Marvel: I am Iron Man

The morning sunlight slanted across the glass curtain wall of the Stark Tower, making the entire building look as if it were wrapped in an amber-colored glaze.

A red-haired woman walked into the building, the revolving door cutting the morning light into scattered fragments, which moved with her footsteps through the dappled light.

She was a remarkably tall woman with a strikingly beautiful, almost dangerously so, mixed-race face. Her nose was like that of a Greek sculpture, her cheekbones sharp, and the taut waistline of her black suit skirt rose above the full curves of her white shirt, which couldn't even be buttoned up.

Below were two long legs, gleaming in stockings, their high heels clicking crisply on the marble floor. Even the security guards in the lobby were involuntarily drawn to this stunning sight, casting smiles at her.

Her name is Natalie Northman, and she works in the company's legal department.

Of course, she still has her real name, Natasha Romanoff, and the even more deadly codename, Black Widow. But for the next few days, she needs to temporarily forget that name and fully immerse herself in her new identity and new mission as Natalie.

Natasha took the elevator upstairs, greeted her passing colleagues familiarly, and went straight to her workstation.

However, before she could even take her first sip of coffee, her direct supervisor came to her.

"Good morning, Natalie," the leader greeted her.

Natasha looked up and gave him a sweet smile: "Good morning, Perry."

"You did a great job last week, keep it up. I have some new tasks for you today," Perry said. "Didn't we have a contract review a couple of days ago?"

Natasha nodded: "I remember."

"The higher-ups have ordered a lightning-fast review, to be completed by today," Perry instructed. "Also, we need an in-depth analysis of the patent infringement issues with Hammer Corporation, with results by tomorrow."

Natasha: "?"

What did you just say was "before"?

Perry slapped his forehead: "There's one more thing... Oh right, the ESG promotional material for that funding, three days."

Natasha: "???"

At that moment, she almost blurted out, "Don't you want to listen to what you're saying?"

Three days? How much work can be done in that time?

What am I? A mule?

Then the portly leader added with a smile, "It's alright, I believe in your abilities. I have high hopes for you."

Natasha: "..."

She swore that if she weren't a spy, she would probably have already abandoned her post and run away.

As the heavily pregnant leader walked away, sipping his coffee, he kept shaking his head.

What a pitiful girl.

They probably offended some big shot.

"..."

After a long day of intense work, in the early hours of the morning, super agent Black Widow walked through the deserted streets and returned to her own—or more accurately, Natalie Northman's apartment.

For a fleeting moment during the day, the thought of "why not just ask Fury for a job transfer" actually flashed through her mind.

However, the thought was quickly dispelled.

She is Black Widow, a top-tier agent whose resume since joining S.H.I.E.L.D. has never shown any instance of mission failure.

It would be ridiculous if this impressive resume ended because of reasons like "working like a slave in a big company".

Moreover, even after returning to the apartment, today's work wasn't finished yet.

Because she still had to write a report for Fury when she got home that night...

The apartment elevator stopped. Natasha stepped out of the elevator and into her room. She pushed the door open a crack, almost silently, and then stopped.

The strand of hair she had placed on the doorknob when she left the house was gone.

Someone came in.

Natasha, having quickly reached this conclusion, held her breath. She pushed the door open just wide enough for one person to pass through, hugged the wall as she entered, and slowly moved forward, holding her breath.

As she passed the bar in the living room, she carried a wine glass.

Natasha crouched low to the ground by the bar, quickly reviewed the plan in her mind, and then tossed the wine glass into the air.

Bang!

The wine glass, thrown halfway through its journey, was hit by a bullet and exploded into pieces mid-air in the restaurant.

At the same second, Natasha also leaped out from her hiding place, already holding a Glock 26 pistol.

The assassin lurking in the room revealed his position as he fired. Natasha, already locked on mid-air, pulled the trigger. The muzzle flash propelled the spinning bullet, a precise headshot. Blood splattered instantly from the forehead of the shadowy figure hiding behind the dining table.

One done, one left.

There is another target in the room.

The second assassin fired from behind a wall, but Natasha rolled away and hid behind that wall. The two were separated by the wall, back to back, each aware of the other's presence.

The assassin acted decisively, turning around and firing, anticipating the headshot line, aiming at Natasha's head through the wall.

But Natasha anticipated her opponent's prediction, crouched down, and fired three shots back. The bullets went through the wall and pierced through her opponent's torso with a series of thuds.

The man staggered back after being shot, and Natasha seized the opportunity to slip out from behind cover. He raised his gun in his right hand, attempting to retaliate, but Natasha delivered a flying kick to his wrist, sending the pistol arcing through the air and crashing into the living room.

The man immediately drew his dagger with his left hand, the moonlight streaming through the window reflecting a cold, sharp silver light onto the blade. However, the assassin, already hampered by three gunshot wounds, found his dagger swing lacking in both power and speed.

Natasha used a grappling technique to grab his wrist, and with a clever push, the man's sharp blade pierced his own chest, killing him instantly.

These few shots were swift and decisive, taking less than ten seconds from firing to the end.

Both assassins were masked. Natasha removed their masks and discovered that one was black and the other was white, but both were women.

This gave Natasha a bad feeling.

She searched the two men for a moment and quickly found two dedicated terminal devices.

At that moment, Natasha felt as if her heart skipped a beat.

She recognized the device. It was a terminal used by a certain assassin organization to issue real-time missions to its members and to communicate via internal organizational lines.

It was an organization she thought should have been wiped out long ago and forgotten by history.

The Red House.

Making her Black Widow also left her with an organization from which she could never bear to look back on her past.

Long-buried memories surged into her mind, accompanied by countless pains and endless bloodshed. She had spent half her life trying to forget and make amends for her past.

Suddenly, this past that she had put behind her seemed to catch up with her again, like a shadow, reminding her that she could never truly escape it in this lifetime.

She picked up one of the devices, thought for a moment, then bent down and pressed the side of the terminal with the finger of one of the corpses on the floor.

Fortunately, the Red House is still using fingerprint locks, unchanged from when it was still in operation. It seems the Red House hasn't been updating its technology very quickly over the years.

The device unlocked, and Natasha's first sight was the handsome headshot displayed on the screen, which showed the Red Room's current assassination target.

Tony Stark.