"Is it ready?" The tension in in her voice was palpable. Darkness surrounded them in the predawn hours, the air heavy with the smell of woodland and pine needles.
"Yes, ma'am. Just waiting your orders.", the tech replied hands poised over the remote controls of the drone. The engines hummed like a furious hive of bees that just had their nest kicked.
"Let it fly." She whispered eagerly, her green eyes skyward where the stars blinked impassively. Slowly, the drone lifted into the night air carrying its burden towards the nearby utopian compound where a group of Armageddon preppers lived.
"In the news tonight, the state health department in Montana have called for additional assistance to rescue several people from the United Front compound." The news anchor read the teleprompter, his voice just enough concern to grab your attention but not scare. "It seems that several of the residents have contracted measles. Local authorities are not sure where the original infection came from and suspect it may be related to the anti-vaccination leaning leadership."
The anchor's head disappeared as a video clip from the compound played. One of the 'elders' as he identified himself materialized for his fifteen seconds of fame, "We really don't want any government help." The man's grey eyes were flinty and tucked in creases of sun wrinkled skin, "But we're at a loss here. My… my granddaughter…" his voice cracked a fraction, "and others are very sick. Once we get this cleared up, we'll go back to doing things our way." He began to cough and covered his mouth with his sleeve.
The anchor's face reappeared as he finished the final details of the story, seguing smoothly to the weather.
Steve gazed absently out the window into the jungle beyond. His skin crawled and muscles twitched with a lack of something to do. His heart was broken into millions of pieces by his best friend, lying in cryostasis just a few rooms away while Wakandan scientists worked zealously for a fix to Hydra's seventy-year mind wiping damage. His mind understood what Bucky did, but it still hurt like a deep, aching bruise that takes months to get over.
The team was scattered, which was for the better, again an easily logical truth but difficult emotion to swallow. It gagged in his throat when he tried to push it down. Often at meals, he found himself pushing around his food absently thinking about them. Falcon would crack jokes on anyone and the teasing felt warm and good. Natasha would smile coyly and flirt with everyone which made them all feel special to have her singular attention even for a moment; Tony would sulk and complain about how much they all cost him to feed and shelter like a grouchy old man. Banner would sit in the corner just taking it all in. Hawkeye would be in deep philosophical discussion with Vision and then he'd utter a stream of expletives when he didn't agree with the android. Thor drank his weight in liquor, the huge Asgardian's laugh echoing in the space as Wanda's chiming laugh was a counterpoint. Cap's mind wandered back to that night right before Ultron showed up. That was the last time they were all together in a moment of levity. It was the last time they were all smiling together as a team.
Steve changed his focus to his reflection in the glass as tropical birds soared by. He looked old. He looked tired. He looked lonely.
Tony hadn't called on the burner phone and Rogers didn't really expect him to.
Right now, it was like the world didn't know what to do with itself without the Avengers in it.
Realistically, Steve knew it couldn't last. People were people and aliens always had a way of showing up at importune times.
Getting up, from his seat, he went to shake off the jitters by taking a run. Maybe, just maybe he'd sleep better tonight if he worked out. The ghost of Falcon chased him on his right.
Natasha sat in the coffee house in Dubai, her stunning red hair covered by a hijab. Her linen robes modestly concealed her weaponry but provided coolness from the oppressive heat. From behind her large framed, dark sunglasses, she surveyed the crowd as she sipped strong coffee, much like that day in Lagos.
Lagos: her mind replayed that day that set into motion all the chaos they had been through in the last several months. The timeline rolled out from in front of her eyes behind the glasses; fracturing of the team, betraying Steve and his confidence to side with Tony. It seemed the best choice at the time. Or was it?
Truth was a matter of circumstance, right? It's not all things to all people, correct? She frowned, feeling the muscles tense between her eyes and tension creeping up her neck to encircle her skull. Romanov despised second guessing herself.
Was she worthy now to be Steve's friend? Had she deceived him through the whole Zemo incident? Listen to yourself, Natasha scolded, disgusted in her flippant stream of thought, 'Incident' pfah! Just Steve getting his soul ripped out of his chest, Tash. This was more than some 'incident'. Stop compartmentalizing everything! Be real for once. Be present. You let him down and you know it.
Shifting her weight uneasily in her chair, she felt like when she had done something bad in the Red Room and was awaiting punishment from the Mistress. Widow's palms began to sweat uncomfortably. To distract herself, she sipped from the cup of lukewarm coffee in its tiny cup. Far away the call to prayer was heard from a minaret.
She told him it was best if they all stayed together, no matter how or why.
In the end, he stuck to his principles. God how she admired that in him, she sighed heavily. Steve was unflappable, stalwart and unwavering to the end. What was she… a snake in the grass just waiting for the next convenient friendship or connection to further her plans or mission? Was she really that shallow? I don't know… are you?
In the end, her guilt let Steve and Bucky escape.
A smirk pulled at the corner of her lip recalling that conversation with T'Challa. It was heated, just like this land where she found herself hiding in the middle of her web.
"What in the world were you thinking!" T'Challa shouted as he ripped off his mask as the last Widow Bite wore off, tiny streaks of blue electricity playing over his body armor.
"I told you, I'd lead you to them, not help you catch them." She said indifferently, pushing back her hair and straightening her clothes.
"He's a murderer!" the Wakandan king raged, his claws still extended, "I could have you arrested as an accomplice right now."
"I have nothing to lose." She said surprised at her own despondent tone as if something else had left with Steve and Bucky, such as her dignity.
In a huff, T'Challa stomped off in pursuit of the men, "I do not have time for you, Black Widow. I'll deal with you later."
And there he left her in the burning hanger in Germany.
It still didn't make her feel any better. Supposedly, she was on the right side of the argument, but it certainly didn't feel right. A waiter smiled pearly teeth at her from under his beard and offered her more coffee. She politely smiled back and let him fill the cup.
Flipping her phone alive, she read the news. Some contagious form of measles was spreading across the western U.S. It had an unusual virulence. She read dispassionately and scrolled through more headlines. Until Ross and his crew called, she had no work to do. Nothing more than sit and wait, like a spider a web.