POV: Natasha Romanoff
Summary: Loki's invasion begins. While the rest of the Avengers scramble to respond, Garou is locked in a reinforced chamber beneath Avengers Tower. Natasha watches him on the monitors—unmoving, silent, patient. Fury orders him held back. But Natasha can't shake the feeling they're making a mistake—not because he'll get loose… but because he's waiting to.
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She always hated the quiet before battle.
Especially this kind.
The kind that felt staged. Like the world was holding its breath, waiting for the curtain to rise on some terrible show.
Natasha Romanoff stood alone in the tower's secondary monitoring room, watching the streets of Manhattan fracture in real-time.
Explosions. Smoke. Screams.
The Chitauri poured from the sky like hornets. Civilians scattered. Cars burned. Her comm crackled with clipped updates—Stark engaging on 6th, Cap on 41st, Thor inbound.
Chaos.
And beneath all of it, deeper in the tower than any of them could hear—was him.
She glanced at the side monitor.
Garou sat in his cell.
Still barefoot. Still shirtless. Sitting on the edge of the reinforced bench with his elbows resting on his knees. Eyes forward. Not blinking.
Not moving.
Not even as the alarms began to pulse red.
Fury's voice came through her earpiece. "Hold him where he is."
She tapped her comm. "He could help."
"We don't know what he'll do."
"We do," she said quietly, eyes on the screen. "He'll fight. It's all he does."
Fury was silent for a moment. Then: "And if he fights us?"
Natasha didn't respond.
Garou hadn't moved since the first building collapsed.
He didn't pace. Didn't flinch.
He just… watched.
The cameras in his room were muted—no sound feed. But she swore she could feel the hum in the air change every time he exhaled. Like the tower was listening to him.
Natasha leaned closer to the screen.
He was looking up now. At the corner of the ceiling. Not toward the cameras.
Toward the city.
Like he could feel it. The war. The noise. The blood.
She keyed her mic again. "You keep saying we don't know what he is. Fine. But right now? He's one more fighter we could use."
"We don't know if he's ours," Fury said.
"We'll find out," she replied. "But if you wait too long…"
She trailed off.
Onscreen, Garou tilted his head.
Just slightly.
As if hearing something distant.
Then he stood.
One smooth, silent motion.
No urgency. No aggression.
Just readiness.
And Natasha felt her spine tighten.
Because that wasn't rage.
That wasn't panic.
That was a predator answering a bell.
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