"Wouldn't be the first time I thought I was the butt end of a cosmic joke," Natasha answers as she lifts the glass skyward in a mocking toast. She lowers the glass and takes another quick gulp. It does seem cruel.

Or maybe that's just the mindset she's been in. Adrift out in the world, chasing down enemies that wear the faces of friends. It's necessary work, but lonely.

She lapses into quiet for a moment, a thoughtful look on her face. If it's not cruel, and not random, what could it be? Some kind of accident. Magic. Teleportation. Weird science. What's the catalyst?

"What were you thinking about when I dropped in?"