The first thing Steve wanted to do was smash her head against the wall. But that wouldn't be socially acceptable.

Or ethically.

He panicked, not knowing what to do. She was leaving, but he was still on a date. At this point, he didn't really care about civility, he wanted to ditch his date.

But that also wouldn't be socially acceptable.

So he did the thing that would be one slight step above that on the socially acceptable scale.

He told her there was a sudden emergency and left, without even giving her a chance to speak. Don't worry, he still paid the bill.

Outside the café, Steve frantically searched the crowd for the girl. His eyes yearned for the sight of her dark hair. There? No. There? No!

He gripped his head, angry with himself. He had one job. He couldn't even do this for Nat. He—

Wait. Was that…?

Yes. There, on the bench near the fountain. She was faced the other way, but he could tell it was the same girl. He walked closer, slowly. He tried to get an accurate description of her appearance while being inconspicuous.

She matched what Nat described perfectly. Long, dark, maybe black hair. Green eyes. Tall. Probably about five-ten. And, as Steve saw before, the tattoo behind her ear.

Steve had to come up with a game plan. Obviously, he would confront her. Not in public. He couldn't take her home, he didn't know how much trouble she really was. But if she took Natasha Romanoff down, she was obviously a lot. And he certainly couldn't take her to S.H.I.E.L.D. That would show Fury that Steve went directly against his orders, and, plus, they would take her into their custody.

No, Steve wanted to deal with her himself.

He adjusted his cap and fake glasses. Sometimes he thought of it as a stupid disguise, sometimes he felt invincible. Nonetheless, it worked.

He sat on a bench near her. He watched her. She sat there, quietly, sipping her drink. She didn't have any sort of device, or book, she just sat there and stared off into space, not noticing Steve was secretly planning her demise.

At least, that's what it seemed like. Katrina knew that guy had followed her. She walked off into the most crowded part of the area, so he couldn't try anything. Katrina didn't look at him directly once, but she kept watch through the corner of her eye.

He looked…familiar. She felt like she'd seen his face before, somewhere. The fact that she couldn't remember bugged her.

Katrina had no clue what that guy would want from her. The first time he even saw her was just a few minutes ago in the café. On that note…wasn't he with someone?

Unless they had some unfinished business from a previous mission, and he recognized her. That must be why he looks so familiar. What other explanation could there be?

It was unfortunate on her part. She's strong, but he's big and muscular. If they were to fight, there would be a chance of her losing. And what would that result in? Him killing her?

Of course this happened the day she got to the city.

She sipped her coffee in rather small sips, drawing out as much time as she could. She had nowhere to go, so she could waste all the time in the world, but he was sure to have a life. He would leave, eventually, she decided.

But he didn't. He stayed, the whole time, the whole two hours. When she couldn't pretend anymore without looking obvious, she got up and stalked towards the garbage bin near. For a second she was tempted to throw the empty cup at his head.

It was getting dark, she had nowhere to go, and someone was following her. This was a wonderful start to her new life.

She tried to slip away into the darkness of the fading sun. It was getting dark. She really had no clue what she was going to do.

And all at once, all the realizations of what's happening hit her hard. She fully understood the gravity of the situation.

She walked down the street, an unfamiliar bubble of panic forming in her chest. Would she get a job? Could she get a job? She had no form of education. And then what? How would she get a place? It would take her months to save up for even the tiniest apartment in a city this big. How would she find a realtor? Pay taxes? What if she needed a doctor? Did she have to buy her own food? Where do you buy groceries?

Katrina had always thought of herself as a knowledgeable adult. Now she realized she was just a naïve child who knew how to hit.

Crack.

"Oh, shi—"

Steve cursed himself. He'd been following the girl without her noticing for the past ten minutes, and he just blew his cover by stepping on a branch. Real cliché.

The girl whipped around, ten feet in front of her. She'd heard him even so because the street was quiet. There were few people walking at this time, or at least in this area. Steve wasn't sure where exactly she was going. She'd seem to be wandering with no particular aim.

They stared at each other for a few seconds. Steve was a little startled at the intensity of her eyes. They reminded him a little of Natasha. But…worse. Her face was stone, and she looked like she wanted to cut him apart and feed him to the sharks.

"Why are you following me?" she demanded.

"You…" Steve tried to find the right words. He had thought of many things to say to her, but a loss of words was not one of them.

"Who are you?" she walked a little bit closer, and her voice was threatening.

How could Steve possibly explain that she had harmed one of his best friends and therefore he was now obligated to hunt her down? How could he say that without disclosing who he was?

Then again…did it really matter who he was? Did he really care?

"You had some unfinished business with a friend of mine." He said it quietly but assertively.

He watched a display of emotions cross her face, trying to recognize him. Confusion, then realization, then horror. Almost.

He watched her face turn into stone again, and admired her ability to do that, although he knew he could do the same. Going through loss after loss after loss really wears a guy down. He watched her calculate a response.

A slow, nefarious smile started to spread across her face. Her eyes lit up with flickers of wickedness. She laughed, a low, villainous laugh, and in that moment she reminded Steve a little of Satan.

Anger surged through him, and he advanced. "Do you think this is funny?" he demanded aggressively, his voice raising. His fists clenched, and the fact that she had the audacity to laugh made him want to throttle her.

The maniacal look had left her eyes, and was replaced by pure malice. She hissed words in between her teeth. "I would do anything to witness the pain she was in once more. The way the cement crushed her bones, the way she hissed in pain, the way she writhed and thrashed while choking on dust," she spit the words out, but there was a twinkle in her eye as she said them. Steve's eye almost popped a vessel. "I'll never forget her face as my fingers wrapped around her throat. The brood trickling down her face…" she trailed off, staring into nothing as she recalled the moment, almost in a condescending wonderment. Then her eyes snapped up to Steve. "And she was a close friend of yours, wasn't she? You guys fought side by side as Avengers?" she laughed and shook her head. "It's a shame I didn't kill her. Maybe I should head over to her right now—"

Steve's fist swung as hard as it could, but she dodged it, grinning. Steve put so much force into the hit that he stumbled forward, almost falling on his face. The girl stepped to the side, watching him in amusement. "You're funny. And not what I expected an Avenger to be. How exactly did you save New York, again?"

Then she was slammed against the wall, the breath knocked out of her. The unexpected force took her by surprise, and she spluttered. Steve's large hand was wrapped around her throat, and the other had her hands pinned behind her. He choked her, just a little, watching the fear leak into her eyes. It pleased him, knowing that her pain was his doing. He wanted her to suffer just the way Natasha did. He wanted to hurt her, to choke on the words she just spoke.

Then, a horrified part inside Steve pushed those thoughts away. This was solely for Natasha; he was only doing this for Natasha. Not for his own pleasure.

The girl kicked his groin and he stumbled back, grunting in pain. Her leg swung at his face, but he caught it, yanking her to the floor. Her back slammed against the pavement, but she jumped up in a second. She swung at his face, and he dodged it.

She's good, but he's better. He hit the side of her face, and he felt a sickening crack when his fist made contact. She let out a cry, gripping the side of her face. Then he hit her again and again. Normally, he didn't like hurting women, but this was an exception.

All of the sudden she grabbed his hair and yanked his head back, and Steve felt like his head would snap right off. She punched his throat, and he choked. He clawed at her face, and she swung again. Then they were on the floor, beating each other.

Sirens. All around, Steve could hear them. They both stopped. He hadn't realized how much of a ruckus they'd been making. The police were surely on their way. A few civilians were watching in horror, some filming.

"Get out," he shouted. "Now!" Frightened, they all scurried away.

Realizing he didn't have much time before the cops showed, he decided to knock the girl out. She was distracted, what else could he do? His fist slammed against her skull, and she collapsed. He picked her up, and kicked away his shattered glasses and cap.

Now, where on Earth would he go?

Got her.

Natasha stared at her phone, the two words sending a thrill down her spine. The brightness of the screen was the only thing illuminating the room of complete darkness. A prompt smile crossed her face, and she sat back against her bed, in a silent satisfaction. She looked at her bandaged and casts, and instead of the bitterness that usually flooded her veins, she felt contempt instead. The serene look on her face would have looked alarming to anyone she didn't know, but those that knew her also knew that she was cooking up a detrimental recipe.

Oh, karma really was a bitch.