Steve stood outside the small airport, a baseball cap on his head and his hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans. It wasn't his New York hat. Natasha had made sure of that before they'd left the house. She'd made a special trip down to the store to get him something a little more "local". She'd done the same thing for Sam. Still, he couldn't help but feel like they all looked like tourists, painfully out of place. Natasha had been teaching Wanda how to blend in with her surroundings and how to keep her awareness up without being obvious. Wanda seemed to be taking well to those lessons, but Steve and Sam were as stiff as ever. Straight spines, shoulders back; military types, no matter how you looked at them. Sam liked to think he practiced a casual air, but Steve could see through that facade pretty easily. They were all on high alert.
They parted ways with Natasha. Steve watched her walk into the airport while he, Sam and Wanda stayed behind at the car they would be leaving in overnight parking. Natasha was a suitable blend of business and casual, in a pair of black pants, a green cargo jacket and a black tank top underneath. Unfortunately, she'd had to leave behind her gear. There was no real way to get it through airport security. The same went for Sam. Natasha assured them that her contact in Munich would have some replacements for them. Steve highly doubted the guy would have a pair of wings laying around, though. Sam would just have to operate on the ground like the rest of them for this one.
"So," Wanda said as she slid a bag over her shoulder, "are you going to tell her?"
The sudden question had Steve pulling his eyes away from the airport and looking at her questioningly. There was a sense of knowing on her face. Steve shot an accusatory glance at Sam.
"Don't look at me!" Sam said. "I didn't say anything."
An amused smile spread across Wanda's face. "He didn't have to," she said.
Sam chuckled at that. "Seems like everyone knows you've got a thing for Romanoff, except for Romanoff."
"It's not a thing," Steve said. He huffed out a sigh and shook his head. He wasn't sure what it was, but it felt like so much more than a "thing". They didn't need to be getting into this now, though. Maybe not ever.
"Well, whatever it is," Sam said, "it's painful to watch. You should at least ask her out to dinner or something."
"We don't exactly live lives that are conducive to dating, Sam." Steve reminded him.
"They can be," Wanda pointed out. "If you want them to be." She gave Steve another smile. "After this, when we return… just think about it."
She let it drop after that. Thankfully, Sam did, too. That didn't mean Steve stopped thinking about it, though. They needed to eat, right? And there were probably plenty of places near the hideout that they could go. How would Natasha react, though? That was the most worrisome part. Steve half-expected her to look at him like he was crazy, but then he thought about that morning… Sitting on the roof, watching the sunrise with her. They hadn't said a word, but something about it just seemed… right. She wouldn't have done that if she didn't care at least a little bit, right?
This is what you get for not going out on dates, Rogers. He thought to himself. He was woefully unprepared for pretty much anything that didn't have to do with a mission. Maybe he could work on changing that. But first… they had to handle Garrett. He was one more roadblock in the way of things going back to normal, or whatever semblance of normal they could return to. As long as he was out there, digging up old skeletons from Natasha's past and trying to move forward with his insane agenda, Garrett would remain the priority. Steve was sure that Nat understood that. If she didn't, she wouldn't have gotten on a plane, by herself, to fly to Munich and march right into the lion's den.
Before long, it was time for the rest of them to board their plane. They were wheels up without incident, and it was a short flight over to Munich. Steve had opted to sit with Wanda in an attempt to keep her comfortable on the ride and to also avoid any further "advice" from Sam. Wanda was still a bit nervous around crowds and flying metal containers. Thankfully, she seemed to be doing well. She sat quietly, reading one of the books she'd brought from the house. She told him that the literature helped to drown out all of the noise and energy around her. She seemed calm; content. That was good.
"So…" Steve said about halfway through the flight, "you really think dinner would work? Think we could do something… normal like that?"
Wanda lowered her book and looked over at Steve, a small smile on her face. "I think," she said quietly, "when two people care for each other, the circumstances surrounding it don't much matter. Besides," she turned her gaze back down to her book, "normal is a relative term."
She went back to reading, her lips still curled in a smile. Steve smirked and chuckled to himself before turning his attention to the window. After awhile, the lights of the city came into view below them. The plane began to circle into its descent. Steve wondered if Natasha was already hitting the streets. They wouldn't be able to open their comms until they were on the ground, too. This had been discussed beforehand, but it still made him a bit on edge. They always had an open line of communication on missions. The silence made him nervous. This whole thing made him nervous.
When the plane had safely reached its gate, Steve and the others got off. The airport they'd flown into was small; so it didn't take them long to navigate their way through it and out to the busy streets. As soon as they were outside, he opened up his comm feed.
"Romanoff," his deep voice sounded a bit staticky through the ear pieces. "Do you copy?"
There were a few seconds of silence; then: "Welcome to Munich, Captain." Her voice sounded like silk and honey. Steve looked to Sam and Wanda, who were walking beside him.
"You guys getting that?" He asked them.
"Loud and clear," Sam said.
Wanda nodded.
"There's a gray Volvo waiting for you in the east parking lot," Nat told them. "Entry code is 8525. Keys are inside. Along with a few other things."
"What about you?" Wanda asked.
Natasha grinned from the seat of her sleek, black street bike. It roared to life beneath her, a sound that was clearly identified through the earpieces of the others. She revved the engine a few times, though, just for good measure, all while desperately wishing she could see Steve's face in that exact moment.
"I think I'll manage." She said. Then, she slid a black helmet into place over her head and peeled away.
There was something incredibly liberating about speeding through the streets of Munich; zig-zagging her way through traffic. The last time she'd been on a motorcycle, she'd had Steve's shield attached to the front of it. Natasha didn't have those kind of security measures this time around, but she wasn't completely defenseless. A pair of of Beretta 92's were holstered at her thighs, and a few electromagnetic pulse disks were clipped safely to her belt. Max had really outdone himself.
While Natasha zoomed off toward her destination, Steve and the others found the vehicle that was waiting for them. It was a shiny SUV that, upon entering, revealed itself to be outfitted with all the bells and whistles. In addition to a satellite guided navigation system, 360 camera view, and thick, tinted windows, there was also a duffel bag in the back that contained some things that had Sam ooh'ing and aww'ing like a kid in a candy store. Steve decided to take the wheel so Sam could play with his new toys. Natasha's location was constantly displayed on a map on the center console screen, courtesy of the GPS tracking device outfitted to her bike. Steve watched her dot head southeast.
Unfortunately, the SUV didn't navigate the streets quite as easily as Natasha's bike undoubtedly did. Traffic was congested, especially around the airport. It let up gradually as they made their way further out, but Steve was worried about the amount of distance that had formed between them and Natasha. He had to keep reminding himself that she knew what she was doing and that she would be careful. The only problem was, he doubted Garrett and his people would play by the same rules.
"How's it coming, Nat?" He asked at one point.
"About ten minutes out," she said. Her helmet muffled some of the sounds of the streetbike and the streets it was zooming through. "I'm heading for the hotel first. Max let it leak that we know where Garrett's staying."
"Think he'll leave a trail?" Sam asked.
"No," Natasha replied. "I think he'll try to get the jump on me. Cut me off before I get there.
"Think that will work?" Steve asked, gripping the steering wheel just a little tighter.
"I'll be cutting onto the side streets in a few minutes." She said. "We'll find out soon enough."
Steve looked at the map. Natasha was at least five kilometers ahead of them. Too much space, as far as Steve was concerned. Too much time and opportunity for things to go wrong. It was time to make up some distance.
I hope they're lenient with their traffic laws. Steve thought as he ran a red light.
….
The area that Garrett was staying in was far from the nice, flashy part of downtown Munich. There were brothels and hostels on just about every corner, it seemed. Odorous steam rose up from manhole covers on the streets, creating clouds that clogged the air like exhaust fumes. Natasha was thankful for her helmet as she drove her bike through them, slower than she'd been navigating the main streets. She kept her eyes peeled, but it was a bit difficult to see through the darkness. She was expecting some sort of road block or obstacle put into place by Garrett, to either stall her or steer her in a different direction. It's what she would've done to get her prey where she wanted them. So far, though, there was nothing.
As if on cue, a boxy delivery truck came speeding down a narrow cross street. It skidded to a noisy halt in Natasha's direct path, forcing her to slam on the breaks. The bike lifted up onto its front tire, back end suspended in the air, as it struggled to come to a noisy stop of its own. Unable to keep it from ramming into the truck, Natasha was forced to jump off of it, vaulting herself backwards out of the seat and leaving the bike to careen into the side of the truck. She tore her helmet off just in time to see two men hastily spilling out of the driver and passenger seats of the vehicle.
She threw the helmet across the hood at the driver, and then sprinted toward the passenger. Before he could get out of the truck completely, she sent a flying knee into the door, slamming it closed on his leg. She gripped the handle and pulled it open, and the man fell out of the vehicle and onto the ground, gripping his leg and yelling in pain. Natasha delivered a downward strike across his face that snapped his head to the side and knocked him out cold. By this time, the driver had recovered, and was pulling a gun from his hip. He opened fire on her, but Natasha dropped down and used the vehicle as cover. She controlled her breathing, forcing her heart and her breath to be quiet so she could hear the man's feet as he took steps around the front of the vehicle.
Before she could strike, another truck pulled into another cross street at the other end of the road, leaving Natasha boxed in from both sides. Natasha turned and slid onto the ground, rolling underneath the first vehicle as more men got out of the second. Popping up on the opposite side of the box truck, she got behind the gunman and wrapped an arm around his throat. She pulled one of her own guns out with her opposite hand.
"Drop the gun," she growled. He didn't listen. She told him again, this time in German. This time, he obeyed. The gun hit the ground, and Natasha kicked it away, sending it clattering noisily across the pavement.
She tugged the man with her as she walked, forcing him to walk around the front of the vehicle and to the side facing the other end of the alley, where his friends were standing with their own weapons raised. Her green eyes peered through the smog-filled darkness. There were just two other men there. Plain looking. They were even in civilian clothes.
"Nat?" Steve's voice sounded in her ear. "Nat, what's going on?"
"I'm looking for Garrett…" she said. Her eyes roamed around the rest of the alley, up to the rooftops and into every dark shadow she could find. There was no one else there. Just Natasha and this… B-squad at best.
"He's not here…" she said as the realization hit her. Then, she spoke up again, her voice a bit panicked. "Steve, don't follow me. Don't-"
But before she could finish, there was a loud, high-pitched screeching in her ear that forced her to grab the ear piece and hastily pull it out. She threw it on the ground, cursing as she did so.
From the other end, all Steve could hear was static. "Nat?" He called to her. There was no response. "Natasha!" Still no answer. "Damnit!"
He pressed the gas pedal to the floor.
"Cap," Sam called from the back. "We've got company. Two cars on our tail. Shit, make that three."
Steve glanced in the rearview mirror and saw headlights. Three vehicles were speeding after them. "I'm opening the hatch," he told Sam. "Keep them off our-"
"Look out!" Wanda shouted.
Steve looked forward, but it was too late. A truck had pulled out in front of them. Steve tried to hit the breaks, but they were too close. The SUV slammed into the side of the truck in a noisy, painful explosion of crunching metal and shattering glass. The airbags deployed, smacking Steve in the face and snapping his head backwards. He saw stars and an explosion of white behind his eyes; then he felt the warm sensation of blood cascading down his face. His ears rang noisily, and the hissing of the airbags sounded like angry snakes in his head. As the ringing subsided, he was vaguely aware of the sound of quick pops coming from outside the vehicle. Guns. Someone was shooting at them.
Steve looked to the side and saw Wanda slumped in her seat. There was a cut across her forehead, seeping blood slowly down the side of her face. Behind him, Sam was groaning in the backseat.
"Sam, you alright?" Steve called back to him.
"Great." Sam groaned.
"Get Wanda," he told him.
Then, he was tearing off his seatbelt and using brute strength to force open the crumpled door of his driver side. He tore it completely off its hinges, using it as a shield as he slowly stepped out of the vehicle and into the fray. The bullets pinged noisily against the metal, and Steve was fairly sure that it was armor-plated. He peeked up through the broken window to try and see how many people they were up against, here. So far, he counted four. Two gunmen toward the left, and two on the right. They were splitting his focus. That was smart. It looked like Garrett had updated his staff since Bahrain.
….
Natasha swore and fired two shots into each of the men across the alley. The first hit a shoulder, forcing them to lower their weapons, and the second hit a leg, forcing them to the ground. She pistol-whipped the man she'd been holding at gunpoint, knocking him out. She released him and started running for the far end of the alley. One of the men she'd shot was on one knee, reaching for his weapon. Natasha lifted her own knee into his face and sent him to the ground for good this time. She ignored the other, vaulting herself up onto the hood of the truck he'd arrived in and then onto the roof. She ran and jumped onto the roof of a nearby building.
The buildings were mostly connected, running down the length of the streets. Any that weren't only had a foot or so gap between them that was easy to clear. Natasha ran and jumped, heading back in the direction she came and keeping her eyes peeled. She heard screeching tires, breaking glass, and gunfire. She could see a thin plume of smoke coiling into the air, no doubt from one of the vehicles she had heard getting crunched. Natasha kicked it into gear, holstering her gun so she could run faster. She needed to get to the others. She needed to help them.
They were just within eyesight when something collided into her.
Natasha was hit from the side, smacking against the rough, gravelly surface of the flat roof and sent rolling several feet after impact. Her shoulder crashed painfully with the roof, and the rough concrete tore a hole in her pants, skinning her knee. She came to a stop on her back, breathing heavily and trying to make sense of what had just happened, when a black figure appeared in the air above her. Acting on instinct, Natasha rolled out of the way, just in time to miss a pair of brass knuckles, crackling with some kind of electricity. They slammed into the ground beside her, leaving an indent that would've caved her head in like a rotten melon. She quickly pushed herself to her knees, pulling her gun as she did so. It was promptly kicked out of her hand by a thick, leather boot. Another fist was sent her way. This one connected, slamming into her jaw and knocking her head to the side. Pain exploded in her head, and the coppery taste of blood filled her mouth.
"So, this is the Black Widow?" A woman's deep, German-accented voice said from above her.
Natasha snapped her eyes upward, glaring. "You must be the dust lady," she said. "Or do you prefer Evan?"
Lady Dust growled and booted Natasha in the chest, sending her rolling backward along the roof. She came to a stop just a few feet from the edge. She stood up just in time to deflect a right hook. She caught Dust's wrist, twisted it painfully up and to the side, and kicked her in her exposed ribs. The leather-clad woman's body went a bit slack, just enough for Natasha to slide those metal knuckles off her fingers and kick them away. That was only one, though. Lady Dust had another. She did specialize in electrocution, after all.
A painful burst of electricity shot through Nat's chest as Lady Dust delivered a hard punch to her sternum. It forced Natasha to release her and stumble backward, her muscles twitching as they tried to overcome the painful sensation coursing through them.
"My father was obsessed with you." Dust said as she advanced towards Natasha. "The prize fish he just could not catch."
Natasha deflected a punch with her forearms, and then leaned away from an electrically-charged follow-up. She dropped to the ground, kicked her leg out and swept Dust's legs out from under her. The woman fell onto her back with a painful thud, the air knocking out of her lungs and leaving her coughing. Natasha rolled forward until she came to a stop, perched above her. She pressed a knee into the inner bend of one of her arms, and then punched Dust in the face.
"Your father was a criminal," Natasha said. "That doesn't mean you have to be one, too."
Dust smiled up at her, her teeth painted red with blood. "And what were you, then? A saint?" Her smile quickly faded, and she spit a glob of blood up at Natasha. "Hundin!" She shouted.
Lady Dust delivered an open palm strike to Natasha's chest that sent her falling backward. She hit the roof with force that knocked the air out of her lungs. Dust was already getting up and coming for her again. She was quick, but Natasha was quicker. She pulled her gun and fired a shot in the woman's kneecap. All that leather might have been great to avoid getting shocked, but it didn't do a damn thing against bullets. Dust let out a scream and went down, gripping at her knee.
"Hundin!" She shouted again. "Bitch! You will die for this! Your friends will die!"
Natasha kicked Dust in the chest, sending her flying backwards, off the roof and into the dumpster below. The lid slammed shut on her. Natasha watched for a moment before looking forward again. Steve and the others were just on the other side of the next building. She took off running once more.
...
Steve took his chances and heaved the car door at the men on his left. It collided into them like an oversized frisbee, knocking them both to the ground. This opened him up to the two on the right, though. He moved to quickly back down behind the cover of the car, but a bullet caught him in the shoulder, grazing the skin and leaving a burning cut in its wake. More bullets whizzed by overhead or ricocheted noisily off the hood of the SUV. As he took cover, Steve saw more people filing out of the back of the large truck they'd collided with. They were all dressed in black tactical gear with thick body plating and helmets. They were heading straight for him, and he was fresh out of car doors to throw.
That didn't mean everyone else was, though.
The loud noise of screeching metal sounded as a red light encircled one side of the truck they collided with and yanked the door right off. It flew through the air and knocked into some of the people that had just made it out of the vehicle. Gunfire on the other side of the SUV sounded, and Steve could see Sam taking well-placed shots against the two gunmen up and to the right that Steve had been forced to ignore.
"Cap, we got this!" He heard Sam yell. "Go find Nat!"
Before he could go anywhere, however, someone else joined the fray. From behind them, a large figure jumped down from the roof, landing on the ground with a heavy boom that cracked the pavement. Steve could see the bulky, metallic figure of Garrett standing a few yards away from him. The burnt flesh of his face was twisted in some version of a mangled smile. This was all going just how he'd planned it. So much for keeping things quiet, Steve thought.
"Captain America," Garrett said, flexing his metallic fingers. "Leaving already?"
Steve clenched his fingers into fists at his sides. They weren't metallic, but he was willing to bet they'd hurt just as bad. "If you're thinking about giving some bad guy speech," he said, "you can just save it. I'm not in the mood."
Garrett grinned. "No speeches, Steve. Just facts. Like this one: The Black Widow is no more."
Steve knew he was bluffing. There was no doubt in his mind that Natasha was alive. This was just what people like Garrett did. They aimed low, and they tried to press buttons. Steve knew that, but… well, it didn't make him any less angry. If Garrett wanted him to pummel the snot out of him, Steve didn't see any reason not to. He stalked forward, picking up steam as he crossed the alley. Garrett did the same, and soon they were meeting like two bulls, slamming into each other and exchanging blows. Steve ducked under a right hook and drove his own fist up into Garrett's ribcage. It felt like punching a wall. Garrett didn't seem phased by it, either, as he grabbed Steve by the back of the neck and tossed him away like he was nothing. Steve staggered a few steps, but kept his footing. He had to keep hammering away at Garrett and find a weak spot. The face seemed like his only bet at this point.
Garrett sent a punch toward Steve's face, but Steve caught it and pulled the man close into a cross-body suplex. Garrett slammed against the ground, but booted Steve away before he could get close to do any further damage. He was slow to get to his feet, but Steve guessed it was due to the amount of metal worked into his body. He must have been heavy. Steve thought he could use that. Wear the man down; use his own body against him. The ex-S.H.I.E.L.D. agent came at Steve once more, throwing uppercuts and haymakers that would've done a lot of damage if they connected. Steve stayed on the defensive, though, keeping Garrett just far enough away that his punches didn't land. When he had an opportunity, he would sprinkle in a face or body shot of his own, but for the most part, he just played opossum.
It was going well, until Garrett stopped in the middle of the alley and pressed a finger to his ear. "In position," he said. "Take it."
Steve looked past Garrett's shoulder, realizing how much distance he had placed between himself and the others. He could hear gunfire and see the red wisps of Wanda's power as she and Sam fought against who knew how many people. Steve didn't know how many Garrett had brought with him, and he'd allowed himself to become too far separated from them to know, now. He refocused his gaze on Garrett. The man was smiling again.
"You think you're the only one who does your research, Captain?"
There was an eruption, and a thick cloud of smoke exploded into being down the alley, obscuring everything from view. Steve could see a huge flash of red from within it. Then, there were occasional pops of gunfire. Then, nothing. While he was distracted, Garrett rushed him once more. He tackled into Steve, slamming him against a wall and then closing one, metallic hand around his throat. He lifted Steve six inches off the ground, holding him suspended in the air as if he weighed nothing.
"You and the Widow are old news," he said. "Think of all the things we could accomplish with someone like your Scarlet Witch on our team."
Garrett squeezed tighter, threatening to crush Steve's windpipe beneath his grasp.
Something flew through the air, then. It stuck to Garrett's metal shoulder with a quiet tink, and then emitted a strong electrical pulse. Garrett's arm locked up, forcing him to release his grip on Steve and stagger a few steps backwards. Steve was back on his own two feet once more, coughing and gasping as air returned to his lungs. He saw a slender figure drop down from the roof and land right on top of Garrett's shoulders.
Natasha stuck two more disks on the sides of Garrett's head. She flipped off of his shoulders just in time to see more pulses surge through him. This time, his whole body locked up. He twitched violently for a few seconds before falling to the ground. The EMP disks died down, and Garrett was left to lay there, unconscious. Natasha released a heavy breath and lifted her green eyes to Steve. She looked at him, and the worry was evident on her face.
"Wanda…" Steve rasped. "They're after Wanda."
The two of them turned and ran back down the alley. The cloud of smoke had expanded even further. It was thick, burning both their eyes and lungs as they tried to see and breathe through it. Natasha coughed and waved her hand in front of her face in a feeble attempt to clear a path. There were some shouts and the sounds of exchanged blows nearby.
"Sam!" Steve yelled. "Wanda!"
At first, there was no response. Then, as the noise died down, Sam's voice sounded nearby. "Cap!" He yelled. "Over here!"
Steve and Natasha made their way through the smoke to see Sam standing over a handful of unconscious bodies. He had a split lip and a swelling bruise under his right eye, and there was some blood on his shirt from unknown sources. He stood, hands on his hips, chest rising and falling heavily in an attempt to catch his breath.
"Where's Wanda?" Natasha asked.
Sam only shook his head.
Without warning, Natasha ran for the SUV. She climbed up onto the hood, then the roof, and jumped back up to the roof of a nearby building. She jogged this way and that, turning circles and peering through the clearing smoke. As the wind picked up, it cleared out the rest of the area, and Natasha was soon able to see the warzone that had been left behind. Vehicles that looked like crumpled sardine cans; guns and bodies littering the concrete. It was hard to tell what had actually happened here, but one thing was for certain.
Wanda was gone.
