"Obadiah Stane." Steve Rogers announces as he raises a strand of yellow tape over his boss' hunched over form. "Thirty-six years old and dead for at least forty-eight hours." He continues to hold the tape up for Ms. Romanoff as she swiftly slinks under the caution line.
Natasha murmurs a soft thank you as Steve proceeds to guide them towards the body. As they walk, she runs her fingers along the pale yellow grass that reaches her hips. She spots a tall neon cone that's supporting the bright yellow tape caging them inside a big square. Off in the distance, red and blue lights are flashing. Trees are scattered farther back and mountains rest on the horizon. There's a home not too far from the crime scene with a neighboring white-capped silo.
"Romanoff has a decent lead that connects the killings," Nick mentions as he walks alongside Steve.
The blond turns his head and gives Natasha a shy smile. "This guy might throw you a curve ball. He stands out from the others we've seen thus far."
Natasha lifts her head, eager for the catch.
"He isn't missing an organ like the others were." Steve steps out from the tall grass and into a large patch of freshly trimmed grass. "He's missing a rib."
A man's naked corpse lies in the center of the field surrounded by several S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. Natasha can already spot a clean incision on his right side that follows the contour of the rib cage.
"Feels almost biblical," Nick mutters.
"'Biblical," Natasha repeats.
Bruce Banner is crouched over Obadiah's form and carefully peels back the flap of skin over the ribs. "Whoever's playing God has medical knowledge," he muses. "A surgeon, maybe."
"But definitely a psycho," Clint Barton adds after snapping a photo.
Natasha joins the group of men and stares down at the body.
"Would you like a moment alone?" Nick asks the redhead.
Her eyes are fixated on the man's right side. "He was the sacrificial lamb…"
Fury motions for Steve, Bruce, and Clint to step away. Natasha always prefers her space when the crime begins to unfold for her.
Natasha kneels down and shuts her eyes. The air around her stills and the scent of freshly mowed grass begins to fade as the pristinely cut grass shoots up around her. Natasha slowly opens her eyes and finds herself standing alone in a field of tall grass. She stares off into the blue sky and sees a living Obadiah Stane approach a local drug store's pharmacy.
She shuts her eyes and when she opens them, she finds herself standing before a grey countertop. A woman greets her with a friendly smile and asks how she can help. "I called in earlier," she begins. "I had a prescription filled for Obadiah Stane," she states.
"Right away, sir." The pharmacist nods and wanders over to her computer.
Natasha busies herself by reaching for a cheap tabloid that's on display while she waits. After a minute, the pharmacist returns with a white paper bag.
"It's already been paid for, sir," she announces. "If you can just sign here," she says, sliding a receipt in Natasha's direction.
Natasha nods and signs, then accepts her copy of the receipt as she takes the bag. As she makes her leave, she takes careful note of the receipt. It's dated two weeks before Stane's death. She then notes the name 'Jack Taggert' as the one to pay for the prescription.
"Stane and Taggert knew one another," Natasha announces.
The scenery around her shifts, and now, she's in a lot surrounded by used cars with bright paper signs on the windshields.
"Excuse me, sir," says a man in a suit. "We're not open yet." He steps closer to Natasha, only to stop as his eyes grow wide. In her hand is a loaded gun. She gives the man in the suit an empty stare as he reaches into his pocket to grab his phone. "This is my design," she murmurs as she pulls the trigger.
A piercing bang echoes and leaves her temporarily deaf. She squeezes her eyes shut, then opens them when she feels an icy gust against her face. She's back in the field of freshly cut grass, but she's all alone with the steadily rising sun. The wind continues to rustle the tall grass, but her ears pick up a discrepancy. She turns to the left and sees a dark silhouette marching into the field. It's some kind of horned animal, a ram, maybe, but it lacks a snout. The creature slowly looms closer, its curved horns lightly bobbing with the head's every move. Natasha continues to stand in place. The silhouette draws closer and Natasha begins to squint as the sunrise over the horizon begins to blind her. Finally, the animal is only a few feet away and Natasha steps off to the side to let it pass. It isn't until it emerges from the grass that Natasha realizes that it has fairly muscular arms and slender fingers. The figure turns to her, but all she can see is a haunting black silhouette. It turns away, then proceeds to strut past Natasha on two legs. She lowers her gaze and notices that the figure is dragging something behind him.
Obadiah Stane.
Natasha holds her breath as Stane's unmoving form is dragged into the center of the field. The black figure hunches over the body and begins moving its arms. Natasha carefully observes what looks to be a horned man, completely naked, just like Stane, except Natasha can clearly make out Obadiah's eerily pale skin. The man hunched over the body is like a shadow. Natasha warily approaches and suddenly, the horned man turns to her, his face a midnight black. He holds out his hand to Natasha, an offering. Natasha opens her hand and watches as ebony fingers place a long yellowed arch into her waiting palm.
"The killer is calling out to someone," Natasha breathes.
"Or is he trying to say that the next victim is a woman?" Nick suggests aloud.
"Adam and Eve?" Clint muses. "You think the guy's a religious nut?"
"It's likely," Nick answers.
Natasha turns to acknowledge her boss. "Or he's looking for his partner in crime," she breathes. "His progeny."
"Obadiah still doesn't fit in with the others," Nick reminds her. "Do you suppose the killer of the previous victims was a woman and Stane's killer is a man calling out to her?"
"Stane killed the car dealer and drove the car that killed Pascoe," she states, eyes on the deceased's body.
Clint furrows his brows as he watches the special investigator at work. Unlike Tony Stark who thinks she's nuts, he believes that Natasha's… gifted. He's always believed in that soothsayer and psychic medium mumbo jumbo. And he still does. But he'd be lying if he said that what Natasha did didn't freak him out a little. She's unique.
"Stane knew Taggert. He's been connected with the killings from the beginning," she explains. "He was most likely roped into doing this by the man who murdered him…"
"You're certain a man killed him?" Fury asks.
Natasha reflects on the lean silhouette of the horned man. "Yes," she says after a pause. "But Stane's murder will be the last ones for now." Empty coal eyes are telling her so. "It's the end of this chapter." She imagines the smoothness of the freshly cleaned rib in her hand. "Chapter two will involve finding his apprentice…"
Nick frowns. "A woman, correct?"
Natasha eyes the slit along Stane's side. "God made Eve from Adam," she quietly muses.
"Alright!" Fury bellows in a commanding tone. "Let's have this body moved and taken in for further examination."
Fury's men nod and hurry off to inform the nearby medical team.
"Do you suppose this is the work of Aldrich Killian?" Nick asks Natasha once they're alone.
Natasha hums in reply. "Maya Hansen is looking to be pretty suspicious right now."
"I'll see what I can dig up on them," Fury promises. "Let's get you back home." He begins to walk towards the tall grass. He hears Natasha's light footsteps follow a moment later.
"Nick." He slows his pace as she wades her way into the tall grass. "I'd like to be involved with this case as it unfurls."
Nick stops and softly chuckles. "I'd be honoured to have you on the team."
Natasha looks straight ahead and as she walks, the image of the horned silhouette lingers in the back of her mind. She's aware that the vision is nightmare fuel, but she needs to know just what the Wendigo creature is supposed to mean…
