Author's Notes: Special thank you to everyone who has reviewed – keep them coming! Also, please don't strain yourself trying to figure out when this takes place in the sequence of the Marvel movies and Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. It's on its own timeline. And for those of you who have been wondering what the pairings are, this chapter will answer that question.

The Hydra Games

PenPatronus

Chapter 7

Infiltrators

"Those sons of bitches," Nick Fury sighed as he watched the security video of Thor and Tony sneaking into the armory, hollowing out a missile and filling it with their own weapons. "Should've known they'd find some way to cheat." He hit a button on his tablet and switched to the second surveillance footage that Agent Hill sent to him. He scowled as the same missile busted through the steel walls of the Helicarrier and flew south.

Phil stared sadly down at the beer in his hand and the half-eaten burger on his plate. Behind him a group of college students played sand volleyball and kids splashed in the teal Atlantic Ocean. "Well, should we just go pick them up?" he asked.

"Oh hell, no," Fury snapped. He dumped his tablet face-down on the picnic table and used it as a coaster for his drink. "What we're going to do is leave those fools on that island for an extra twelve hours and hope they get hit by a hurricane."

"Sir, that wouldn't be much of a punishment. Thor could fly them anywhere. And I'm betting that red cube was one of Stark's suits."

A vein above Fury's good eye throbbed. "Dammit." He took a long sip of his appletini and loosened the string of his bright green board shorts. "Didn't even go snorkeling yet…" Suddenly Fury's cell shrieked. He glared at it, then reluctantly turned on the speaker phone. "Report, Hill."

"Uh, Sir?" Maria's voice was shaking. "Sir, we have a problem."

"Report." Fury hated repeating himself.

"I sent a Quinjet to follow the hammer and when it finally caught up, Sir, well…"

"Report!"

Her wince was almost audible. "Sir, the island is… empty."

Phil froze with a French fry halfway to his mouth. Ketchup dripped onto his lap.

Fury blinked. "Say again?"

"My agents reported that the entire Hydra Games facility is – is gone, Sir. And they found six bodies…"

Phil groaned. His hand went limp and the fry landed in the sand.

Fury gulped and wrapped his palm across his eyes. "The Avengers?"

"No, Sir. The Hydra Games staff – the agents who were running the simulations. Their throats were cut."

"Oh my God," Phil whispered.

"Evidence? Theories?"

"There are four shallow craters in the sand and the foliage appears to have suffered wind damage. Sir, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that the building flew away."

"Hill, I oversaw the construction of that place myself. I assure you it does not have propellers!"

Coulson was on his feet. "Wait, we had eight agents on site! Who's missing?"

Hill was quiet for a minute while she checked. "Ward and Sitwell."

Phil leaned his fists against the table. "Sir, I – I can speak for Ward…"

"And I can for Sitwell, Coulson," Fury snapped. He was silent for a whole sixty seconds, and then his voice dropped an octave. "Hill, come pick us up. Now."

"Yes, Sir. It will take half an hour for us to land, de-cloak and send the boat for you."

Fury was on his feet and marching towards the water. "Hill, de-cloak right now. Just drop a rope ladder."

"Yes, Sir."

Every soul on the beach gasped simultaneously when a hovering boat suddenly appeared in the clouds above them.

Natasha woke up wondering when she had fallen asleep. The last thing she remembered was jogging down the hall after Barton. For half a second – less than one – she thought she was back on the Helicarrier. She recognized the subtle vibration and low-pitched hum of air travel. Also, she lay in the same type of glass prison intended to house the Hulk. But then she remembered that Loki jettisoned the cell with Thor in it so the prison she was in now was… where?

"I hope I didn't hit you too hard," said a voice behind her. A figure emerged from the shadows of the small gray room and approached the glass. He was tall, distinguished, dark-eyed and dark-haired, more muscle than not. "I wasn't supposed to capture you at all but I had a feeling that team of yours would, well, have to be bombed. I didn't want that pretty face of yours to get scarred."

"Ward?" Natasha struggled dizzily to her feet and approached the glass. He had his palm against it, and she lifted hers, intending to reach for him – but then the blizzard of events coalesced into sold facts in her brain and she tiptoed backwards away from him, her face a mask of hatred.

"Please don't look at me like that." Ward circled around the glass to get closer to her, but she kept backing up. "These Games weren't my idea."

Natasha swallowed. She took a deep breath and tried to prioritize her questions. "Where's my team?"

"Dead."

"You're lying."

A half-hearted smile. "You really are the best, aren't you, Romanoff? You and Barton. Good enough to run with superheroes."

She gestured at the room. "What is this place?"

"You're in the Hydra Games, agent. The facility is just being… relocated. My bosses decided the Games that S.H.I.E.L.D. designed aren't challenging enough for the mighty Avengers." Ward rolled his eyes at "mighty." "They want your team out of their way but first they want to have a little fun. The same kind of fun that scientists have with rats in mazes."

Natasha examined him. Ward wore his black S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform but where the eagle insignia should've been there was a skull with octopus legs. She'd hoped he was just a traitor coerced by S.H.I.E.L.D.'s competitors, but he was worse than that. He was Hydra. He was an infiltrator. "You shouldn't exist," she told him, nodding at the skull.

Ward followed her line of sight and chuckled. "I suppose not. But Norse Gods shouldn't be real, either. Or super-soldiers. Or aliens." He got closer. His expression hardened. "Life is a long list of unlikely things, Natasha. For instance, there was a time when I thought that you and I were likely. But you chose someone else."

"Clearly I chose correctly," she snarled.

"If you'd chosen me you'd be at my side, on the winning side."

"I would never choose Hydra."

"I didn't either. Not really." Ward laced his fingers behind his back as he walked. "My loyalty was to one man. It never mattered to me who he was loyal to. So think about it, Natasha. Ask yourself this: if the man who recruited you was Hydra instead of S.H.I.E.L.D., which side would you be on?"

Natasha stopped backing away and allowed him to come closer. "That's the difference between you and me, Ward. I can't be seduced. I've learned to be loyal to a cause, not a man."

Ward gave her one last dirty look and then turned on his heel. He reached the iron door and stopped and spoke without turning to look at her. "If Barton survives what we have planned for him, I'm going to strangle him myself." Ward slammed the door behind him when he left.

Natasha leaned back against the glass and then slid down to a sitting position. She cradled her face in her hands, not caring about the half-dozen cameras watching her.

"Clint…"

To Be Continued