Hey guys, sorry for the long wait until this chapter. I had warned you I was in exams and I really didn't have much time to squeeze in a little writing. But now everything's done and I'm ready for summer and I'm ready to get crunk as fuck. I'm also going to be updating more, probably once or twice a week, and regularly. Again, sorry for the long wait.

I want to thank BeccaSco for the nice review on the latest chapter, and 17 Daybreak for the lovely and thoughtful review on the prologue. Thank you to the new followers and the new favoriters.

Enjoy!

Chapter eleven: Superlative

Like he had presumed, the morning of their extraction to California was rainy and grey. Fat drops of water had rushed onto the windowpanes of the house, the outside world a blur. The clouds were of a light ashen color, trapping sunlight, making the air cool and humid. As he trekked outside, his boots glossy with rainwater, he noticed how heavy and stagnant the air was; full of rain and humidity. A heavy weight settled over his chest and a mighty cough ripped from his throat as he approached the aircraft, his right hand clasped around the handle of a weapons bag. The grass scrunched delightfully under his boots as he watched Steve emerge from the mouth of the jet, clad in black jeans and a grey hoodie.

"We should head out very soon," Cap mentioned as he grabbed the bag from Bucky's extended wrist. Cap had a worried and esoteric look on his face, his expression torn between what he felt and what he should feel. His fingertips were cold as they skimmed along Bucky's wrist, which was abnormal and rare for Steve.

"I told you it was stupid to wait until today," Bucky grumbled, resisting the urge to put his hands on his hips and scowl. Instead, his face pulled into a frown, his teeth baring for a split second. His eyes were burning with annoyance.

"It wasn't clever to jump right back into the belly of the beast so fast," Steve answered in a patronizing voice. He was trying to reason with Bucky's impulsive nature; a nature that brought him to do stupid things that Steve remembered very vividly.

"We waited and we let them run back with their tails between their legs and we gave them time to lick their wounds," Bucky gritted through clenched teeth, his jaw clenched, the shadow of a stubble clear in the grey light. "They know we were involved and they might as well have been given time to build a wall as they waited for us to storm their abandoned railways."

As Bucky expressed his thinking, Steve stomped down from the plane, closer to where his friend stood under a sheet of rain. The rain very quickly dotted Steve's forehead, making his hair flatten on his skull, but also made the endearingly red color of his lips and cheeks stand out. "We needed to lick our own wounds too, Bucky," he reasoned, his voice steady and grave. "Maybe you and I have enhancements that permit us to accomplish unbelievable feats, but the people in that house don't. They need time to get a grip on themselves. It's not easy for them like it is easy for you and I."

Up close, Steve could see the storm raging in his best friend's eyes. He was trying very hard to grip his bearings, to understand Steve's point of view. He was trying very hard to ignore what HYDRA had put in him. It was never easy for Bucky, yet what HYDRA had implemented in his mind turned him into an uncontrollable machine. He completely lost sight of who he really was when a gun was tucked against his shoulder. Even with all his work, even now, he had trouble being Bucky Barnes when the time called to be The Winter Soldier.

Bucky stormed off, his boots scrunching sloppily on the wet grass. On his way back into the house, he almost came face to face with Addison, who was carelessly tying her hair into a ponytail. He came so close to her that he caught sight of the freckles on her nose and the rosy color of her cheeks. And as quickly as she appeared, she hurried by him, carefully avoiding his eyes.

He stared after her, planted there on the back porch, rain slowly dotting his forehead. She was wearing a new suit, one that Steve insisted she wear as it was aerodynamic, flexible, and resistant to cuts. But that suit fit her like a glove, the black texture of it molding to her body, making Bucky gulp on a considerable lump of saliva. Her undaunted dark hair was messily sweeping behind her. She walked through the wet grass towards Steve, where she stood legs shoulder-width apart and arms crossed. Bucky avoided a glance by Cap just in time as he fled in through the back door, the cover of the house quickly drying the drops of water on his skin.

He couldn't stop his mind from reliving the night before. What he had done, and mostly, what he hadn't done. He hadn't stopped. He couldn't possibly stop; the more he felt her under him, the less control he had. She was warm and delicious and perfect, her lips pressed firmly against his, her hands tangled in his shirt. She tasted like wine and she felt so soft and tender under his skin. His mind had taken roads usually untraveled by him, thinking thoughts he shouldn't have. His hands had acted on their own, touching places he knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't stop himself. He wanted it so bad. It had taken all the willpower in him to stop himself from ripping her clothes off. It had taken all the control in him to keep him from completely losing it.

She was addicting. Bucky went back to bed with the taste of her lips on his, the feel of her skin still imprinted in his palms, the shape of her body still outlined against his. His mind was plagued with the sweet, tender color of her eyes, the crinkle of her skin when she smiled, and the way her plump little breast felt in his hand. To say the least, he hadn't slept very well if not at all.

Bucky gripped the last bag that was lounging the side of the garage door. He swung it over his shoulder, his brows pulled into a deep frown. He was almost too busy thinking things over that he almost missed Sam standing there, with his arms crossed, and a warning look on his face. His left eyebrow was raised so high, it might as well crawl off his forehead.

"You ready?" he asked, his eyes glazed over. Bucky stopped a reasonable distance away from Sam, but the look on the Falcon's face was leading to believe something was off.

"Are you?" Bucky asked, his voice gruff from the rain.

Sam shrugged nonchalantly. "Just keep your mind clear," he said, his eyes doing a once-over on Bucky. "We all need to thinking clearly out there."

Bucky gulped as he watched Sam walk out of the house. How could he possibly keep his mind as clear as day when he had the feel and images of Addison plaguing him like the black plague? There was something morally wrong with him, there had to be. There wasn't a time before where he was so itchy, as if his skin was not his own. He couldn't recall ever feeling that way; as if his chest was going to explode from excess pressure. He was going crazy.

Before coming downstairs that morning, he had checked for all the signs of injury, mostly brain injuries. He passed a light in his eyes to check his pupil dilation. He checked his hearing and his balance for any evidence of cranial abnormalities. He even checked his head for any bumps or cuts. He didn't have a concussion or an aneurysm. He was totally normal physically, yet he felt like he had swallowed a gallon of acid.

He walked back outside, where the rest of the team had gathered. His eyes involuntarily found the supple brunette lingering by the mouth of the jet, playing with her arsenal belt. He groomed himself to look apathetic, and not desperate, like he was truly feeling. When his eyes met hers, he knew that she was doing the same. The dark color of her eyes resonated control as she quickly looked away from him. He saw the vein pulsing in her throat, the little tinge of blue tinting her skin.

"The flight is around three hours long," Steve was saying. "We'll have time to suit up and to get ready. Once we land, there's a slight chance we're going to have to walk a while to get there. Don't be let down by the heat. I hear the underground tunnels are cold."

Bucky watched as everyone followed Steve inside, like dark shadows. Sam was shouldering his Falcon suit while Wanda was helping him, her lips stretched in a wicked smirk as she joked around. Scott was dressed in his own attire, his helmet cradled in his elbow.

He sighed, wishing there was a God up there that would take the aching feeling in his chest away. Climbing in behind his team, he was the last one in before the jet closed and lifted from the ground.

Addie sat away from everyone, in her own corner, away from the casual chitchat. She was bent over a knife, honing the blade, the light reflecting off the metallic color. The sound echoed in the darkness of the plane, sour in her ears. She had taken a liking to knives as she trained like a maniac over the last few weeks. Even with target practice and general training, she was more prone to picking up a knife than a gun. Not to mention she had deadly aim.

Addie felt focused, even more focused than Florida. Her mind was as sharp as her blade, concentrated on the mission. She felt ready, more ready than before. She wasn't soft and unaware. Now she was strong and she knew she had to put up a fight in order to make it. She wasn't afraid, and there was nothing that could budge her from the mental trance she was in.

Even Bucky had totally left her mind. She would not lie and say she hadn't thought of him as she had wondered back to bed last night, or rather, early this morning. She had tossed and turned, the burning feeling of his hands still imprinted in memory. She couldn't get the addicting taste of his lips out of her mind. He was a distraction, and that is why it was more than wrong to take it further with him. She was just beginning to fit in; she would not let herself be thrown off course by him.

"Hey birdie." She looked up to find Clint standing over her with a knowing smile. "Knives, huh?"

She cracked a smirk of her own. "Works well with electricity," she commented.

"I honestly thought you'd like arrows better," he said, taking a seat down beside her.

She scoffed. "I'm sorry I didn't join your club, Clint."

He bumped her shoulder with a laugh. "My club is rockin'!" he defended. "My kids love it."

"Do you guys wear pink on Wednesdays?" she asked, her eyes twinkling with comedy. He snorted, shaking his head like it was the dumbest thing he'd ever heard.

"My girl watched that movie, and let me tell you, that was the stupidest shit I've ever seen." He laughed, throwing his head back. Addie smiled, her fingers still nimbly working on her blades.

"D'you miss them?" she asked, avoiding her eyes from his. "Your family."

He sighed, pulling his knees up until he could rest his elbows on them. "Yeah," he said slowly. "I would give anything to go back to them. Hell, I'd give my bow and arrow to get them back. But I'm willing to bet secretary Ross has got them on twenty-four hour surveillance."

"Are you worried?" she asked.

"No," he said abruptly. "I know Laura has got them safe and sound. I doubt Ross would hurt them too."

Addie nodded, her jaw crunched as she tried to keep her thoughts from wondering to places she hasn't been to in a while. "Do you miss them?" Clint asked, his voice low, tentative.

"Who?" she asked, her throat feeling lumpy.

"Your parents."

She sighed deeply, stretching out her neck in a semblance of ignorance. In truth, she hadn't thought of her parents a lot lately. She held a sort of rancor against them, a grudge she just couldn't let go of. She knew there was something they knew that they refused to tell her. Something had happened to her that was not normal, and they hid it away from their own daughter. They put her through God knows what and fled her because whatever they had paid for or done, had turned into their nightmare. They moved as far away from her as they could and barely kept in touch with her. She was their daughter and they had abandoned her.

"I honestly couldn't give a shit what they do," she mumbled.

"Well, at least you're honest about it," Clint grumbled back, getting to his feet, his boots echoing on the metallic floor as she watched him walk away. She met the sparkling blue gaze of a particular soldier before she wrenched her eyes away.

They landed somewhere off the coast of the ocean, the air salty and smelling of algae. By then, it was early morning, the afternoon lingering not far ahead. The sun was beginning to heat the team the more it ascended in the sky. The air was clear of any rain, making it dry and uncomfortable.

They followed Steve's coordinates until they arrived at a gate, which blocked the access to a tunnel entry. The ground was paved, the entry to the tunnel a simple staircase leading into a mouth of darkness. Trucks were parked around the entrance and along the inside of the gate, making it simpler for them to find cover if needed. There was a good amount of garbage disposed everywhere along the ground, which led to believe there was little to no surveillance to the place. There were no engine sounds or any sounds that would indicate any sort of activity.

They climbed the gates in silence, regrouping along the edge of a cargo truck. Addie did a once over on her arsenal; her knives were safely tucked into her belt. Her two guns were holstered at her waist and on her right thigh respectively. The long sleeves of her suit were going to keep her warm in the tunnels, and right now, under the scorching sun, they were keeping her from sweating.

She remembered Steve was particularly insistent on making her have a suit for missions. He was insisting that suits would permit her to be homogeneous with the team, to "blend in". When he came in with a suit that Natasha had approved from wherever she was, Addie was impressed that it was also personally adapted for her, meaning electricity did not burn the suit and the suit kept her cool or warm depending on the temperature.

She was the first one to get her gun out, ready before the others. She leveled it to the ground, the way Bucky had taught her. She followed behind Steve, the rest of the team's echoing footsteps behind her. They lounged the sides of the trucks along the tarmac, their boots the only sound audible.

"There's no signs of any guards," Steve said through the coms. She looked around the edge of one truck, to where a tower loomed in the distance. She palmed around with her ability, for anything strange, for any source of electricity that was abnormal for an abandoned place.

"It's quiet out here, Rogers," Sam grumbled. "You sure we got the right place?"

Steve sighed loudly through the coms and was about to answer when Addie looked back to the group. "There's something down there," she said, loudly for them all to hear, pointing to where the stairs led into darkness. "There's a single unit of power down there and I'm pretty sure it's not the city guards having a beer pong challenge."

She saw Sam smirk at her creative humor, but she was more nervous than comedic to bathe in the intellectual word game she had just played. She could feel the little unit of energy eating at her the more she concentrated on it.

"If they're playing beer pong down there, I'm totally down to join them," Scott laughed, his helmet hiding a wide smirk.

"Alright guys," Steve said, "Let's go."

They marched behind him, slightly crouched, their weapons ready. They were all anticipating the unknown, like back in Florida, yet only Addie and Wanda knew there was no immediate danger. The only suspicious thing was the small unit of energy calling to her down in the tunnel.

Steve was the first to disappear into the dark tunnel, his whole figure being swallowed by the darkness. Addie heard his echoing footsteps in the obscurity, yet he had completely disappeared. Addie gulped quickly, looking back up to the sky, where the sun shone brightly over her. She shook her head to get the nagging thoughts from her mind and quickly stepped into the darkness.

She immediately felt the cool air wrap around her, her suit starting to act against the freshness of the tunnel. She felt the cloth tightening around her waist and her wrists, allowing the heat of the suit to remain around her torso. She breathed heavily, even though she had done no physical exertion, because of the density of the humid air in the tunnel. She took tentative steps in the dark, but the blackness was so absolute that she could not even see her hand inches from her face. Her eyes were round like saucers, desperately searching for anything in the darkness.

She felt something warm and soft against the inside of her wrist, and before she could react defensively, she heard Steve hushing her. "Hey, easy there, birdie," he whispered, an ounce of humor in his tone. "Here, take this." He slipped his hand into her own until she felt something metallic against her flesh. She wrapped her fingers around the length and pressed on a soft bump. A bright white light shone from her hand, illuminating the dirty, damp interior of the tunnel.

"This place reeks," Scott grumbled as he stumbled into the light of her flashlight. Addie looked behind her, the rest of the team pulling out flashlights of their own, except for Bucky. She remembered, as she watched him eyeing her, that Steve had once told her the serum that he and Bucky had been injected with gave them superior sight, hence why they had no problem in the dark.

Scott was right. The place smelled rotten, as if thousands of rats had died in the walls and their tiny bodies were decomposing. As Addie shone the light around, she illuminated the disgusting environment of the tunnel. The ground was slick with gutter water and a green substance that Addie wanted no part in.

She unknowingly led the team further into the tunnel, her flashlight still illuminating the way. Wanda walked on her right, her red ribbons of magic serving as her own personal flashlight. She knew Steve was on her left, with the rest of the team behind them, bringing up the rear. They seemed to be walking through an entrance hall, but the hall seemed to have been stopped mid-construction. Some walls were brick while some others were still wooden carcasses. On the far wall, there was another entrance with another set of stairs that led down. Addie shone her light down the stairs illuminating a platform for what would have been a subway station.

"What were these tunnels before they were abandoned?" she asked through the coms.

"It was supposed to be an underground alternative to moving around merchandise," Clint answered, his voice soft in her ear piece. "The city would have moved around some stuff like money or more expensive things, I guess. But the project stopped being funded a while back. The fishy thing is, many contractors would have torn the whole damn railway apart for a little amount of money, but the city refused to give it up."

"You really think the city of Santa Monica is in cahoots with HYDRA?" Scott asked gravely.

"There's a lot of things we don't know and can't possibly explain, Lang," Sam said, his voice patronizing.

"Whatever the reason for not tearing this dump apart is," Addie said through clenched teeth, "I want to know what HYDRA wants with it now."

"That's what we're about to find out," Wanda whispered, gesturing for Addie to take the first steps down.

The lower they went, the colder it was. Down in the underbelly of the railways, the dark was oppressing and heavy. The bright white light of her flashlight was dramatically shedding light on everything it touched. The first platform was empty of any evidence, the ground murky brown and the air silent and eerie. There was still something off, far in the distance, a throbbing source of energy that kept Addie on edge.

They met rats and homeless people that alike looked like garbage. They didn't pay much attention to the team of Avengers passing through, yet they still looked at them through tired, red eyes. They walked through the tunnels to emerge on the platforms to find nothing new. The ground was always muddy. The walls were stained with mold. Even one station name had been scratched to spell out Ikol.

Addie was beginning to question herself about the place actually being suspicious when she noticed the throbbing was extremely loud in her ears. She lowered her flashlight as they came out of the tunnel, turning it off as she stepped onto the platform.

Steve motioned for the others to do the same. Slowly, the platform went completely and utterly dark. "Steve, Bucky," she croaked. "Lead us to the end of the platform and then to the end of the tunnel. There's something on the other side."

"People, actually," Wanda whispered, outlined by the redness of her magic.

"Man, you spook me when you guys talk like that," Scott whined.

She felt the presence of someone beside her. A soft finger found her thumb and hooked around it. By the feel of the thumb, cold and smooth, she could only guess it was Bucky. Hidden in the darkness, the tender movement was oblivious to everyone except for her. She would have loved to see his face in that instant, as she felt him tug on her thumb with his index, the metallic plates of his hand scratching her flesh. She followed him in the dark, their feet barely whispering against the damp ground. She felt the others moving around her too, but what she could only really concentrate on was the feel of the cold metal on her hand, his own body not so far from hers.

It was the first time since she woke up that she let herself wonder. The time nor place did not call for her to be distracted as so, and yet, she couldn't keep the image of his mouth out of her head. She wondered what he would be like if she would want to get intimate with him. All she had seen from him was anger and annoyance. He was distance and as cold as his metal arm was. He was calculated, cunning, and sneaky, yet she couldn't image that Bucky being the one who kissed her last night. She couldn't imagine him wrapping his arms around her and letting her lean her chin on his shoulder. There was no ounce of tenderness in him, no affliction in his eyes. He was a cold hard stone which no hammer nor nail could break through.

She followed Bucky down into the tunnel, her cheeks so hot she knew they must have been as red as blood. He kept holding her with his thumb, not quite touching her, but not quite letting her go either. She wanted to grab his face and tell him to stop making her feel like she was about to crumble to a million pieces and burst into flames. The more he kept looking as if he hadn't set her flesh on fire last night, the more she wanted to scream.

They arrived at what must have been the next platform, for Steve gave a small grunt and everyone crouched instinctively. Bucky still held his index firmly hooked around Addie's thumb, but now his knee was slightly grazing hers. She couldn't see anything, yet she knew he was facing her because the shallow breaths he was taking were brushing against her neck. She knew she must have looked like a deer caught in headlights to him; the man who can see in the dark. Her eyes were as round as a perfect circle, her pupils dilated as if she suffered a concussion, and her lips were parted.

She felt him lean in until his hot breath fanned her ear, shivers grazing over her skin. His flesh hand came to rest on her waist, just above her arsenal belt. If it hadn't been for the suit, Addie's skin would have melted. "Up we go," he whispered, so low she wasn't sure what he actually said.

She whispered his name, very, very low. The sound barely brushed his ears, yet he heard it because his movements completely stopped. He was frozen for what seemed like a second, his hands on her waist now, his nose brushing hers.

In this darkness, he thought, no one would see.

There was a violent moment where Addison wanted to crush her lips onto his. In this darkness, in the pit of blackness, she came face to face with what she really felt and wanted. The darkness had cast a cover over her, as if the others didn't exist and it was just Bucky and her.

Then the moment was gone and Bucky was hoisting her up as if she weighed nothing. He planted her feet on the solid ground, her breathing hitching as she felt how sharply he set her down. A moment later, he climbed up himself, his fingers splaying over the soft underside of her wrist before completely closing around it. He led her away from the edge of the platform while she heard the others quietly climbing on. He kept a solid grip on her wrist as he led her through the darkness, her feet coming inches from his heels the more they ventured to the end of the platform.

"Addison," Steve murmured through the coms.

She had almost completely blocked out her mission. Almost. The throbbing came back to her the moment she let the sensation of Bucky's hand on her flesh leave her mind. The sharp sound flooded her ears and the sensation of snake-skin on her flesh came rushing back. She wrenched her wrist from Bucky's grasp, her eyes searching the darkness for any light. Like a blind person, her fingers found the wall, skimming along the broken bricks and tiles. Her palms then pressed firmly onto the wall, her senses as raw as cold meat.

"It's on the other side of this wall," she whispered.

"There must be a door somewhere," Clint commented. She felt dumb that she hadn't been keeping tabs on the mission, so lost in Bucky like a little schoolgirl.

"Up here," she heard Bucky whisper harshly. She followed his voice, her palms still pressed firmly on the wall. Her skin was damp and she felt the mud slithering under her nails. She would have bumped into Bucky if it wasn't for him grabbing her wrist again. "Is it here?" he asked, his voice controlled, no ounce of abnormality in his tone.

She trailed her hands along the wall, reaching out with her ability. She could feel the surge of power on the other side, the unit of energy throbbing, as if alone in a sea of darkness. "Yeah," she answered.

"Get in position," Bucky said calmly, pulling her by the wrist until she was behind him. The others gathered behind as well, crouched. She saw Wanda's red rivulets of magic seep from her fingers, ready for defense.

A squeak echoed in the darkness. The squeal of an old, rusty door being pulled open flooded her ears as she caught the first rays of light from inside the room. She squinted her eyes as she tried to decipher what was inside the room. Looking over Bucky's shoulder, it seemed as if the room they had just discovered was some sort of operating room, yet none of the machines she saw were operational. The light was from an oil lamp that was sitting above an old, dusty machine.

She got to her feet before everybody else, her eyes narrowing on the old machines, sitting there doing nothing. She stepped inside despite the small protestation from Bucky. When she looked at him, he was holding his gun ready, his brows pulled firmly in a frown. She didn't care if he wanted to protect her; that was his problem.

Her own gun was aimed at the floor, ready to fire, as she crept inside the operating room. Her eyes glanced from corner to corner, yet it looked more like a corridor than a room once she was inside. The walls on her left and right were closing in on her, the machines lining the walls until they disappeared around a corner. When she peered ahead, she spotted a dark figure hunched under another oil lamp.

Her first instinct made her drop to one knee, her weapon up, her eyes sharp on the person hunched abnormally against the wall. The others all lined in behind her, Steve on her right, his own weapon aimed. When she looked at him, she saw how concentrated he was. In his element. The soldier finally coming of use. She wondered what she looked like in that instant.

Steve motioned for her to cover him as he crept along the wall, his gun aimed skillfully at the figure. Addie crouched not far behind, her eyes sharply searching for any sharp or abnormal movements. The person was a man with short dark hair, his head titled to the side as if he was sleeping, his legs outstretched in front of him. His jaw was slacked, eyes closed, right hand opened upwards as it lay on the cold pavement floor.

"He's dead," Wanda said behind her, confirming everyone's suspicions.

Steve crouched in front of the body, his fingers pressing into the man's neck, searching for a pulse. Cap's blue eyes found Addie's, his eyebrows pulled upwards in a mixture of melancholy and confusion. "Someone's been here before us," he said, his voice clear, yet sharp. "His body is still warm."

The team was set on edge, their feet shuffling, hearts throbbing in their throats. "Any sign of how he died?" asked Clint as he walked in beside Addie, coming down on one knee beside her.

Steve searched the body, gripping on the man's bullet proof vest, turning his shoulder, examining the body for any wounds. He seemed to be coming short of any evidence until his clear blue eyes landed on a spot behind the mans neck. A smirk grew on his lips, as if he knew exactly what was going on. As if he found the missing piece of the puzzle. "Oh, I know who did this," he said, his voice echoing with a trace of humor. "He's been electrocuted."

Addie's eyes went from Steve to Clint, seeing the small smirk stretch on the latter's lips. "And who else uses electricity besides birdie?" he asked, his brow rising as his eyes found the said birdie.

"Natasha," she squeaked.

She relaxed, rolling her shoulders back into their sockets. Getting to her feet, the rest of the group imitated her as they all came to stand around Steve and the dead man. She seemed less tensed to know Nat might be here, or had been.

"Why would Tasha come here on her own?" Clint asked. "Even we knew it was risky going into a potential HYDRA liar all seven of us. Why would she come alone?"

Steve chuckled, his hands finding his belt as he continued to stare at the dead body below him. "There's one thing I've learned by working with Nat all these years," he chuckled. "Sometimes Nat has missions of her own." There was a hidden inside joke in the tone of his voice that everyone seemed to understand besides Addie.

She ignored them as they all stood there with goofy smiles on their faces, and followed the still throbbing source of energy that called to her. She held the gun in her right hand, her feet skidding quietly against the pavement ground. She rounded another corner and at the far end of it was another door. With her heart quickening in her chest, she reached for the door handle and pulled it opened, her gun coming to aim inside of the room.

She found Nat sitting on a low stool, washing a gun with a dirty cloth, a knowing smile on her face. Her fiery red hair was reflecting the light of a couple dozen oil lamps all sitting around the edge of the room. The dove color of her flesh seemed more white in contrast to her dark red lips and sharp blue eyes as her mouth became open to form a small "O".

"Took you long enough." Her sultry voice floated up to Addie's ears, unarmed or chaotic. Her eyes then found the dark brown of the brunette standing wide-eyed in the door way, her gun still aimed dangerously at Nat. "Put that toy down, bird, it's just me."

"Natalia Romanova!" Clint said, bursting through the door as he rushed to Nat. He crushed her into a hug, she barely on her feet, him wrapping his arms around her neck. Soon, Steve and the others followed hesitantly, their eyes searching the room for any signs of the enemy.

"Why did you come all this way, alone, to kill one guy?" Sam asked, leaning in the door frame.

Nat's lips pursed into a sly smirk. "I didn't kill just one guy, Sammy," she answered, her voice roach and seductive, as if she was trying to be sexy. "And I'm not alone."

Steve's mouth opened to ask something, his brows furrowing into a deep frown. Yet before he could say anything, there was the sound of metal on pavement and Addie's eyes looked up sharply.

There was a man dressed in a red and gold metal body suit, holding a white powdered doughnut in his right hand, white sugar coating his lips. "Well, this is awkward," he mumbled.

Yup, that was Tony Stark.