872/California, 2025

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California, 2025
Date of Scene: 09 June 2017
Location: California
Synopsis: Natasha Romanova speaks with Ares, finding out his true identity. She confesses to recently encountering the Winter Soldier and finding herself slipping into the darkness of her past.
Cast of Characters: Black Widow (Romanoff), Ares




Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
The message that Natasha found on her desk surprised her, to say the least. There was no doubt who. She knew the address.

It was an easy matter to take a Quinjet to the west coast, to a little farm out in the middle of no where. Not really a farm anymore. More a plot of land that was being reclaimed by nature. Most of the outbuildings wouldn't be safe to even enter. The fields are a mess of weeds and bushes, no longer lined neatly with crops.

The house is the only exception. Although the driveway up is barely kept usable, the house is ready for someone to go live in if they chose.

The Quinjet is left behind the barn, out of sight should anyone come by.

At the back porch, she pauses, looking at the door that she last entered forty years ago. A rush of memories. Their first meeting. Their last. She has to wonder why this one.

She knocks on the door, not even sure if he will be there.

Ares has posed:
    Before he had sent the message he had considered whether he should or not, if it would be welcome, if he had any right to do so. In days past he would have considered her his own, perhaps taken steps to guide her life, to create an Avatar, a face for War that would have torn the world asunder as those of old. But those were no longer his ways, no longer the path he set out for himself. Yet despite his desire to try and leave her to her own devices, to the freedom of a fate unconnected to a being such as him... there were still small windows in time that they had shared.
    So it was no spur of the moment thing when he decided to finally send word. It was a small note, barely ten words. Just enough to ask her to meet him here again, where their paths converged before.
    She knocks upon the door and there is a moment where she might be standing there wondering if this had been a good idea, just long enough for possible trepidation to set in. But then that door swings open with a creak, and there he is. Unchanged. Eternal.
    A small smile is there as he looks her up and down, brow darkening for a moment and then he gives voice to her name. "Natasha."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"John," she says with a soft smile, the same as the last time she visited. He looks the exact same. Not a day older. Still towering above her and giving off that sense of something more. Yet neither has she aged a day from their last meeting. Still the same face. Heir hair is down this time, falling straight down to mid back. She is wearing black jeans and a red button up blouse. Simple flats cover her feet. There are no visible weapons but he has fought at her back. He knows she is armed. It's her nature. She can't be without something on her person.

"I was surprised at your note. Is all well?"

Ares has posed:
    He'd thought about this before, to choose the words, to figure out what could possibly be said in such a situation. After the Olympics, after the bomb, the battles with the operatives who had been trying to damage relations between the two superpowers... they had gone their own ways. No words were shared in the forty years that had passed. But, in some way, she remained in his thoughts albeit distantly. Of late it was upon the television. The Widow had come out of the shadows, was something of a celebrity.
    So when he saw her on television he remembered the woman she had been, remembered the weight she had carried with her on her shoulders. And remembered what it had cost her. Perhaps on some level he had expected her to be more at ease, a better person with a comfort in oneself. But what he saw when he looked at her then, when Hydra had been striking that bridge and she had faced them. Despite the heroics. He saw her still in some ways as that girl who had come to his cell so many years ago.
    But can he say all of that? Any of that. No. He can tell her this, "I thought it was time." Mysterious, ever like the man. "I thought it would be good to have words, and to see how our worlds have progressed." Truth, for he has never lied to her.
    "Come," Stepping back he gestures her inwards.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
She steps in at the offer, moving into the kitchen that seems to have changed little from that day so long ago. She moves immediately to the table, pulling out the chair and settling. "Will it be wine or lemonade this time?" she asks with a hint of amusement, looking him over.

After eighty years, what she knows about him is so little it'd be humorous. She knows the names he used. The roles he's played. She has never known who he really is.

What he is.

From day one, he was a enigma. When she came in to question the man who was chained in a cell, left to rot. She was green, new to her role, not good enough to tangle with a predator of his prowess. Their next meeting, they were more equals. Fighting together, taking down the threat to so many lives. In the end, he had shown there was more to him than just a lack of aging.

Time for what, she has no idea. But this was his invitation so she waits, letting him handle things at his own speed.

Ares has posed:
    "Vodka," He says simply as he's already stepping into the kitchen. But his lip curves as he walks, "Only if you are able to stay here for a few hours, I would not wish for you to fly back drunk." There is something amused in his tone, as if he were offering the faintest hint of a teasing tone in those words. "Otherwise, we will have some tea."
    It's almost as if they were back forty years ago, in that same kitchen that has at least been maintained better than the rest of the farm and its facilities. Then with a glassy clink a bottle of top shelf vodka is placed upon the table as well as a pair of shot glasses. He steps away from the table, moving around the room as he seems to be looking for something to eat.
    "I feel it is time for me to hear your story." He says that levelly as he pulls open the refrigerator and then makes a single 'ah' sound.
    From within is a small block of cheese and a length of pepperoni. That will do. He takes those, finds a tray and sets them there with naught else save a single sharp knife. "There, food. Drink. What else do we need? Nothing. Begin." His lip twitches as if expecting her to balk at him giving her orders, as she has in the past.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
He's a good judge of character. Or at least her. Balk she does.

Natasha's lips twist up in a smirk as she shakes her head. "I think not. My story is my own. You already know much more than I do about you." She takes the vodka bottle, pouring each of them a shot then setting the bottle back in place. Already chilled as it should be. Not that she wouldn't drink a good vodka without it being but cold is better. She eyes the food that he laid out, not really interested.

"Perhaps you should give me a hint about you first. Some little random bit of information. Then I may choose to return the favor."

Ares has posed:
    "Oh is that how we shall play this game?" John leans forwards to accept the shot glass and then lifts it towards her. "To your health," He offers, a nicely neutral toast and then if she meets him for it there'll be a small /clink/ as he downs it. The glass is set down and he'll go about refilling for each of them.
    As the vodka pours he takes a deep breath and eyes her. Considering what has passed in the last five years, the way the world has changed, it may not be as unbelievable should he tell it. The story of his life and his decisions. But for now he does not pitch secrets forth for her to peruse.
    Instead he gives her some insight into his life, "I have a son," He offers to her, his smile a bit wry as he looks at what reaction that might have on her. "Ten years old. His mother has passed." He offers with a hint of sadness, having learned in the past to head off possible questions about her lest it create an awkwardness in a conversation.
    "A good child, hopefully will be nothing like me when he grows up." His lip twitches, "And... I believe I work five blocks from where you do." Ah, now that might be a teaser of a statement.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
The toast is repeated and she clicks her glass with his before downing it. No wince. No change of expression. She could be drinking water.

His revelation does earn an arched brow, the small smile never leaving her face. She hadn't expected to hear of a son. It isn't something that fit with the little she knows. Not with the predator. But even lions have cubs so why not really?

"I'm sorry for your loss," she murmurs automatically. His hopes for the boy, not surprising. If she were to have children, she would never want them near the violence that she was raised with. That she became accustomed to.

"You work near the Triskelion?" she asks in true surprise. She would ask why come all the way out here to meet but the answer is obvious. Familiarity. So she knew who she was meeting. And privacy, since it's on his terms. Whereas her office or penthouse would probably considered monitoring central. Not that they are. But the thought might be there. "Or near the Avengers tower?" she asks.

Ares has posed:
    "Sometimes," His lip curls in a wry smile as he glances to the side, he takes a deep breath and then murmurs, "I am... well, I decided to take a job doing construction." He watches her reaction carefully and then holds up a hand as if to stay her from whatever she might say or blurt out in incredulity, "It pays well, I'll have you know. And also it allows me to be flexible with my hours, for Alexander."
    He gestures to the side with one hand and then takes another drink of vodka, the glass clinking down when he sets it on the table. "So in truth I've been working several contracts. But..." He looks back towards her and considers that perhaps the moment to get to the meat of the discussion. "But I saw when you were on television."
    The way his brows come together, the way his eyes meet hers, she can read the concern there. For once he seems at ease with himself in a way that might surprise her. He is not holding up that stern facade as he once did, perhaps a result of his having a family. It might be interesting, but what is more, others might consider it a weakness.
    "I had heard what you were doing. I thought it was a good thing, to be trying to save others, fight battles others could not. But I saw you and..."
    There's a pause and he frowns, then he says, "Natalia. I am concerned."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
The second shot goes down as easily as the first. This time she refills them. So that's his son's name. Seems right for some reason. Fitting. She listens to the explanation about his choice of work, wondering why he would think she would have something other to say about it. It's good, honest work. Very at odds with what she learned of him and his abilities but everyone has a right to change. She certainly has.

His point about her makes her want to frown but she is keeping her expression carefully schooled. There isn't even a hint of a micro expression. She just seems to be listening with interest. "When I was fighting demons on the bridge or with the HYDRA thing?" she knew both of those had been in the press. "Nothing to worry about. I've been doing this for four years now, working as an Avenger and a SHIELD agent. It's a balancing act but I seem to be handling it well. I appreciate your concern but I believe it's misplaced."

Ares has posed:
    The tall man turns his head to the side, looking at her askance for a moment as she speaks, and then holding that gaze as if he were hearing them again in his own thoughts. A deep breath is taken and then he releases it, letting is slip from his lips slowly. A nod is given, "Then perhaps I misjudged matters,"
    He sets his glass down and looks at her, and should she meet his gaze she might see... disappointment? For perhaps in this one moment, this instant he feels that this is the first time she has lied to him. Slowly he gives a nod as if agreeing, accepting the words she's given him. "It is not important," As easily as that he brushes the objection aside, and sets the matter to rest. He looks to the bottle, then back towards her and murmurs. "You have matters well in hand."
    He reaches for the brick of cheese and breaks off the corner of it, but then simply sets it down instead of eating any of it. He looks towards the window and then tells her, "Forgive me then for having wasted your time."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
Natasha meets his gaze with no hesitation, seeing the reaction and being a little confused by all of this. A moment ago he was teasing, now he is ending the entire meeting. At the time he had seen her, there was nothing to be concerned over really. There was no untruth. The times she was seen in the public where before her recent situation. Her personal crises. Unless he is picking up on that and trying to give another reason?

"I tire of these games. If you wish to say something to me, say it. We've spent decades dancing around each other. I still know nothing about you yet you feel I should share information about myself with you. My history is mine. Even SHIELD doesn't know all of it. I don't intend that to change. While I respect you as a fighter and for making the right choices in your life, it doesn't mean I'm willing to lay my soul out there for you to see when you have given me nothing." She shrugs, pushing her chair back from the table, that last shot of vodka untouched.

"I am still available to you if you need assistance with a crisis but otherwise, I think it best I go."

Ares has posed:
    For a time he looks at her and then his eyebrow quirks and he gives a slow nod, "You know... you are most likely right." He holds up a hand as if to stay her before she departs, "Forgive me, for I am... I am an individual that is always in some ways..." His features twist and then a small snort of a laugh slips from him, "At war with myself."
    "Sit," He looks to her, then he sighs and adds, "Please." And hopefully if that does halt he departure, then it'll give himself enough time to elaborate.
    "Natalia Romanova, you are a person that I have felt a certain connection to since you were very young. It is a foolish thing to expect you to understand that or acknowledge it without... background." He lifts a hand to rub at the beard upon his chin, thoughtful as he tries to figure out how to say this, how to present this. For truly it is a fairly incredible tale.
    "You would know of me, then here." He pushes his own chai back and gets to his feet, if only so he can pace slowly, walking back and forth on a line upon that wooden floor behind his chair. "I do not know when I was born, it was quite a long time ago. Mankind traveled in tribes together, fighting each other with crude weapons." He meets her eyes, "As a child my first memory was of looking up... up to a large mountain. I had a blade of lava in my hand, cooled and sharp. I remember looking on that blade, I remember the roar of the men who had followed me there to that point. An army who sought to do my bidding."
    Another pause as he tries to wrap his mind around what these sensations were and how to present them to her. "I looked up to that mountain and knew that I would take it, and slay all who dwelt there, for there I would find my father." A pause and a smirk followed by a sardonic laugh, "That was how I met him. You would know him as the Thunderer, Zeus, the father of the gods, conqueror of the Titans."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
Any normal person at that point in the conversation would be making a phone call to the guys in the white coats and having him shipped away.

Natasha isn't normal.

One of her teammates is a Nordic deity.

It isn't so far fetched that there would be others. That he might be one of them? A surprise yet not. She always knew there was something dangerous about him, from that very first meeting. Being a god or demi-god? Wouldn't have been her first guess. She watches him pace, the nervous movements of a caged animal in some ways. But she holds her tongue, appreciating that he is finally giving something to her, to let her understand.

"You're a part of the Greek pantheon?" She tries to remember her mythology, thinking of offspring from Zeus. He was a bit prolific so hard to guess who John might be. There is no disbelief in her tone, merely interest.

Ares has posed:
    And for some reason he looks pained, as if the whole idea of the pantheon bothers him. He grimaces and gives her a short sharp nod. "Indeed, but this..." He holds up a hand hovering just to the side of his head as if signifying what passes through the mind of a being that embodies such a concept of war. "I was known as Ares, War, Mars." He looks at her and in some ways he knows how mad it must sound for these last two hundred years he has tried to live as a mortal.
    "I have seen such strife. Such blood. I have exulted in man's murder of his fellow man. And in those years I have seen the rise of heroes, of those who would serve me. A connection to them. They would do my bidding, build pyres of corposes for me, in honor of conquest, of victory. Alexander, Sulla, Caesar, Genghis..."
    For a time he looks to the side, clearly lost in the ghosts of memory that these words have conjured up for him. "And then I left it all. My reasons are my own, even to you. But I turned my back on Olympus, on the chains of being bound to... to such horrors. I tried to avoid it, only to be dragged back into it all when the war came to my village."
    But then he looks to her and points at her as if trying to import the severity of his words to her. "And then there, after the darkness, in the shadows of Berlin you came to me. And I saw it all again. Saw it all in your eyes. If you had wished, perhaps even now, you could have turned it all upon the world. Your pain, your anger. You could be such a bearer of carnage."
    And as he speaks he somehow seems /larger/ as if even giving voice to such concepts. The shadows seem darker, heavier, and those eyes of his are wild with the hint of cities aflame. "I saw that potential in you. And I have... I would try to steer you away from that path."
    Another pause, then he says quietly even as he seems to come back from the precipice, his presence diminishing ever slowly until there he is again, before her. Merely John. Even as he asks her quietly, "Do you understand now?"

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
For long moments, Natasha doesn't answer.

Ares. God of War.

That explains so much. The sense she got from him. The danger that seemed to lurk under the surface. His skills in battle but the tactics being different from anything she has seen previously. Probably due to his skills having been ancient before she was ever born. The fact that he has chosen a life of peace, as a human. The he has turned his back on that darkness.

There are no words she can say. Nothing. Except perhaps...

"Yes, I do understand." She flicks her gaze away. This time she is the one that can't meet his eyes. The shot of vodka on the table is where she focuses, not blinking, not shifting her gaze to other aeras. "And you are right for your concern. I am a danger." She flicks her eyes up to him then. "I was created. Designed. My entire purpose was to destroy for my country. To use. To kill. I was able to break that programming with friendship. Love."

She picks up the glass suddenly, downing it. The glass is placed back on the table. "I recently met one of my makers. The one that I feared the most. Hated with all my being. And yet I lived to make him proud of me. To perform my tasks well. He didn't even know who I was, when I was his greatest accomplishment. I find myself slipping. The darkness is getting closer."

Ares has posed:
    And then, quietly he says. "And that is why I am here."