Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“The pulse was detected by planetary satellites in upstate New York, in a town called Lawson Dale at 03:21,” prowl briefed his voice crisp and efficient. “We deployed our operatives to investigate the epicentre, however we could find no trace of the origin of likely cause. The energy signature was very similar to that exhibited by Sam Witwicky both times, but of a far higher magnitude. “ He paused, “It blew out 4 blocks and no cctv footage was available until three hours ago when we stumbled across a bar with the camera pointing towards the park exit. They used an archaic old beta video system so this hadn’t pinged up on our searches previously. This is the footage.”

A grainy black and white flickering video appeared on the screen, in the corner a humanoid figure appeared, he was stumbling and seemed drunk with how he lurched and then held onto a trash can, heaving into it. What looked like a piece of tarpaulin was wrapped round him, the figure looked around before stumbling out of view.

Prowl paused, the room silent but for hushed murmurs. “He’s a person of interest, possibly a cassette. Unfortunately, we couldn’t get a full facial ID, just a partial shot, but we believe he’s Caucasian, grizzled, and approximately 5’10”.”

“That doesn’t exactly narrow it down,” Bobby muttered.

Another agent chimed in, “Could this be mech?”

“It’s still a possibility which we can’t rule out,” Jazz replied for Prowl, “but there’s more.” He nodded to Prowl who clicked a button, and another video began to play. “Once we knew what to look for we reviewed all the cctv from the town. We have footage from the train station at 03:56.”

The high definition video showed the same shrouded figure arguing heatedly, to someone off camera view, his hands gesturing wildly. It lasted a few minutes before the man spun on his heel and vanished from the frame just as a train pulled into the platform.

“We’ve reviewed all the CCTV footage for a full 24 hours on either side of this. Unless whoever he was talking to is a ghost, there is no one there before or after this incident. He was talking to air. It’s possible he used a mobile, but the local network systems were fried after the pulse.” Prowl let the implications of that sink in.

“We think he boarded the 04:00 train to New York, but somewhere between there and the city, he got off. Our search area is massive, but if he’s in as bad a state as we suspect, he couldn’t have gotten far. We’re checking hospitals, lock ups and homeless shelters.”

::That poor man:: maggie murmured.

Will got up to review the grid search map, “I’ll take section 10:1 to 10:20 with Bobby and Bee,” Will said, his voice calm but firm.

Jazz gave him a thin smile. “At the first sign of trouble, you pull back. Understood?”

Will mock-saluted, his eyes unerringly going back to the forlorn figure on the video screen frozen in time.

=========

Ten hours later, Will found himself in the bustling city of New Lothian, a place of high-end glamor and stunning sea views, mixed with a towering skyline. High-rise apartment blocks loomed over the ocean, each more luxurious than the last.

::Lennox, one of the honeypots has been triggered. We don’t have a precise location, but it’s in your region.:: Will felt the excitement and anticipation thrumming from Maggie of their first real break.

::Interesting. Which one?::

::there is a research website about experimental energy ideas, the hacker blew through the firewalls and downloaded all data. But they got snared or intrigued enough by one of the honeypots puzzle traps. Spent nearly 20 minutes solving it before disconnecting::

::what’s the location? Any unusual activity?: :

::Prowl is already on it, but looks like your locality, We are searching the area for any red flags::

Will relayed the information to Bobby as Bee turned down a side road to wait for further instructions.

Five minutes later the call came through.

::There’s been an unusual power surge in one of the tower blocks, two days ago. When we checked the owners we found a new rental agreement taken out by a shell company, which, as far as we can tell, did not exist as of 7 days ago. And a lot of high-tech equipment has been ordered and delivered to that address.::

“So much for the homeless shelters,” Will muttered, throwing his coffee cup into the nearest trash can. “Do you have a name?”

:: H Potts. He also didn’t exist either until 5 days ago. Will, this is looking too well organised for a newly emerging cassette, we need you to stand down until reinforcements can arrive.::

Will shook his head, every fibre in his body said there was no time to waste. This man, already looked at the end, he couldn’t afford to see another dead cassette.

::Let me check it out, first sign of trouble, we will back off::

Jazz sighed through the bond ::Very well::

=========================

Tony was having a lousy week. Scratch that, a lousy decade. No, scratch that again—despite everything, the last ten years had given him Pepper and Morgan, and he wouldn’t trade that for anything. But the last thing he remembered was snapping his fingers, the kid crying, Pepper holding his hand—and then a bright blue flash. He’d woken up in some Hicksville town park, and everything was different.

He’d immediately tried to call Pepper, but there was no signal. In fact, all the communication was wonky. It took some finessing to get online, and then he’d discovered this wasn’t home, wasn’t his earth. His Pepper wasn’t his Pepper—this Pepper was married with three kids and a live at home husband, this pepper was a partner in a high-end legal company in Washington. None of the kids were Morgan,(and he still wasn’t sure how he felt about that).

Further checking and surprise - he just didn’t exist here. The Stark line had petered out with his grandfather. His mom had been some rich socialite who died a few years back, never married, no kids. It was like a goddamn nightmare.

Stark men didn’t cry; Stark men were made of iron. But he? He had cried like a goddamn baby.

After that, he didn’t look anymore. This wasn’t his universe, his people. He didn’t want to know what had become of his friends in this universe. Some things were better left unknown. Instead, he dedicated himself to finding a way back home. However he got here, there had to be a way back. He was smart, damn smart. He could do this. He’d ditched the train and settled in a city that was small enough to get around easily but big enough to disappear in.

The first steps had been easy—hacking some drug cartel accounts, purloining thirty million as loose change to tide him over for a few months, setting up a shell company, and then setting up a workshop in the penthouse. In retrospect, that had been a bad decision. He’d forgotten that ordinary buildings, unlike Stark buildings, couldn’t handle the power usage he needed.

He had started out with his own research and then very quickly in the last couple of days, downloading all the research he could find online on theoretical energy sources. He had a feeling his presence in this universe was down to mix of the stones and of the quantum universe. He was trying to mirror Hank Pym’s research but he needed energy and a lot of it. He needed to move, maybe move to an industrial building, maybe an old foundry, where nobody would notice what he was building.

He looked around, grimacing. Well, he wasn’t getting his deposit back, that was for sure. His wall of crazy was plastered across every surface—diagrams, calculations. When he’d run out of paper, he’d started writing directly on the walls.

Another thing to add to the list, find new headquarters.

He was so tired, so sad, and he just wanted to go home. Thank God for F.R.I.D.A.Y., who kept him sane.

“Boss, you need to sleep.”

“Sleep is for wimps,” he growled. “Give me Playlist 32 and crank up the music. We bought up the apartments below—nobody to complain.”

He glanced at the mirror above the mantle piece, it was cracked along the middle, after he threw a mug at it in frustration and grief. He looked rough—eyes bloodshot, hair dank and greasy. His stubble was no longer designer chic but more down and out hobo. He hadn’t showered in days and he was ripe. Didn’t matter. No one was left that this would matter to.

“Boss… Boss… BOSS?”

“Yeah Friday?”

“There’s someone at the door.”

“Huh?”

=============

Will rapped sharply on the door, frustrated. They’d tried the doorbell to no avail, but someone was definitely home; the music danger zone blared loud enough to shake the walls.

::Be careful, Will. There’s been a lot of chatter about mech mobilising after the Budapest incident a month ago. Don’t take any chances. Any sign of trouble, you pull out.::

::I get it, I got it. This is not my first rodeo. Let me do my job.::

The door finally swung open, and the sight that greeted them was…disconcerting. The man was a wreck—bloodshot eyes, foul-smelling breath, dirty, stained clothes. It looked like he hadn’t slept in days. This was both looking promising and not promising.

“Mr. Potts, Mr Hogan Potts?”

“Who? ….oh yeah me, umm Yeah?”

“I wonder if we could come in for a chat?”

The man looked at them suspiciously, “you from the rental company?”

Will exchanged a look with Bobby.

“No, look this is something I don’t really like discussing in a doorway. My names Will, my friend here is Bobby and this is Bee. Look could we come in? The lifts out and those stairs are a killer?”

Hogan, scratched his head, shrugged and then grandiosely gestured them in.

Will and Bee exchanged a glance and stepped inside. That had been easy… too easy perhaps?

The halllway lead to a large open space of what had formerly been a large living area, open plan with a kitchen, bar and dining area. Now it was just a mess. The blinds had been fully closed creating a dark cave like space, the air stale with the smell of body odour and cheesy cheeritoes. Empty pizza boxes lay discarded haphazardly in the corner. The previously luxurious penthouse was now a makeshift workshop. An array of computer screens lined one wall, displaying complex calculations. A workbench occupied another corner, cluttered with tools and gadgets. But it was the walls that took Will’s breath away. He’d thought Sam’s place was bad, but this…

::This has to be him, but he’s so much older that I expected. That poor man .:: He could feel Maggie in the back of his mind, her shock and satisfaction that they had found their guy ::This is so much worse than Sam::

::Bring him in, Will. Restrain and sedate him if needed. No chances this time. Prowl will handle any fallout.:: Jazz’s firm voice came over the net.

“Hey, Hogan, could we sit down and chat?”

“Hogan?” The man looked at him genuinely puzzled.

::He must be in a bad way if he’s forgotten his pseudonym.:: Muttered Maggie.

Bee casually strolled over to the sliding glass doors that led to the Balcony door, blocking off that exit.

“Oh oh oh yeah Hogan yeah that’s me,” the man looked up at the ceiling and blew through his mouth. “Look just call me Tony.”

“Sure Tony, look let’s sit down.”

“Whisky?”

Bobby looked scandalised as he positioned himself near the doorway. “it’s 11am.”

“It’s 9pm somewhere… maybe Dubai. Hmm, does Dubai still exist?” Tony went behind the bar, the clinking of bottles as he shuffled around. “I can do a neat whisky sour but I am afraid I had to use the ice machine for parts.” His voice floated over the breakfast bar as he rummaged in one of the cupboards looking for a clean glass. In the background, the hi fi was pumping out softly ‘Police - every breath you take’.

Bobby subtly readied a pair of restraining cuffs, but Will raised a hand, whispering under his breath. “Give me a few minutes. Let’s see if I can talk him down.”

“He’s pretty far gone.”

“I know, I know but let me try.”

“Will raised his voice, “Tony, we can’t drink, maybe later, okay. Why don’t you take a load off and we can chat, I suspect it’s been a while since you’ve been able to chat to someone about this,” Will waved at the wall behind him.

Tony’s head popped up, his face suspicious, then flushing as he saw Bobby perusing his research, casually moving old coke bottles and empty crisp bags. The music had changed to devil in disguise and Will grimaced at the irony of it.

“Tony, we know what’s happening. We want to help you. We know about the park,” Will said, gesturing to the walls. “We can help with this.”

Tony stood there, looking slightly bewildered, a flicker of hope in his tired eyes. “You do? You can?”

“Yes Tony, you are not alone”

Tony nodded before starting to ramble. “I think there’s a way. I thought maybe gravitational waves, some interesting theories on dark energy but it’s just not adding up you know… really you can help me?”

::Blaster is going to love him::

“We can help, Tony,” Will repeated firmly. “We can help with all of this. We know what you’re going through. The same thing happened to me. You’re not alone.”

Tony’s shoulders sagged as the weight of Will’s words hit him. Will stepped closer, gently cupping Tony’s cheek. “We’ve been looking for you. I’m sorry it took us so long to find you.”

“You have?”

“Yeah, we can explain everything, just not here it’s not safe. Will you come with us?”

“My stuff is here, my equipment.”

“We have better equipment. Better facilities and some of the finest minds on the planet. Trust me, Tony, we’ll get you somewhere safe, you can get some sleep. Let us look after you. You are not the first and you won’t be the last.”

Tony sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “Okay, okay. I guess if it doesn’t work out I can always find a new base.”

In the background, the music had shifted to eclectic mix from ‘Greased Lightning’ to ‘Zombie Boy.’

Bee’s head swivelled round, his blue eyes narrowing on the music station. He made a circling gesture with his finger, his finger tapping his watch to indicate they needed to wrap things up.

Will raised an eyebrow but focused as he and Bobby helped Tony get ready. The poor man was exhausted, trembling as they tied on his shoes, letting Will wrap a coat around him.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Tony’s cried out turning back and grabbing two small silver buttons from the coffee table and inserting them into his ears.

“My hearing aid”, he explained with a bleary smile.

As Will went to open the door, Tony let out a sqwack of shock. “What do you mean no pulse, what like a vampire?”

He turned to Bee and poked his face. “Huh feels pretty real.”

“It’s okay Tony … it’s just a hallucination. Focus on my voice and let me get you out of here.”

:: I can hear them too:: Bee responded, his deadly focus firmly affixed to Tony, Bobbys hands moved to the inside of his jacket reacting to the warning in Bee’s change in demeanour.

The door swung open.

“ Hello Tony.”

Chapter Text

30 DAYS BEFORE TONY ARRIVAL

Natasha groaned realistically for the camera she knew was watching her. The pain was real—her captors had given her a good beating last time—but the weakness was faked. She curled up on the cold metal bench, drawing her bare feet under her thin gown for warmth. The room was freezing, deliberately kept that way, with a draft from the air conditioning unit constantly blowing cold air into the dank, smelly cell. Between the bucket toilet, the sleepless nights, the physical and mental abuse, it would have been enough to sap any prisoner’s will.

But Natasha had been through the Red Room, she was an avenger—ha this was child’s play. So, she played along, her body language weak, her expression one of a scared, pliant captive, while inside she was calculating. She had been toying with the idea of breaking her captors’ necks, one by one, for days now, but patience had its own rewards. She had gathered enough information about this so-called MECH possible hydra organisation, though she still wasn’t entirely sure what they meant by “Autobot.” Whoever they were, they believed she was some sort of person of interest. It was weird.

She sighed, when she had sacrificed herself for the soul stone. She kind of thought that would be it. Oblivion! A part of her was glad at the thought - her ledger was still red, the thought of whatever hell awaited made oblivion sound restful.

And then she had woken up in this prison. Since then she had bided her time, interrogating her captors as she was trained for and she was very good at what she did. She suspected they were planning something. The way her guards had held back today, more gentle. The anticipation in their eyes they couldn’t quite hide, the glee in their scent. Men - they were all the same.

It all made sense later when the power went out, a sudden blare of alarms filling the air. Her cell door clicked open. Natasha barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes. The power failure escape plan? So cliché, textbook manual approach in breaking a prisoners spirit. Still, she took the bait, hopping off the bench and silently slipping into the hallway.

She moved quietly, taking in her surroundings. No guards. Not yet. The corridors were dim, bathed in the eerie green glow of emergency lights. It was too easy. She couldn’t help but feel insulted at how simple it was. The scent of fresh air reached her as she neared an exit. Could they really be this incompetent? She paused at the door, squinting into the darkness outside. Huh it seemed so.

Her bare feet were an issue. She didn’t want to shred them on gravel or broken glass. She stepped back into the base, wedging the exit door open. A quick glance into a nearby room confirmed it was just a maintenance closet—empty, probably deliberately so. She tore a flimsy “electrical warning” sign off the wall, then ripped the hem of her gown into strips to wrap around her feet. She couldn’t help smirking as she sprinted into the night. Still nothing. No alarms, no spotlights, no snipers. They were watching her, she could feel it—this was all part of their game.

In the tree line, she crouched down to “catch her breath,” keeping her senses heightened. As she knelt, her hands quickly worked, tearing the flexi plastic from the sign into makeshift shoes. Now her feet were protected, and she was less conspicuous. She looked up into the night sky gauging where she was. USA that was for sure. The trees around her were familiar—pine and cedar. She had to be somewhere in the western U.S. Oregon, maybe? She wasn’t sure, but the geography matched.

The barking of dogs in the distance caught her attention. She paused, her head tilting slightly to listen. Dogs? That could be a problem. Then her lips curled into a smirk. Fake barking. Canned, and on repeat.

She allowed herself to be herded by the fake sounds until she reached a farmhouse. The set-up was obvious—staged to look like a real home. She debated fir a few seconds, so many options, but she kind of wanted to see what the play was. She jogged to the door, banging on it with the palm of her hand.

“Help! Please, someone!” she called, her voice trembling just enough to sound convincing.

Seconds later, the door swung open. A middle-aged man stood there, eyes wide with fake alarm. His “wife” appeared behind him, clutching her robe, her eyes darting nervously. They looked just like the good old-fashioned American couple.

Natasha didn’t give them a chance to react. The moment the man opened his mouth to say something, she sprang into action. With a swift spin, she kicked his legs from under him. Her other leg came up, connecting with his head in a brutal, practiced motion that sent him sprawling backward. Before the woman could scream, Natasha closed the distance with a fluid roll, body slamming her down onto the floor.

The woman gasped as Natasha landed on her feet, pivoting gracefully to avoid the women’s attempt to punch her. She blocked the strike effortlessly, then delivered a quick jab to a pressure point on the woman’s neck, sending her into unconsciousness. The man tried to recover, reaching for another weapon hidden behind the doorframe, but Natasha was faster. She twisted his arm painfully behind his back, disarming him with a flick of her wrist, then brought her knee to the back of his head, knocking him out cold.

Natasha wiped the blood from the man’s face onto her own, smearing it for effect. She stood, surveying the fake farmhouse. No phone, no real IDs, definitely a trap. But they had underestimated her. She gave a sultry smile, grabbing the man’s gun and the knives they had hidden. She placed the weapons strategically around the room, then grabbed an earpiece from the woman’s gear and slipped it into her ear.

Showtime.

==============

Silas stood outside the farmhouse, his eyes narrowed. Something was wrong. The two agents inside hadn’t sent the signal. They were supposed to check in every five minutes, and now there had been nothing for ten.This wasn’t how operations usually went. His instincts told him to storm in, guns blazing, but years of training tempered his impulse. Still, his hand hovered near his earpiece.

“Team A, move in,” he ordered, voice sharp. “Keep it tight.”

His team of mech operatives, all former soldiers, surrounded the house with military precision. Silas moved with them, his heartbeat calm but quick. As they entered, the scene inside the farmhouse was eerily quiet.

“Clear the rooms,” Silas barked, his voice low but commanding.

It didn’t take long before one of his men came across the two agents. Both were down, unconscious, blood trickling from their faces. Silas’ eyes flickered with mild surprise. It was impressive that she—this scared, fragile-looking woman—had managed to take down two of his soldiers. He wasn’t sure how, but at least they had managed to land some hits on her. That much was clear from the blood staining her gown.

His gaze snapped to Natasha. She was exactly where he expected her to be, curled up on the floor by the couch, clutching a gun in her trembling hands. He took a moment to study her. She looked terrified, cowering with wide eyes, her red hair tangled with twigs and leaves. She was breathing hard, shivering, but even now… something about her unnerved him. She looked fragile, but there was a tension in her frame that didn’t sit right.

He activated his mic and whispered, “Ray, be ready. Looks like we’ll need to clean up after this one.”

Then, putting on his best fake, calming voice, he approached her cautiously, hands raised as if dealing with a scared animal. “Easy there,” he said, his tone smooth and reassuring. “Put the gun down before you hurt yourself. You don’t want to get hurt real bad now, do you?”

Natasha whimpered.

The safety was still on. Silas barely suppressed a sneer. She had no idea what she was doing. Her hands were shaking so badly she could barely hold the weapon.

“There you go, good girl,” he coaxed as she slowly lowered the gun to the floor. Once it was down, Silas signalled to his men. “Grab her.”

They rushed in, grabbing her by the hair and yanking her to her feet. She screamed, flailing as they dragged her across the room, throwing her against the wall. Fists rained down on her, just a few licks to put her in her place. She wasn’t resisting much now, her body sagging from the blows. The men shouted crude insults, one going as far as to unbuckle his trousers, his intentions very clear to the terrified women who was begging now.

“Get her in the chair!” Silas ordered, wanting her tied up before anything else went wrong.
He grabbed her hair yanking it back. “Looks like we need to teach this bitch a lesson. Who wants to go first?”

She screamed in terror, begging incoherently, He smiled nastily, satisfied at how cowed she was.

Right on time Ray burst into the room. “What the hell is going on?” he yelled, rushing over to her. Ray was always the showman, playing his role to the letter.

“Stop!” Ray demanded, pushing the men aside. He knelt in front of Natasha, speaking softly. “I’m here now. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you. But you need to listen to me, okay? You need to do what I say.”

Natasha whimpered, looking at Ray with wide, tear-filled eyes, but Silas noticed something unsettling in her gaze. Ray was still playing the hero, patting her on the back, fingers squeezing the nape of her neck to remind her of his control. It don’t seem to be working, on other cassettes they would be a limp mess. She just looked uncomfortable as she turned a tear filled gaze to her rescuer. Her breaths hiccuping and hitching.

“If you’re good, they won’t mess you up and you don’t want them to mess up your pretty face,” Ray murmured, his voice dripping with false sympathy.

Natasha tilted her head slightly. “You think I’m pretty Ray?” she whispered, her voice soft.

The hairs on the back of Silas’ neck stood up. Something was wrong, wrong wrong. He could feel it.

Ray was still babbling, trying to play his psychologist role. “You’re safe now, but you need to—”

Then it happened. Natasha’s head snapped up, her plump lips curling into a smirk. In the space of a heartbeat, everything changed. The tension that had unnerved Silas earlier exploded into action.

She moved like a shadow, swift and deadly. Before any of them could react, she sprang into a roll, leaping into the air and bringing down two of Silas’ best men in the blink of an eye. One of them tried to grab her, but she spun mid-air, her legs snapping around his neck, flipping him to the ground. She was like a dancer, fluid and precise, her movements honed and deadly.

“Get her!” Silas roared, trying to rally his men, but it was already too late.

Natasha was everywhere, diving, rolling, twisting through the small room as though it was her playground. Her hands darted under a couch cushion, retrieving a knife she had stashed earlier. In one smooth motion, she sliced through her wrist bindings, her hands now free. Another twist, and she grabbed a gun she had planted earlier. This time, the safety was off.

She didn’t hesitate. The gun barked once, twice, and two more men dropped before they even had time to aim. The rest of Silas’ team tried to close in, but their numbers were working against them in the cramped space. Natasha’s speed, her brutal efficiency, tore through their ranks. It was chaos, bodies falling, blood splattering the walls as she moved with lethal precision.

Ray had fled—coward.

Now it was just him. His men were down, dead or unconscious. Natasha stood across the room, her chest heaving from exertion, but she didn’t look tired. She looked… almost bored.

Silas pulled his gun, but he never got the chance to fire. She didn’t even turn her head. Her arm came up, and the last thing he saw was the muzzle flash. The bullet tore through his skull, ending him before he could react.

His final, fleeting thought was of her bare feet padding softly on the floor as she walked away, as light and graceful as a ballerina.

SPECIAL OPS - 20 days later.

The Autobots gathered in the command room, their optics flickering with unease as they viewed the latest reports. Jazz and Prowl stood front and center, staring at the large screen displaying the grainy footage. The image of a red-haired woman in black, blurry and indistinct, was paused just as she slipped out of a shadowy doorway, moments before the base exploded in a fiery blaze.

“That’s all we’ve got?” Jazz muttered, crossing his arms, his visor narrowing as he studied the footage.

Prowl nodded, his expression grim. “It’s too hazy for a positive ID, but she’s definitely a person of interest. Matches the description of the woman found unconscious in Budapest following that EMP blast last month.”

Jazz raised an eyebrow at that. “Budapest? She got picked up by local authorities, right?”

“For a few hours, Jane Doe, no identification and no family or friends have come forward, she was and still is a mystery women” Prowl confirmed. “But she was abducted before we could get any intel. She vanished without a trace.”

The two Autobots exchanged a look.

Prowl tapped into the command console, bringing up a map that displayed the locations of recent MECH activities. Prowl continued to study the footage, his mind working through the possibilities. “There’s a pattern here,” he said after a moment. “Over the last month, two more MECH bases have been destroyed. No evidence left behind. All CCTV systems taken offline or derailed just like the one at this base. Whoever this woman is, she’s not working alone.”

“Which means we’re not the only ones hunting MECH,” Jazz added grimly. “Whoever she is, she’s making MECH sweat, and that makes me nervous. I don’t like not knowing who’s playin’ what game.”

Prowl frowned, considering. “It’s possible. MECH has been experimenting. If they’ve found a way to replicate or mimic Cybertronian tech, we could be looking at a whole new type of threat.”

Jazz turned to Prowl, his voice low but resolute. “Let’s keep this under wraps for now. We don’t need everyone jumpin’ to conclusions. But we need answers, fast. MECH is already dangerous, but if they’re not the only ones …”

Prowl finished the thought, his optics darkening. “Then we’re looking at a new kind of war.”

Chapter Text

The door swung open with a soft click.

“Hello, Tony.”

Will, Bee, and Bobby froze.

The red-haired woman leaned casually against the doorframe, her eyes sharp, a smirk kissing her lips. She spared them only a brief glance before her gaze locked onto Tony.

Bobby’s hand twitched toward the holster under his jacket, fingers brushing the grip. Bee shifted, his stance tense, ready to spring.

Tony’s breath hitched as he blinked rapidly, his eyes wide. His face paled like he was seeing a ghost.

“Tash? Natasha?” His voice cracked as he took a shaky step forward. His hand fluttered in the air, as if trying to reach for her but not quite believing she was real. “Are you…?”

Natasha tilted her head, her expression softening—just a fraction.

“Yes, Tony,” she said, her voice tight. “It’s me. Guess we’re a long way from home, huh?”

Tony’s knees buckled. He sank to the floor, his hands shaking, his face crumpling as a sob escaped his throat.

Natasha followed him down without hesitation, kneeling beside him. Her hands found his shoulders as he collapsed into her, his head resting against her collarbone.

“Ma’am, who are you?” Will’s voice cut through the tension. His gun hand low..

Natasha didn’t even glance at him. Her focus was entirely on Tony. She rubbed his back in slow, grounding circles, whispering in a mix of English and Russian.

Tony clutched at her jacket, his voice breaking. “We got everyone back, Tash. Everyone. And then he came—he came through the wormhole. He was going to snap again, and I had the stones. Strange… Strange looked at me, and I knew.” His chest hitched as he sucked in a ragged breath. “I snapped. He was gone. But so was I... I think I died, Tash. I lost everything.”

Natasha’s eyes softened, a strange look of relief flickering across her face as she whispered soothing words.

Tony let out a bitter laugh, his tears soaking into her jacket. “And now I’m here. I don’t exist here. Pepper… she’s married, Tash. Three kids. I couldn’t—” He broke off, his body shaking with sobs.

The team’s comms crackled. Prowl’s voice came through, tight with urgency. “Facial recognition complete. She’s the unidentified woman spotted walking away from the MECH base explosions.”

Bobby reacted first, drawing his handgun and pointing it directly at Natasha.

“Ma’am, move back from Tony,” Bobby barked, his voice unwavering.

Natasha’s head turned slowly, her lips quirking into a sultry, dangerous smile. Her eyes flicked to the guns with amused disdain before she clicked something in her ear.

Her voice came through their comms, amplified with just enough feedback to make them wince.

“Autobot Prowl, is it? MECH’s on the move,” she said evenly, her tone unnervingly calm. “There are twenty men already in this building, gunships en route—six of them, coming in low from the seafront to dodge your sensors. There’s a small army outside, heavily armed, with an EMP bomb. They want Tony, and they want to kill as many of you as they can.”

Will’s eyes widened, his grip tightening on his glock. No way should she have been able to hack their systems.

Bee narrowed his optics at her, his voice cutting through the tension. “You seem to know a lot about what’s happening here.”

Natasha gave her first genuine smile, though it was tinged with a dangerous edge. “Let’s just say after they tried to gang rape me, MECH is on my hit list.” She glanced at Tony, her expression hardening. “I don’t have red on my ledger here, and I’d like to keep it that way. Hydra—MECH—whatever they call themselves here, I will end them.”

She reached into her pocket, slowly, deliberately, before tossing a small slip of paper to Bee’s feet. “Try radio band 324:821. Code Appleby. You’ll get confirmation.”

On the comms, Jazz swore loudly, and Prowl barked orders. “She’s correct. Protect Will at all costs. Bee, get clear. Reinforcements inbound in twenty-eight minutes.”

“Tony, you got your suit with you?” Natasha asked without missing a beat.

Tony scoffed, wiping at his face. “Always.”

“Good,” she said, gripping his shoulders firmly. “Suit up. We’ve got bad guys incoming, and I need your help.”

Tony frowned, his eyes darting toward Bee. “Friday said something about Autobots. Like… Tesla?”

Natasha pinched the bridge of her nose. “Tony, have you seriously not looked at the news?”

Tony shrugged weakly. “Didn’t see the point after finding out about Pepper…”

Natasha exhaled p, thrn pointed sharply at Bee. “Fine. Listen closely: good guys—these alien robots and their holograms. Don’t shoot them. Friday can ID them for you. Bad guys—MECH, Hydra wannabes, whatever—they’re coming up the stairs and elevator right now, dressed in black. Feel free to shoot them.”

Tony’s gaze drifted to Bee, his expression shifting from disbelief to curiosity. “So real…”

The elevator pinged.

Natasha stood fluidly, drawing her gun. “Showtime.”

Bee shoved Will and Tony behind him, shielding them with his frame as Natasha and Bobby darted to opposite sides of the corridor. The pounding of boots on the stairwell echoed like a drumbeat, punctuated by the faint ding of the elevator arriving.

A gruff voice called out, amplified by a megaphone. “Hand over Mr. Potts! No one else needs to get hurt. You’re outnumbered and outgunned.”

“Bullshit!” Bobby barked back, as he checked his ammo. He grimaced at the pitiful count in his clip and exchanged a grim look with Bee. Not enough. Not nearly enough.

Natasha crouched by the wall, her voice low but firm. “EMP incoming. Ten seconds. Bee—right? You need to hide your car form. Basement parking garage should shield you. Hunker down and be ready to move once it’s over.”

She pulled a foil-wrapped bundle from her jacket and tossed it to Bobby. “Wrap your phones and earpieces. That’s the only way you’ll be able to use them after this.” Without waiting for a response, she yanked her own earpiece out, cocooning it in foil before slipping it into her pocket.

Her fingers moved in silent countdown. At zero, the EMP hit—a heavy woomph reverberating through the air.

Bee shimmered for a moment before vanishing, his holoform gone.

The men by the elevator jeered as the lights flickered off. “Bring him out!”

Before anyone could react, Tony darted forward, quick and nimble as a cat. Will lunged for him but missed by a hair’s breadth.

“Tony, what the fuck?” Will hissed. Natasha just sighed and rolled her eyes.

Tony stepped forward arms raised slightly, his tired face shifting into a snarky smile. “You want me? Come and get me.”

“Put your hands on your head and walk toward me slowly Potts,” the leader barked.

Tony’s smile grew, his eyes sparking with something almost playful. “Potts? That was just a fake name.”

“Then who the hell are you?”

Tony raised one hand, palm facing the soldiers. A faint, otherworldly blue-silver glow began to gather. The air seemed to hum as the glow spread over his arm and chest. Metal rippled across his body, snapping into place with precision, until he stood fully encased in his armour.

“I am Ironman.”

“What the fuck…” Bobby whispered, his voice barely audible.

Everyone fell silent, stunned. You could’ve heard a pin drop.

Through his iron mask, Tony tilted his head, glancing back at them. His voice carried a smug edge. “I think I broke them.”

Then the gunfire erupted.

The men at the elevator opened fire, bullets ricocheting harmlessly off Tony’s armour. His mask snapped back into place as his repulsers charged, glowing hot and bright.

“You wanna play?” Tony quipped as he raised a gauntlet. The blast hit the soldiers with surgical precision, sending them flying. Within seconds, the group was decimated, their weapons scattered across the floor.

Natasha leaned back against the wall, lips twitching into a faint smirk. “Showoff,” she muttered as she reinserted her earpiece.

Bobby and Will scrambled to follow her lead, fumbling with their foil-wrapped comms.

Natasha’s voice remained calm despite the chaos. “Tony, two armoured vehicles outside. I’ll mop up here. Can you handle those and say hello to the helicopters while you’re at it?”

Will opened his mouth to protest but froze mid-sentence as Tony unleashed another blast, clearing the last of the soldiers. Without a word, Iron Man turned toward the shattered plate glass window.

“Tony, don’t—” Will started, his voice rising in panic.

Too late.

Tony launched himself through the window in a cascade of glass shards. For a moment, he hovered in the air, hands glowing as he steadied himself. Then he rocketed into the night sky, the sound of missiles and distant explosions marking his path.

Will stared after him, his face pale. “What the fuck did I just watch?”

“Tony Stark being Tony Stark,” Natasha replied dryly, reloading her weapon.

The faint echo of gunfire and a distant boom punctuated her words as she turned back to the fight.

Natasha adjusted the cuffs of her jacket, casually surveying the aftermath in the room before striding toward the hallway.

“Stay here,” she said to Will and Bobby without even glancing back. “I’ll take care of the rest.”

Will opened his mouth to argue but stopped when Natasha pulled a pair of gauntlets from her jacket and slid them on. The way her lips quirked into a sharp smirk made it clear she was ready for blood.

“Uh, you sure you don’t want backup?”

Natasha finally glanced over her shoulder,“Sweetheart, I am the backup.”

Then she disappeared down the hallway, her movements like a ghost.

Will and Bobby exchanged a look. Both moving to the doorway for a better view.

The soldiers were just rounding the corner when Natasha struck. She launched herself at the first man like a coiled spring, her legs wrapping around his neck in one fluid motion. Before he could even react, she twisted, slamming him into the wall with a brutal thud.

The next soldier raised his rifle, but Natasha spun, using the first man’s body as a shield. Some sort of taser sent a jolt of electricity crackling through the air, and the second soldier dropped like a puppet with its strings cut.

“Holy shit,” Will whispered, peeking around the edge of the doorframe.

Bobby whistled low. “She’s… effective.”

Natasha barely paused. She darted forward, her movements a blur of precision and grace. A third soldier swung his rifle like a club, but she ducked under it, sweeping his legs out from under him. Her knee came down hard on his chest, and with a flick of her wrist, she sent another jolt from her gauntlet into him.

By now, the remaining men were panicking, shouting orders to fall back.

Natasha didn’t let up. She sprinted down the corridor, leaping onto the wall and using it to launch herself into a spinning kick that sent another man crashing into the opposite wall. She landed lightly, almost casually, and adjusted her hair like she had all the time in the world.

“Did she just—” Will started, but Bobby cut him off.

“Yup.”

Another soldier charged at her with a knife. Natasha sidestepped, grabbing his wrist and twisting it in a brutal arc. The knife clattered to the ground as she drove her elbow into his throat, sending him stumbling back.

The last two men raised their guns, clearly desperate. Natasha smirked, sliding low across the floor like a snake. She hooked her legs around one man’s knees, pulling him down, while she grabbed the other by the collar and slammed his head into the wall.

And just like that, it was over.

Natasha stood in the centre of the hallway, surrounded by groaning, unconscious bodies. She casually brushed some dust off her jacket and looked back at Will and Bee, who were still standing dumbstruck in the doorway.

Will’s jaw was practically on the floor. “I think I’m in love.”

Bee nodded slowly, “Holy fuck.”

Natasha glanced back. “You boys done gawking?”

“Uh… yeah. Sure. Absolutely,” Will stammered.

Bee coughed, regaining some composure. “Let’s just… stick close to her.”

As Natasha strode back toward them, she tossed something to Will—a confiscated radio from one of the soldiers. “Two more trucks pulling up outside. You’re welcome.”

Will caught it, still staring at her.

“Bobby,” he muttered under his breath, “if we survive this, we’re getting her a thank-you card. And flowers. Lots of flowers.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Move. Now.”

o|o

The armoured trucks outside were nothing more than smouldering wrecks now, courtesy of Tony and his mini rockets. From the roof, he could see the Autobots recovering from the EMP blast below. A few were transforming back into their towering robot forms, their movements a little jerky but quickly stabilising. Bee flashed him a thumbs-up with digits and Tony breathed an awed wow. So trippy.

“Nice to see you’ve got it under control down there,” Tony quipped, his voice carrying over the Autobots’ comms. He flicked a finger across his suit’s HUD. “Let’s make this more fun, shall we?”

Suddenly, AC/DC’s Shoot to Thrill blared across the shared comms channel. Bee cocked his head, his radio frequencies flickering in protest, while Will barked a surprised laugh.

Natasha’s voice sharpened. “Focus up Tony. Hydra inbound. Serious firepower.”

Before Tony could respond, Prowl’s deep voice came through the channel. “Megatron is en route. Do not to fire on him.”

“Megatron! Yeah that doesn't sound ominous,” Tony muttered. But there wasn’t time to question it.

Tony shot through the night sky, weaving between skyscrapers, heading towards the ocean, his HUD flashing with alerts.

“Friday, gimme a count,” he ordered, adjusting his flight trajectory.

“Six enemy aircraft in formation. They’ve spotted you,” Friday reported. “Incoming missile lock.”

Tony barely had time to react before two missiles streaked toward him. He twisted sharply, deploying countermeasures. Flares burst behind him, dazzling bright against the skyline as the missiles veered off course and detonated in a fiery explosion.

“Alright, that’s how you wanna play?” Tony muttered.

He twisted in midair, locking onto the nearest chopper.

From the oceanfront, six attack helicopters appeared, their rotors slicing through the air as they bore down on the city. Tony’s HUD highlighted their payload—missiles, heavy guns, and plenty of explosives.

“Well, they brought the party to me,” Tony said, cracking his neck. “Let’s see if they can keep up.”

He rocketed forward, blasting through the sky toward the helicopters. A missile streaked past him, and Tony twisted sharply, dodging it by inches. His rockets flared as he darted around the formation, firing quick bursts. One helicopter exploded in a fiery bloom, the wreckage tumbling into the ocean. The other made chug chug noises as it veered off before crashing into the sea.

The others quickly adjusted, two of them turning to chase him while the remaining two continued toward the city.

“Nat, I could use a little less judgment and a little more intel here,” Tony said as he looped around, staying just out of reach of the pursuing helicopters.

“Two are breaking off to engage you,” Natasha replied coolly. “The rest are headed for the city. Handle it, Stark.”

“Yeah make that one.” Tony flipped mid-air, firing a concentrated blast that took out another helicopter’s rotor. It spiralled out of control, crashing into the water below.

But before he could finish off the last one, a massive shadow passed over him.

Tony blinked. “What the—?”

A sleek, silver alien jet screamed past him, cutting through the air like a blade. Its nose cone gleamed, and Tony’s HUD immediately flagged it as a high threat.

The jet banked sharply, flipping mid-air and took out the other copter.

In seconds, a massive robot hovered in front of him, all jagged edges and menacing red optics. The Decepticon symbol glinted on its chest.

A deep, guttural chuckle rumbled through his comms.

“Struggling, little human?”

Tony smirked. “Race you.”

Then he rocketed back toward the remaining airships, Megatron right behind him.