Thor looks around the table, large hand rubbing his chin. "I do know of one who may help us, if she thinks our cause worthy of notice."
"Great," Romanov says. "How do we contact her? Where is she?"
"Where is the source of most conflict on your planet right now?"
"Israel," Fury interjects. "There was a new bombing last night."
Thor nods decisively, his gaze flickering out over the room, and out the windows. "That's where she is."
They send out a message through every armed service they can find in the area, nothing specific, just a vague notion of a message. Less than half an hour later there's a commotion before the doors.
"It's fine, they called me." The doors slide open, and a girl in military fatigues strides through, AK-47 in grip, headscarf framing her face. The group of soldiers that follow her seem confused about whether or not to shoot; she can't be more than twenty.
"Cousin!" Thor grins broadly. The girl returns his smile. They do not look related; her olive skin complexion glows against the drab green of her clothes.
"Hello Thor! Still putting off the wedding I see?" she winks good naturedly. The AK-47 has been set on the table. With a snap, she pulls of her hijab and folds it on top of the gun. Oddly enough, the hair that tumbles out is the same honeyed tone as her skin. "None the matter, it's been two millennium, I don't see how another hundred years is going to change things."
"Well, I assumed you wouldn't mind the delay."
She unzips her jacket, revealing a white t-shirt underneath. "Yes, well, I don't mind, of course, but mother-" she snaps the jacket once, and it transforms, molting away all of the military and turning into a sleek blazer. Only its color remains. "mother is chomping at the bit. Imagine that: a 'virgin' so desperate to marry off her only daughter." Pulling on the blazer, she buttons it, shakes out her shoulder length hair, and turns to the rest of the table. "So sorry about that. I came straight from the West Bank." The headscarf disappears impossibly into the pocket of her tight fighting pants. But the gun is gone, replaced by a necklace.
It could almost be called gaudy: a pair of golden wings on a chain. They're not small - a statement - but settle just beneath her collar bone as they have for the past eon. "Thor, are you going to introduce me?"
"Of course. Allow me to present, my cousin, Ni-"
"Nicky is fine." she cuts him off. "No need to be so formal."
"I'm Agent Romanov, this is Banner, Fury, Rogers, Stark-" she goes on, but it's obvious the girl isn't listening. She's considering Romanov with glittering hazel eyes.
"Natasha. Yes. I've had my eye on you for sometime now. And you - Rogers? - yes. You're one of mine too." she settles into a chair, looking back up at Thor. "Your team is stacked if that's what you wanted."
"We need your help."
"Against Loki?" Thor grimaces in response, and the smile leaves Nicky's face. "Yes, that's what I was worried of. Have you tried talking to him?"
"He's beyond reason."
The girl gives a thoughtful sigh. "Come cousin." she stands and takes Thor's arm. "I would talk to you away from all these eyes."
They wander off the bridge before Thor speaks. "You look lovely, Nike."
"Hmph. I've been in the desert for the past six decades. These humans don't want to give me any rest."
"If I remember correctly, you took rather a long one several years ago, refused to leave your bed."
"Ah, yes, well there was a nymph in it. Besides, I wanted them to learn a lesson in the futility of war."
"Is Athena truly becoming angry?"
"More from father's temper than your persistent delaying. He's worried that soon procrastination will turn into cancellation."
"There is-"
"A woman, I know. You need not explain yourself to me, Thor." she smiles softly at him. "Enjoy her while you can; they do not last long."
"Says the voice of experience?"
A regretful sigh escapes her lips. "I cannot grant all my heros immortality, cuz."
"Will you help us then?" The doors slide open as they return to the bridge.
"My blessing is not simply bought," she says with a smirk. "Well, it is, actually."
"What do you want, Nike."
"My dear, don't sound so distraught. I just need some assistance finding my head."
"Your head?" he chuckled. "I don't know if I can help you with that."
"Oh hush!" the jovial tone has returned to her voice. "The Winged Victory of Samothrace."
"I see, this is about your vanity."
She settles onto the edge of the table, ignoring every one else. "You should know my family well enough to know that of course it is."
"I will help you, if we win the battle."
"Of course you'll win. I'll be expecting hecatombs by the dozen." The look she gives over her shoulder is not meant to be haughty, she loves humans more than any of her kin, has lives among them more, but it was how she was raised. She has been taught to raise her chin and narrow her almond-shaped eyes. "So tell me, what is the plan?"