Author's Note- Special thanks to the folks over at The Beta Branch for going over the story with a fine tooth comb! Also, thanks especially to Hawksicle for the book cover!
Disclaimer: The Avengers are not mine, but Marvel/Disney's.
Rockhurst Island, the next day…
A middle-aged woman, dressed in a tailored pantsuit stalked up to a computer screen, grumbling in annoyance. Their network had been lagging all day, causing interference with some of the data-processing labs. The network administrator had been inundated with calls since the early morning from frustrated scientists and bureaucrats who all claimed they couldn't get their jobs done.
While IT was fighting with their network, Natasha was being led from lab to lab, interviewing the virologists and biologists involved as she tried to locate any sign of illegal projects. Sitwell had reported no success with the interrogation; the woman she had replaced seemed to have no clue as to why there had been an incident, and had thought the inspection to be a formality.
"So, are there any hidden doors?" Natasha crooned, leaning on a table slightly as she gave the most recent interviewee her best smile. He had been all too eager to spill the beans when she had batted her eyelashes at him and given him her sweetest smile. "Just kidding! I would hate to put you on the spot like that, of course, but you're so darn cute when you're flustered."
The virologist gulped and attempted to hide his surprise at her question with poorly veiled ignorance. Dr. Charlie Walker, his name tag reported, was poor at hiding his emotions, especially when faced with an agent who had turned reading body language into an art form. "Um, I ah… could show you the sub-levels. They're not normally part of the inspection, but since you said you needed to see every lab... "
Not part of the normal inspection my ass, Natasha thought as she smiled sweetly again. Jackpot.
Tapping her clipboard, the assassin followed the scientist towards another lab, this time located in the sub-levels of the facility. As they descended the stairs, the ambient light grew brighter as they encountered a larger number of ceiling lights.
The virologist swiped a keycard to unlock the access door. Natasha turned her head slightly as he punched in a number, watching from the corner of her eye and memorizing the code number. The door unlocked with a light snick.
"After you, Miss Rushman?" the virologist offered, gesturing for her to pass through the doorway.
Natasha smiled, giving him a slight nod and entered. As he escorted her further, she quickly typed a text to Sitwell. The other agent was monitoring her progress from the mainland thanks to a small contact lens developed and acquired recently from another espionage agency, then perfected by SHIELD technology. The range was farther as well, and the lens had been modified to synchronize with the small transmitter that Natasha wore in her ear, giving the monitoring agents both audio and video feeds.
If the infiltration went bad, at least SHIELD would have evidence this time. So far, it had been too easy, and any time an infiltration was too easy usually meant there was an ambush or some other hitch in the plan. The hairs at the back of her neck began to stand on end as she glanced into the labs on either side.
The spy's sensitive nostrils picked up traces of a slight coppery odor: blood. There was no sound emanating from the labs, most likely due to soundproofing, but she didn't need to hear the lab animals to know that they were suffering. With each passing glance, the creatures grew more and more violent. Several of the techs that she could see wore protective gear such as leather jackets and pants or heavy-duty gloves over a hazmat suit.
"You might ask about the test animals. Flu vaccines don't cause homicidal rage," Sitwell's calm voice prompted from the transmitter in her ear. "If I didn't know better, I'd say they were rabid. Or worse."
"Those animals," she started, her gaze focusing on the lab to her left where a dog snarled at a handler. The spy flipped a page on her clipboard, locating the list of current projects. "I don't think their behavior is normal for, what is this one set up for… avian flu?"
"It's a side effect of the new experimental vaccines," he explained, joining her at the observation window. "There was some contamination in one of the compounds we received in a shipment last month, unfortunately. We didn't see how it would affect them until it was too late."
She frowned. "There were an awful lot of them affected, it would seem. The upper labs are full of animals with these same symptoms. Not all of them were being tested with a flu vaccine, Dr. Walker."
"That's kind of the problem," the virologist replied with a wince. "The contaminated compound was used as a base for most of our vaccines under test, so it's affected a lot of the test animals."
"You've reported that the issue is under control," Natasha asked, giving him a questioning look. "Has anyone been injured by any of these animals?"
Dr. Walker shook his head. "No one so far. Once the specimens became violent, our lab techs have been taking precautions. None of us want to catch bird or swine flu or whatever else they're studying at the moment, much less being infected by what the specimens are carrying."
"What are your plans now? This 'contamination' is bound to affect the proper outcome of any potential vaccines, wouldn't you say?" she asked, arching an eyebrow. "This sounds like a rather large setback."
"Oh," Dr. Walker replied, nodding vigorously, "Director Connolly and several of my colleagues have already escalated the issue to the supplier's upper management. We've lost weeks of research data because of this- we've had to throw out I don't know how many samples when we were just weeks away from clinical trials!"
She frowned at the man's comment. "By throw out, you mean… "
The virologist shifted his stance nervously. "Incinerated. We've had to burn all of the samples that showed traces of the contaminant. All that's left is the test animals, now, and we're waiting on authorization from the Director to euthanize them."
"There's no way to help them?" she asked, watching his face for any signs that the man was lying. "No anti-toxin or vaccine to reverse the side effects?"
"None," he replied with a sad breath. "They're terminal."
Natasha tapped her pen against the clipboard again, narrowing her eyes as she fixed him with a calculating look. "You're taking some drastic measures for a contaminated flu vaccine. Is there something else you're not telling me?"
Dr. Walker sighed in resignation. "Well, there is the matter of further cross-species contamination. Not all of the animals affected received the tainted compounds, yet they've all become infected. We suspect may spread through bodily fluids, such as blood, saliva, etcetera. We were moving some of the specimens around, and one escaped and got into a fight with another dog. The bitten dog showed the same symptoms shortly afterwards. Anyone working the labs is now required to have full body coverage before entering, since we don't know if it affects humans or not."
She nodded again, making a notation on the clipboard sheet. "I'll need to see the full report on the incident, as well as your action plan to make sure this compound doesn't harm anyone. There are three hundred townsfolk on this island, not counting the research facility staff. I would hate to see this affect anyone."
He held his hands out in a placating gesture. "Oh, don't worry, Miss Rushman! We're taking every precaution."
"Good. This sort of incident is the last thing we want the press getting a hold of," she replied with a nod, hoping she had made a convincing impersonation of a corporate bureaucrat. "Now, the rest of the labs, please?"
Walker nodded sharply. "Right this way."
Sitwell's voice returned quietly. "I don't like this, Widow. Those are the same doors they installed at the Hulkbuster facility. This next section is going to be hard to get out of if you're captured."
She typed another quick text to Sitwell in reply as the man led her down the hallway. Her hand drifted closer to her hidden holdout pistol out of reflex. The entry into the facility, the amount of information given to her freely without a hint of suspicion… it still seemed too simple to the veteran agent. It might be time to fall back on her old favorite: interrogation by capture.
"Plan B?" Sitwell squawked in the microphone. "No, no, no, no, Natasha- Plan B is not a good idea!"
Her suspicions were confirmed when the heavy door locked behind her, and the pair were met by a trio of men, two of which stepped out of alcoves wearing yellow, full bodied suits. They were armed with machine guns, both pointed at her.
The third man, dressed in a sharp, tailored business suit, took hold of Dr. Walker, sliding an arm around his neck in a light choke-hold and pressing a pistol to the virologist's head. The scientist raised his hands in the air, giving her a confused, panicked look.
"Welcome to Rockhurst Island, Agent Romanoff," the man holding the pistol said, stepping back with his hostage. "I'd put your gun down on the floor and kick it over here, please. We wouldn't want Dr. Walker to have an accident."
She sighed in resignation, setting her pistol on the ground and kicking it slightly in front of her. As the pistol slid across the floor, Natasha suppressed the urge to smirk. Round one was about to begin.
Nanook Bay, Alaska mainland…
Natasha's last text made Sitwell's hackles rise. This feels like a trap. Too easy.
The agent frowned as he watched the feed from Natasha's contact camera, along with a blueprint pulled from the SHIELD Intelligence database. "I don't like this, Widow. Those are the same doors they installed at the Hulkbuster facility. This next section is going to be hard to get out of if you're captured."
His phone chimed, indicating he had another text from Natasha. Plan B.
"Plan B?" Sitwell squawked in the microphone. Coulson had warned him about her usual fallback plan. "No, no, no, no, Natasha- Plan B is not a good idea!"
Natasha's infamous Plan B was to allow herself to be captured. Inevitably, the captors would try to interrogate her, and the Black Widow was good enough at reading people to pick out vital information as the interrogator continued their monologue. It was ridiculous how many villains gave away their plots by gloating over a "helpless" victim.
If the infiltration was appearing to be too easy to the veteran espionage agent, it probably was. He reached into the drawer next to him, pulling out his sidearm and setting it down on the desk. Reaching for his jacket, he had just pulled it on when the lights went out.
Grabbing the gun, he dove behind a nearby couch in time to miss the glass shattering next to him as a dark-suited figure crashed through the window.
"Phoenix, this is Warbucks," he whispered into his comm unit, hoping to get the message to Coulson in the event he was caught. "Safe house has been compromised. I repeat, we are compromised."
"Evac, Warbucks," Coulson's voice demanded. "Get the hell out of there."
Sitwell removed the safety, firing quickly at the figure. The humanoid outline fell back with a grunt as the door was kicked open, admitting two more assailants. He rolled to the side, firing again as two more men pulled themselves in through the window.
One of the men fell to the floor with a grunt while the other opened fire on his position. The SHIELD agent ducked, reaching into his jacket pocket. Pulling out a small cylinder, he pressed a button on the top and threw it over the couch before turning back and closing his eyes.
There was a loud pop followed by a flash. Three screeches confirmed that the men were armed with night-vision goggles, which had hopefully been disabled by the flashbang. Taking advantage of the distraction, the SHIELD agent ran out from behind the opposite end of the couch, charging towards the closest attacker. His eyes had begun to adjust, allowing him to make out the general layout of the room and the staggered men.
Sitwell continued his charge, slamming the man into wall. A quick elbow to the neck dropped the man to the floor with a gurgle. Turning quickly, he fired at the remaining two men, watching as they fell to the floor and remained still.
He holstered his pistol, picked up the closest thug's rifle and darted over to the window. Grabbing hold of the thick, heavy duty pipework running up the safe house wall, he slung the rifle over his shoulder and began to climb down. As the agent left the room, he could hear heavy footsteps of more armed men as they approached from the hallway.
Sliding down the rest of the way, he let go several feet from the ground and landed in a crouch. Looking up, he nodded to himself as he sprinted towards the end of the alley.
A shadow at the alley entrance rang warning bells in the agent's mind. Skidding to a stop, Sitwell froze as he found himself staring down the barrel of another automatic rifle as an armed goon stepped around the corner. He was soon joined by several others. Looking around, the agent counted six men, all heavily armed.
"I would suggest surrendering," the lead thug warned.
He set the rifle down slowly and raised his hands to coax one of the men towards him. The thug complied, reaching out to take hold of his wrist. As the man swung his arm down, he spun around and grabbed hold of the thug's wrist instead. Twisting sharply, he wrapped his other arm around the man's neck and took hold of his chin.
"Back away or I break his neck," Sitwell told the leader firmly. "Now, please."
The leader shrugged, moved his rifle slightly to the left and fired, hitting both the man and Sitwell in the left shoulder. The SHIELD agent had no choice but to release the goon as he was thrown back into the wall. He held a hand up to his shoulder as he hissed in pain.
Two more men moved in, aiming at his head this time. One stepped closer, his face hidden behind his ski mask. He raised his weapon again and struck the agent in the head with the rifle butt.
As Sitwell lost consciousness, he heard the leader speak again. "Nighty night, sweetheart."
SHIELD Helicarrier Command Center…
Compromised. Agent Phil Coulson was really starting to hate the word.
"Safe house has been compromised. I repeat, we are compromised."
We meant that Natasha had been taken as well. Barton was going to kill him.
Coulson took the headset off of his head, throwing it down onto the console in frustration. He felt a familiar tug in his chest, followed by a sharp pain. He reached into a pocket for his pills, opened the cap and shook one out.
Dry-swallowing the pill, he sat for a minute to allow the medication to kick in, pulling out his phone and selecting Director Fury's number from speed-dial. Moving to a secure briefing room, he quickly locked the door and found another chair to fall into. He waited for the familiar set of beeps that indicated the call had been secured.
Shortly afterwards, Fury's voice came on the line. "Fury."
"It's me. Our friends have been compromised."
"How compromised?"
"I'm not sure at this time. We're waiting for the satellite to move back into position to get the infra-red data, and I'm about to hit up Hill for one of the techs to hack into the local traffic network. All that I can say is that both have been captured by hostiles, but they appear to have wanted them alive."
"Shit." Fury groaned, his voice sounding tired. "What else are you not telling me yet?"
Coulson reached for a bottle of water from a nearby cabinet, opened the lid and took a swig before answering. "They took out the safe house on the Nanook Bay docks and grabbed Sitwell. Agent Romanoff was taken onsite at Rockhurst Island. Jasper's last communication before the safe house was compromised is that the facility has an underground level secured by a heavy duty blast door that looks suspiciously like the ones they're putting into the Hulkbuster bunker."
"What else?"
"Natasha's trying for Plan B," the balding agent sighed. "I don't doubt she can get the information we need, but she's going to have a hell of a time getting out."
Fury swore again. "What about the intel from her video feed? Did we get anything useful?"
"We're working on identifying the unknown asset that met her on the lower level," Coulson recounted quickly, setting the bottle down on the table. "Romanoff got a close look at the test animals. If Barton's debrief from twenty years ago is anything to go off of, they're infected. The symptoms are identical to those infected by the original project. Project Red is back, Nick."
"Fuck."
Coulson took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "We need to contact Barton. He's been in this situation before. If there's an outbreak, I hate to say it, but we'll need him. There are civilians on the island, sir."
"I'd rather not have him emotionally compromised so soon after Tuller, Coulson."
"Director, he wrote the necro-humanoid containment protocols. Besides- Natasha is his partner. If we keep this from him, he's going to be upset with us, sir," Coulson argued. "We both know how well that tends to work out."
"I'll talk to him myself."
"Good. I'll need a team for the extraction."
"You're not going, Phil," the Director ordered. "Stay on the carrier. We'll get a team ready, but they'll need tactical support on the carrier."
"Hill can provide support just as well as I can."
"You're not cleared for this, Phil!"
Coulson frowned again. "I don't care if I'm not cleared or not. Two of our best are down on the ground in enemy hands facing a potentially fast-spreading biological agent. We need our best on this, Director."
The Director let out a snort of annoyance. "I'll be in touch once I've spoken with Barton."
Hanging up the phone, Coulson leaned back in his chair. Moments later, he stood and headed for Hill's office. Next would be a stop at the armory. He had an extraction to plan.