"Get the shipment ready to go," a gruff, male voice with a heavy Russian accent ordered. Natasha shuffled forward and peeked around the corner of the shipping container. There he was. Her target, surrounded by tons of illegal contraband. Perfect. It was time to spring the trap.

She scuffed her heel against the dirty, concrete floor. The sound echoed through the cavernous warehouse and she saw the Russian's head snap around. She scrambled back, but he still caught a glimpse of her bright red curls. As she raced through the narrow passageway she could hear the man sounding the alarm. A grin spread across Natasha's face. The chase was on. Now the real work had begun.

"Hey, stop, little girl!" a different, burly man commanded in Russian. He was clearly startled that the intruder was a sixteen year old girl. Good. She used his surprise to dart forward and swipe his feet out from under him. She vaulted over his limp form and picked up the pace as she heard the slap of footsteps getting closer.

"There she is! Stop her!"

"I got her!" an overconfident man yelled, lunging at her from around the corner. She flipped over him, feet barely touching the ground before she whirled around and drove her foot into her assailant's throat. He fell hard, making a gurgling noise. She was already moving, and knew it was time to bring the chase to an end.

She heard two sets of footsteps to her right, on the other side of one of many enormous shipping containers. She veered that way and pretended to stumble to a stop when she ran directly into the two men. Both were more heavyset Russian men, hired to guard the illegal cargo in exchange for a cut of the profit. They wasted no time in trying to grab her. She danced back, catching the first in the chin with a sharp jab. He fell, but she knew she hadn't put him out of the fight permanently.

The second man swung a heavy fist at her, but he was too slow. She ducked and spun, using her momentum to scamper up his back and wrap her lithe legs around his neck. He scratched at her legs, bucking wildly in an attempt to unseat her. She squeezed tighter as he jerked backwards, ramming them both into the metal container. Ow.

Natasha didn't let up, cutting off his airways, and then twisted her body, flipping him over. She rolled off before he hit the floor and his head cracked against the ground. He had likely just sustained a concussion, but she had a feeling he'd survive it. He was incapacitated for now, and that was what mattered to her.

Before she was even standing upright a large foot slammed into her side and sent her tumbling back into the container. Ouch. She hadn't been ready for that. She'd thought she'd have a second more before the first man re-entered the fight. Still, this worked into her plan perfectly.

"Uh…," she groaned, pretending to have trouble pulling herself up. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the man grin, believing he had felled her. She also noticed that she'd gashed open his chin with her first assault. Red splotches adorned his shirt.

"Got you now, little bitch," he growled, gripping her arms hard enough to bruise as he hoisted her upright.

"Let go!" she shouted, thrashing. She could break his grip easily enough, but he was playing right into her hands. Her plan would work better if he sincerely believed he had captured her.

"Dmitri! Did you get her?" a new voice called. Natasha glanced at the other man she had just fought, but he was still out cold.

"I have her," he called, tugging on her hair hard enough to make her eyes sting.

A man rounded the corner and spotted Natasha and her captor. A sickening grin spread over his face and his eyes raked over her body in an unpleasant way. It was disgusting, but nothing she hadn't been trained to handle.

"We need to tie her up and bring her to the boss," the newcomer said, switching to English as if he thought that she only spoke Russian. How foolish.

"Did you find Mikhail and Vlad?" her captor asked, also in English.

"She took them both out, the bitch. Now stop talking. The boss will take care of her."

The men set about securing her, tying her hands and finding a black bag to shove over her head. They dragged her along, winding through the warehouse silently except to sneer the occasional threat at her. They were trying to confuse her, but it wasn't working. She knew they were heading right back to the barren space at the back of the warehouse. It was a good spot for interrogation.

"This is the intruder?" She recognized that voice. General Luchkov, her target, a a Russian Colonel General who had ties to the black market run by General Solohob, who S.H.I.E.L.D. was hard at work taking down. If she played this right, she could topple a whole crime ring with the information she could pull from Luchkov right now.

"Yes. She took out some of the men, but we caught her," Nat's captor gloated.

"Tie her down and call for backup," the general ordered.

"Yes, sir, right away."

Natasha was shoved forward again. She stumbled, desperately wishing she could see. She hated having one of her senses unavailable, but it was necessary to play her part. They needed to believe that they'd captured her and that she was in their hands.

She was forced to sit and her hands were re-tied to the flimsy wooden chair. They didn't tie her legs. Idiots. They were making this too easy for her. She heard more people enter the room and spread out on either side of her. She tensed, prepared for whoever would strike first.

Instead the black bag was pulled off her head and she found herself eye-to-eye with General Luchkov. He owned this warehouse and all the illegal goods within. The goods would eventually be circulated through the black market by a crime ring run by Russians that operated worldwide. Fury was counting on her to pull as much information from him as she could to bring back to S.H.I.E.L.D.

"I know who you are, little girl," he said. His eyes trailed over her, but it was in assessment, not lust. "There aren't many who could knock out my men the way you did, without a single weapon. You must be the traitor from the Red Room. The Headmistress's rebellious Black Widow. It's been so long I didn't think anyone would ever find you."

He slapped her hard across the cheek. She rolled her head back, face stinging, then faced her target again. Fury must have forgotten to mention that her target had ties to the Red Room. Forgotten, or more likely he had purposefully withheld. She would never fully understand that man.

"So you've heard of me. I'm flattered," she said, red curls framing her pale face.

"The Headmistress is very eager to get you back. I wonder, does she plan to kill you? Or maybe she'll stick you in a cryotube and wipe your memories. Re-train you to be the weapon you were always meant to be."

Natasha felt a tightness squeeze at her lungs, but she shoved down her feelings. He was trying to use her past against her, and she couldn't let him succeed. Then he would hold all the power, regardless of whether she was tied up or not.

"I thought you were allied with General Solohob, not the Red Room," she said truthfully, but the confused look on her face was manufactured to keep him talking.

He fell for it. "General Solohob? That swine. He crossed me last year. No, your Headmistress and her Red Room are much more reliable than Solohob, and more effective at moving my products."

"She'll double-cross you," Natasha warned, and she believed herself. The Headmistress couldn't have much use for General Luchkov, no matter how much money he could bring her. The Headmistress was the spider in the center of the web, catching people and drawing them in closer and closer until she devoured them. Luchkov would be no different.

"No, she won't. I've made myself invaluable." Natasha knew that would only entice the Headmistress to prove just how replaceable he was. "Soon enough I'll be—"

Bzzt, bzzt.

Multiple sets of confused eyes snapped to the youngest guard in the room. He couldn't be much older than Natasha herself. In his hand was a phone, steadily vibrating. He looked panicked, further worsened by all the attention on him. He answered the phone, seemingly unsure what else to do. Natasha's eyes narrowed as the young man's face grew whiter and whiter as the caller whispered in his ear.

"Well? Who is it?!" the General snapped, causing the young man to jump.

"Its for her," he stammered.

Natasha sighed. She knew who was calling, and he'd promised not to compromise her mission.

The leader snatched the phone from the boy. He snapped at the caller, then fell silent. A second later he was holding out the phone to Natasha. She raised an eyebrow to remind him that she didn't have the use of her hands at the moment. He frowned and approached her cautiously, jamming the phone between her shoulder and her ear. She had to tilt her head uncomfortably to make sure the phone didn't slip to the ground.

"Really, Coulson? I'm in the middle of an interrogation," she snapped without preamble.

"Something came up," he said in a cool voice.

"You can't pull me out of this one. This fool is giving me everything."

General Luchkov looked offended. "I don't give everything." He looked to his guards for affirmation, but only met averted eyes.

She looked at him skeptically, then returned to her call. "Seriously, you're blowing my cover. There had better be a damn good reason for this."

"Natasha," he said heavily and she could tell something was wrong. Worry welled up in her. What if something had happened? Had Steve and Bucky gone on another tour of duty? Were they hurt? Had Bruce finally lost the fight with the other guy? Had Tony ODed? She almost didn't want Coulson to finish, wanted whatever he had to say to not be true.

"Barton's been compromised."

Clint. No, no, no, no, no. Not Clint. Not her stubborn best friend who followed her into the pits of humanity and back out. Not Clint, who had helped her discover sides to herself she hadn't known about. Not Clint, who had been the only one to follow her into S.H.I.E.L.D. when they all went their separate ways.

She forced herself to shove all that down. It didn't matter. Clint was compromised. She'd get him back. She forged her worry into cool anger. She said to Coulson, "I'm going to have to put you on hold."

Luchkov edged forward to take the phone. She lifted her head and made her eyes look as wide and innocent as possible to draw him in closer. As he reached down for the phone she slammed her head forward and their skulls collided painfully. He fell back and his guards rushed forward. She sprung to her feet, still tied to the chair, and threw her body at the closest man. The chair broke and the man went down. She rolled to her feet, two rods of woods tied to her hands. She adjusted her grip until she could wield them as batons.

The next two men went down quickly between a few expert kicks and well placed hits with the wooden sticks. The groans of the four men filled the space, and she didn't hear any more people coming. She must have taken out everyone else already.

She tugged at the rope, frowning at the red marks the tight knots had left on her forearms, but the wood and rope tumbled away and she was completely freed. Next she grabbed Luchkov and wrapped his legs in a thick metal chain, then tossed him out over the hole in the floor they'd placed her chair next to. He dangled, jerking, but she didn't worry. It would take a few men to get him down, and by the time any of his guards would be able to help S.H.I.E.L.D. would have flooded the place.

She grabbed the phone and started walking out of the warehouse. "What happened?"

"It's hard to explain. I'll send you the file. I have a Quinjet waiting to take you to New York. You'll catch up on the way," Coulson said.

"What's in New York?"

"Two people whose help we are going to need if we want to get Clint back."

"Are you really sending me to talk to Tony Stark? Coulson, you know we had a falling out."

"Oh no, I have Stark and Banner covered. You get the other two."

She frowned. "Who else is in New York?"

Natasha knew she should leave. They hadn't given her permission to be standing here, in their apartment, mementos of their life together (a life she wasn't a part of) plastered across the walls. Her eyes had been drawn to them the second she walked in. Rows and rows of military awards and pictures of two of the dearest people in her life in combat attire, standing on foreign soil. She had had no idea they were so highly ranked and acknowledged, though she supposed it only made sense, given their abilities.

She reached out, touching a picture of the two of them sitting together and laughing, crates of bombs behind them, and a strange melancholy fell over her. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed them, how distant she had allowed herself to become from the people who had saved her and trained her.

"We are not going back to that Chinese place," she heard a loud, amused voice from the hall boom, and it sent a sharp stab through her heart.

"Why not? The noodles were amazing," a second voice argued playfully, and she heard the jingle of key rings and footsteps right outside the door. She vaulted over the kitchen counter on instinct, then forced herself to straighten. This wasn't a typical mission. Her usual methods wouldn't work.

"Yeah, and the waitress grabbed your ass. Come on, let's branch out, find some other place to eat than the same ten restaurants."

She heard the key slide into the lock. She couldn't decide what to do with herself, what part to play for the best impact, what introduction would have the best results. She always knew what to do, but it was as if all her training simply melted away upon hearing those intimately familiar voices and she was no more than a scared little girl again. Before she could even attempt to make a plan, the door to the small apartment swung open.

"Natasha?" Bucky Barnes asked with wide eyes.

Steve flicked on the light that she hadn't bothered with and she had to stop herself from flinching. She felt like she'd been caught in the act of doing something wrong. Which, okay, she had technically broken into their apartment, but she knew they wouldn't care about that. The way Steve and Bucky's faces lit up as they realized, yes, this was Natasha, their little girl, she was really here, made her fragile heart crack a little more. She suddenly didn't want to tell them, didn't want to cause them anymore pain than they'd already suffered all these years.

"Nat, what are you doing here?" Steve asked, crossing the short distance from his front door to the kitchen to wrap her in a tight hug. She didn't hesitate in returning it, burying her face in his warm, broad chest. She'd always shied away from contact, even with Clint at times, but Steve felt like safety and comfort. She'd cried enough times on his shoulder and had felt his gentle hands carry her when she was sick or hurt too many times to associate him with anything else. "Last I heard, Fury had you deep undercover. He wouldn't even tell me where you were."

Steve pulled away, and Natasha wished he hadn't. Her brief moment of comfort was already gone. She faked a smile and said, "I've been here and there. S.H.I.E.L.D. keeps me busy."

"We could tell," Bucky said, shutting the door and then striding forward to give her a much briefer hug, though it was just as warm. "We haven't seen you in months."

"Last time I had vacation time you were still on your second tour of duty. When did it end?"

Steve and Bucky glanced at each other, but it was Steve who answered. "About four months ago. We decided to take a break from active duty for a while. Peggy helped us get this apartment and we've been laying low ever since."

A lump seemed to form in her throat. "That sounds nice. Normal. Just like we all dreamed of, huh?"

"Natasha? Are you alright?" Steve asked, a concerned furrow forming between his brows. He didn't look a day older than the last time she'd seen him, nearly a year ago, probably a byproduct of the super-soldier serum. Bucky too. They didn't look much different than they had nearly six years ago, when she first met them at the Avengers Facility, to be honest.

Instead of answering, she looked around their apartment. It was small, with one bedroom, one bathroom, and a kitchenette that rolled into the living area. Everything was clean and neat, not uncharacteristic of soldiers, but personal touches were everywhere. Their medals and pictures on the wall, Steve's sketchbooks on shelves and counters, a gun propped by the door that was definitely Bucky's, Steve's shield hanging above the fireplace, and a whole wall of pictures of the Avengers.

Unconsciously, she drifted forward, as if the pictures were pulling her in. She didn't even notice the worried glance Bucky and Steve exchanged at her atypical behavior. Her brown eyes trailed over the photos. She saw Tony and Bruce hard at work in their workshop, Peter taking a nap on Pepper's leg, Pietro giving Wanda a piggy-back ride, Steve and Bucky themselves fast asleep on the couch, still wearing their gear, and one of herself and Clint. Her attention snagged on the last one. Clint had his bow drawn, aimed at some faraway target, and she was hiding behind him, a nerf gun aimed at his back.

"I remember that day," she said, pointing to the picture. "Tony had declared a nerf war, and bet me a hundred bucks that I couldn't hit Clint. I shot him right after Peter took that picture and then Tony shot me not five seconds later. Tony had just wanted to knock the two best marksmen out of the competition early."

"Nat," Bucky said, a slight edge to his voice that cut through her hazy thoughts. "What happened?"

She swallowed, and found the only way she could get it out was in the clinical way Coulson had told her. Otherwise the words choked her from within.

"Barton's been compromised."

"What do you mean compromised?"

Her hands began to shake gently so she clasped them together. It was hard to meet Steve's eyes, but she forced herself to. He deserved to know what happened. They cared about Clint just as much as she did.

"For the last two months, Clint had been stationed in a remote security outpost working on Project Pegasus, some sort of energy research experiment. Coulson was the head of the project, and I know they were using some sort of alien technology that Fury thought was incredibly dangerous. Last night, the alien relic began to overload, and a being entered the lab through a portal created by the relic. The being identified itself as Loki of Asgard. He then used some sort of scepter that allowed him to mind control S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives and escaped the outpost right before it blew up. Fury, Coulson, and Hill all survived the blast. Clint...Clint was brainwashed by Loki and aided in his escape. And now we have no clue where, Loki, the alien relic, or Clint are. Which is why Fury is requesting that you two follow me back to S.H.I.E.L.D. immediately."

"Who else knows?" Bucky asked. He looked focused, like he was already making a plan in his head. She remembered that he had always had the scary ability to detach himself from personal situations like this, something that she had never quite mastered.

"Fury, Hill, Coulson, and maybe Tony and Bruce. I know Coulson was heading over to Stark Tower to tell them about the situation to try and get their help."

"They'll help," Steve said confidently.

Nat and Bucky shared a look. Bucky placed a hand on his boyfriend's shoulder. "Look, Stevie, I know you want to believe the best in everyone, but—"

"They'll help," he repeated, then strode across the room. He reached up and unhooked his shield from the wall. He turned back to them, and Natasha remembered why they'd code-named him Captain America. "Let's go. You can tell us more on the way, Nat."

Coulson was just as impressed with Stark Tower as he had been the first time he'd seen Tony's original blueprints for the structure. The first self-sustaining skyscraper in the world. It was ambitious, but Tony excelled at that. Stark Tower soared high into the sky, and the penthouse was known to host the wildest parties in New York, which was no small accomplishment. The labs on its lower levels had been the site of some of the largest scientific breakthroughs in history, with one Nobel Prize attributed to D. Bruce Banner who worked there as Head Scientist. His work with gamma radiation had made him world famous, but the young doctor was notorious for never giving public interviews.

The agent was easily able to enter the Tower and step into the private elevator that took him to the penthouse suite, which was uncharacteristically quiet that night. As the elevator passed level after level of the opulent structure, Coulson felt a small kernel of pride in his chest. He remembered all those years ago when he had formally met Tony Stark for the first time, shrapnel poised to kill him within hours. The young man had certainly come a long way since then, especially in the two years since he'd assumed his father's company and led Stark Industries into its most prosperous age ever. Tony had become the richest man in the world practically overnight.

The elevator doors slid open as he reached the penthouse. He stepped into the spacious area, bare but for a couch and table, and a bar on the opposite side of the room. Pepper Potts, now Tony's personal assistant and on-again off-again girlfriend, turned around on a bar stool. A wide grin spread across her freckled face and Coulson felt a smile appear on his own face. He had grown close to Pepper over the years, and regretted the circumstances that had led to them not having talked to each other in two years.

"Phil! It is so good to see you," she said, crossing the room to come greet him.

"It's nice to see you, too, Pepper."

"Security breach," Tony declared, leaning over the bar. He wore a t-shirt and jeans, the glow of his arc reactor visible under his shirt, and he held a cocktail in one hand, but there was something about him that just seemed tired. He certainly didn't look like the richest man in the world to Coulson. He looked like a teenager with the weight of the world on his shoulders. "How'd you get past my security, Agent?"

"Ignore him," Pepper advised.

"Your secretary let me up," the Agent said, used to Tony's odd mannerisms.

"How are you? It's been a while."

"I'm fine. Busy. That's why I'm here actually. Is Dr. Banner around?"

Tony stalked over to them, sipping from his cocktail. "What do you want with my Brucie?"

Coulson raised an eyebrow at the nineteen year old. "You are still underage, Mr. Stark, regardless of your personal success."

He winked. "I won't tell Fury if you don't."

"I'll call Bruce," Pepper interrupted. She tapped a panel on the wall and a hologram expanded out. Coulson recognized the design from something Tony had designed in his garage at the Facility a few years ago. His hologram technology made up a substantial source of Tony's income since he figured out how to put it in phones and mass produce them. But the best stuff he still kept for himself, it appeared. Pepper turned back to the two men with a smile. "He'll be right up. Can I get you anything to drink, Phil?"

"I'm good. I'm on the clock right now."

Tony tossed himself onto the couch. Pepper made a face at him, and Phil got the impression that they weren't together at the moment, despite the drinks they'd been having together, but it was hard to tell with them. Or if all the break-ups and get-back-togethers were just a product of an overactive rumor mill and gossip magazines. He still remembered when they were fifteen and blushed whenever they saw each other.

"So what's this all about then, Agent?" Tony asked.

"Peter's okay, right?" Pepper asked worriedly, hugging herself. Tony sat upright, as if the thought hadn't occurred to him yet. Well, it seemed their strangely strong parental instincts towards the youngest Avenger hadn't faded.

"Peter's fine," he assured them and the tension drained from the room. He should have guessed that's the conclusion their minds would jump to. "Still at school in Wakanda, top of his class behind Shuri."

"Of course he is," Tony said, pride evident in voice.

"So why are you here? You're starting to worry me, Phil."

"I'd prefer for Dr. Banner to hear what I have to say, too, if you don't mind."

Pepper acquiesced. "Of course."

Tension built up in the room again as silence fell between the three of them. Tony seemed restless as he drained his drink and then started fiddling with some holographic blueprints that emerged from the coffee table. Coulson was slightly worried by how easily Tony downed the drink. He remembered that Howard had struggled with drinking problems, and he didn't want Tony to go through that. Pepper sent periodic smiles towards Coulson, until her worried face turned back towards the elevator doors as she waited for Bruce.

Three heads turned towards the elevator as it let out a soft ding and the doors slid open noiselessly. Bruce's eyebrow shot up as he saw Coulson waiting. He stepped forward, tugging at the sleeves of his lab coat in a nervous manner.

"Uh, hi," the scientist said.

Coulson couldn't help smiling softly despite the news weighing at the back of his mind that he was about to deliver. Bruce looked good. Unlike Tony and Pepper, who were often on TV, Coulson hadn't seen the nineteen year old at all in two years. He was tall and thin, with a mop of dark curls and nervous brown eyes. He wore a lab coat and wire rimmed glasses were perched on his face.

"It's good to see you, Dr. Banner," Coulson said honestly.

"Yeah, it's nice to see you, but I'm guessing this isn't a social call," Bruce said wryly. He was always so smart and good at reading social cues, unlike his best friend.

"Unfortunately, it isn't." Coulson steadied himself by gripping the back of the couch as he prepared to give them the dreaded news. "A S.H.I.E.L.D. facility Clint and I were working at was attacked last night. A very dangerous item was stolen. And Barton was compromised."

The strength seemed to leave Pepper. She sat heavily on the top of the couch, a blank look in her eyes. Tony scooted across the couch to rest a gentle hand over hers. She didn't react.

"What do you mean compromised?" Tony asked, his voice harsh. Coulson could see the anger bubbling up in him, so bright and dangerous, as if he were still thirteen and prepared to take on the world by himself.

"What was stolen?" Bruce asked nearly at the same time.

"I think it would be best if you come with me back to S.H.I.E.L.D. Director Fury has requested both your help and time is of the essence."

Bruce shook his head. "I want Clint to be safe, so I think I'll sit out of this one."

"Fury has requested your help with something else besides retrieving Agent Barton. I assure you, the other guy is going to be left out of this."

"What could be more important than finding Clint?" Tony demanded.

"Tracking down the person who compromised him and the very dangerous artifact he stole."

"How am I supposed to help with that?" Bruce asked with a puzzled expression.

Coulson felt a ghost of a grin on his face. "The artifact leaves behind a very faint trail. A trail composed of gamma radiation. And you're the foremost expert on gamma radiation, Bruce."

"What a sad indictment of scientists," he said, but Coulson saw the look in his eyes, and in the look he exchanged with Tony. They would help.