30: The Predatory Prey
WARNINGS: Sexual Content, Referenced Sexual Abuse, Inhibitive Drug Use, Referenced Misuse of Medication, Violence
xxx
Setting: AU: Friday, October 7, 2011: Manhattan, New York, United States of America
A soft sound of a radio played, breaking through the never ending nightmare of battle, falling, and cold. He blinked open his eyes, blinking rapidly a few times as he fought to get used to sudden lighting and the absence of cold. Steve slowly sat up and blinked at the sight of an unfamiliar man in his room.
Foot perched up on the opposite knee, almost lounging back in the uncomfortable chair by the hospital bedside, the tall, dark-skinned man with an eye patch let the foot drop, boot hitting the tile with a thud. He leaned forward, looking the blond directly in the eyes. "I think you won. That has got to be the longest sleep on record. Feel rested now, Captain?" Sarcastic humor rang in the man's voice.
Frowning softly, Steve listened to the radio play; it seemed to be of a baseball game. Stiffening a bit, Steve looked to the other man, "who are you?"
"Name's Fury," the man claimed. He stood and let his fingers slip into the pockets of his pants, but not the thumbs or palms. "What's wrong, Captain? Don't like baseball?" The man gestured with a tilt of his head to the radio. "It's a good game, I understand."
"It was a good game," Steve agreed, tensely, "and I know it was, because I was there."
Nodding, Fury walked over to flip channels on the radio. "Yeah, figured as much when I saw the recognition of that play. Must've been a real thrill to see it in person, instead of having to listen to it on some recording." He stopped the channel surfing and a lone, tinny sounding man's voice came over the radio, it sounded like some science fiction reading as he seemed to breathlessly say, "that's . . . one small . . . step . . ." Fury turned to Steve. "What about this one? You recognize this program, Captain?"
Brows furrowing in confusion, Steve shook his head, looking to the radio and then back to Fury. "No . . ."
"Didn't think so." Fury turned to Steve and said, "what's the last thing you remember, Captain? Before waking up here?" He gestured to the medical room, decorated and smelling just like a regular hospital room from the states during Steve's time in the war. It was a sight that would have terrified Bucky . . . had Bucky not fallen from a moving train into an icy ravine somewhere in Russia.
A shudder ran down his spine and Steve ran his hands up and down his thighs. "I was in the Valkyrie . . . and had to put it in the water." Steve tried not to think about his husband, a sting of grief and loss swelling inside of him.
Nodding, Nick looked over the prone man. "You feeling strong enough to sit up? Move around a bit? I must say, whatever those military doctors pumped through you, it must've worked double time in the cold, because you don't have an ounce of fat from all that time asleep." He walked over to the bedside and offered his right hand to the blond. "C'mon, soldier, let me take you on a tour."
Knowing he didn't have much of a choice right then, Steve took the offered hand and eased to his feet.
"You steady?" Fury asked, mild concern lacing his tones as he clung to Steve's hand to give him support. "Take it slow if you need to."
"I'm okay," Steve said softly, giving the man a nod, "thank you, Sir." The large blond seemed steady on his feet.
"Good," Fury nodded and let go of Steve. "So, you went down in what year, Captain?" He gestured towards the door of the room.
"Nineteen forty-five," Steve replied, heading in the direction Fury gestured to.
Looking over at Steve, Nick asked, "ever study science? Maybe the science of freezing things then pulling them out and thawing them back? Here it's called cryogenics and most people think it only happens by fluke." Fury opened the door, revealing the room was a plaster board replica set in a large, dark basement of other similar fake rooms.
"Can't say I have, Sir," Steve replied honestly, looking around the room, broad shoulders still stiff.
"Well, when you went into the ice, Captain, you froze. We thought you'd died. Then, one day we found your plane. And we coulda shit bricks when we saw you were still alive after all that time. So, we thawed you, checked you over, and brought you here to finish your beauty rest. Now you're awake; though, you got some catching up to do." Fury guided Steve through corridors, past people dressed in fashions he'd never seen before. "For starters, the war you were in ended pretty shortly after you went down. America won, but we're not so proud of how we did it."
Glancing over at Fury, Steve watched the older man for several long moments, "Sir, what year is it? How long was I under for?"
Fury spoke louder, "it's twenty-eleven, Rogers. You've been out for almost seventy years. Welcome home, soldier." He pushed open a set of glass doors, revealing Times Square in mid-rush hour.
Staggering a bit at the sight of the bustling Times Square, Steve's mouth dropped open. He took in all the cars and the flashing billboards and signs. His first and immediate reaction was how much Bucky would be fascinated by all of the sights. Bucky would want to figure out how they all worked. And then the crashing sense of fear filled him. Everything he knew was gone. Were any of the Commandos alive? Was Peggy alive?
"So, Captain," Fury said, a kindness in his voice suddenly. "Wanna talk? I'm at your disposal."
xxx
Setting: AU: Tuesday, May 1, 2012: Washington, D.C., United States of America
A knock came to the apartment door of the small place Steve Rogers had been granted in Washington, DC. He'd been offered several places when he came out of rehab, but they had talked him into staying in DC close to Shield Headquarters. Fury even made time to talk to him when he'd returned, but the Director of Shield had a very busy schedule and had left Steve to his own devices, alone with a computer and a notebook of things to do Fury called a bucket list. The knock came again.
Glancing over to the door, Steve put down the book he'd been reading on the Vietnam War and headed over to the door. He didn't open it, instead looked through the peephole.
He couldn't see much beyond the top of a black hooded sweatshirt, marking the person as shorter than his peephole. The knock came again. "Your light is on and your music is playing. Either you're really good at pretending to be home or you're pretending you didn't hear me. I'm from a mutual friend. He'll be furious if you ignore me." It was the voice of a woman, sounding a bit husky and somewhat amused.
Frowning slightly, realizing that the woman was sent by Fury, Steve opened the door, asking, "can I help you, ma'am?"
Looking up, the pretty red-haired woman in jeans and black hoodie grinned. She carried a thin black object under one arm, resembling a business folder and an over large new phone at the same time. "We can do this on the porch, but it might be easier inside. I come with a couple possible jobs our friend wants you to consider." She rocked back on her heels a bit, watching Steve with intelligent green eyes.
Nodding, Steve opened the door wider and let her step inside before shutting and locking the door once more. Turning to face her, Steve asked, "I'm sorry, I don't think we've met. I'm Steve Rogers." The woman could see that Steve hadn't done much decorating in the apartment, aside from a few grainy, black and white photos.
Pushing down her hood, the redhead said, "Natasha Romanov. I work for Fury, directly." She sat neatly on the small couch and opened her tablet, placing it on the coffee table. "Fury thought you might want to get back into the world with a few job choices. We have a hunt going for an assassin no one believes exists or a possible government mole right here in Washington." Flicking the built in mouse, Natasha brought up a video, graining and black and white, of a man dressed head to toe in what appeared to be a grey color, complete with goggles and mask.
Looking down at the tablet, watching as the video played for several long moments, noticing that the grainy images cut in and out quite a bit, Steve asked, "who is he?" He glanced over at Natasha.
"This is an unnamed assassin. We've caught only minimal footage of him in the past. No one claims him, so it's possible he's a rogue vigilante." The woman sounded like she knew more but was holding it back for some reason. "This particular sting he's taking out the security guard of a military school in Serbia. We're still investigating why the guard might have been a viable target for anyone. Fury has his suspicions." Softly, she added, "there are those who say this is the Winter Wolf."
"Winter Wolf?" Steve tilted his head slightly, restarting the video so he could rewatch it. "He's obviously well trained, you can tell by the way he walks. You said he doesn't belong to any terrorist groups?"
"No group will claim him, Rogers. There's a difference between actively admitting he's yours and secretly controlling him. But he was trained, if he is Winter Wolf, in Russia." Natasha restarted the video for the third time. "And he's one of the most dangerous out there if it's really him and not an imposter. Thing is, he doesn't sign his work with any obvious clues."
"Sign his work?" Steve asked, "mind explaining that one to me?"
Turning a smirk up to the pretty blond man, Natasha said, "well, most assassins don't put their name on a corpse, Rogers. But if you follow them, you can usually tell which one did which job. This one doesn't leave that kind of signature behind. Nothing special to link it to him."
"Do you know anything more about him, Ms. Romanov?" Steve asked, sensing that she may know more than she was letting on. If he was to take on this mission, he would have to know everything there was about the Winter Wolf.
"I know that if it's really who I think it is, you shouldn't track him alone. I . . ." her phone beeped and Natasha looked down to pull it out and check it. "Hey, Rogers, watch that again while I take this?" she asked, getting up and heading into Steve's kitchenette.
Glancing up, Steve watched as the small red haired woman walked away, talking quietly into the phone. Steve moved his gaze back down to the screen and watched the man dressed in dark grey kevlar gear and a full mask and goggles. The way the man moved screamed very intensive training. Steve could tell how mission oriented the man was and that he would do anything to complete it. And yet, there was something almost haunting about the way he flicked his fingers before tossing his knife into the man's throat, silencing him as he killed.
A sound seemed to alert the man on the video footage.
Steve watched as the man whirled in the direction of the noise. The assassin moved off screen, most likely to investigate it.
Natasha walked back into the room and over to the couch. She shut the cover on her tablet and said, "sorry, Rogers. Took too long. We've been called to duty in India." She backed off and put her hood back up over her flaming red hair. "Ready?" Natasha's eyes coursed over his tight T-shirt and looser sweatpants.
"Give me a moment to change?" Steve asked, feeling at ease with the woman already. He could tell she had her secrets, but so did he.
"Sure, but the longer we take, the longer the doctor is in danger." Natasha started walking around the living room, checking things over without touching. She flirted lightly when she spoke to him, but not as if she expected anything in return.
While Steve changed, Natasha saw a grainy image of the Howling Commandos all together and next to that picture was one of Steve and Bucky, both smiling and very happy. Only a moment later, Steve came out dressed in a pair of jeans and boots, and he'd thrown a sweater over his t-shirt. "Was that quick enough for you, Ms. Romanov?" Steve asked, a slight playfulness to his tone.
Smiling wider, Natasha nodded and answered, "very brief indeed, Rogers. You, I think, won't need much training." She led the way to his door. "I'm driving, since I know the way to the jet. Have you had supper yet?"
"I haven't," Steve shook his head, following Natasha out of the apartment, locking it again once they left. "Have you?"
"Not yet, but airplane food isn't my style. What do you say to some dinner while we wait for our flight?" Natasha revealed that she drove a very sporty car with enough leg room to accommodate a tall man like Steve. "My treat, unless you wanna be old fashioned. Don't mind a bit of old fashioned now and then."
"Since you're driving, I'll pick up the tab," Steve offered, waiting for Natasha to unlock the car before getting into the passenger seat.
With a press of a button on her key fob, the car doors unlocked. "Fair enough. I can go with that." She slipped in behind the wheel and gave Steve a smile. "So, going my way, soldier?" she teased lightly looking across the car towards Steve on the other side, apparently as at ease around strangers as Bucky always had been in his youth.
"You remind me of someone I used to know," Steve said softly, offering a small smile to Natasha, though she could see the grief in his eyes.
Putting a hand over Steve's for a brief moment, Natasha softly said, "I hope it's a good memory. Let's go get a doctor." Natasha moved her hand to the gear shift and drove them smoothly into traffic.
xxx
Setting: AU: Tuesday, May 2, 2012: Kolkata, India
"Okay, Rogers, listen to me carefully on this. The guy we're after is paranoid. He's being hunted and he knows it. We've been watching but left him alone, since we've had no reason to move in. Now we do. But," she looked next to her at the larger man, "he can be very dangerous if cornered. He leveled Harlem."
Brows raising in surprise, Steve watched her, "I thought you said he was a doctor?"
"Oh, he is a doctor. He has three doctorates, if I'm not mistaken," Natasha answered. She watched carefully from her spot up the steps of the falling down bungalow. "But it's not Dr. Banner I'm worried about. It's his bodyguard." A child led a rumpled man into the room downstairs, speaking rapidly in her native tongue. As the man stopped for a moment to assess his surroundings, the child slipped from the window. Softly, Natasha said, "that's our cue, Rogers. Remember, be nice and non-threatening. Talk about sports or whatever you guys do to bond." The woman sounded like she knew exactly how guys typically bonded and didn't think sports was it.
Steve waited at attention, not sure he was a good example of modern male bonding.
Glancing over Steve, Natasha shook her head and snickered, "okay, I'll go bond with him." She headed down the steps and stopped, not approaching closer than the bottom step. "Hello, Doctor Banner." Before the man, who sighed, could say anything, Natasha pulled out her tablet and flicked it on, turning it to face the doctor. "We have a couple of questions about gamma radiation. That's all. Just questions."
With a frown, the man glanced at the screen but tore his eyes away from the display to look up to Steve on the steps. "Who are you both?" he asked, sounding wary.
Glancing up at Steve, Natasha sighed and said, "Rogers, you're going to make him think we're the military. Come down and play nice with the doctor."
Ducking his head a bit, Steve walked over to Bruce and offered a hand, "I'm Steve Rogers."
"Steve," the doctor held out his own hand and glanced from Natasha to Steve, "Rogers? Wait . . . Captain Rogers?" he asked, sounding hesitant.
"Captain Rogers, yes, Doctor. Natasha said your name is Bruce?" Steve offered a small smile.
"I'm Bruce Banner, yes." Bruce looked back at Natasha and slowly took the tablet, letting his eyes rove over it. "This is a novel approach, actually. Most people hunt me down with guns, not offers of the very man I wanted to talk to."
Natasha shrugged, "some girls give candy . . ." She left the comparison hanging.
"What is it you need from me, Doctor?" Steve offered a friendly smile.
"You are currently the only known survivor of Dr. Abraham Erskine's formula," Bruce said, glancing up from the tablet. "I've studied it but some of his notes are . . . in a code I can't break. I thought by Gamma he might mean Gamma radiation . . ." Bruce shook his head, "but I was wildly wrong. My own attempt to duplicate the process failed miserably."
"Dr. Erskine was a great man and it's a shame that he wasn't able to further his research before he was killed," Steve sighed softly, shaking his head.
Nodding, Bruce added, "after all, most of his notes contained the same codes. He continually discussed Gamma. But . . . it was . . ." Bruce's eyes widened and he adjusted his glasses, dropping his conversation with Steve. "This is a lot of gamma radiation!"
"Being our foremost gamma expert in the world," Nat finally said, "we thought you might be able to help us with it. You see, that item giving off the signature was stolen. Along with its theft came the kidnapping and killing of highly trained agents and a scientist of vast renown, the astrophysicist, Dr. Erik Selvig.
Bruce looked up at Natasha then back to Steve. "Where are we going to start?"
Natasha let the man hold onto the tablet for the moment. "We've got a ride back towards DC. There, I'll take you to your temporary office. Rogers, want to come along and help? Might be more interesting than staying in your apartment studying history."
Steve looked between the other two and nodded, "yes, I think that might be more interesting."
xxx
Setting: AU: Wednesday, May 4, 2012: New York City, United States of America
"Okay," Steve said as he walked off the ramp of the quinjet with Clint and Natasha, "we need to try and keep Loki's attention on us. There are innocent civilians caught in the crossfire." Putting a hand to the comm unit in his ear, Steve asked, "Tony, do you have a visual on Loki?"
And with those fateful words, an intense battle throughout Manhattan raged, destroying property, taking lives, and kicking alien butt. The six men and women brought together by Nick Fury as The Avengers finally ended up in the penthouse of Tony Stark's tower, encircling the battered form of the man Thor called Loki.
Looking up from where he sat amid rubble, in an indentation made by his body impacting over and over, the enemy let out a sigh and said, almost calmly, "I think I'd like that drink now, if you don't mind."
"Thor, I'll let you handle him," Steve stated, looking over to the large God of Thunder.
Thor nodded once, tossing Mjolnir to his other hand as he reached down to haul Loki to his feet.
Just before Thor could touch the man on the floor, a loud buzzing sounded and the doors of the emergency elevator opened. A man, dressed in a tailored black and dark green business suit which had obviously been almost new before that day, stumbled out, black curls tumbling from a ponytail, ice-green eyes livid, and a blade in either hand. He limped into the room as someone still in the elevator complained about a caught scarf. "Who are you that attacks my home and hides behind my face!" His accent sounded like that of Thor and Loki, though he dressed in definitely Earth style.
Steve blinked in shock, looking between the man on the floor, in full, slightly damaged battle armor, and the newcomer. Both looked exactly the same! Steve frowned and readjusted the grip on his shield. "Who are you?"
Thor also looked stunned but he didn't say anything, still hauling the Loki on the floor to his feet, securing Asgardian restraints onto his wrists.
Darcy Lewis, known to Thor, stumbled out of the elevator, clutching a colorful scarf, her brown curls wild and glasses askew. "Lucky! They said the interview was cancelled. Hey!" Her eyes lit on Thor and she grinned widely. "Looking good, big guy! Jane's been missing you!"
The man she called Lucky straightened and gave a small bow towards Steve. "I am Lucky Friggson, Astrophysicist. I apologize for failing to knock, but that . . . man must have answers I seek." He flicked something on both blade handles, causing the blades to retract, and began screwing the handles together, revealing a walking stick.
Tony sighed and frowned. "So, that's a no on lunch?"
Natasha and Clint turned almost surprised looks on the inventor as the Hulk grumbled to himself.
"I can take you to Asgard," Thor offered, watching Lucky with a soft frown of confusion.
"Hold off on that, big guy," Tony said, staring between the two look-alikes. "You say that that one," he gestured towards the Loki in battle armor and restraints, "is your brother? Did you have two brothers?"
Darcy grinned widely, inadvertently jumping in and causing more confusion, "Oh, Lucky's from Norway. He's Jane's partner."
"And who are you?" Steve asked, looking from Lucky to Darcy.
"Darcy Lewis. I'm a friend of Thor's." She grinned at the very attractive Steve Rogers.
"Indeed, she is Jane's assistant," Thor replied and shook his head, "I'm afraid that I insist on taking this man," he gestured to Lucky, "to Asgard. Loki has many tricks."
Lucky stiffened and eyed Thor, whom he was an inch taller than. "And why would I come with you? I have other matters to attend. I merely wish to know who this . . . man," he gestured towards the one in battle armor who'd stayed mute the entire time, "is. I need answers."
"And the answers you seek are on Asgard," Thor pointed out, rolling his shoulders back. "One of you is an imposter, I am sure."
"Imposter? And how am I an imposter? I am not pretending to be someone or claiming anything. I am what I say," Lucky frowned at Thor.
Finally, the battle torn Loki called, "is my brother having trouble telling the difference between a human and myself?" He sounded amused, taunting.
Clint called out, as if being helpful, "I say we eliminate one. I'm for taking out the guy who trashed New York and giving the other one a chance to explain himself."
Holding out a hand, placating Clint for the moment, Steve said, looking to Lucky, "you came in here demanding answers. What are your questions?"
Nodding, Lucky stood, leaning on the walking stick held in his left hand, his right leg slightly bent in apparent injury. "I awoke one year ago with no memories of myself or my past. I am a linguist and astrophysicist. My partner, Dr. Foster, claims I was scheduled to be her partner in a research project, however she becomes evasive if I ask for more. I am identified in computers as being without family, and any further attempt at research makes computers literally fail." He met Steve's eyes, a confusion and frustration lurking in the ice-green depths. "It is disconcerting at the least to wake up with no knowledge of where and when you are."
"We have people on Asgard that may be able to help recover memories," Thor offered, his eyes moving up and down Lucky's tall form.
Finally, the man, Lucky, turned to Thor and studied him. "Asgard is the name of a mythological place of gods and giants. There is no land called Asgard on this world." He frowned severely as if thinking Thor was teasing him.
"It's his planet," Darcy claimed, drawing a surprised, wary look from Lucky. "Jane helped find him when he got sent here on some kinda soul searching mission a year ago. He went home just before you got thrown off that building."
"Popcorn!" Tony suddenly chimed in. "Anyone else want popcorn? Soda? Tissues in case we get a teary dramatic speech?" He stood, wavering on his feet in exhaustion and pain.
Steve wordlessly brought over a chair for Tony to sit in and watched as Thor spoke up, "Asgard is a real place and there may be answers for you there."
"Oh, now my brother wonders if there were secrets he wasn't told . . . secrets the Allfather is keeping from his heir?" Loki, the prisoner, spat out, grinning maliciously at his brother's discomfort and confusion.
"Oh, shut up," Thor grumbled, putting a device on Loki's face, the device turning out to be a gag.
"That's the way I like him," Natasha murmured, Clint grinning in tired agreement.
Limping, leaning heavily on the walking stick, Lucky made his painful way to Thor and met those blue eyes with his own ice-green. "If I find my answers, or no answers, I will be returned to Earth to continue my life?"
"Relax, Lucky. I don't think his kinda aliens do butt probes," Darcy rocked on her heels, grinning.
Tony snorted and said, "unless you ask nicely."
"Gotta gag for him, too, Thor?" Clint asked, glancing towards Tony, though a smile played on his lips.
"You have my word," Thor nodded, "as long as you check out to be innocent of any crimes, I will return you to Earth to live out your life."
Apparently not a stupid man, especially as he worked with Jane Foster, Lucky asked, "and if I am guilty of crimes I cannot recall?"
"You will be punished according to the laws of the place you committed them," Thor responded.
After a long moment, Lucky nodded. "Agreed. I will go to find answers."
"Shawarma now?" Tony called out, hiding a yawn behind one hand. "I'm still really hungry."
Letting out a sigh, though a smile tugged on his lips at Tony's antics, Steve nodded and said, "okay, lets go get some chow."
xxx
Setting: AU: Thursday, June 14, 2012: Washington DC, USA
The sun burned hot that summer day but the gentle breeze made it a nice day to take the family out for a stroll at the park. The waters of the Potomac river lapped at the banks, tempting people with it's cool water for reprieve from the hot summer air. No one seemed to look twice at the man dressed in a crisp business suit carrying a single hot dog, covered in mustard and relish, and a bottled soda. The man, grey starting to streak his dark hair at the temples, made his way through the busy park to a more secluded bench under a tree overlooking the river. He settled a napkin on the stone surface next to him and set his hot dog down before he pulled out his phone. His fingers moved rapidly over the screen as he typed out a message to his wife, letting her know that he'd be on time for dinner.
No one noticed as a younger man with brunet curls, covered by a ball cap pulled low over his eyes, approached the distracted business man. The younger man, and this man barely looked to be out of his teens, stopped a few yards away from the businessman. He watched him as the older man picked up his hotdog and took a big bite out of it.
Shadowing the young man, dressed in skinny jeans, concert T-shirt, and grey hoodie, chewing gum and apparently listening to earbuds, came a petite woman. She seemed to belong in the setting, not particularly doing anything except wandering and listening to her music on such a fine day, over-dressed for the weather as many young people seemed to do in recent times. Behind dark sunglasses, she kept a watch on both the businessman and his stalker. Hands shoved in her pockets, her face gave nothing away but a look of boredom.
The young brunet watched the businessman for a while, letting him finish his hot dog and play mobile games on his phone while he enjoyed his lunch. The young man leaned against a tree, seeming to be relaxed and enjoying the warm weather as much as everyone else. However, it was when the man got up from the bench that the brunet pushed off the tree and watched intently. He continued to watch as the businessman picked up his trash and threw it away, phone still in hand. The older man started to make his way back from where he'd come and the young brunet followed. As they walked, they started to go onto a more secluded path.
Following at a leisurely pace, eyes alert behind her glasses, the young woman hit the change song button on her earbuds, actually signaling to her own shadow that there had been a change of direction and which way. She continued, chewing her gum casually and walking. After the trio left the crowds behind, walking in tree-shaded privacy, the woman again changed songs.
Once they had made it to a mostly private area of the path, though there was only a hip height iron fence that lined the edge of the path and the Potomac River, the younger man increased his speed of stride, easily beginning to catch up with the businessman. The older man was so enraptured by his phone that he didn't even notice his stalker approaching. Suddenly, the younger man wrapped an arm around the businessman's neck, cutting off any shouts for help immediately. The older man dropped his phone in the struggle, the screen cracking on the pavement, as the younger started to force the older man to the fence.
As if on a cue only she could see or hear, the young woman broke into a fast sprint and leapt onto the attacker's back, grabbing him by the shoulders and neck in her strong thighs and squeezing to bring him down. At the same time, she pressed her nails into the sides of his temples, causing pain and distraction.
Letting out no noise, the younger brunet was forced to let go of his target to try and get his attacker to let him go. He grabbed at her wrists and attempted to flip her over his shoulders.
The woman continued to hold on, still choking air from her victim, ignoring the businessman as he hurried off in fear. Blowing a gum bubble as the man got out of range, suddenly a five man strike team charged in from various directions: the woman's shadow. Holding guns at the ready on their victim, one of the men called out, "come peacefully or we will subdue you!"
The younger man let out a low growl, a noise that came deep from his chest, and he suddenly grabbed at the woman's clothing, desperation beginning to settle in. He got a firm grip and flung her off his shoulders, obviously very well trained and strong.
As she flew over his shoulders, the woman's hood came off, revealing the pretty features of Natasha Romanov. The Shield Agent scissored her legs out and caught the man around the shoulders and pulled him with her, hard, slamming them both to the ground then flipping from her back, springing with her hands to a standing position, ready to fight.
The brunet rolled to his feel, effortlessly and gracefully. His eyes moved in the circle of the men surrounding them, knowing he was overpowered. He made a another growl and lunged at Natasha, using his superhuman speed and strength to take her down. He could remember the last time he'd failed to defeat her.
Apparently, since the last time the pair had fought, Natasha had only grown in skill and science. She dodged easily then snaked a hand out with a sharp tap, using one of her new stinger weapons created by Shield. She kicked out once more, aiming for the man's knees.
The brunet jumped back to avoid the stinger but couldn't do anything to dodge the kick to his knee. The man went down, his ball cap falling off his head, showing the pretty features of the Winter Wolf. Rolling to avoid another stinger, the Wolf scrambled to his feet and lashed out with a well aimed kick to Natasha's middle.
Rolling away before the foot could graze her, though it came extremely close, Natasha flipped a wrist, aiming another sting. However, as the Wolf dodged the sting, he was stung from an entirely different direction with a very large dose tranquilizer shot. Crouching at the ready, Natasha watched the man's reaction to the heavy drugs coursing into him.
Stumbling, the Wolf blinked slowly and for a moment his and Natasha's eyes met. The man's pale blue eyes filled with fear for a moment before they rolled back and his body crumpled to the hard pavement.
Another agent, a tall, broad shouldered man named Jack Rollins, lurched forward to quickly cuff the Wolf's wrists behind his back, the younger looking man completely unconscious by that point.
"Have him wrapped and delivered to my web, boys," Natasha ordered. This particular target was too dangerous to treat normally. Instead, he would be put into specially designed clothing which would cause intense pain should he leave the pre-programmed confines of his new prison. He was to go through some very severe social programming . . . or rather some social unprogramming, if Natasha had any say in it. For now, she had permission to transport him to a special kind of interrogation.
xxx
Setting: AU: Friday, June 15, 2012: Washington DC, USA
"Be careful. He's trained to kill Black Widows, Clint," Natasha murmured, watching her partner and oldest friend carefully as he prepared for the coming interrogation.
Nodding as he listened, Clint zipped up the gym bag he was bringing in with him. "And that means he's as good as you, if not better."
"Yes, and he won't hold back. He'll kill." Natasha took in the lean frame of her partner, knowing he still had days when he faced the nightmares of the mind control once more. "One slip, Clint. One moment of inattention. I can do this."
"I thought you believed me, Tasha, that I'm fine. A few bad dreams won't hold me back. They can get in line with all the others." Clint glanced up, blue-grey eyes meeting green. "Or do you think I'm permanently compromised from that attack?"
Drawing in a breath and letting it out slowly, Natasha said softly, "no longer compromised that way, Clint. But possibly not up to your best?"
Clint let out a snort and straightened, shouldering his bag. "We'll find out if you're coddling me, Tash."
"Coddling? I don't coddle," she answered in a dry tone.
With a nod, Clint turned and headed for the outside door which lead to the second bedroom. "If I pull this off, I'll come back soon." He let himself in, stowed his bag by the bed, then headed through the bathroom towards his prisoner's matching room. It could be a very long stay if things proved difficult.
As soon as Clint stepped through the door of the second bedroom, the Wolf's head snapped towards that direction, his body instantly coiled and ready to attack. The Wolf had been changed from his clothing he'd been wearing to a silvery grey jumpsuit, a shimmering metallic lacing the threads, hinting that the fabric may not be ordinary fabric. The bedroom, or cell, was average sized with a twin bed, table, with two chairs. There was a window on the opposite side that looked out on a small courtyard, though nobody enjoyed the warm summer day.
Clint stopped inside the door leading from the connecting bathroom, his own clothes a similar dull grey but without the metallic threads. He studied the man before him and slowly, in Russian, said, "Winter Wolf?"
The Wolf didn't reply; instead he looked Clint up and down as if sizing up the other man. He sidestepped, trying to figure out a way to take down Clint. He could tell that the archer was a very well trained agent and wouldn't go down without a fight.
Still in Russian, Clint said, "I am called Hawkeye. I'll be your handler until you are done retraining." He used terms they'd been warned Winter Soldiers and Black Widows would understand best.
Brows furrowing a bit, the Wolf paused mid step and his eyes snapped to meet Clint's. In perfectly unaccented Russian, the Wolf asked, "new handler?"
Nodding, Clint confirmed, "Yes. I am your new handler. I will retrain you to your new skills. You will listen and learn well. Am I understood?"
The Wolf's face twitched and his pale blue eyes looked out the window and then back to Clint. Suddenly, the young man pounced onto Clint, intent on taking out the man so he could get free from this cell. He had to report back to his real handler. He'd be punished, undoubtedly, but he couldn't remain in this cell.
Clint seemed to predict the move as he dropped down, much like a gymnast, low to the floor with one leg outstretched for balance. He then pushed off with his other strong leg and both well toned hands, leaping into the air over the Wolf. Landing, having never made contact, Clint whirled around and stood, loose and ready, almost like a matador facing a bull. "You will comply, Winter Wolf."
Growling, the Wolf turned and ran in the direction of the bathroom and second, attached bedroom. As soon as he reached for the doorknob however, a painful shock ran all through his body, bringing the trained assassin to the ground, writhing on the floor as he couldn't escape the pain.
Clint didn't approach, knowing the prisoner wasn't ready for any kindness yet; he had been forged in pain and adversity. Clint would have to reforge him, starting with hardship and easing off until the prisoner gentled under Clint's steady non-cruel methods. He might have to treat this other man with harsh discipline, but he'd had soldiers under his command, in small units, he had to discipline and train as well. Clint was up for this important job. They needed to rehabilitate this prisoner, this terrorist.
Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, the pain eased away, leaving the Wolf panting and trembling. He pushed up to his hands and knees before forcing himself to his feet once more. "What do you want?" the Wolf barked out.
Clint walked closer, stopping a few feet away and watching carefully. "To reshape a soldier into a warrior."
TJ's eyes narrowed a bit and he snarled, "I have been properly trained to be a warrior."
"So, you have nothing further to learn? Then how did you become trapped, caught in a snare? You have much to learn and I have much to teach. Only a fool gives up a chance to learn." Clint watched the Wolf with intense eyes, looking for the slightest hint of movement, of what he planned to do.
The Wolf swallowed thickly and met Clint's eyes, the pale blue orbs showing a bit of fear. It seemed that this man might not be as far lost as many suspected, "I do not wish to be decommissioned. I will . . . learn to be a warrior."
"Of course you will," Clint agreed. He nodded towards the bathroom door. "You may use the facilities with permission only. If you mess, you clean. You have been taught other languages, yes? Which ones?" He watched, still poised for an attack, his tone that of a firm commander, not a friend yet not an interrogator.
The Wolf listed the lengthy list of languages he'd been trained to speak, including English and, oddly enough, Welsh. He straightened his shoulders a bit, his body still trembling a bit with the aftershocks of pain. "Where is she? The little Widow?"
"The Widow watches," Clint responded readily enough. "It is she who has said you were worth salvaging rather than destruction. She feels you may be trainable." He never took his eyes off the younger man. "You will eat and sleep on schedule. At this moment, it is time for fitness. We will go to the courtyard where you may do exercises." With a gesture of Clint's left hand followed by a harsh buzz, a door formerly invisible to the unknowing eye slid back, revealing the courtyard, though the walls were unscalable in the Wolf's current condition.
The Wolf's eyes flickered between Clint and the door, expression wary, as if suspecting a trap. "What exercises do you wish to see?"
Studying the Winter Wolf for some time, Clint finally said, "you will perform calisthenics to keep up your toning and fitness. Weapons and combat training will not be done until you are presentable."
Nodding once, the Wolf stepped out into the courtyard, the warm air hitting the bare skin of his arms. Looking up, TJ watched as a flock of birds flew overhead. He'd been permitted to go outside, of course, but he never really had been able to actually enjoy it. He didn't know what was happening to him. He felt as if he were malfunctioning . . . something was very wrong.
Watching as the young man explored his cage, Clint spoke very softly into his communications device, an earbud and microphone. "What do you think, Hill?"
"He seems like he may be open to retraining, but," Hill's sharp and intelligent voice broke through the comms, "he could just be playing all of us. Romanov? You have a history with him? You think he can be swayed?"
"If handled carefully, yes. He needs to be trained right now, as a weapon. Eventually, Clint can treat him as a human, introduce him to the idea that he is a thinking being. Eventually, he'll be introduced to our society and adjust to it." Natasha remained poised near the door Clint had entered by, watching the screen fed by Clint's tiny body camera.
In the screen, Natasha could see the Wolf starting his exercises. Despite the hard workout, the Wolf didn't appear to tire in the least.
"You said he's strong, Romanov? Are we talking Rogers strong?" Hill asked, watching from her own feed as well.
"He was created using a version of the serum, yes," Natasha confirmed, still watching. "I wasn't yet able to find out exactly who created his serum or how good it is, but he's among the top Winter Soldiers that were attempted. Very few survived the training and serum. Just like very few Widows survived." She didn't seem to think about what that revealed concerning her own training and survival ability, though in her case, Widows hadn't earned the serum program.
For the next half hour, the Wolf worked through his vigorous exercises, his lean body moving gracefully yet with a underlining of power. He was also incredibly fast, faster than any human should be. There was no doubt, after watching him move, that the young man was a super soldier.
"Romanov, have you been able to find any of his personal files yet? Where he came from? What his name is?" Hill finally asked, her tone business-like, as if they talked about a prized animal from a farm rather than another person.
"No. Those are sealed and buried deep. I've got contacts, favors, but it's proving difficult to pull those strings without bringing repercussions on myself." Natasha studied the lean, fit form of the young man, as well honed a weapon as when he'd first tested her all those years ago. He barely looked older, either. "Some information is buried so deep in Russia, even the government won't be able to find it. I'll keep working on it."
"See that you do. If we can figure out who this man is, we have a better chance of winning him over to our side," Hill replied, tapping a few times on her own tablet, "and, keep this between us for now. Director's orders."
"Naturally. I have no one to tell," Natasha promised easily. She was a master of her craft, both secrets and lies, but she saw no reason to reveal this very classified project - - even to Captain Rogers, despite having started by trying to get him on board with taking this man in. Steve needed to keep assimilating to the present world in his own way before dealing with rehabilitating terrorists and assassins.
The Wolf turned to look at Clint and asked, "I want to see the Widow," he spoke the words in English.
Blinking slowly, as if only slightly surprised by the demand and the language used, Clint asked briskly, "why?" He, too, switched to English.
"She brought me here," the Wolf replied simply, "I helped make her what she is today. I want to see her and she can explain to me why she brought me here."
"You feel you have the right to make demands?" Clint asked, his tone neutral. He watched the Wolf with impassive eyes.
"I . . ." the Wolf swallowed and clenched and unclenched his fists. His eyes flickered down to the ground and he shifted from foot to foot. The brunet's skin suddenly looked a little pale and clammy, a hint of a sweet scent wafting off of him.
Tilting his head ever so slightly, Clint's eyes narrowed and he, very unobtrusively, sniffed the air. Softly, into his comms speaker, he said, "Omega? Alpha? Widow, might want to speak to this guy for a moment."
"Are you in danger of rutting?" Natasha asked suddenly, her focus sharp.
"Negative," Clint reassured her in one word. "Nowhere near season. But I'm not sure if he is."
"Why is he going into heat?" Maria asked, the first notes of surprise coming through the comms from the normally passive and professional agent. "An Omega in the field, close to season?"
"Suppressants?" Clint suggested, watching the Wolf carefully. "If they're daily, we don't have the doses. He'd be wearing off quick with the serum. But why would he have Alpha musk and Omega scent?"
Sighing, Natasha walked over to the door leading to Clint's part of the small cell compound. She let herself in and strode through the bathroom to stop in the doorway to the Winter Wolf's room. "You wished to see me," she said in Russian.
"Why did you bring me . . . here?" The Wolf asked, licking his plush lips as his eyes met Natasha's. She could see they were dilated and that the highly trained assassin fought to keep control of himself.
Watching the young man carefully, Natasha answered in Russian, "You are worth more alive and fighting for a world cause than dead and rotting, Winter Wolf. When were you last tended sexually?"
"Two days ago," the Wolf answered smoothly, shifting restlessly once more. His cheeks took on a light shade of red and his eyes averted quickly from Natasha's face to the floor and then back to her face. "I didn't know. When . . . when you beat me . . . I didn't know what they were going to do to you."
"Did you let me win that day?" Natasha asked, her tone matter of fact. She didn't sound judgemental, merely curious, taking in every nuance of the Winter Wolf's encroaching heat or rutt. He smelled sweat like an Omega, but Clint was right; the soldier had an underlying Alpha musk to him.
"I thought you would be honored for defeating me," the Wolf admitted, his jaw clenching; he rolled his shoulders back as he still fought for control. "You were very good and deserved to be honored."
She nodded once and asked, "Do you wish to be suppressed or sexed, Winter Wolf? Either option is permitted to you."
Glancing to Clint, the Wolf said, "I will do whatever my handler demands of me."
Natasha never looked away from the Wolf as she reiterated, "Either option is permitted to you. Your handlers, Hawkeye and I, have agreed upon it. Make your choice."
Clint never batted an eye at this sudden change; no one had expected to capture an Omega near heat or Alpha near rutt.
Rolling his shoulders, the Wolf let out an actual whimper and he said, "I . . . I . . . don't know what's happening to me . . ." He sounded vulnerable and scared. He'd never been allowed to go into heat before.
Natasha kept her voice even as she asked, in English this time, trying to break through the possible fear his old training might bring with such a time, "would you prefer a male or female to sex you, Winter Wolf?" She gestured towards Clint, who stood impassively, and herself.
"I . . ." The Wolf looked between Clint and Natasha before finally settling on Natasha, "might I be permitted . . . you?"
Nodding, Natasha said, "Clint, I will alert you when he is ready for further training." She never took her eyes off the prisoner.
With a soft sigh, Clint nodded, privately grateful he hadn't been requested to have sex with the young man. He'd do it; he'd done it before, but he didn't prefer it. Turning, Clint went through the bathroom, closing the door behind him, and headed into his bedroom for the next however long this took. He put on some music and began reading a book he pulled out of his bag.
The Wolf watched Clint leave the room before his eyes flickered back to Natasha. He didn't pounce at her or try to hurt her. Instead, the brunet looked nervous and a little frightened. It was clear that he had no idea what was happening to his body.
"Stay calm," Natasha switched back to English, hoping to get him used to speaking the language to help adjust his thinking to a new value set. "I will not hurt you. My name is Natasha. Do you have another name? One I may call you while tending your heat?"
Shifting from foot to foot once more, the Wolf swallowed, the sweet scent getting stronger in the small bedroom. "I . . . Papa called me TJ?" The Wolf blinked in confusion as if he was surprised he'd spoken the words. He hadn't thought about the man in the cell who raised him for the first few years of his life in a very long time.
"TJ, good. Have you ever had sex at all?" She moved slowly over to him, reaching for his hand, not hiding her movements so he wouldn't spook and get defensive.
Nodding his head, TJ said, "my old handler . . . he used to . . ." TJ shuddered and rolled his shoulders back. He let her take his hand, the skin warm to the touch.
Offering a gentle smile, Natasha said, "well, this might be a little different from what you recall, TJ, but it will feel very good. Come. We'll start with a warm shower together to learn each other's bodies." A soft knock from Clint's room to the bathroom connecting came but nothing more happened. Natasha didn't seem bothered and didn't even look over as she began to guide TJ into the bathroom.
TJ's eyes shifted to the closed door, letting Natasha take the lead easily and letting her guide him towards the bathroom. "Will someone else be joining us?"
"No, TJ. Clint was delivering some things that help an Omega with his heat. You see, I cannot fill your nether passage like a male Alpha can, and so I can only relieve some of your heat. Clint . . . Hawkeye's private name . . . he delivered what I need to help you through heat. He'll guard the rooms and make sure no one comes and interrupts." Studying TJ for a long moment, she asked, gently, "have you been told if you are Omega or Alpha, TJ?"
TJ shook his head.
With a nod, Natasha took TJ to the bathroom and gestured towards a box sitting in front of Clint's door. She the began to undress. "Remember, shower first to learn one another's bodies? You'll need to undress completely, TJ." Sex for her job was nothing new to Natasha; occasionally in deep cover she and Clint had even had to carry the masquerade and have sex, so she thought nothing of using her body to help transition the Winter Wolf back to a civilian and in an ally capacity.
Running his plush bottom lip under his teeth, TJ nodded once and started to pull off his shirt over his head. The body under the shirt was smooth and lean, though there was strong muscle under the skin that quivered with each movement. Though the Wolf didn't appear to be very strong, Natasha could tell that his size was quite deceptive, even though she had first hand experience with just how fast and strong he really was.
As TJ started to remove his pants, he met Natasha's eyes and said, "you grew up to be very pretty."
Smiling, Natasha let her eyes rove over TJ then back up to his face. "Well, last you saw me, I was a scrawny thirteen year old, all arms and legs and sass. Thank you. And you are very attractive, TJ. In another life, you would have your pick of Alphas to be with." She reached over to stroke her fingers lightly over his chest. "Have you seen a woman naked, TJ?"
Looking down at where her fingers ghosted over his flushed skin, TJ nodded and said, "a few of my missions required as much. Though yours is the prettiest I've seen." The Wolf didn't remove his underwear, though Natasha could see the fabric between his thighs had not dampened with slick.
"Do you shower in your underpants, TJ?" Natasha asked, a very light teasing in her voice, handling the older man, though he appeared younger, gently. She slipped out of the rest of her clothes, not hiding her body, the scar to her lower abdomen quite visible.
TJ reached out to carefully stroke his fingers over the scar, his brows furrowing in thought before he lifted his gaze back to her face. "I could have killed you . . ." he murmured softly. His body began to tremble as his metabolism burned through any of the remaining suppressants in his body.
"Ah, so you remember me other than training? You won that time, I believe," Natasha replied, letting him touch, her own abdomen quivering in response. Sliding her hand down to his abdomen, she ran it over the cloth covering TJ's crotch, very lightly. "You need to remove these, TJ, or we can't have sex the way you need it."
Whimpering softly, TJ nodded and slipped out of his underwear, his hard cock springing to life after being removed from the confines of the boxer-briefs. Suddenly, he brought his face down to the crook of Natasha's neck, breathing in the natural scent of her skin.
Slipping her fingers into his curls and massaging lightly, Natasha allowed the scenting, a soft smile on her lips. "That's right, TJ, let me guide you. I'll make you feel good." She used her free hand to lightly stroke the skin above his crotch, not actually touching his cock yet, not wanting to jolt or spook him. "That's right. Get your fill of scent." This close she could tell that the Alpha must was natural. The Omega scent must have been added, either by cologne or injection.
TJ gently nipped at her skin, lapping the sting away before nipping again. A bit forcefully, TJ pushed her back until she hit the wall of the large shower. He continued to touch and stroke her skin, kissing and tasting her.
"Romanov, are you okay? We can sedate him if you need?" Hill's voice came through the comm unit still in her ear.
"If you sedate him, I'll slit your throat," Natasha breathed out, most likely confirming TJ's suspicions that she was being monitored as much as he was. Natasha cupped TJ's face and began returning his kisses, bringing one leg up to caress between his thighs, carefully.
Mewling, TJ kissed her desperately, his hands smoothing over her skin, down to her hips and back to her ass. He squeezed the flesh there, breathing out a moan into her mouth. "I want you . . ." he said softly, breathless and raspy with desire.
"Good," Natasha murmured, "take me, TJ." She leaned back in the shower stall, despite no water yet running. Reaching down, she finally took his cock in hand and stroked it, feeling him in her slender hand. Moaning, Natasha said, "I want you inside me, TJ." Despite her seductive teasing with many associates, Natasha hadn't had sex in awhile and found she wanted this as much as TJ needed it.
TJ stepped into the shower, once more crowding Natasha until her back pressed against the cool tile of the wall. He crashed his lips against hers, his cock, hard and leaking at the tip, trapped between their bodies. TJ moved his hands to cup her hips, about to lift her so he could get inside her. However, just as he was about to get a better grip, TJ's eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed to the ground with a sickening thud, his body beginning to convulse.
"Hill!" Natasha called out, anger and worry in her voice, "what the hell did you do to him?" Immediately going to her knees, Natasha checked to make sure TJ hadn't hit his head on the way down. "Clint! Get in here!"
Clint came through the door immediately, having been on alert in case something happened. He saw the situation, the young man convulsing in the shower, and helped Natasha pull him out to the bathroom floor, pushing the box of supplies out of the way. "Did he hit his head?"
"This isn't us!" Hill replied immediately and then started ordering medics to go into the room.
"He's seizing," Clint called out as he and Natasha made sure TJ had room he could convulse without hitting anything and injuring himself. Clint turned the man on his side a bit and watched to make sure he didn't bite his tongue.
"What the hell? Does anyone have any kind of medical information started on him from his capture?" Natasha called out, pulling a towel over to cover TJ's crotch then grabbing another to wrap around herself.
TJ continued to convulse for about a minute before he suddenly went completely still, his eyes still closed, though his skin had gone pale and was covered in a thin layer of sweat. It didn't appear that he'd hurt himself on the way down or that he bit his tongue.
"We were able to get a basic physical and scans on him," Hill answered and then called out to someone else, "someone get me the damn reports on his scans!"
An intern medic handed off the information to Hill as he glanced into the monitoring screen. The view for the private interrogation suites, set up for long term rehabilitation or even prisoners needing long term medical care, was confidential and not supposed to be viewed by anyone without level seven clearance or higher. "We really have our agents seduce prisoners?" the intern, level two at best, asked in awe.
Frowning fiercely, Hill leveled a cold glare at the intern and said, "he was slipping into rutt. It was either tend him or lose him to rutt fever."
"I know Omega males are out there, ma'am, but ihe's/i an Omega male isn't he? I mean, that's what he smells like. I didn't think anyone allowed Omega males in the field. Not without suppressants." The intern sighed, at least not making comments on Natasha's or the prisoner's actual physical appearance.
"Where is your boss so they can go over these scans with me?" Hill asked, flicking through several angles of scans, looking for anything abnormal.
"Oh, we've only got one specialist on Omega males, ma'am, and he's on vacation?" the intern used a tipped pointer to gesture to something in the back of Winter Wolf's spine, near the base of his skull. "But that's not normal for anyone."
Looking to where the intern pointed, Hill frowned and said, "what the hell? We need to keep him sedated until we can figure out what that is and possibly get it out of him." Hill glanced up at the viewing window.
"Considering the field he's in, I'd say it's probably some kind of neural control, radio operated, to keep him in check?" The intern might be brand new, and unauthorized in the area, but he wasn't stupid. That might have been why he'd been sent with the scans instead of someone with proper clearance.
"Who are you, exactly?" Hill questioned, turning her gaze back on the intern.
"Oh! Uh," he flushed and said, "I'm a nurse from the medical department? Jacob Weller. I was sent in since our staff is busy with a bomb threat over at the Pentagon?" He held out his identification for her to scan and check.
Pinching the bridge of her nose, Maria took the identification, scanned it, and then sighed heavily, "well, go get someone who is qualified to sedate him. Get him into scans and, if need be, surgery."
Nodding, Nurse Weller instantly made his way down to the rooms, letting himself in with a key he shouldn't have had in normal circumstances. He pulled some sedatives from his lab coat pocket and began injecting TJ directly into the neck for faster response time. "This should calm his heart rate and hopefully stop the seizures. But they won't keep anyone with the serum down for long."
Suddenly, TJ's eyes snapped open and he seemed to spring into action. With lightning fast movements, TJ rolled off the floor and kicked Jacob away before flipping behind him and wrapping his arm around Jacob's throat, pressing down hard on his jugular. Obviously, TJ didn't care about his nudity.
"Winter Wolf, don't kill. Subdue only," Clint barked out in Russian, knowing the Wolf was probably too far gone at the moment to take a free the prisoner order.
Blinking slowly, the sedative starting to work its way through his system, TJ didn't release the gasping man, but his grip did loosen slightly. "Viable target."
"Not viable target. Medical staff," Clint corrected. "Reversing your seizure only. Do you understand?" He watched TJ's manner, his eyes, carefully.
Finally it seemed that the sedative started to take effect as TJ released the intern completely and staggered back, falling onto his ass. His eyes flickered to Natasha before he crumpled onto the floor, eyes slipping shut.
Natasha hurried over and stroked TJ's hair from his face. Turning her head to eye the intern, she asked, "what have we discovered?" She could tell TJ had done no lasting damage to the man, and anyone of so low a rank as Nurse Weller shouldn't have even been allowed in there. Perhaps he'd think twice before racing in with needles.
Clint checked on Jacob then took the rest of the needles from him and walked him out as Natasha questioned Maria Hill concerning the reasons anyone would want to disguise a viable Alpha as an Omega then put inhibitors in him in case of rutt or heat.