Chapter 4
A Little Interlude with Nick Fury
In some secret office/building somewhere in the world, a man was sitting at his desk, completing work on a need-to-know basis. He was tall, muscular, and had one eye-patch covering his left eye: meet the allegedly dead Nick Fury.
Unusually for him, his face was showing every aspect of a worry: his eyebrows dug low, his lips closed tightly, and he was alternating between pacing his office and sitting behind his desk so he could glare more easily at the computer screen in front of him. Obviously he had something on his mind - something preoccupying him greatly.
Of course, Nick Fury was a man like every other. He could become worried or scared. But despite his claims of being retired when everyone who mattered knew he couldn't get away from the thrill of being a secret and essential spy, he was still one of the most decisive people on earth, and loved to think of his job as the daily saving planet kind. Part of it meant he knew how to hide his moods. He would never admit it, of course, but the man loved to practice his poker face.
So when he was obviously worried, as he was now, it meant something was wrong - very, very wrong. Actually that would be the time to prepare for the end of the world, because chances were it was coming.
Thus, Nick Fury was pacing and sitting and glaring at the computer in a continuous loop.
Suddenly, a door slammed somewhere near the office in which Nick was hiding - no sorry I mean working - in. Quick steps followed. The one-eye man, in mid-pace, ran hastily to sit in his chair.
The door opened wide and revealed the person Fury was NOT trying to find.
"So?" the woman at the entrance asked, her eyes cool and her body relaxed.
Of course, it was an expression carefully adopted by Natasha Romanoff and Fury knew he had to choose his words carefully if he didn't want to endure her ire. Not that he was afraid, but no one likes to be yelled at. Especially when they're the one usually ordering people.
"Black Widow," he greeted her, nodding.
She entered the room, closing the soundproof door behind her. She then slowly approached and stood in front of the desk for several seconds before sitting casually on the never-used visitor chair.
She stared at him, waiting for his reply - patient for the time being. Nick Fury was trapped, knowing she was ready to wait as long as necessary to get what she wanted. So he answered her unspoken question.
"We still don't know where he is, but the reports should arrive any minute now. We'll have a better idea of what happened to him then."
The auburn-haired woman stayed still, except for her blinking eyes and tightening lips. Things were indeed going wrong if she was letting herself be vulnerable in front of Nick Fury.
"It's been eight days now, Fury. How could he just vanish like this? I would've understood somewhere else, but in New York? What happened to him?"
Her tone was almost desperate, and Fury knew it wasn't an act. He shivered.
"I don't know…I don't know. But I swear to you, we'll find him," he promised her with a final tone.
If they had both been uneasy before their unplanned meeting, they didn't feel it so much now. They would find Bruce Banner no matter what. Because Nick Fury had promised her, and that wouldn't be taken lightly. After faking his death and keeping her in the dark about it, he owed her at least this much. And when Nick Fury promised something in those particular circumstances, whoever stood in his way would be a fool.