"Agent Romanoff?"
Natasha cracked open her eyes, considering the thickset, armored man seated across the car. Night had fallen not ten minutes before, and the sleek leather seats and expensive velvet upholstery had been cast into murky, semi-darkness. As it was, the veteran's expression was partly obscured, his left eye and forehead face veiled in heavy shadows.
"What do you need?" Natasha folded her arms across her chest,
"The captain wants me to inform you that we're nearly there. We'll arrive in approximately twenty minutes. Is the package secured?"
"Yes," Natasha brushed her fingers across the bulletproof case, as if to reassure herself that it was still there. "Thank you."
The solider nodded in response, turning his attention back to the scenery flashing by. Natasha studied her hands. She was well aware of the importance this job; Nick had whiled away enough hours drilling that into her head. But somehow, no matter how many times she rearranged her mindset, she struggled to see how a simple delivery merited eight gunmen and an armored car. Natasha didn't need protecting, and she felt that she was more than enough security for the item itself. She rubbed her thumb against the cool metal, thoughtful. She could feel the energy radiating through the case, rolling off in waves. Although it lay dormant, Loki's staff was still a powerful magical object, and excess energy continued explode from it in bursts.
Thor hadn't wanted to take it to Asgard, insisting that Loki's access could not be completely restrained unless the item remained on earth, far enough out of his reach that it couldn't cause problems later on. Though necessary, the God's decision had been one of great annoyance to Fury and the rest of SHEILD. No matter how much important it was, the issue still remained that no one had the slightest idea what to do with the thing. Considering it was no longer connected to the Tesseract, it couldn't be used for further experiments and analysis. That was when Stark had come up with the idea of transporting it to one of his underground laboratories in the north. The place was already built akin to a high-security prison, and all Nick had needed to do was add some special precautions of his own design before he declared the plan ready for action. All they needed was a skillful middleman, and Natasha was ideal for the job. As the only available SHEILD allied avenger, she felt that it was her duty to bring the mission full circle, and get rid of the staff once and for all.
She repressed a sigh.
Avenger.
Natasha stroked the thin black case in her lap as memories flashed foreword, unbidden. The chipped black nails of the Hulk's fist as it came plummeting toward her, the unbridled pain in Loki's expression as she pinned him to the floor. The storm grey color of Clint's eyes. Colson's cold, unmoving form straddling the enormous blaster in his lap, the charred, gaping hole in the wall smoldering as his final, vindictive salute to a world he believed beyond saving. Natasha closed her eyes, resting her head against the window. So much sacrificed for such a delicate balance. What was it really worth in the end? Their efforts would hardly matter if the world was attacked a second time. She thought back to Nick's final words to her, regarding the Avengers. 'They'll be there if we need them', he'd insisted. 'All we have to do is holler.'
'Well, we'd certainly have to holler pretty damn loud," Clint had muttered, quite neatly vocalizing Natasha's own doubts. Tony and Steve were the closest, occupying opposite ends of New York, but the others were hardly in easy reach. Bruce had moved to a isolated Mongolian outpost, Thor had returned to Asgard with little pretense of ever needing to return, and Clint and Natasha found themselves chasing their work to every corner of the globe. It had been luck, not to mention powerful determination, that had enabled them to succeed. Nothing more. The Avengers Initiative had been a prototype, never meant to actually take form. The events that had transpired in the past month had shocked the world, making a statement that would capture the headlines for years to come. It had been a miracle, most definitely. But as was the way of miracles, it was unlikely it could, or would, occur a second time.
All of the sudden, the train car shuddered to a stop. Natasha felt her body tense up on instinct, her fingertips brushing the shotgun strapped to her waist.
"We've stopped." It was a statement, rather than a question. The gunman nodded, his jaw set and his face a mask of unrest.
"Weapons out?" he suggested, selecting a revolver from the impressive arsenal of small caliber handguns around his waist. Natasha nodded, retrieving her shotgun and unstrapping a pistol from her boot. Her guard snatched a walkie talkie from the wall.