Brooklyn was quieter than usual—at least from the rooftop where Shin stood, watching the city with a strange mixture of detachment and curiosity. He leaned against a rusting metal vent, arms crossed, one leg bent lazily against the ledge like he belonged there. Like he wasn't a nuclear-grade anomaly dropped into the Marvel Universe with enough cursed energy to level continents.
Not that anyone down below knew that. Yet.
The rooftop door clicked open behind him.
"Nice night for brooding," came a voice. Feminine. Smooth. Dangerous.
He didn't turn. "You know, usually when a beautiful woman sneaks up behind me, she at least buys me a drink first."
A soft chuckle. "Depends. Do you prefer vodka or poison?"
Shin turned slowly, and there she was—Natasha Romanoff, the infamous Black Widow. Dressed in matte black tactical gear that hugged her like a second skin, she held a handgun loosely in one hand, the other resting on her hip with the kind of confidence only someone who'd stared down gods could pull off.
"Hello, assassin."
"Hello, mystery man."
Their eyes met, blue clashing with silver.
"You've got S.H.I.E.L.D., the Avengers, and the sorcerers twitching in their sleep," she continued, walking toward him without fear. "Care to explain who you are before someone less polite comes asking?"
Shin smiled. "That depends. Would you believe I'm a reincarnated sorcerer from a broken universe with the power of a demon king, a blindfolded demigod, and a guy who talks to shadow wolves?"
Natasha stopped five feet from him. "I'd say you either need a therapist... or a really good screenwriter."
"Fair."
She scanned him. "Wanda said you nearly broke her arm."
"She hit me first. I flirted. She threw a chaos spear at my face."
"That does sound like her."
Shin walked past her toward the edge of the roof, looking down at the streetlight-dappled roads.
"You've got the smell of death on you," he murmured.
"Charming."
"I meant it as a compliment. It's rare. Clean. Purposeful. You kill with reason."
She tilted her head. "And you? What's your reason?"
Shin didn't answer right away. His hand moved through the air, and from the shadows behind him, a giant black wolf with glowing red eyes materialized. It sat silently beside him, protective and eerily intelligent.
Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Pet?"
"Friend."
She took a slow step forward, studying the beast. "So… I'm guessing you didn't just drop out of the sky for sightseeing?"
"No. I'm here because this world's on the edge. I can feel it. Like a wire stretched too tight. One spark, and everything burns."
She snorted. "Sounds like a Tuesday."
They shared a smile—brief, sharp, but genuine.
Then Shin's expression changed. "Someone's watching us."
Before she could ask, he blurred.
In a blink, he was gone.
And three rooftops away, a mercenary in camouflage gasped as a pale hand gripped his throat.
Shin held the man aloft with one hand. "You work for Fury? Or HYDRA?"
The man choked. "Neither. Freelance. Got a bounty on your head, freak."
"Aw. Already famous."
He squeezed. The man passed out. He didn't kill him.
He reappeared beside Natasha, dropping the unconscious body with a dull thud.
She gave him an impressed look. "You're fast."
"I'm everything. But I like that you noticed."
She rolled her eyes. "You sound like Tony."
Shin grinned. "But better looking."
"That's debatable."
A gust of wind swept through the rooftop. The shadow wolf snarled at the horizon.
A moment later, three more mercs appeared—heavily armed, parachuting onto nearby rooftops. Snipers. Drones buzzed overhead.
Shin tilted his head. "You know, I came up here for some peace."
"You've got about thirty seconds before they open fire," Natasha warned, already pulling her pistols.
Shin raised a hand. "Let me."
She stepped back. Curious.
He inhaled once.
And then the rooftop exploded with shadows.
From every corner, the Ten Shadow Beasts roared into existence—giant toads, snakes, wolves, and a hulking elephant-like creature made of black cursed energy. The mercs barely had time to scream before they were disarmed, immobilized, and webbed in cursed tendrils.
The drones were sliced from the sky by a floating black wheel—the Mahoraga wheel—spinning lazily behind Shin's back.
Natasha stared. "Okay. That's not Stark tech."
"I hope not. Stark tech couldn't handle my shoelaces."
"Cocky much?"
"I call it confidence. But sure, let's go with 'ridiculously sexy and modest.'"
She chuckled—actually chuckled—and holstered her guns.
Shin dismissed the beasts. The rooftop quieted.
Natasha took a few steps toward him, closing the distance.
"You're dangerous," she said, her voice softer now.
"You're intrigued."
She didn't deny it.
He tilted his head. "Are you scared of me, Natasha?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"You haven't given me a reason."
Shin leaned in slightly. "Would you like one?"
Her eyes flicked to his lips. "Careful. I bite."
He smirked. "I regenerate."
For a heartbeat, the world stilled. Then her hand brushed against his arm—just briefly. It wasn't exactly romantic, but it wasn't hostile either.
"We should get off this roof," she said. "Before the next wave of idiots shows up."
"Dinner?" he offered.
"I don't date guys with god complexes."
"I don't have a god complex," he said seriously. "I am a god."
She gave him a flat look.
He grinned. "Fine. Anti-hero complex."
She sighed and turned. "You're lucky you're hot."
"I get that a lot."
They leapt off the rooftop together. Shin didn't need to teleport; he just wanted to fall beside her. As they landed—silent, graceful, lethal—Natasha glanced sideways.
"Still think you can belong here?" she asked.
"I think I already do."
Later that night...
They walked through a quiet alley behind a shawarma joint. Natasha was oddly relaxed—more than she should be with a man who could level Manhattan.
"You know, you haven't told me your name," she said, picking a fry off her plate.
"Shin."
"Just Shin?"
He nodded. "One name's all I need."
She narrowed her eyes. "You sure you weren't made in a lab?"
"Does my charm seem manufactured to you?"
"I'll admit—it's irritatingly real."
They stopped walking. The air between them shifted.
Shin leaned slightly closer. "You're beautiful, Natasha. And dangerous. A deadly mix."
"Complimenting me doesn't get you out of trouble."
"It's not for that. I just like telling the truth."
She studied his face for a long moment. Then, almost playfully, she said, "You know I could still kill you in at least six ways."
He smiled. "Make it seven. I like a challenge."
She didn't kiss him—not yet. But she didn't walk away either.
Instead, she tossed him the last fry. "We'll see if you survive long enough for dessert."
He caught it. "I'll bring my own whipped cream."
She groaned. "Okay, that one was bad."
They disappeared into the shadows together—two killers, two survivors, two broken souls who might just find something real in each other.
End of Chapter 2