Old Friends Chapter 2

By: Cadet Deming

I don't own the rights to Captain America or The Avengers, Marvel and Disney do, so please don't sue. Rated T for violence, language and adult situations. Thank you to all who read and review.

Natasha Romanoff enjoyed teaming up with Steve Rogers again. After her old employer SHIELD had to be disbanded after they both exposed its corruption by Hydra, she was unemployed. There weren't too many job openings for spies available.

"Thanks for doing this," she said, as she drove them both to the parking lot of Mercy General Hospital in her Corvette.

Steve smiled. "Thank you for helping. I'm more of a soldier than an investigator. If you don't mind me asking, where are you getting money from these days?"

She put on an oversize pair of sunglasses to stay relatively incognito.

"You know how normal people save for retirement? I had an emergency fund for if I ever had to go off the grid. What about you?"

She honestly didn't save for retirement because in her line of work she didn't think she'd live long enough to enjoy it.

Steve shrugged almost apologetically. "I have a military pension. A 70 year old military pension. The interest added up."

She did the math in her head and figured he could live quite comfortably. He was modestly dressed in casual workout gear, drove an inexpensive motorcycle, and lived well below his means in a one-bedroom apartment. She liked that about him.

Natasha said, "So you don't even need to work?"

He furrowed his brow. "I feel like I do need to do something. Retirement is like giving up. I don't like to give up."

She tied a scarf around her head to cover her red hair and they both walked through the hospital to the crime scene. People bustled around them in scrubs and comfortable shoes. A few people wore masks. It put Natasha's guard up.

They came to the hallway of the Intensive Care Unit. There were three taped outlines of Brock Rumlow's victims. The corpses had already been removed. Natasha smelled the bleach that had been used to clean up the blood.

Natasha spoke to the nurse who was the only survivor, "Maria Rojas? I'm Natasha Romanoff and this is Captain Steve Rogers. We're here from what's left of SHIELD."

Maria clutched herself. "I've heard of you from TV. The police took the security video already, but they say they're backlogged arresting everyone they can from Hydra. It's a mess. This whole city is a mess now."

Steve said, "We're trying to clean up the mess ourselves ma'am."

Maria spat with surprising anger, "Well you should have cleaned it up last night, or these women would still be alive!"

Natasha had seen a rainbow of reactions from people over the past two weeks: denial, anger, paranoia and acceptance. The anger was the hardest to deal with.

She gripped Maria's shoulder. "I'm sorry. Did you know the victims personally?"

Maria nodded sadly and pointed to the closest outline. "That was Elsa. She was my oldest friend from nursing school. I knew her 20 years. The one by the corner was Chelsea. She was only 22. She had her whole life ahead of her. The one to the right was Laurie. She has 3 kids. Three children who are never going to see their mother again because a monster stabbed her through the lungs ten times with a scalpel. They were like family to me."

Natasha felt a trickle of not quite envy, but wistfulness about the thought of working in a place where someone could trust their coworkers enough to consider them family.

Maria started crying.

Steve handed her a Kleenex box and said, "I'm sorry for your loss ma'am."

He called almost all women "ma'am' or "Miss". It had been a year before Steve finally stopped calling Natasha "ma'am."

Maria blew her nose and asked, "The killer…what was his name…Brock Rumlow? Did you know him personally? Was he one of your co-workers?"

Steve and Natasha exchanged a pained, knowing look.

He said, "Yes. We served in the same unit. I guess we didn't know him as well as we thought we did."

Maria said, "How did you not know he was a monster? How did you work side-by-side with him and not see? You're supposed to be an intelligence agency! You were supposed to protect us!"

Guilt pierced Natasha's heart. She had been asking herself the same questions over the past few weeks.

Steve said, "Ma'am, for whatever failures I committed I apologize. If you show us the police report I'll do what I can to get your friends justice."

Maria sniffled and handed them paperwork. She left the hallway, muttering under her breath.

Natasha sat next to Steve on a bench and they read through the report together. She was close enough to brush against him. His breathing sounded strained.

The report managed to be dry and gory at the same time. Rumlow had broken out of being hooked up to life support. He'd gotten ahold of a surgical-grade scalpel. Laurie died from punctured lungs and internal bleeding. The others had their throats slashed. Chelsea's arm had been broken in half.

Steve said, "This doesn't even make sense from a strategic escape perspective. He didn't have to be so brutal. None of these people were a threat to him. He didn't have to use lethal force."

Natasha mulled things over. "When we worked with him, he was undercover. He had to keep up appearances of being a law-abiding citizen. And now the gloves are off. He doesn't have to hide his true colors anymore. He didn't kill these women because he had to. He did it because he wanted to."

Steve closed the report. "That woman is right. How did we not sense that he was evil? How did we miss it?"

Natasha thought back. Hindsight was 20-20, but maybe there were signs. Signs she should have picked up on to prevent all the tragedy.

July 13, 2012, Arlington, Virginia

Natasha downed her third shot of vodka. It was the watered down variety so she wasn't as buzzed as she could be, but she was happy.

SHIELD's strike team had finally invited her to celebrate with them after their latest mission. Natasha tried to be cordial and polite to her coworkers, but outside of her boyfriend Agent Clint "Hawkeye" Barton, she didn't normally socialize with them outside of work.

She surveyed the room. Most of the guys in the group were either huddled together or blatantly hitting on women. Only Steve Rogers sat alone at a table. She felt sorry for him. He seemed so uptight due to being raised in the 1920's and 1930's and being thrown in to the modern world. He couldn't even get drunk because of the Super Soldier experimentation. She suspected the guys on the team only brought him along to be a designated driver.

Natasha was about to go over and talk to him, but something else caught her eye. She saw a flash of pink hair in the corner. Brock Rumlow, the strike team leader had a girl backed up against the wall. The girl looked awfully young.

Natasha came closer to them. She was good at sneaking up on people without being seen. Brock's conquest was dressed in skintight diamondback snakeskin patterned pants and a low-cut tank top. She was toned but curvy.

The girl slurred, "I normally can drink more, honest."

Brock said, "Let me take you home, baby. You can get a cab back tomorrow."

"But my parents…I mean…my roommate will be mad if I leave it here."

Brock cupped her cheek, "Don't worry about it. I'll give you money. I've done this before."

It was like watching a lamb cuddling with a wolf.

Natasha scanned the girl. Her hair was brown, with dyed pink highlights. Her face was covered in heavy foundation, makeup to try to hide her acne. Her eyes were lined with black and her lips painted red. It was makeup to make her look older, old enough to be in a bar.

Natasha was a little sensitive about young girls growing up to quickly. She had been snatched up herself at such a young age to be trained as a spy by the KGB. It made her touchy about innocence lost too soon.

Natasha said, "Hello."

Brock looked startled for a moment, and then smoothed his hair back.

"Hey Natasha. How's it going?"

Natasha gestured to the teenager, "Aren't you going to introduce me to your…friend?"

The girl slurred. "Hi. I'm Rachel. Rachel Leighton."

Natasha asked, "How old are you, honey?"

Rachel looked scared. "I'm 21 honest. I go to Georgetown University."

Natasha deadpanned, "Georgetown. Impressive School. I hear it's really hard to get into. What are you majoring in?"

"I'm majoring in…um…I'm majoring in college!"

Natasha stared at Brock. There wasn't a trace of guilt in his eyes.

Natasha said, "Could I see your ID?"

Rachel scrambled through her purse. It was a knockoff snakeskin Louis Vuitton. She handed a driver's license to Natasha.

Natasha said, "This is so amateur a nearsighted mall security guard could see through it. Show me your real ID."

Rachel pouted, but handed her another card.

Natasha said, "She's 16 years old."

Brock deadpanned. "I had no idea. I'm shocked. Look I'll just drive her home. I swear it. No harm, no foul."

Natasha glared at him. She didn't want to say she didn't trust her teammate, except, she didn't.

She called out, "Steve! Can you come here?"

Steve left his table and walked to them. He sounded bored. "Who do I need to drive home this time?"

"Can you please be a gentleman and take Rachel back to her house?"

Steve stared at Rachel suspiciously. "How old are you?"

She grinned at Steve. "I go to Georgetown, honest! You're really hot. Have you been on TV before?"

Steve blushed. "I…um…er. I'll take her back to her parents."

He dragged the teenager away.

Brock sneered sarcastically. "Thanks. Really. And you wonder why the team doesn't hang out with you more."

It touched a nerve for Natasha. She did get the sense that the Strike team treated her as an outsider. She wondered if it was because she was female or because she was recruited by Barton directly instead of one of the usual people like Secretary Alexander Pierce, Director Fury or even Agent Sitwell.

She said "I was just trying to protect the team. She's under 18. I don't want us to get hit with any statutory rape scandals."

Brock put his hands up, "Whoa! Whoa! The age of consent is 16 in Maryland and the District of Columbia. It's only 18 in Virginia."

"We're in Virginia now. Why does it creep me out that you have the age of consent memorized?"

He half-smiled. "A good soldier always knows the local laws. Look, I didn't know she had a fake ID. I'm just muscle. I don't have eagle-eyed spy eyes like you."

Natasha rested her back against the wall.

She said evenly, "I've been watching you Brock."

He raised his eyebrows. She sensed nervousness in him. Fighting side-by-side with him on missions, he never showed any signs of nervousness.

She continued. "You're not stupid, dumb muscle. You wouldn't have survived being a Navy Seal and Pierce would never have made you team leader if you weren't very, very smart."

He swallowed. She watched his Adam's apple bob up and down. "And?"

"And you're too smart to not know jailbait when you see it."

Brock put his hand on the wall over her head. He was almost a foot taller than her. She was used to being surrounded by bigger men who underestimated her.

He said, "I think I know what this is really about. You sent that girl away with Rogers because…you want me for yourself."

Natasha burst out laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of it. She laughed so hard a few people in the bar turned and stared at them.

"You and me? That would be a no. I have a boyfriend."

"Is that supposed to stop me?"

He was a very good-looking man, in a vaguely Mediterranean way, but his arrogance was off-putting. It wasn't like Steve who was handsome enough to be an Abercrombie & Fitch model but didn't show that he knew it, or her own boyfriend who drew his confidence from his marksman abilities but not his face. Looks weren't everything if they concealed an inner ugliness.

She fingered the arrow necklace she wore as a reminder of Clint. "I have a boyfriend who kills people for a living."

Brock murmured, "I kill people for a living."

She growled and pushed him away, "So do I. Now get off of me before I have to report you for harassment."

He raised his hands in supplication, "Romanoff, let's not be like this. You're overreacting. We're on the same side. Let's just forget this ever happened. You know people that rat out their teammates don't get far in SHIELD."

She crossed her arms. People were staring, although it was clear they were Rumlow's buddies. She sensed hostility. Natasha tried to keep her professional cool.

She sighed. "Fine. I won't report you to Fury for harassing me, if you stay away from teenagers. I'll be cordial and have your back at work if it's required, but let's not socialize outside of it."

Modern Day

Natasha looked back on that night in Virginia. She should have reported him. She should have taken it as a warning that his predatory behavior was a sign of something darker. She wanted to fix it now.

Natasha handed Steve the police report. "Let's do what we can to take him down. By any means necessary."

To be continued.

Author's notes: Sorry I took so long to update, but my computer broke. I'm trying to give all of the main characters equal time. The Grim Reaper is a character from Marvel comics. I'm keeping him closer to his Avengers Earth's Mightiest Heroes cartoon version, but updated for the MCU. Brock Rumlow is one of the nastiest characters in Marvel comics history and he does have a history with Rachel Leighton, who is one of Captain America's ex-girlfriends, but this is a T rated story so I'm keeping the adaptation very heavily censored/edited.