A/N
I JUST WATCHED CIVIL WAR HALF AN HOUR AGO AND DEAR JESUS MARY JOSEPH. I REALLY WANNA GET TO THAT PART OF THE TIME LINE SO I MIGHT BE UPDATING IN LARGE BURSTS. TONY WHY!? BUCKY WAIFU! STEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEVE! VISION! WANDA! SCOTT! PETER! And I guess Clint was o.k too.
Anyhow, here we go!
The jet landed shakily. We were going on another retrieval mission. In my mind I considered it-
"GALE! GET MOVING, LET'S GO!" Dubrick yelled, motioning for me to exit the jet. Not at all what I expected when Fury said response team. I joined the other agents, rolling my eyes. I was once more a cadet, serving under an idiot with more power than brains. "Okay, group A, circle around the back and make your way in any way you can. Group B, take the fire escapes. I don't want anyone getting out without my say so. Groups C and D will surround the perimeter. Got it?" Agent Dubrick ordered, breaking the team into groups.
I rolled my eye, moving with the rest of group B to the back of the building. They all tried to silently find an entrance. I looked at the windows in disbelief. Sometimes people didn't notice the obvious. I hopped onto the dumpster and hoisted myself onto the edge of the window.
"Gale, what the hell are you doing?" an agent asked. I shook my head, ripping the pane off the window. The inside of the room was dark and it smelled strongly of gunpowder and mold. I make my way to the door, ready for any surprises. I leapt into the hallway and looked around. Empty. I stepped carefully, sneaking through the hallway. It was uncomfortably quiet. Laughter echoed off of the walls from further down the corridor.
I hugged the wall, edging towards the door that the laughter had come from. The door was cracked open slightly, so I peeked in. There were several men sitting in a circle around a table. The room seemed to be filled with crates and a small container with the SHIELD emblem on it sat on the table. Jesus, what was this, a bad 80's action movie? I should know. Silently, I propped my gun against the wall and tucked my hair behind my ear. Then, I fully opened the door and walked in.
The scruffiest of the men looked up at me. "You lost, girly?" he sneered, standing up and moving his jacket to show off his gun. I rolled my eyes, stepping closer to the table. All of the men stood up and a few pulled their guns out.
"Oh, put those away. I'm here on business." I waved at them. They didn't move. "Ah, I forgot. That's what you're afraid of... I've been sent here by my employers to offer you something for that case and its' contents." I nodded to the container on the table. The scruffiest of the scruffs motioned for the men to lower their weapons. He walked around the table to me and began to circle around me.
"And what, pray tell, do you have that would interest me?" he asked, picking up some of my hair off of my shoulder. I internally threw up.
"Well, if you really want to know..." I raised an eyebrow. The goons chuckled to themselves. "My first offer is to not kill all of you... Painfully." I said. The smiles left their faces immediately. "No? Alright. I suppose I could let most of you live." The man closest to me reached for his gun and kept his hand on it.
"Man, you guys drive a hard bargain. Okay. My final offer." I held my hands up defensively. "I injure all of you. And I'll even tell you how, so you feel that you can actually win!" I pointed to each of the men. "I'll fracture both of your ribs. You, I'll break your arm at the elbow. I'll bust your nose and render you unconscious with a blow to the head." finally, I pointed to the scruffy guy. "And I'll punch you in your goddamn face."
The men rushed me. I slid under their arms, grabbing on of their guns and yanking it with so much force that the strap broke the man's arm while it came off. A fist connected with my side and I rammed my head backwards, busting open the attacker's nose. I swung around, hitting him across the head with the butt of the gun. Two of the goons ran at me, growling. I leapt upwards, swinging from one of their necks to kick the other in the ribs. The guy I was hanging from rammed me against the wall. I pushed back, digging my knees into his chest and throwing him to the ground.
Mr. Scruff N' Fluff held his gun up, pointing at me threateningly. "Who are your employers?" he hissed. I idly put my hair up in a ponytail and kicked a gun at his legs. He toppled over, shooting his gun in panic. I crossed over to him, kicking his side.
"Nick Fury, if you'd believe it. SHIELD wanted you guys to have a sliver of a chance to choose." I said. He grunted as my foot connected with his stomach.
"I thought you were going to punch me in my face." he whimpered. I narrowed my eyes, kneeling next to him and lifting him up by his shirt.
"You calling me a liar?" I asked, swinging my fist back and punching him square in the face. Just as I stood up and dusted my hands off, the rest of the 'response team' burst into the room.
Dubrick glared at me, taking in the room. "GALE!" he growled.
"Dubrick!" I exclaimed in faux happiness. He crossed to me.
"I should have you demoted for this." he hissed in my face. "You hear me? When we return to HQ, I'm going straight to the director and giving him a long, detailed report." he poked me in the collar bone.
"Ew, gross. I don't wanna know what you guys are going to do when we get back." I grimaced. Dubrick turned away, seething. A couple other agents retrieved the container, while some sedated and contained the criminals. We all loaded up in the jet and started our journey back to headquarters. Not even five minutes into the flight, I passed out.
I opened my eyes, the sleep ebbing away. Everyone was exiting the jet. I sat up, moving through the group. I stepped off the jet and was immediately confronted by someone.
"Come on." a familiar doctor said. His hair was a bit more groomed and he seemed less tired. Good for him. He was also without his white coat, leaving him in a grey dress shirt and his normal slacks.
"What? Why? I'm tired." I sighed. He nodded and walked briskly, looking back to make sure I was following.
"Yeah, because you're suffering from blood loss!" he gave a sharp laugh. I looked at my body in confusion, stepping into the medical room. Damn, he was right. There was a red stain on the front of my right shoulder. "Hurry up. Lay on the table." he pointed to the metal table quickly as he prepped tools.
"Uh, you sure you should be doing this alone?" I asked doubtfully, removing my uniform top. I lay on the table, the cold seeping through my tank top to my back. Dr. Banner nodded briefly, rolling a cart next to the table and rolling his sleeves up. He wiped my shoulder with cloth, raising his eyebrows at the wound. "What?" I looked at my shoulder, my eyes widening. The bullet had left a hole as big around as my thumb. It was bleeding profusely. Bruce grabbed a pair of tongs and dove them into my wound.
"SHIT!" I cried out, biting down on my hand. After a few seconds, the tip of the tongs reappeared with the cursed bullet. Bruce set them aside and cleaned the hole again before picking up a needle and thread. "No, no, no. Please, man!" I begged, looking at the needle fearfully. Bruce shook his head sternly, poking the needle into my skin. I jolted forward and he stumbled a bit, glaring at me.
"Naomi, you have to stay still or it will get worse!" he ordered. I shook my head, tears prickling at my eyes. Dear god, I was having some bad memories. Bruce's expression softened and he sat on the table, straddling me. His feet were holding my hands down and he was looking me in the eyes. "Just calm down. Deep breaths." he stated.
"I know you're trying to help and all, doc, but I don't think you're strong enough to hold me down." I chuckled, my breath shaking. "I might throw you off and hurt you."
"Then don't. And besides, I'm stronger than I look." Bruce looked at me over his glasses and returned to my wound. (In my rush to type, I had typed that as 'mound' by accident and this had almost become a low key lemon. Bad VCT. Dirty minded hands)
The needle dug into my skin and I screwed my eyes shut, digging my nails into the palms of my hands. Bruce was speaking words of encouragement, though I doubt he felt pity towards me. The guy probably thought I was just a quivering wimp. After six more excruciating minutes, Dr. Banner cut and tied the last stitch. He set the needle down and looked down at me in relief and exasperation.
"There. Not so bad, was it?" he smiled genuinely.
"Better than a tetanus shot, I suppose." I sighed, unclenching my hands, which Bruce released. I looked at them frowning.
"Let me see." he grumbled, shaking his head. I had left bloody scratches and cuts from my nails. Bruce got off of me and retrieved more disinfectant and medical swabs. He settled into a chair in front of me and I sat on the table as he tended to my hands, swinging my legs again like a child. I winced as the disinfectant sting my cuts.
"I don't get that." Bruce chuckled, glancing up at me.
"What?" I smirked.
"You don't realize you've been shot and are gushing blood, but you wince and cringe at needles and disinfectant." he replied, wrapping bandages onto my hands. I shrugged, sighing.
"Neither do I... You're hands are really rough." I commented. Bruce's expression turned slightly sheepish.
"Scientist and engineer hands." he tied the last bandage. "Sorry." he added, having accidentally brushed a bit of raw skin.
"It's fine." carefully, I moved my fingers individually to make sure I could still maneuver them. "My mom, when she was alive, would always have to wrap me up because I would get hurt a lot. She'd slap that last Band-Aid on and kiss it. 'A kiss always makes it better!' she would say. And I was so convinced that mom kisses were magic." I chuckled. Bruce smiled, nodding. He stood up leaning close to my shoulder, his face inches away from it. My mind shut down momentarily as I became aware of our close proximity. Just as I was about to do something about it, the door to the room opened and Nick Fury waltzed in.
"Am I interrupting something?" he inquired, raising a quizzical eyebrow. Bruce retracted from my shoulder, his nose having brushed it.
"No. I was just taking a closer look at the stitching job I did on Miss Gale. Making sure it won't reopen or leave a noticeable scar." Bruce shook his head. Fury smiled mischievously.
"You sure that was the only job you did on her?" he asked. Bruce laughed kindheartedly, but I flushed a bit.
"Oh my god, Nick, if you don't need anything then leave." I grumbled.
"I'm here to talk to you about Agent Dubrick's mission report." Fury's attitude switched from jokes to business in a heartbeat. I cursed under my breath.
"That dick has had it out for me ever since I joined his team!" I mumbled.
"He has a right to. A new enhanced soldier joins his squad and disobeys his orders, getting the job done faster and easier than his plan could have. He thinks you're after his job." Fury said defensively.
"Tell him I don't want his job! I've dealt with enough army douchebags in my lifetime, thanks." I retorted. Banner stifled a laugh.
"Naomi, this is the seventh time he's given me a report that refers to you negatively." Fury's frown deepens. "I need you to meet me tomorrow in the observation room for the ESC, got it?"
"Yeah." I sighed, watching him leave. Bruce escorted me to the elevator doors. He shook my hand, smiling sympathetically.
"Maybe after your appointment with the director you would want to get some lunch to calm your nerves?" he asked.
"That'd be great, thanks." I nodded as the doors closed. I looked down at my hand and laughed to myself. There was a scrape piece of paper with a phone number on it.
I THOUGHT THE LAST ONE WAS GOING TO BE THE LAST, BUT NOPE. NO IDE WHAT I'M DOING WITH MY LIFE. BRUCE/NAOMI MIGHT BE MY NEW FAVORITE MARVEL SHIP. OTP? NOTP? FACK IT.