Natasha POV


We sent a drone first. After all, going in guns ablaze and no idea what you're doing isn't a sound strategy. Unfortunately, with this group, the latter happens far too much for my tastes. I might be good at dealing with situations as they come, but given the choice, I'd rather not. The drone was a welcome change of pace.

It was unfortunate the drone got swallowed. Some large frog decided it would be a good snack. We sent another two. Those didn't get swallowed. Instead, they crashed once they got in a thirty foot radius of the tracker.

A chill ran up the small of my back. Reflexes ingrained by years of counterintelligence and under the table murder. While useful, it was best to simply acknowledge such sensations and continue from there. Careful action was needed, a single misstep could topple everything. Something dangerous lay there, we'd best not anger it.

We still didn't have enough information. We knew they were a mile or so north of a large vibranium deposit. The tracker itself sat right on a large crevice. Beyond that, nothing. It wasn't exactly promising. Sending more drones would be a waste of resources. Someone flesh and blood would have to go in. Of course, we were the first ones on the proverbial chopping block. The guy was "our" cook after all.

Bruce elected to stay behind. I didn't have any issue with that. Unfortunately, that couldn't be said for everyone. The argument didn't have much of a chance to spiral though. The queen ended it fairly quick. Bruce could stay. He'd be assisting Shuri, as well as helping They who Shred and They that Crushes once they arrive. Bruce didn't voice any complaint.

T'Challa wasn't allowed to go -even the king listens to his mother-, so we were escorted to the tracker by a team of the Dora Milaje. We were off.


The rainforest was wet, hot, and full of frogs. And it smelled. This wasn't a problem. I could deal with those. I had difficulty approaching the tracker. Each step brought me closer to unknown danger. A creeping static up my spine, tingling at my neck. The rest of the party held back a good distance. We needed information first, action last.

My fingers twitched ever so slightly in a moment of paranoid weakness. Hawkeye shot me a glance. I gave a faint nod. I was fine. The situation was to be seen.

The majority our escort party stayed back. Only one person joined us, and we insisted she remain a good distance away. She didn't know our plays. She hadn't worked years with us. She was less than happy at the fact, and I had a sneaking suspicion she was closer than we thought. I had to make a conscious effort not to react. I wasn't exactly used to being tailed by someone of a similar skill level. Hawkeye took point on joint missions more often than not.

Hair on the back of my neck prickled. I mentally clamped down, my actions were dictated by my mind and my mind alone. Instincts could get one killed. I've seen it happen, even the best mess up sometimes. It only took one mistake.

Hawkeye went up and left, scaling a tree for a high vantage point. I stayed low and took the right. I crept from root system to root system, avoiding a majority of loud detritus. Hawkeye made his way to my perch by way of thick branches. I crouched, base of a tree at my back and river behind that.

One mistake, one foot out of line, one brush against a dry leaf. It would spell the end. A soft smile crept to the corner of my lips, so faint you'd have to be searching to notice.

Training took many emotions, anger, denial, frustration, joy. But satisfaction remained untouched, and the thrill of the chase was let to smolder.

I can honestly say I wasn't expecting what I saw.

The kid was sitting on the river bank in heated conversation with the giant toad-thing.