Suit Up/ Embassy Approach

Natasha dried her vibrant red hair with a towel. The blue glow of the hologram projector filled the bathroom. It now displayed a readout of her new suit. She cast the towel to the ground and ran a hand through the hologram to activate an audio recording attached to suit’s files.

“What’s cooking, good looking?”

Every muscle in her body went tense. Her blood ran as cold as ice. That was Stark’s voice. She was still very naked. Her hands shot across her front. She scanned the room rapidly with her eyes wide with shock and her mouth open.

“Now I’ve broken down the specs of your new threads into terms that even you Rooskies can digest.”

Tony’s braggadocios voice was coming from the tablet.

“Son of a bitch,” Natasha hissed and relaxed her body. She caught a look at herself in the mirror, seeming like a quivering little girl. She couldn’t believe that she’d allowed herself to think that Stark had actually broken into the room and seen her. She immediately moved to a fighting stance. Her brow furrowed. She was an Avenger, an assassin. If that spoiled, pompous bastard so much as dreams of seeing her naked…

“Now are you paying attention, sweetheart? Because I’m only saying this once.”

He’ll be useless to Pepper Potts by the time she’s through with him.

The thought comforted Natasha. She unclenched her fists and brought them to her sides.

“Your suit is in short, a masterpiece. A perfect fusion of protection and practicality. You’ll be able to run faster, jump higher, and strike harder than any normal person. Dr. Banner perfected the material, with my help and funding of course. It’s as light as a feather but as durable as it is impenetrable. You’ll basically be encased in a bank vault. The inlay of the suit is a mesh relay that analyzes and contours perfectly to wearer’s physical profile. You’ll have zero drag and be able to move as quietly as a spider through…A spider on…Screw it, you’ll just be really quiet.”

Natasha pulled the suit from the hanger. It dangled her entire body length. The front of the suit hung open in a V-shape. She saw no zipper or ties. The limbs of the suit ended in attached gloves and footings. It looked like a large, grey onesie.

“Also, since the suit’s functions depend on a complete physical readout, there can be anything between its material and the wearer’s skin so you’ll have to save the Chantilly lace for another night.”

“So, I’ll be going commando?” she asked herself. She let a devilish smirk come across her face. With all of the skin-tight outfits that she’d worn over the years, she’d given up on the irritation and futility of underwear long ago.

“Anyway, enough of the techno mumbo-jumbo, what’s the deal with you and Banner? Are you guys a thing or aren’t you?...”

Natasha gave the tablet an annoyed look.

“You know, you’re not getting any younger. Your biological clock is ticking and there’s no shame in…”

She ignored the voice coming from the tablet and looked back at the suit.

“Asshole.”

Zero hour was drawing near. The time was coming for her mission. She drew in a pensive but confident breath. Holding the suit wide open, she raised one leg and stepped into it. The suit instantly meshed around her leg, from the tips of her toes to the crease of her pelvis. Natasha gasped. The sensation was bizarre, exhilarating. She watched as the suit sunk in between her toes and gripped her thigh.

“That’s interesting,” she said.

She raised her other leg and slid it into the suit. Same as before, the suit tightened itself around her. From the waist down, it looked like she’d been dipped in grey candle wax. She brought the top of the suit up and snaked her arms through the sleeves and into the gloves. The “V” in the suit’s front shrank away as it sealed itself and began to compress, releasing every bit air between it and her skin. She drew in sporadic breathes and closed her eyes. She felt its constriction over every inch of her. It slid up underneath her breasts and just into the crevasse of her buttocks. The suit gripped her hips. She chewed on her lower lip, waiting for the suit to squeeze her tighter.

Natasha opened her eyes. The suit now was still. She no longer felt its squeeze. In fact, she didn’t feel the material of the suit at all. She could feel the tiny bit of moisture that still hung in the air. She felt the breeze of the overhead fan against her skin. She felt as she had before she entered the suit, when she wasn’t wearing anything at all! It was unbelievable.

“Very interesting,” She said, looking at herself in the mirror. The suit meshed paper-thin to her body. She looked to her breasts. Thankfully, her nipples did not show through, nor did the intimate details between her legs. She assumed it was Banner that had ensured that design detail. She turned around. The suit just barely hinted at the crease of her toned but shapely rear-end. She ran a hand across a cheek.

Incredible! She could actually feel her hand against her skin. It was as if she were wearing absolutely nothing. She would be operating like she never had before, able to feel the wind against her body as she leapt through the air, the ground at her feet as she chased down a target, their bones snapping as she drove her fists into them. In the mirror, she looked like a grey plastic mannequin with a beautiful, fully detailed head perched on top. The suit ended just above the nape of her neck. Natasha reached for the handle of the bathroom door and squeezed. It crumbled in her grip. She pulled her hand away and the handle came off with it. She rolled the handle into a metal ball and dropped it to the ground. On impulse, she stepped back from the door and spun her body, planting a kick at its center. The door exploded into pieces.

Natasha rushed out into the hotel room, her face flushed with adrenaline. She performed flips and kicks at speeds that she never dreamed possible. She performed with precision, grace and now, with the help of the suit, brutal power. This was all while she was uninhibited by any real form of clothing. She felt whole. She felt perfect. She felt dangerous.

Stopping at a crouch stance with her hands raised, she rose up on one leg. Her arms drifted up. Her other leg stretched out behind her. She extended her limbs until she was in a perfect arabesque, the first position she learned in ballet. Ballet…where she developed her strength and skill as a child. Natasha let her mind wander as she held her position, the suit allowing her to remain as she stood without expending any energy at all.

Her years of ballet were what honed her mind and body to be lithe and flexible but still calculating and deliberate. Hours and hours of tortuous practice transformed her from a scared orphan into a cold, brutal athlete. She fed and perfected those same skills in her next profession, when she performed the dance of **** on countless missions in countless countries. Now the time to dance again had come. It was time to twist her body into a weapon, a predator.

The air rushed into Natasha’s lungs in ravenous breathes. Normally she wrapped herself in a cocoon of calm and concentration before a mission, but now either from the suit or the nature of the mission, or both, she felt hungry. She would be unstoppable tonight and she didn’t want to waste another minute. It was time to see what she was capable of. She dropped from her pose and marched for the hotel room door, shattering it with a palm as she rushed to engage her target.

From the bathroom, Tony Stark’s voice came trailing out into the empty hotel room

“…and if all else fails, there’s always assassinsmingle.com. Anyway, one last tidbit and then I need to top off my White Russian. The suit’s main vulnerability is electricity, so avoid any unnecessary tangles with exposed wire. Also, the interface picks up on both physical and neurological impulses and enhances them. Shouldn’t be a problem for a cold commie like you, but just be sure to keep your emotions in check. Zdorov'ye!”

A light, icy breeze was in the night air. A fog hung around the Sokovian embassy, the beams of its surveillance lights turning the surrounding area into a swirling mix of concrete and security. At a glance, it appeared to be more of a military base than a diplomatic building. It was walled off on four sides, a watchtower posted at each corner. A single entrance into the embassy monitored and intercepted vehicles entering and exiting. Dozens of guards patrolled the vanity.

Crouched at her perch hundreds of yards away, Natasha Romanoff analyzed the patterns of the guards’ patrolling through the advanced telescope on her tablet. She found an opening. The only thing to do now was decide what to do when she was inside. She slid the tablet onto a magnetized strip at her side.

“Black Widow, are you ready?” said an animatronic voice that spoke through a bud in her right ear.

There was an elaborate ventilation system that ran the length of the entire compound. If she wanted to utilize the suit’s stealth attributes to her advantage, that would be the best route. Of course, not utilizing all of the suit’s abilities seemed like a waste of equipment. So long as she got her target, what’s wrong with a few broken noses along the way?

Natasha shivered. Her breath rose from her lips in clouds of steam. While her suit felt amazing, she didn’t realize that she’d have to feel what it was like to stand outside basically butt naked during the middle of the Sokovian winter. A little exercise would be just the thing to warm her up.

“This is Black Widow. Ready and engaging.”

She rose from her crouch and sprinted to the embassy wall, her body becoming a blur in the fog of the night.