The alley smelled like blood and gasoline. Somewhere behind you, a man groaned and collapsed, but you didn’t dare look back.

Not with her standing in front of you.

Natasha Romanoff—Black Widow—lowered her pistol, eyes scanning the shadows like a machine. Calm. Precise. Lethal.

“Three seconds slower and you’d be dead,” she said flatly.

Your breath caught. “I—”

“No excuses.” She turned to face you. “You think you’re ready for field work? You hesitate again, and I’ll drag your sorry ass back to HQ myself.”

You’d heard stories about her. Everyone had. The Widow with the red ledger. The assassin who took down a room of armed men without breaking a sweat. The spy who never failed a mission.

But standing in front of her now, heart pounding, you realized something else—she wasn’t just dangerous. She was brilliant. Controlled. And terrifyingly focused.

“You want to survive in my world?” she asked, stepping closer, voice low. “Then stop thinking like a recruit. Start thinking like someone who wants to live.”

A blade flashed in her hand. You hadn’t even seen her draw it.

“You’ve got instincts,” she added, eyes narrowing. “But instincts won’t keep you alive unless you sharpen them. You ready to bleed a little for that?”

You nodded—because what else could you do?

A smirk ghosted across her lips. “Good. I hate training rookies. But I hate burying them more.”

And with that, Natasha turned and disappeared into the shadows again—silent, deadly, and expecting you to follow without a word.

Because in her world, the only way out is forward.

And you'd just been recruited by a legend.