances for that matter - he seemed to be nothing more than some passing traveler on a long and tiring journey, who found his feet automatically taking him to the nearest tavern. There was nothing in his bearing to suggest that there was anything more to him than what it seemed on the surface and even less to suggest that he was anyone of any particular significance. He could have been a farm hand, moving on after the conclusion of harvest season, or he could have been a courier, delivering some minor document or the other, or he could have been a peddler returning home after a selling trip, or a sailor on an extended shore leave. He could have been anyone really, any one of a hundred other equally inconsequential possibilities, every single one of them as far removed from reality as could be. She wouldn't even have noticed him, or given him a second thought if she had, if she hadn't specifically been looking for him.

He came in on the heels of a particularly rowdy group of lumberjacks, all of whom looked like they had come straight from the paymaster's office, fresh off a salary roll and seemingly impatient to get started on blowing it away. Whether by accident or design his timing was impeccable, walking just close enough to the noisy, attention grabbing bunch to blend in and yet with just enough distance from them that he didn't receive a share of the attention that they were grabbing. She was actually impressed. His kind weren't usually known for stealth and subtlety, which made the display that she had just witnessed all the more incredible.

She could see why she had had so much trouble tracking him down. He could walk right past someone and still not be seen.

She discreetly tugged down the hood of her own well worn and utterly unremarkable travelling cloak, careful to keep her face hidden as she watched him casually detach from the group and seamlessly melting into a smaller knot of people heading in another direction. No one spared him a glance as he wove his way past the tables towards an empty one in the corner and flagged a harried looking serving girl. By the time the attention shifted away from the lumberjacks, he was halfway through a meal of bread and meat seeming for all intents and purposes that he had been there the whole time. No one had noticed him come in and she was pretty sure that no one would notice him when he left either. No one except her.

She was right.

Within half an hour, the man had finished his meal and deposited a few coins to cover the meal, slipping out as unobtrusively as he had entered.

She gave him a brief head start and then slipped out after him. The slight itch under her skin receded as she passed beyond the threshold of the tavern, the night settling around her like well worn cloak. It was a welcome sensation. She was most at ease in the dark and the cold, a side effect of her unique condition – or curse, depending on the onlooker's perspective and the time of the day.

It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the gloom after the glare of the tavern, but they adjusted quickly. Night vision wasn't a problem for her. Her problem was that the street was empty as far as she could see in both directions. And there were any number of darkened side alleys where her target might have disappeared. She didn't have time to search them all.

Natasha had always been a natural at spotting trails, piecing together slim clues and filling in gaps with scraps of information that would have been overlooked by just about anyone else – a trait that had been further enhanced by her condition. But most of what she knew, she had learned from a single person, a human who had lived longer than even the oldest of the fossils on the Council. There were many stories surrounding that one, and Natasha wasn't sure that she believed half of them. But after all this time, with everything she had seen, she was sure of one thing – Ulysses Bloodstone knew more about tracking than anyone else in the world, living, dead or undead.

And the one lesson that Bloodstone had drilled into her head over and over was that a good hunter doesn't need to track, he knows where his quarry is headed.

No other quarry had ever given her as much of a headache as the one, or been as difficult to anticipate. And she had only been pursuing him for a few months. She felt a flash of respect for Bloodstone, chasing the same quarry as he had for as long as he had. For thousands of years if even half the stories about him were true.

Regardless, there was no way that she was going to let her current target slip out of her grasp again; not now, not when she had come so close. It wasn't just a job anymore. Somewhere along the way it had become a matter of pride, both personal and professional. That and the fact that she didn't want to go back to Fury and tell him that she had missed him by seconds. Or Barton for that matter. Fury would just glare at her in that signature manner of his. For someone who only had one good eye, he could really glare. And as for Barton, he was never going to let her live it down.

She brought up the mental map she had made of the village's twisting lanes and alleys from her all too brief recon. It took a few more crucial seconds for her to isolate a list of possible destinations that he might be heading for, and the routes that he might use to get there. That done, she compared the results with what little she knew of her target's mentality.

Where did you go, she murmured as she ran over the probabilities in her mind. Where would I go, if I were you?

She finally narrowed down a list of probable routes. The first, she discarded as too obvious, the second as too public. The third led through the seedier part of the town. She had no doubt whatsoever that he would avoid that one at all costs, not because he had anything to fear from the less than upstanding citizens that skulked around in there but because an inevitable confrontation would only draw attention.

That left just one.

It was with considerable relief and no small amount of self satisfaction that she spotted him again moments later. He was walking at a brisk pace now, all attempt at unobtrusiveness abandoned now that there was no one in sight to put up an act for. This presented a whole new problem for her. If she let him get too much of a lead, she risked losing him. But on the other hand keeping him within her sight meant that she would be in his, now that she no longer had a crowd to blend into. And it would be very bad for her if he caught wind of her before she was ready. It could easily trigger an Incident.

She had seen the reports from his last Incident. She had no wish to be the cause of another.

She hesitated for a second, weighed her options, and made for the nearest house. There was a conveniently placed barrel near the wall that she used to launch herself straight up, almost ten feet in a single bound, landing in a crouch on the roof. It took her a split second to orient herself, another to locate her quarry and then she was off, jumping from rooftop to rooftop, light as a shadow and just as silent as thirty feet away her quarry increased pace. But now she could keep up with a reasonable expectation of remaining undetected.

The first sign of trouble came several minutes later in the form of several masked figures lying in wait at the edge of the street ahead. Their dark clothing hid them perfectly. Normal human eyes wouldn't have spotted them. Hers on the other hand had no such limitations.

She growled in frustration and quickened her pace, trying to stay as silent as possible as she swung ahead.

She counted half a dozen would be assailants – four on the ground and two archers on the rooftops – just a routine gang of cutthroats who had chanced on the wrong victim. She was half tempted to stay back let them go ahead with their intended ambush. It would be poetic justice, to watch the tables being turned on them. But now was not the time. She was on a mission and besides, they were still too close to the town.

She took out the archers first – one throwing knife each – and went after their remaining comrades before the second one had hit the ground. She didn't bother to check if the archers were out of the picture. If the blades didn't kill them instantly, the poison on them would soon enough

The remaining four were conveniently facing away from her, still intent on their intended victim, unaware that they had just gone from being predators to being prey. The first one she dispatched easily, and then the second. The third one turned at exactly the wrong moment. They stared at each other frozen for a moment, him with his raised weapon, her with the blood still dripping from her claws and mouth.

And then all hell broke loose.

The would be assailant turned, faster than she had anticipated, loosing a fusillade of pellets, some of which actually came close enough to be a frightening concern.

She ducked behind a broken wall, cursing under her breath. Any hope she might have had to settle this silently was blown to hell. Abandoning all attempts at stealth she ripped out a glass shard from a nearby broken window and threw it hard behind her. Her erstwhile assailant jumped aside as the broken glass piece came sailing at him. Not fast enough though. The tip of the glass sliced through his neck as it went past. He went down gurgling and trying fruitlessly to stem the blood flowing from the ruptured vein in his neck before going still.

The last one took one look at his comrades lying in the dust and did the smart thing – he turned around and fled. Natasha didn't try to give chase. It might be worth letting him go if he spread this news to others who were thinking of taking up banditry as a profession. Besides, she had more pressing matters to attend to.

When she emerged from the alley, her mark was still there, waiting. That was unexpected. She had expected him to be long gone by now. His eyes found hers quickly as she stepped out of the shadows, and just as quickly they narrowed as he bared his teeth slightly with a barely contained growl.

"Dr. Banner, I presume?" she said cautiously, trying to sound as nonthreatening as possible. A laughable task, considering that it was difficult enough for her to pull it off on humans unless they were unaware of her nature. Trying to pull it of on his kind was close to impossible. Even if he hadn't caught her scent, highly unlikely seeing as he was standing downwind of her, even if he hadn't got a good look at her face, he still had to know what she was just from the way she moved. Just as she had known what he was the moment he had walked into the tavern. Like snakes and mongooses, either one of them could instinctively recognize the other. It was in their blood.

His eyes twitched at her use of his name. Beyond that there was no reaction. It was as good a sign as she could hope for. If it had been someone else, they would have gone for her throat already. This one was holding back - just barely from the looks of it - although from the hunch of his shoulders and the way his hands curled into fists, she could tell that he was preparing for a fight.

"I'm not here to fight," she said quickly, holding up her hands to show that she was unarmed, although the blood running down her fingers spoiled that effect. "I just want to talk."

Banner's impassive face broke out into a humorless smile; the first reaction she had gotten out of him, though not the one she had been aiming for.

"Talk?" he said with a voice that was half baritone half rumble. It sounded harsh and discordant, a terrible tangle of a human voice and a rumbling growl of something far more ancient and primal. His voice was rough as if it hadn't been used in a while. "People who know who I am usually don't want to talk."

"First time for everything," she said, trying to lighten the mood. It failed miserably.

"You actually expect me to believe that?" he said with a grin sharp as a razor's edge.

"I..."

"Save it," he interrupted. He shifted his position slightly, though he did not lower his guard. "Let me guess, you've just newly come into your abilities. Maybe your wanted to keep your looks and your youth forever, and you managed to find someone willing to oblige. Or maybe your sire took a fancy to you and indulged your wish. Either way, you just realized that you are at the bottom of the chain and decided to make a name for yourself. And what better way to do that than to singlehandedly bring the head of the largest bounty roaming the lands?" There was no trace of a grin on his face now, humorless or otherwise. "Do you take me for an idiot?"

"I don't answer to the Council," Natasha replied, still trying to sound disarming though it was becoming increasingly clear that he wasn't buying it.

Banner looked unimpressed. "What then? A renegade warlord, come to entice me into joining you?"

"I am here on behalf of the Order."

Banner simply raised an eyebrow.

"The Order of the Shield," she clarified.

Banner looked at her silently for a full ten seconds, and then without warning he chuckled, and like a trickle turning into a flood it broke out into full fledged laughter that echoed through the clearing.

"I'm sorry," he said, wiping his eyes. "But that one was completely unexpected." He straightened and looked at her a bit more carefully. "How did the Order find me in the first place?"

"We never lost you," she returned. "We've been tracking you ever since the incident in Harlem." Banner's eyes narrowed. Apparently he didn't like being reminded of the destruction of Harlem and his role in it. Or the fact that he had been under their watch the whole time.

"We've kept our distance from you," she continued. "On occasion we've gone out of our way to keep other interested parties off your trail."

"And what does the Order want with me?" he asked warily. "I sincerely doubt that they have my best interests at heart."

Natasha took in a deep breath. "You need to come with me."

"And if I say no?" he said with the same unsettling half smile.

"I'll convince you," she said, with more confidence than she felt. There was just a hint of promise in her tone, more implied than stated, although it was highly unlikely to work on him. She was careful to show no sign of her unease outwardly. Maintain a convincing façade of invulnerability and the person opposing you will believe it. Although, judging from the expression, he either didn't believe her or wasn't concerned if he did. Why would he? No one had even come close to defeating the beast that hid within him.

"And if the beast says no?"

"You've gone more than a year without incident, Doctor. I don't think you want to break that streak."

He shrugged. "I don't always get what I want," he said casually.

Natasha sighed. "Look, we only need your expertise, not the beast. We need you for a consult. Just one consult, that's it. And I will personally guarantee your safety."

Her earnestness was lost upon him however. "A promise made by one of the Kindred?" he said mockingly. "Forgive me, but I've had too much experience with your kind to believe that you have any intention of keeping your promise one you've gotten what you want."

Maybe it was the tone of his voice, or maybe it was his implied assumption, or maybe it was something else totally unrelated to him; whatever the reason his words struck a nerve within her.

"They are not my kind."

The words exploded out of her like a burst dam. Banner took a step back in surprise at the sudden violent outburst. "They are not my kind," she repeated in a whisper. She was no longer sure who she was trying to convince – him or herself.

It took considerable effort to meet Banner's eyes. "I wasn't..."she tried to explain, searching for words that just didn't want to come out. "I didn't choose to be like this," she said at last. "It was..." The words trailed off again as words failed her again. What could she say? That she hadn't wanted it? That would be a lie. She had wanted it at the time, or at least she had thought that she did. That she had been forced against her will? That wasn't strictly accurate either. She had gone along willingly, hadn't even tried to put up a fight. And for so long, she had been the perfect tool, exceeding her masters' wildest expectations. She had been their most highly regarded asset, until she turned on them.

Banner's eyes softened somewhat. He would understand better than most, she imagined. After all, he hadn't chosen to be what he was either.

An awkward silence fell around them. There was no sound, not a single leaf rustling, or cricket chirping. Even the wind had fallen silent.

Natasha let out a sigh. "Listen, I don't expect you to trust me just because I say that you can," she tried again. "You don't know me. You have no reason to trust me and every reason not to. But...I'm asking you to."

Banner still looked dubious.

"I can get someone else to talk to you if you'd prefer that," she offered. Internally she knew it was a useless gesture. Just having a human speak on behalf was no solid proof of good intentions. Kindred used Kine as agents and go-betweens all the time. But it was a gesture. "You can leave anytime you want, she added. "After all who's going to stop you?"

He opened his mouth to respond and froze suddenly. A moment later she heard it too. Movement, lots of it, coming at them from all sides. This was no passing group of travelers, this was an ambush.

Banner's head snapped back towards her, a look of betrayal in his eyes. "I knew this was a setup," he seethed.

"I didn't..." Natasha started to explain, but Banner wasn't listening to her any more. She jumped back as his body twisted out of shape, joints cracking, as his skeletal system systematically pulled apart and began to rearrange itself to accommodate the additional mass.

The torso was the first to expand, ripping out of the flimsy shirt like a barrel breaking its hoops. The legs quickly followed suit, first one and then the other, followed by the arms. The rapidly swelling head was the last to go, the upper and lower jaws elongating just as rapidly thickening fur began to sprout on the exposed skin.

It was huge, was the only thought that was moving through her paralyzed mind. Beyond huge, a massive nightmarish creature straight from hell, larger by far than any that she had seen before. And she had seen a good many.

The beast staggered as the final vestiges of the change coursed through his body. It hunkered down in a half crouch, one massive clawed hand pushed against the ground to steady itself, while its fur finished growing over the last exposed patches of skin. The moonlight washed out all color, but Natasha knew that that furry hide would be a dark shade of green during the daytime.

The whole process had taken less than three seconds.

Natasha remained in place, still as a rock, not daring to move, not even daring to breathe. The slightest movement was likely to set him off and since she was the most prominently visible target within reach, he was likely to start with her.

For a moment, she held out a wild hope that he had forgotten all about her. Maybe the approaching enemy, whoever it was, would serve as a distraction. Maybe.

And then the beast swung around to look right at her, and she got her first good look at him.

She had read the reports that came out of the city of Harlem, most of which had come from surveyors who had assessed the sites after the threat was long gone. There were a few eyewitness accounts, those who were coherent enough to possess some degree of reliability anyway. All of the eyewitness accounts had been from people who had been relatively out of the way, either because they had had the good sense to hide or because the beast hadn't noticed them, or couldn't be bothered to go out of his way for them, or simply because he had been more concerned with other threats. None of them had seen the beast up close. Of those who had, none had lived to tell about it.

Natasha, as a rule, always considered civilian eyewitness account with a degree of skepticism. More often than not, eyewitness accounts were notoriously unreliable on the details and prone to exaggeration, consciously or otherwise. Which was why she had dismissed most of what the eyewitnesses had described, aside from a few key facts which had been independently verified from multiple sources.

And now she found herself in the unenviable position of being able to judge the quality of those reports from up close. Closer than she had anticipated.

The beast was enormous. There was no other word for it, and even that one was laughably inadequate. She had come across a great many gigantic brutes in her too long lifetime, the vast majority of whom put their strength to profitable use as either brigands or mercenaries or both. The beast put them all to shame. He was easily her height, and half again dwarfing the tallest man she had ever seen.

And that was just the start.

The beast's limbs bulged with rolling muscles. It had to weigh over a ton just from the size of it, and yet it shifted its balance with an easy grace that Natasha hadn't even thought possible for something so huge.

It was still as a statue as it regarded her through narrowed greenish glowing eyes, increasingly savage snarls emerging from impossibly large bared fangs. She held out a faint hope that if she didn't move, the beast might not see her as a threat, but from the way it settled into a spring, Natasha knew that nonthreatening or no, the beast wasn't about to let its natural enemy walk away from him in one piece.

Still she gave it one more shot. "Please, just listen to me Banner..."

The beast roared, loud as a foghorn, and shook its head wildly as if trying to dislodge something.

And then without warning it attacked.

Natasha twisted to the side, just barely avoiding the talons that intended to rip her face off. Even then it was a narrow miss, so narrow that she felt the tip of one talon scoring a straight line across the side of her face.

She ran, harder than she ever had in her entire life. Her legs pounded the ground like the pistons on one of Stark's steam engines as she squeezed out every bit of forward momentum that she had, all the while ignoring every instinct in her head that screamed at her not to turn her back on the monster. Presenting her undefended back to the beast was suicide, but taking on the beast head on would have been an even greater suicide. Not that she expected her attempt at putting some distance between them to do her any good. The beast could overtake her in a single bound, two at the most. Her only chance was to get out of sight and hope that it lost interest.

It took her a few seconds to realize that she wasn't being followed. A glance over her shoulder revealed why.

The beast was still standing more or less where she had left him, and he wasn't alone. Figures in dark armor emerged from all the exits, hemming him in from all sides and cutting off his exit. Natasha could tell just from the way they moved that these were no ordinary bandits. The way they moved reflected both training and battle experience.

Hunters.

There were hunters and then there were Hunters. The ones that were now surrounding the beast were the latter. These weren't the types who hunted deer and rabbits, or the occasional bear, for meat and hides. These ones specialized in bigger, and deadlier, game.

Fools, Natasha thought as she watched them advance to a certain death. A single Hunter was deadly in a fight, deadlier still if he had time to prepare. In other circumstances, a lone werewolf against a whole group of armed Hunters would have been a forgone conclusion.

But this was no ordinary wolf.

The first attack came just as she expected it to, a volley of crossbow bolts. Silver tipped of course. A single regular crossbow bolt wouldn't be much more than a minor irritant, assuming that it found its mark. Werewolves weren't very intelligent in their bestial forms but they knew enough to avoid being hit by sharp, pointy projectiles. And they were usually fast enough to dodge or deflect unless the crossbow was fired a point blank range.

A volley of bolts spread out over an area would be more difficult to avoid, though generally not fatal. Unless a chance shot went through the brain.

A silver crossbow bolt on the other hand was an entirely different idea. A single one if hit could cause excruciating pain. Multiple simultaneous hits were enough to kill any wolf.

Except this one apparently.

Natasha watched, utterly unsurprised, as the bolts hit the fur and simply bounced off. The thick fur would protect the beast from having more than minimal contact with the silver tips. And the fur was reinforced at the base by the skin that it protected. The silver tips themselves were useless if the bolts didn't have enough penetrating power to pierce the skin, which they apparently didn't.

The beast let out a sound that was half scream and half howl and went straight for the Hunter who had had the misfortune of being the one to fire the bolts. The Hunter, frozen in disbelief at the unexpected development, reacted too late. The beast seized him and his neighbor by the throat, lifted them like rag dolls and brought them together with a loud wet crack.

Their heads exploded like they had been struck with a sledgehammer. Bits of bone and brain matter flew everywhere.

This jarred the rest of the assailants into action. Amid shouts of mingled fury and panic they fumbled to bring their own crossbows to bear, trying to draw a bead on the creature without running the risk of hitting a comrade if they missed. This time multiple volleys of arrows came in from all directions. The effect was no different from before, the bolts bouncing off harmlessly like striking a rock wall. The only thing they accomplished was to make the beast even angrier than before. It went on a frenzy, wild swipes tearing up huge chunks out of the ground before lunging at the next one and simply ripped him in half.

That was the moment when the first unexpected thing happened during the entire fight.

A small object, roughly the size of a small barrel flew out of the darkness and hit the monster in the chest before exploding.

Explosives? Natasha wondered. If so it wasn't likely to do any good. The monster had taken multiple cannonballs to the chest in Harlem and apparently had been no worse for wear. At most it might disorient the beast just long enough for the others to make their escape. Maybe.

But it wasn't an explosive. The explosion was too small to accomplish anything besides breaking the barrel and kicking up a dust cloud.

And then the second unexpected even occurred. The beast staggered.

For a moment Natasha thought that he had simply misstepped. But then it staggered again. More barrels flew out of the darkness straight at the brute. It swatted several of them out of the way, but several more exploded on the ground kicking up more dust clouds.

Except it wasn't dust, Natasha realized suddenly, and it hadn't come from the ground. It was the contents of the barrel being released as they broke apart. Not smoke and not dust, not if the dull flickering shine was anything to go by.

Silver.

Not just silver, colloidal silver; particulate matter ground down to a fine powder to increase its dispersion and prolong the time that it could remain floating in the air.

She understood at once. Silver weapons were useless against the creature if they couldn't pierce its skin. But the silver powder hadn't entered through its skin, it had entered through its airways. The brute had inhaled the poison and now it was burning him out from inside.

The beast roared again, but this time the roars were tinged with something else.

Pain.

The remaining Hunters advanced, emboldened now that the tables had turned in their favor. Natasha considered her options. On one hand, she could simply choose not to get involved. This option was the one that appealed to her the most. Everything in her urged her to kill the creature herself, or failing that, to keep as far away from it as possible. Staying uninvolved would kill two birds with one stone. She could simply pull back, and report to Fury that she had made contact but had been unable to sway Banner before coming under fire. Nobody would question her. Nobody would blame her for not taking on the Hunters herself. A lone hunter was dangerous enough, taking on a whole group was suicide, even for her.

But on the other hand...

She was off the wall and moving before her brain had time to catch up with her feet. She spared a glance toward the beast as she skirted around the edge. To its credit, it was still struggling. It had collapsed on its knees now. The ground in front of it was specked by what seemed to be flecks of greenish blood. The smell was familiar, but at the same time different, corrupted somehow. She knew instinctively that trying to feed on it wouldn't be beneficial to her health.

The remaining Hunters had gathered in a loose semicircle, silver tipped pikes at the ready. One of them, growing overconfident, rushed in to finish the job. He was rewarded for his error by a swipe of an overgrown paw that flung him hard at a stone wall. He was dead before he hit the ground.

The beast was slowly wearing down, but it wasn't defeated yet. It was still dangerous, though that wouldn't last long. The remaining Hunters, having learned from their recently deceased comrade's experience, pulled back to wait it out.

They were so focused on the threat in front of them that they completely missed her approach – a completely unacceptable lapse from a hunter in other circumstances – although admittedly, the beast's thrashing and roars did much to mask the sound of her feet and keep the attention focused away from her.

She didn't bother with the pikemen. She headed straight for whoever was lobbing the silver grenades. Unless she took them out fast the beast, and by extension Banner, didn't have long to live.

She spotted them quickly, the darkness that they thought would protect them proving no impediment to her enhanced nightvision. There were three, forming a rough semicircle. All had a small cache of unused bombs at their feet, each at the ready with another in hand ready to throw if the situation called for it. All three were refraining from using them however, possibly under strict orders to refrain from expending such rare and valuable ammunition unless absolutely necessary.

Natasha didn't even try for stealth. There was no time for it; the beast was on its last legs as it were, another couple of attacks would put it down for good. Speed was of the essence, not silence. The first bomber didn't see her until she was right on top of him, his shout turning into a choked gurgle as Natasha slashed his throat. Her knife caught in the neck of the dying Hunter's armor and she was forced to leave it behind as she allowed the momentum of her initial rush to pull her away without even breaking stride. Every second mattered now that the others had been alerted. She was off toward the second before the Hunter's body hit the ground.

The other two had noticed her now, alerted by their comrade's shout and subsequent silence. The one nearest to her dropped his grenade and fumbled for his crossbow. Natasha brought up her left arm in a firing position, ripped back her sleeve and pressed the exposed release catch with her other hand. The miniature crossbow, cleverly hidden in an innocuous looking armband, discharged instantly. Her personal Widow's Bite had a short range and limited accuracy, both of which limited its uses. However in the right environment they had turned the tide of battle in her favor more than once.

The miniature darts struck her assailant in the eye just as he raised his weapon. He collapsed immediately, thrashing and foaming at the mouth as the poison in the darts took effect.

Her dagger lost and Widow's Bite expended, Natasha was now down to her bare claws. The third and last had managed to get his weapon ready. The odds were overwhelming in his favor. He only had time for a single shot, but every step Natasha took toward him reduced his chance for a miss. Even if he did miss, highly unlikely, Natasha still would have to contend with his melee weapon and armor.

She weaved left and right at unpredictable intervals, trying to make the most of what precious little cover she could get as she heard him snarl in frustration. She knew that he would wait till the last possible second to fire in order to maximize his chances of scoring a hit. Whether or not he managed to get a successful hit would determine which one of them was going to walk away from that encounter.

And then she stumbled.

It was brief, just a tiny misstep, but the timing couldn't have been worse. She heard his cry of triumph, heard the crossbow click, and braced herself, expecting to be riddled with bolts.

Nothing happened.

She looked up to find the Hunter staring at his weapon, stupefied. The crossbow had jammed.

That was when her would be killer made his second mistake. Instead of going for his secondary weapon, he fumbled with his crossbow, trying to clear it. This gave Natasha a second or two to move unhindered and she made the most of it cutting down the remaining distance between them and bringing her within arm's reach. Her hand shot out and upwards, fingers aiming for the gap under the faceplate. She was rewarded by the rush of warm bloods running down her fingers as the crossbow clicked for the second time. The Hunter's eyes went wide, and then glazed over as death took him.

That was when Natasha noticed the searing pain blooming in her own chest.

Ironic, she thought with a touch of morbid amusement, looking down at the single bolt sticking out of her chest as both the crossbow and the crossbowman fell to the ground with a clatter. The bolt had missed hitting her heart directly; but from the looks of it, it had managed to get a nick in. The difference was academic. Both instances would result in the same eventual outcome. This one would take a bit longer, that was all.

As far as deaths went this wasn't such a bad way to die, she thought as her knees gave way under her, although not dying would certainly be more preferable. But on the other hand there was something inherently noble about dying in the line of duty. It certainly made for a better story. And so ends the legendary Black Widow, she thought distantly as she slumped sideways onto the frozen ground, killed while defending a goddamn werewolf of all things. There was a certain poetic justice to it, she decided as her vision darkened around the edges.

She could hear footsteps at the edge of her consciousness. Some part of her wondered vaguely who it was. One of the other Hunters? Banner? She hoped it was Banner. At least if he lived, then the evening wasn't a total disaster. Not that it made any difference to her position. Whoever it was, they were highly unlikely to have her best interests at heart. They were probably coming over just to finish her off. They needn't have bothered. The bolt in her chest would take care of that soon enough.

A hand slid under her back, forcing her upwards into a sitting position. Instead of a blade through the throat that she had been expecting, she was met with a goblet being shoved against her lips. "Drink," a voice rasped, as a familiar intoxicating metallic smell flooded her nostrils. "Quickly, before it coagulates."

The first sip felt like manna from heaven. She could almost feel it flowing through her veins, healing her injuries and numbing the pain in her chest. She gulped down the goblet's contents until she passed out.

The first thing Natasha noticed as she woke was that her chest still hurt.

The second thing that she noticed was Banner, sitting hunched in a corner, human once more.

"I wouldn't go outside if I were you," he said as she stirred. His voice sounded as rough as he looked, although on a positive note it sounded more human than it had last night. "It's still a good four hours until sundown."

"What happened?" Natasha asked, grimacing as her body made its displeasure known.

"You distracted the Hunters just long enough for the beast to recover somewhat." Banner paused and added almost grudgingly, "Thank you for that."

"You saw that?" Natasha asked. She still wasn't sure how much of the beast was Banner and vice versa.

"The beast saw you," Banner said, as if reading her mind. "I get flashes from his memories when I transform back. I don't know what it is like for him." The way he spoke made it clear that he considered the beast as a separate entity.

"Where are we?" Natasha asked. "And how did we get here?"

"We're maybe half a mile from the ambush site," Banner replied. "I would have preferred to put more distance, but...this is as far as I could carry you. I couldn't risk going much further, not with dawn approaching."

Natasha's eyes traveled over the room, taking in the moth eaten furniture strewn haphazardly. "Who lives here?" she asked.

"No one," Banner said as he straightened. "This place is abandoned. The locals all think that it is haunted, so no one is coming in. We can stay here while you recover. It's not ideal," he looked around as he spoke, "but I cleaned it as best as I could. It's not like I could just walk into an inn with an unconscious woman slung on one shoulder and ask for a room. I suppose this will have to do."

"You didn't have to bring me," Natasha said. "You could have left me there. For all you know I could have set up the whole thing.

"I know you didn't," Banner replied. "I found this on their leader. Whatever was left of him anyway."

The thick bloodstained piece of paper that he extended towards her wasn't the cheap, disposable kind used by the peasants. This one was expensive quality, the kind official decrees were written on. She unrolled the paper gingerly and scanned it. Most of it was soaked in blood and completely illegible, but enough parts had remained intact that she was able to get a gist of its contents.

"This is a capture order," she said, raising her eyes to him at last. "Specifically for you."

He nodded. "These weren't just any ordinary Hunters," he said grimly. "They came prepared. Very well prepared in fact. The amount of silver that they used would have fed an entire village for weeks."

"Those were the Emperor's Hunters," Natasha said. It wasn't a question.

Banner nodded. "And the only reason that they failed was because they didn't weren't expecting you there."

Natasha scanned the parchment. It wasn't simply a capture order. It was a carte blanche, effectively giving the holder unlimited authority and immunity from consequences for any action taken towards the completion of 'duties in service to the Crown.' Her eyes came to rest at the name of the signatory near the bottom.

Authorized in the name of the Crown, by order of General Thaddeus Ross.

"Yes, him," Banner said, apparently noticing where she had paused. "I should have known better than to think that I'll ever be free of him."

"Do you think he'll try again?" Natasha asked.

Banner shrugged. "He lost a lot of money, and some of his best Hunters last night," he said tiredly. "The incident at Harlem cost him heavily, in influence and reputation. This failure will give him another black eye that will take time for him to recover from. But will he try again? Absolutely." He looked darkly at the parchment in Natasha's hands. "If he found me once, there is no reason to believe that he won't be able to find me again. He has the manpower and the resources, and he won't stop until he gets what he wants. I wont be able to avoid him for ever."

Natasha let the words hang for a few moments. "There is, of course, another option you might want to consider," she said delicately.

Banner just looked at her questioningly.

"I want you to consider joining the Order, on a permanent basis," she elaborated. "We could always use a person of your intellectual capacity."

"So I'm to trade one set of shackles for another, am I?" Banner retorted.

"That is not how we do things," Natasha said. "You will be well treated, and well compensated for your service. And as a full member, you will be entitled to the same protection as the other members. We look after our own," she placed a slight emphasis on that part, hoping to appeal to Banner's desire for a safe and secure environment, "and I will personally ensure your safety."

Banner raised his eyebrows. "Are you authorized to make that offer on behalf of the Order?"

"I am," Natasha said calmly.

Banner pondered over her words while she waited for his answer. Finally he nodded. "Very well," he said at last. "I have a few minor conditions, but...I accept your offer."

Natasha didn't bother to hide the relief from showing on her face. "You won't regret this," she promised.

Banner gave a brief nod. "I am sorry about the way I acted earlier."

"It's all right," Natasha waved away his apology. "I can understand your skepticism."

"It seems that we got off on the wrong foot," Banner said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Maybe we should start over." He hesitated slightly before extending his hand towards her. "Dr. Bruce Banner, at your service."

Natasha gave him a smile as she grasped his large, warm hand with her own slim, cool one. "Agent Natasha Romanoff, at yours," she said warmly. "Welcome aboard, Dr. Banner."

A/N : -There you go. The first installment of the three ring circus that goes through my head. Now that this is posted, maybe the story will be merciful and allow me some sleep.

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