"How do you do it?"
Clint looked to Steve, changing his pace so he'd be in step with the man, "How do I do what?" He had a good idea what Steve meant but it would be good for him to say it. They had split up from the girls to get changed into something more spar friendly and if Steve wanted to say something now was the time.
"Be a father, I guess?" Steve scrubbed his hand over his face, a moment of vulnerability that few saw. Was he having a moment with Steven Grant Rogers? Leader of their team? Damn.
"Well, I be there for them and hope that doesn't screw 'em up." Clint winced at his own wording, maybe that wasn't the best way of putting it in this situation. He huffed out a sigh before Steve could say anything, "Natasha filled me in. Steve, man, that wasn't your fault."
"It-" The man doesn't seem surprised that Nat told him about it, but the guilt of what happened is evident, "I should have been more sensitive."
"Well, learn from it and move on." There was no fighting with Steve on the blame game when he was in this mood.
They came up to the doors of the gym and walked in to see Nat and her daughter - damn what a trippy thought. A month ago he would have bet money that he'd never see the day she had a biological child. Or even a dog.
--
"How about we start at 50%?"
Nobody was in the sparring section yet and no one seemed to be immediately forthcoming. The thought of percentages was an interesting concept. A concept Three had never heard of. It was either holding back or you're fighting and only stopping before the death blow in sparring.
Three lowered herself to the mat, "Permission to observe before sparring?"
Sandwiches shrugged, pulling out his phone and tapping away at it, "Fine by me." Looking up he gave a grin, "Nat, how about you and Cap here have a go? It'll give a new spin on parents fighting in front of their kid."
Both rolled their eyes before striding out onto the mat and each went to a corner. Each crouched in a fighting stance before the AI signaled the start of the match.
Even at half of what their normal percentage was, her parents were excellent fighters. The Captain, yes that was a good name for him he did have a rather commanding figure about him, was far more agile than she thought he'd be. But her mother definitely surpassed him when it came to speed and agility. Out of the two, she would be the threat in a fight. He was strong, fast, and smart but the assassin was superior when it came to skills.
The door opened and Wilson, Stark, The Witch, and the Red Man - Vision was his name, walked in loaded down with snack food. The Witch even carried a small arsenal of bean bags behind her in a red glowing mass.
Her parents stopped mid-fight, good to know distractions were allowed to be taken, and gave a questioning gaze. It would have been an amusing picture as the Widow's leg was wrapped around the man's neck in the beginnings of a choke with him starting to pull at her ankle.
"Go on!" The millionaire waved his hand magnanimously as he flopped down on a bean bag, sitting next to Sandwiches. "We're here for moral support and maybe a spar or two."
"Don't all of you have work to do somewhere?" Steve sent a small glare their way.
"Day off."
"Decided to take a break from the lab."
"No mission for today."
All the answers came at once and Three soon found herself sharing a large bean bag with Sandwiches and the Counselor to her other side on a smaller one, chip bag in hand as her parents continued to spar. Five minute rounds. Winner chooses the next pair.
The Widow won by a hair, choosing Iron Man and Sandwiches in the next line up.
Sandwiches must be some form of assassin or espionage agent. His skills are close to that of her mother's. The millionaire holds his own but is definitely used to his metal suit and loses three times before the five minutes is up.
He threw up his hands at the end, "There! I did one and I'm out of the rotation now."
Barton gave a grin, "Let's have some father daughter fun. Rogers and - well, Rogers, you two are up!"
Three pried herself up from the depths of the plush cushion and walked to the mat. Her father followed behind.
"Are we sparring with submissions? Or no?" She quirked an eyebrow at the man, giving the impression she was trying to be relaxed and failing. Though, if he could hear her heartbeat then that did nothing as it was calm as ever.
"Everyone else's been going with submissions so that's what y'all will do." Sandwiches called over his shoulder, plopping down on the bean bag hard enough to mildly dislodge her mother from her side and earning himself a smack on the arm for it.
"Yes, sir."
The buzzer went off and both approached the other in a fighter's stance. Holding back. Holding back. No killing. No wounds.
As the man came in close enough, Three bull rushed him, coming in low for a double leg take down. Chump change to defend as an enhanced person. As expected, he looped his arm around her neck before she could deflect it and guillotine choked her before she could do anything.
"What was that!" Chips flew as Stark gestured towards them, "50 percent not 0!"
"Restart!" Wilson called out before munching on some popcorn.
But among the small crowd of people booing, it was her mother's cold, calculating eyes that caught her. She wasn't convinced.
Nadia smiled a bit, holding her hands up in depreciation, "Okay! Okay!"
The timer went off again and Nadia went with the same move but faster. Not as fast as she was able but just enough to avoid his reflexes to get to the choke. Her hips rose as he went for prying her off of him instead. Just enough resistance to warrant a solid pull. Loosening her hold and swinging her legs towards him, he over arched her and Three wrapped her legs around his neck. She could kill him. Grab the head and snap his neck. She had the strength.
She flew down to the mat as she let him pull her away. This time she landed on her back, wind knocked out of her. He's stronger than the Winter Soldier. A small, maniacal grin crossed her mind. One day, she would fight him for real.
He finished with a submission again. They stood and started once again.
"What are you doing, you idiot!" The loud, German voice rang out from the side of the mat. The Weasel.
Not real. He couldn't be here. She kept fighting, dodging a blow and giving her own but couldn't help but glance at where it came from. There he was, standing by the mat. His energy practically emanated off of him towards her.
"You never show weakness! You don't go soft on him!" The Soldier was in front of her, blood dripping down his face, in place of her father.
Not. Real. Nevertheless, she found herself giving a more solid punch to the ribs than the light peppering she'd been sending. The harsh exhale of air proof enough he felt it. Another glance. The Weasel was still there, face contorted in rage.
"Do you want to be terminated, Subject 3? Or would you rather become my personal pin cushion for your negligence to duty? Failure to thrive will not be tolerated!" The scent of oranges wafting through the air like a promise.
--
Something was wrong. Natasha could feel it. Wanda stirred some obviously able to tell as well. Nadia's eyes kept shifting to the corner of the mat before going distant. The grunt from Steve after a hard blow was enough for her. Natasha stood.
And it was too late. Nadia pushed him away with a yell before delivering a drop kick that sent him flying a couple feet off the ground before landing in a heap. Ripping off Steve's hoodie she'd been wearing, revealing only a sports bra, she put her hands to her head for a moment before starting towards the door, "I'm done with this fucking game!" The German words seemed to come out without the girl realizing it. Somehow, Natasha had a feeling it wasn't just in terms of the sparring.
--
"Damn." Stark said after the sound of the door slamming faded, "She put you on your ass, capsicle! And that was after only 10 minutes!" Something shifted in his face that Steve couldn't read but the man said nothing more.
Steve ignored him, picking himself up off the floor, not surprised that Tony had decided to make the round longer. By no means had he been going hard on her but if just that one punch and kick was telling him anything, she was going extremely easy on him. Not good.
The bean bags and chips were being slowly picked up by everyone now. It'd been a while since they'd done this but it had been fun the few times they did. Sitting around, sparring, teasing people about their technique.
Natasha sidled up behind him, "What do you say we actually take her somewhere? She must feel pretty cooped up here all the time." Just like that. Not even a mention of what just happened? Not that there was much to say - except he hoped he never had to be on opposing sides with her.
"Do you think she actually picked clothes out?" He had yet to see her wear anything except the clothes he'd given her. Now she was down a sweatshirt seeing as she decided to take it off. A stress reaction maybe?
"Don't think so."
--
Screw it. He'd put it off and used his time for better subjects but after the sparring fiasco he was getting into those damn, heavily encrypted files.
Tony sat down, a strange sense of deja-vu coming as he remembered how he sat here less than a month ago with Banner. Too bad he'd gone back to who knew where.
--
Three found herself in the far corner of the large, empty closet. That outburst was unacceptable. The rabid, consuming desire to try killing everyone in the room had to be contained in a better way.
Feeling a drip on her bare feet, Nadia looked down. Blood. It was covering her hands and dripping off of her arm from where she had dug her fingers in too far. There was no pain in it. Nor was it fatal. It took nearly being decapitated to bring her to death's door after all.
A soft knock on the door came, her father's voice next, "It's time for dinner, Nadia." A moment of silence, "And if you want to talk about what happened we're here but if you don't then we'll let it be."
"Has S- Barton gone yet?" She stood up, extracting her fingers from her arm. By the time she cleaned off the old blood the wounds would be closing up.
There was no time for malfunctioning emotions. She had a mission to accomplish.
--
Steve looked over his shoulder to be sure Nat was asleep on her bed before prying up his shirt gingerly to look in the mirror. After the first week, the sheet had been deemed an annoyance and they simply changed in the adjoining bathroom if they wanted privacy. Now, even that was starting to slip.
The bruise blossoming on his stomach was a fine array of dark blue and purple. Hurt like anything too. If it'd been anyone else on the receiving end of that kick they'd probably be checking their internal organs for any damage or bleeding.
"She's still hiding something." Natasha's voice came, clearly never having been asleep.
"That's to be expected." He turned towards her, pulling his shirt over his head, "I wouldn't trust many people if I'd gone through what she has."
"While I want to be optimistic that that's it," The woman curled further into her sheets, "I don't think it is."
Steve lay down, maybe Natasha was wrong. They could get Nadia to trust them. It would just take time.
