Sasha Nevsky walked on the sidewalk downtown, her low heels making only a muted clicking noise. She turned a corner and barely spared a glance at the door that she passed. The door where she used to enter every day, until S.H.I.E.L.D. caught her. She had turned snitch on the shadowy contract firm, and sent Dahlberg and ten other employees to prison in return for a new job.
She walked past Times Square, where she, Briana, and Connor had gotten dead–drunk one night and almost blew an assignment.
She walked past the company that hired Karine after she graduated. She contemplated going in and saying hello – it wasn't as if her friend didn't know what she did now – but reminded herself: on the clock.
Agent Johnson had complained that Sasha always got the choice assignments. "It's just 'cuz you're some wacky experiment," he said, unoriginal as ever. "You got the special DNA so SHIELD think's you're halfway to superhero."
She couldn't think of a good response, so she told him to shut up in Ukrainian.
Johnson always complained. Clint had told him once that if he'd shut his cake–hole maybe he'd get better assignments.
Clint and Johnson were more similar than they wanted to believe.
Sasha stopped in front of the café.
There were different waitresses than last time. Last time was three years ago, she reminded herself. Of course there would be different waitresses. Still, she contemplated going inside and ordering a hot chocolate.
On the clock.
She walked across the street quickly, watching for cars. She hated New York City – there were always cars. Too many cars, not enough trees.
She walked around Stark Tower and down the back driveway. The emergency door had been repainted, to hide the redone security system. She waved her ID at the new scanner and the door opened.
"You got a '67 Impala," she called across the garage. "It's not your usual style, but I like it."
Stark stopped welding, took off his protective mask, and pointed it at her. "I'm gonna get you back someday for making me watch that show," he yelled back. "You better watch out."
Sasha smiled to herself and walked into Stark's workroom. "What's the new gadget?"
He held up the long metal sheet with tongs. "A physical window cover. There've been too many helicopters around the building lately for comfort, and the shaded windows aren't one–hundred–percent effective. See," he showed her, "The plates fold up at the top when they aren't needed, but when you want the window covered, you release this mechanism and the plates fall down and overlap almost vertically."
Sasha looked at Stark for a moment, to make sure he was serious. "Have you told Pepper about this yet?"
"No, it's gonna be a birthday present."
"Uhuh. Keep working on that," she said, and walked towards the elevator. "You'll be upstairs for the meeting, right?"
"You betcha," he shouted, put his mask back on, and ignited the welder. The elevator doors closed.
The elevator doors opened. She walked out into the lobby and took a second to enjoy the glass–pane view.
"Sasha!" called her mother. Sasha turned and walked away from the windows.
"Is he still downstairs?" Pepper asked.
"Yes, he's working on your birthday present," the young agent replied. "Blinds."
"What?"
"He is reinventing the window blinds," she clarified. "Well, I don't think he knows that they already exist, so technically he is inventing them right now..."
Pepper stared at Sasha, trying to figure out whether she was kidding. "He needs to get out more," she decided.
"Yeah," agreed Sasha. She noticed Natasha's impatient look, and placed her backpack on the table.
"The reports," she said, and took out the binders. She placed one at every spot at the table, and left the fattest one in the middle. "And the full paperwork."
"Thank you, Sasha," said Pepper.
"The incident report in full is in the back of the binders. There's also camera footage on the pages before that. Director Fury will be here in ten minutes. That should give Mr. Stark enough time to get out of his workshop." Sasha slung her backpack up, letting it hang from one shoulder, and walked towards the elevator.
"Sasha," called Pepper. Sasha stopped, turned slightly to see Ms. Potts.
"What are you doing after this?" asked Natasha.
"I was thinking of visiting a friend when she gets off work," Sasha said slowly. "I'm off the clock. That's okay, right?" she asked her mother.
"Why don't you stay here," Natasha suggested. "See the presentation."
"Director Fury–" Sasha started.
"Can kiss my ass." Natasha gave her daughter the old "let's–be–serious–here" look. "You've been in S.H.I.E.L.D. for two years, Coulson should be giving you better assignments by now." Sasha didn't move. "Aleksandra, sit down."
It's about time, she thought. She sat down across from her mother.