[ NATASHA ]
"I suppose the best way to find out where you come from is to find out where you're going and then work backwards." – The Doctor, Doctor Who
Getting into the compound went so smoothly that Natasha wasn't sure if she should've been grateful or extremely concerned. Granted, it was only a storage facility attached to a little-used office wing meant for R&D. Their team was skilled, too—Veer dropped the security guard before an alarm could be raised, a woman name Hattie cut the compound's power, and Garrett had the doors open by the time Natasha and two others circled the place and determined there were no further threats.
Still, as she and the others crept through the dark, bone-white halls, Natasha couldn't help the sense that this was too easy. She'd been on enough missions in her life to trust the crawling sensation under skin.
"Something's up," she murmured.
Garrett led the way, gun at the ready. Natasha went next with a gun of her own.
"I feel it too," he whispered back.
"Think we should abort?"
He shook his head. "Not without the fuses. We'll never get our EMP's off the ground without 'em."
The team moved through the facility methodically, searching room by room for the place where the fuses were kept. A low rumble from outside made them all freeze and hold their breath.
"Thunder?" Natasha mouthed to Garrett. He gave his head a shake.
"Company," he whispered.
Garrett made several quick hand gestures to Jeks, who nodded. He hurried out of the room, leading three team members, leaving Garrett and Natasha alone. He motioned for her to follow him, and together they made for the opposite door.
"Did we trip something?" Natasha murmured. She held her gun up and kept an eye on their six as Garrett peered cautiously around the corner at the end of the hall.
"Shouldn't have."
They raced with quick, quiet footsteps down the next hall, glancing at the doors as they passed. This area contained a bunch of offices—not useful—so they hurried on. A burst of shouts and gunfire sounded in the distance, startling them both.
Garrett cursed and said, "That'll be them then."
"Coals?"
"We gotta kick it and find the—"
They rounded the corner and came face to face with the interrogator from the Coal prison—Garrett's father—and two Pockers. Natasha shot the Pockers in the chest before they could even get their guns up. She intended to shoot Garrett's father as well, until Garrett held his arm up to stop her. He aimed his own gun at his father's gray-haired head.
"I knew it," Garrett's father sneered. He was dressed all in white again, though this time he wore a jacket with the name E. Vale faintly stitched at the top of his left breast pocket.
"Saw this coming, did you?" said Garret icily.
Vale smirked arrogantly. "I had a hunch. After you embarrassed me with your little display at the compound, I wasn't strictly allowed to commandeer too many resources to chase you down."
Garrett snorted.
"But I knew this facility wasn't as well-protected as it ought to have been and that you'd make a play for it, sooner rather than later." He stared Garrett down. "Especially once we exterminated that base full of muckers. Tell me, where are the rest?"
Garrett tensed. "Fuck you, Edward."
Vale raised an eyebrow. "Language, son."
Natasha glanced behind her. "We better move. You two can catch up later." The longer they lingered, the higher the chances that whoever came with Edward Vale would catch up to him.
"He'll know where to find them," Garrett told Natasha with a significant look.
She nodded and sprang forward, swinging her arm out hard and sharp. Vale threw a few desperate haphazard punches in defense, but she had him on the floor in seconds.
He wasn't hard to wrestle down the hall and into the nearest storage room; while Edward Vale was tall, he was also soft and untrained. He yelped in protest as she grabbed a fistful of his shirt and dragged him across the threshold. The storage room was small but filled with shelves and supplies galore.
Garrett snatched one his father's flailing arms and yanked him to his knees. Natasha shut the door behind them and heard it lock with a satisfying clink.
"You have no idea what you're getting yourself into this time, Garrett," Edward spat. "You reckless, idiotic—"
Garrett took a swing and Edward fell to the floor, clutching his face and moaning.
"Garrett," Natasha said in warning. They didn't have time to beat answers out of him. Jeks and the others would only be able to deal with Vale's team so long before reinforcements came and they were all screwed.
Edward cursed as a fresh bruise blossomed on his cheek. Garrett roughly hauled his father to his feet and wrangled Edward into a chair by the back wall. Natasha moved in close, glaring at Vale with the precise look that Tony said "scared the actual shit" out of him.
He swallowed.
"I know exactly what I'm doing," Garrett snapped, jabbing his finger into Edward's chest. "I'm out there fighting to fix this broken world. I'm going to use everything I possibly can to break the Coalition and get humanity back on equal footing."
Vale's attention shifted from Natasha to his son. "You only think you know."
"You had Ems killed." Garrett's voice was colder than a glacier.
Edward's jaw twitched. "I had no choice. It's the way of the world—"
"Exactly what I'm trying to change!" Garrett burst out and advanced on his father again.
"Hey!" Natasha put out her hand to stop him. "We're not here for a revenge mission," she reminded him.
Garrett backed up with a growl. He crossed his arms tight over his chest.
Natasha hefted Edward's gun in her hand, twirling it on her finger. She eyed him. She wanted to suss out his weak points, talk him into giving up information without him even knowing it. But with the gunfire growing closer, she didn't have the luxury to take it slow.
Plan B, she thought.
Edward's arrogant smirk had returned and she was eager to wipe it off his face. She casually took a few steps towards him and nodded her head over shoulder at Garrett. She jutted her chin in Edward's direction.
"Hold him down."
Garrett circled his father until he was standing behind him, squeezed between him and the back wall.
Edward cast a wary look at his son. "Whatever you think—"
Natasha lunged, cutting him off.
He threw up his hands in defense and surprise, but she wrestled him as easily as she had earlier. Garrett wrapped his muscular arm around his father's neck and kept him in the chair. Natasha pinned Edward's right hand, palm up, onto his thigh. She planted her feet atop his to stop from kicking out and Edward yelped and swore at the pair's man-handling.
"Tell us where the fuses are kept."
He scoffed. "If you think you can fire that, crag—"
"I'm not going to fire it," she told him. "You are."
She pressed the gun into Edward's left hand. It buzzed and clicked, alive and active now that it registered the correct palmprint. Edward blanched as Natasha forced him to shove the tip against his open right hand. Garrett kept his hold on his father, tight and unflinching.
"Last chance," said Natasha. "Where is it?" The gunfire in the building increased in volume again—she and Garrett had probably less than a minute left, if that.
Sweat beaded on Edward's forehead and he sneered. "If you think that the Coalition is going to be brought down by a handful of fuses, you're more delusional than I possibly imagined."
Natasha dug her nails into his skin, forcing his finger down on the trigger. The shot ripped through his hand and into his leg. Edward screamed.
"Where is it, Edward?" Natasha shouted above his pained hollering. She fought to hold his uninjured hand around the gun and readied him to shoot again.
"Room 2342!" he cried out.
Natasha stepped back, releasing him. "Thank you for your cooperation," she said, offering him an icy smile.
Edward gaped at her with slack-jawed shock, clutching his bleeding hand, then let out a string of colorful curses. Garrett tightened his hold on his father, cutting off the words.
A loud bang shook the room, startling all three of them.
"We're out of time," she told Garrett as she made for the door.
It banged open with incredible force, knocking her back. The Pockers outside opened fire; Garrett dove behind the shelves for cover, and Natasha followed. Edward cried out. Laser bullets peppered the back wall, sending white plaster raining down.
Natasha reached up and grabbed a jug of ammonia. Bullets zinged towards their shelf as the Pockers advanced into the room, shooting blindly. Garrett leaned around the shelf and shot back, ducking and popping in and out, in and out. Equipment shrapnel and cleaning supplies tumbled down onto them. Natasha snatched up the nearest bucket and several bottles with loud warning labels, pouring them all in together. The harsh tang of chemicals clouded the space and she held her breath, kicking the bucket out into the open.
She grabbed Garrett's collar and hauled him back behind the shelves just as the Pockers made the mistake of shooting the bucket, reacting to the sudden movement. Natasha rolled, Garrett ducked, and the Pockers screamed as the makeshift bomb ignited. The shelves toppled and Nat held her arms over her head as cleaning supplies crashed down.
Garrett kicked out, shoving the tipped shelf off their backs and they crawled out into the room, dripping with window-washer fluid and something sticky and blue. Two Pockers writhed on the floor, batting flames off their uniforms, another staggered in the doorway, dazed and missing eyebrows. Edward Vale's dead body lay on the floor, riddled with bullet holes and splattered with blood and chemicals. Garrett tossed a regretful glance down at what was left of his father and turned away.
Natasha and Garrett darted forward, slamming past the injured Pockers. They dove into the hallway and took off running. Something on Natasha's arm stung and burned but she didn't stop to inspect it.
They rounded the corner into the main lab. Jeks bolted towards them, blood trailing down his jaw and smeared across his forehead.
"There you are!" he shouted and spun on his heel to head the other way. "They got 'em!" he bellowed over his shoulder. To Garrett and Natasha, he said, "Damn Pockers ran to protect the stuff and we followed and got the chems and fuses!"
Garrett grinned.
They made it out the main doors before another explosion sent them spiralling off their feet. Natasha's ears rang, her body ached, the ground shifted—or the sky? She couldn't tell. Her world spun in a haze, and Jeks was burned and bloody before her—dead—and Garrett screamed and the Pockers were coming and the rebel's beamer lifted off the ground and—
Then Garrett had her arm steady and yanked her up. She stumbled and tried to force her feet to hold her. Finally, his voice came into focus over the ringing in her ears.
"Run! Run! Come on, Red! Go!"
Gunfire erupted behind her, and she couldn't tell if it was meant for them or not, but she didn't look back. The rebel beamer soared past them and disappeared into the night. Her heart sank—she and Garrett were on their own.
Expecting to feel a bullet in her back any second, she fought for breath over the sharp stitch forming under her ribs. Her feet pounded across the ground—perfectly manicured grass, then dirt and sand—and they didn't stop until the burning research facility was just an ominous orange glow in the distance.
Thankfully, she wasn't as hurt as she'd initially thought. Her arms were scraped up, and there were definitely some minor chemical burns on her hands—none as bad as the nasty streak on the back of her left bicep, at least, but her skin throbbed anyway. She was bruised all over from being thrown by the explosions, but she didn't have any new bullet holes, so she counted herself lucky. Garrett was about the same, neck and arms spotted with mild injuries, his clothes a patchwork of stains and holes.
"I hope they made it," Garrett said after a while. They'd stopped running and fallen into a heavy, determined walk. He sighed. "Yumi's gonna be pissed I made them leave me behind."
"She'll understand," said Natasha.
Getting the chemicals and fuses to fill out the EMPs was the most important part of the mission. She could picture Steve frowning at the idea of leaving a teammate behind, but she could see it was a necessity. Besides, the explosion and the beamer's escape had given her and Garrett the seconds they needed to get away from the complex.
She cleared her throat. "I'm sorry about Jeks."
Garrett nodded. "Me too."
Natasha plodded relentlessly forward alongside Garrett. He didn't seem to have a particular destination in mind but she figured he at least had an idea which direction to go. The night air was cool, with a strong breeze blowing at their backs. The sound of their feet marching through the dirt punctuated their heavy breaths. Though she didn't mind the relative silence, talking made it easier to forget about the pain she was in.
"So, Garrett," she said. "What's a guy like you doing in a place like this?"
He chuckled, a tired, bone-weary kind of laugh. "You want my story, Red?"
She nudged her elbow against his. "I'll tell you mine, if you tell me yours."
"You don't have a story—that's not much of an incentive," he teased and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.
As far as you know, she thought and didn't correct him.
Garrett exhaled a long, lead-filled sigh. "It's a tale of woe and misery, I'm afraid."
"It usually is," she replied softly.
He fell quiet again, contemplative, and Natasha let him gather his thoughts. She squeezed her hand against the cramp radiating from her side and rubbed her fingers in slow circles to ease the discomfort. Thunder softly rumbled in the distance.
"It started with my sister," Garrett murmured. He glanced over his shoulder with a frown. "Emily. When I was nine and she was six, we started noticing something kinda sideways about her. Few years after that, we realized she was gonna be a Super."
He gave his head a shake. "All my life, I was told Supers were dangerous and wrong. But she… Ems was anything but, you know? She was funny and bright and completely choice. I didn't get why they never made an exception. Why the Coals still wanted her gone."
Garrett pushed his hands deeper into his pockets, tugging his jacket closer to his body, trying to block out the breeze. It progressed to a sharp wind, tossing their hair; in the distance, thunder rumbled louder.
"She could manipulate water—I thought, she's not like those other freaks out there, you know, killing people. It's just water." He shook his head again and clenched his jaw.
"What happened?" Natasha prodded when the silence stretched. A flash of sheet lightning lit up the landscape, like a cosmic camera taking a photograph.
"At first, she tried to hide it, act all keen and shiny. I tried to help her keep her powers from everyone, including our parents. She was terrified the Coals would take her away and I…I promised her they wouldn't. She'd be a Coal too, just like our parents, I told her. Just like they figured I'd be. And it'd all be fine."
Natasha's heart sank. She remembered Garrett's words to his father in the storage room—You had Ems killed. She pushed her hair away from eyes as the wind kicked up the desert dust around them.
"Parents found out, of course. And maybe things woulda been different if Mom hadn't passed—stroke in her sleep when I was thirteen. As it was…I got branded for the Coalition and I tried to find help for Ems." He shoved his hand through his hair and let his arm flop to his side. "Dad didn't care, but I couldn't let them brand her a cragging carnie and drag her away. She was my sister. It was Ems. She was just...Ems. "
Thunder growled in the gathering clouds overhead. Natasha's eyes flicked across the wide-open space around them—they needed to find some shelter and fast. A flat desert was exactly where she did not want to be in the middle of a thunderstorm. She picked up her pace and Garrett matched her, glancing uneasily at the dark sky above. Another flash of lightning lit up the clouds.
"Anyways, there was no help to be had," he went on, untucking his hands from his jacket. "She was a Super, therefore illegal and psycho-threatening in the eyes of the Coalition. She hadn't done anything bad but that didn't matter—she was a Super, so she would, they said. Only a matter of time. I tried to fight the system, I tried to get her out of the city, I tried every cragging thing I could think of and then some. Got myself arrested a dozen times or so."
His lips twitched at the memory.
"All for nothing. They still took her away, still locked her up. Dear old dad said it was for my own good. And hers." Garrett chuckled bitterly. "Can you cragging believe that? My own good."
The silence between them lengthened again and Natasha didn't push, waiting for Garrett to continue when he was ready. When thunder rolled louder than ever, they both broke into a jog and she hoped he knew where there was shelter nearby.
"We better kick it, Red." His jog turned into a run. "We do not want to be out in this, especially if it's a thundertempest!"
The wind howled around them and the thunder's steady rumble morphed into a chilling roar. The lightning increased in frequency. Garrett kept shooting worried looks over his shoulder like he was expecting something to be following them. The more alarmed he grew, the more Natasha's gut tightened with dread.
"What aren't you telling me?" she shouted over the blasted wind.
Garrett cursed soundly. "It's definitely a thundertempest."
"What does that mean?"
"It means we need to run cragging faster or we're humped!" he hollered.
Natasha chanced a glance back and wished she hadn't.
In the near darkness, it resembled a great wall of fog, swarming over the desert, devouring shrubs and dirt. She'd seen something like it in Saudi Arabia once and knew it was a sandstorm. It was shot through with savage forks of lightning. Thunder like a hundred trees cracking and falling exploded overhead. Fear gripped her chest.
"Tell me you have somewhere we can go!" she called out. The air sizzled with electricity.
He cocked his head and ran faster.
Natasha and Garrett pounded across the desert. Every footstep jarred her and the stitch that had finally started to recede from her ribs came back with a vengeance. Thunder bellowed and lightning shot to the ground in the near distance. Natasha caught sight of dark shapes and Garrett veered towards them. Her heart slammed against her ribs and the wind tore at her clothes.
She dared to look back at the sandstorm and gasped—it bore down on them with terrifying speed. In the next set of lightning bursts, she realized the shadows they were running to was a ruined farmstead—a shoddy house, rusted cars, and a collapsed barn. Her legs burned but she pushed them harder, desperate for any semblance of shelter.
Lightning stabbed down less than fifty feet away, blinding and deafening. Natasha stumbled into Garrett and nearly fell. He grabbed her hand to steady her and she tugged him on.
They scrambled up the rickety steps of the house—dark and long-abandoned, with no door and no windows. They blew past the dust-coated living room and vaulted over the upside-down chairs in the old kitchen. The bedroom only had one window with grimy glass still in it, which offered minor protection from the elements.
Garrett slammed the bedroom door shut as Natasha whipped open the closet. It was wide and roomy and empty, and she dove inside.
She rolled into the corner and pulled her jacket up to cover her head. Garrett closed the closet behind him and tore off his own jacket, sliding to the floor beside her. He curled up close to her and wrapped his head in his coat.
Natasha lost track of time. The house rattled and groaned and more than a few times, she wondered if it was going to come down around them. The wind battered its walls and thunder roared in fury overhead. The sand swarmed the rickety house and poured in every crevice. She could taste it despite tucking her face deep into her jacket. She squeezed her eyes tight. Garrett huddled against her.
Finally, finally, the thunder receded and the wind slowly let up its relentless barrage. Garrett shifted and coughed.
"I think…I think we're okay," he said, his voice muffled.
Natasha poked her eyes out from behind her zipper. A faint sliver of gray light crept in through the uneven cracks around the door. She could make out Garrett's silhouette as he slowly sat up. She followed suit and tendrils of sand sloughed off her limbs.
He crawled across the floor and kicked open the closet door. In the bedroom beyond, dull blue and gray hues hinted at the coming dawn. Garrett shook his head vigorously, sending up a cloud of dust and sand.
Natasha brushed her hands through her hair but figured there was no point trying to rid herself of the dirt here—she was coated in the stuff and so was everything else.
"Now what?" she asked.
Garrett leaned against the closet wall and stretched his legs out. "We take a breather and then figure out how to get home. By now, they'll be out looking for us."
"Will they know where to look?"
"They'll know we're either holed up somewhere to wait out that storm or we're dead," he said wryly.
Natasha smiled a little. "True enough." She scooted across the floor and settled beside him. "So, you never finished your story."
"Glutton for misery, Red?"
She shrugged. "It's not like we have anything else to do." She waited a beat and added, "What happened to Emily?"
"He had her killed," Garrett replied, flatly. She snuck a glance at him. He blinked rapidly and dragged in a few deep breaths before he spoke again.
"He had her killed," he repeated, steadier but aching. "He denied it at the time, but it was his detail that took 'care' of Supers. That was when I finally ran—just got the hell away. With her gone…I figured I had nothing left to lose. Nothing worth staying for. Didn't say goodbye to my old man, just left. Can't ever forgive him."
"I'm sorry," she murmured. She'd never had family to lose—none that she remembered, anyway—but could certainly understand getting away from a place once the ugly truth about it was starkly clear.
Then again, she thought, maybe I do have a family to lose after all. The faces of her teammates flashed through her mind. Natasha shoved away the ugly feeling that she may never be with them again.
Garrett sighed then said, "No, it's…well, it's not fine. But it's in the past. It's long over. And I don't know if I'd have run otherwise, done all this, without…that." He shook his head. "Anyway, that's my tale of tragic woe. That's why I'm out there in the desert, running missions and wrangling rebels and patrolling Dead Zones. It's not right—the classes, the entire system—none of it's right."
"No, it's not," Natasha agreed.
"I just wish I would've figured it out sooner and…gotten Ems out of there." He stood abruptly and stalked out of the closet. "Well. That's the end of the story."
Natasha hopped to her feet and followed him out into the bedroom. It was lighter now, enough that she could see Garrett's face, his forehead caked with red and yellow dirt, blonde hair still thick with sand. It would've been funny if he didn't look so sad and so hollow.
"It's not the end," she offered. "You're still fighting."
His gaze drifted to the window and the ruddy landscape beyond. "Sometimes… I wonder what for. I don't mean why, I mean… we keep losing, and losing, and cragging losing. Sometimes I just don't see how we can win, so why keep fighting."
He exhaled shakily and dashed his hand over his eyes.
"But Ems would never let me give up," he added. "So I won't."
He reminded her of Clint in that moment—determined to find a way out of a situation, no matter how dire, no matter how impossible. She wished she could think of something comforting to say.
"Neither would Veer," she tried. "Or, from what I've seen, neither would Yumi or Ophie or pretty much any of the people by your side." She offered him a smile and was rewarded with a tired, but hopeful one in return.
"Right on that, Red," he said.
She bit her lip, hesitant. "Natasha."
Garrett cocked his head. "What's that?"
"My name."
He blinked at her in surprise. "You remember your real name?"
Natasha sighed. "Let's just go with...yeah, I remember. My name's Natasha. And we should probably start thinking about our next move." She cleared her throat to prompt him to go with her on the change of subject. He'd trusted her with his story and she felt obligated to share hers. The problem, of course, was that her story was insane.
He scrunched his brow, even more confused, but she brushed past him to peer out the window, leaving uneven footprints in the dust behind her.
"Keen…" Garrett said slowly.
Outside, the desert landscape was coated with a fresh layer of reddish dirt. Everything was covered in washed-out shades of yellow and orange, that slowly took over the muted blue and gray of dawn. She hadn't been expecting a threat outside but was nonetheless relieved to see none. It looked as quiet and desolate as ever.
"We do have time, you know," he tried. "If you…did want to try to explain." He sounded hopeful, interested, sorry, worried.
She swallowed. She'd earned his trust and the last thing she wanted to do was break it. Natasha dipped her chin to her chest.
"Honestly, Garrett, there's no point," she told him. "I can barely believe it myself, and I'm the one it happened to."
"What happened to you?" he pressed curiously.
Time travel, she thought. A mad scientist with an impossible bomb. Aliens and magic and demi-gods and monsters. A whole hell of a lot of monsters. Nothing we were ever trained for.
She faced him and crossed her arms over her chest. "If I said I fell through a rip in the space-time continuum, would you really believe me?" She flashed him a smirk, like she was letting him in on a joke. Though really, it kind of was—a ridiculous, cosmic joke.
He huffed out a laugh. "Right."
She raised her eyebrow at him. "Thought so." Natasha looked out the window again, turning her back on him.
"Wait," he piped up a minute later. "Did you? Are you…? You're not…Are you cragging serious?"
Natasha inhaled to answer him, though she didn't know what to say, when the sound of chopper blades cut the distant air. She stepped away from the window.
"Coals?" she murmured. Her heart rate spiked. If it was, they were utterly screwed. There was nowhere to hide and nowhere to run.
"No," Garrett breathed. "Those are ours."
She shot him a skeptical look. "How can you possibly tell?"
He smirked in return. "Coals with all their fancy tech? Copters are way quieter—practically hover, with electric engines and thin, shielded blades. We wouldn't hear 'em 'till they were landing on top of us."
Natasha raised her eyebrow. "Then won't they hear ours?"
His smirk unfolded into his signature grin. "Not if we hurry...Natasha."