Chapter 7: Thoughts and Emotions… Both Stupid
Disclaimer: If I owned Marvel there would be a Black Widow movie. Since there isn't, I think it's safe to say that I don't own Marvel.
Secondary Warning: Okay so y'all are awesome. I have actually achieved double digit followers and favorites which is just astounding. Thank you all so much. So as seen in the last chapter, Eve kind of had a freak out. (She can't be chill all the time.) But she gets to meet Loki soon so that'll be… fun. This chapter was hard. Like really hard because of a combination of writer's block and not being quite sure what to keep in and what to save for later. So anyway, all feedback welcome as always! (Y'all are making me nervous with the lack of commentary, tbh.) On to the chapter!
Natasha gives me a ever so slightly regretful look before she leaves to do as Fury asked.
"You're gonna love it, Doc. We got all the toys," she tells Banner in an attempt to lighten the mood as she leads him away. Bruce sends me a sympathetic look as he follows her out. Steve is also giving me a similar look. Ugh! Everyone, please, just stop with the looks! I am fine! I'm telling ya', you freak out for two seconds over someone you care about and everyone gets stupid looks on their stupid faces. It's stupid.
"Is someone going to explain or are we just gonna stand here exchanging looks?" I ask to no one in particular. That wasn't suppose to come out so harsh, I swear. More deep breaths. "Phil? Hill? Fury?" I make eye contact with each of them as I say their name. Nothing. Just more looks. Strange looks. What the hell?! I'm getting dangerously close to screaming again.
"Someone answer her," Steve contributes with a commanding tone that I wasn't even aware he had. It's as if everyone snaps out of it at once. I repeat, what the hell? Why listen to Steve and not me? This is bull! Phil tries to talk to me, but I wave him off. I no longer want to deal with people. Instead, I commandeer a computer and bring up Hawkeye's file and get the info there. Okay so apparently Loki pulled some mind control shit on him and now he's playacting at being a bad guy. Nice. How hard would it have been to tell me that from the get-go? Now I'm the salty one.
Okay, now what? Is there something I need to be doing? Like, if I had a choice I'd be off this ship and tracking Barton down, but I'm currently assigned to watch Steve. Not that that would usually stop me. Mission or no mission, my people come first. Plus, Steve is way more than capable of taking care of himself. The problem is I have no idea where to start looking for Clint. Even if I did, he's currently being controlled with some special staff thing by the Norse god of lies and mischief and would likely attack me. Man has my life gotten weird. First the serum, then Steve, and now Norse gods.
Wait, technically Thor showed up last year. I really wish I'd met him like Phil did. Phil gets to have all the fun! Like, all the times he gets to hang out with Stark. I met him briefly like twice. We both enjoy messing with Fury, I felt an immediate kinship. Okay, Eve, wrong train.
I sigh and lean back in my chair. What to do? I really can't just leave Steve. So far they only have Banner, Romanoff, and us called in and we, or rather he, would likely be the first ones deployed when Loki is found. I don't want him facing Loki alone. Based on the report I just read, Loki is hella unstable and can control people. I am not risking Loki getting the jump on Steve. Not happening. This is assuming I'd even be of any help. And you know what happens when you assume.
Le sigh. Again. Moral choices suck. Protect Steve or rescue Clint? Is there any way I can do both? I suppose if I stick by Steve and stay with S.H.I.E.L.D. then Clint will be found eventually. Then again, it may be too late by then.
Okay, that's not a pleasant train to board. (Or road to travel. Whatever metaphor you prefer.) Gah! That's it, I'm coin tossing it!
I pull out my wallet from my inside jacket pocket and grab my lucky dollar coin. My dad is really into coins and bought all us kids special ones when we were born and he got me a Sacagawea coin and dollar bill. He gave me the coin for good luck when I left to join Rogers Academy. Damn trains.
So anyway, heads for sticking with Steve like a good pal and tails for tracking Clint down also like a good pal. I flip it. It spins. It falls. I drop it. It lands as a heads on the floor. Steve it is, I guess. I really hope the whole dropping thing isn't an omen.
I look over at Steve, who is currently standing on the raised walkway with Phil, and try to decide if I'm making the right luck induced call. He looks as stiff as usual and still pretty salty for some unknown reason. Meanwhile, Phil looks like this is the time of his life. What a nerd. I stand and walk over to join them. They're talking and I don't want to interrupt, but I also want Steve to know I'm alright now. So I stop beside him and smile when he glances over in an attempt to convey the message. He nods and flashes me a quick grin before focusing back on Phil.
"I mean, if it's not too much trouble," Phil continues.
"No, no. It's fine," Steve assures him. What's going on? Why am I always so lost?
"It's a vintage set, " Phil adds after a short pause. Oh so this is about his Captain America trading cards. Ha! "It took me a couple years to collect them all. Near mint. Slight foxing around the edges, but…"
"We got a hit," an agent interrupts, "A 67% match. Wait. Crossmatch. 79%." Phil heads over to check it out.
"Location?" requests Phil.
"Stuttgart, Germany. 28 Konigstrasse. He's not exactly hiding," informs the agent.
"Well that sounds sketchy as hell," I comment offhandedly.
"Captain," Fury breaks in, "you're up."
"Do I get to go too?! Do I, do I, do I?!" I exclaim. Another absolutely done look earned from Fury. LEVEL UP! I am now a level 43 pain in his ass! "I don't know why I'm asking. I'm going no matter what you say. Suit or no suit," I confess with a grin.
"Oh, you have a suit," Phil states.
"Phil, I swear on all things sugary and delicious, I will smack you upside the head if you are messing with me," I warn him.
"I'm not kidding, Ms. Greene, I swear," Phil promises.
"Eve, I don't know if you should come," Steve ponders aloud.
"Uh, yeah I should. I did a coin toss and everything. I'm coming," I declare. "Now then, to the armory!"
This is one hell of an armory. I let out a low whistle at the sight of all the stuff.
"Nice," I remark as I saunter over to inspect Cap's gear which is classic red, white, and blue with a cowl and lots of straps. "I like the colors. I bet they bring out your eyes. That's probably the "design impute" Phil had."
"Eve," Steve sighs, "Behave."
"I'm not a child, Steve. As a free-willed adult, however, I can act anyway I want," I tell him. I even stick my tongue out at him to illustrate my point. I leave him to gather his things and skip over to find my stuff. I find what are essentially a recreation of my old gear. Gray, free-movement combat pants, close-fitting, black, long-sleeved shirt, and combat boots. Oh, they even got my dart gun halters and my fingerless black gloves. Sweet. Very plain, but I was always more into functional rather than flashy.
I check to make sure the guns are nonlethal before gathering it all up in my arms and heading to the changing room. It all fits like a glove. I emerge to find Steve already ready. No way. How is he faster than me?
"Ready?" he asks while leading me to where the flying things are. (I'm very unknowlegable, sorry.)
"Most definitely. I cannot wait to punch Loki in the face," I tell him.
"Because of Barton?" inquires Steve.
"Because of Barton," I confirm.
"Who is he?"
"To me, you mean? He was my recruiter. He's also my friend. My first one after the fall of Rogers Academy. He kinda took me in," I recount. Steve gets a thoughtful look on his face.
"Why haven't you taken off to look for him yet?" Steve asks forthright.
"'Cause, you're also my friend and I need to watch your back with Loki so you don't get mind-jacked, too," I straight-out tell him as we get in the jet. Steve's face tells me he doesn't know what to say so I just pat his arm, smile, and head to the cockpit. We have a God to beat up, afterall.
