A/N: I'm really glad you all are enjoying reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it! And yes, I am on crack. I'd have to be in order to think of stuff this off the wall ^_^

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters

Natasha's Revenge

–Natasha's Apartment–

It was eight o'clock PM on the same day as the USST's counterstrike against the Communist Dictatorship of SHIELD. After reporting her team's death to Supreme Overlord Nicholas J. Fury, who was unsurprisingly not pleased, Natasha was happy to hear that he was sending her a pair of mercenaries to aid her counter-counterattack.

Phil "Cap's Pal" Coulson and Maria Hill, the two most dangerous and efficient paintball mercenaries in all of SHIELD. Natasha's lips curled into a smile as she was told that they were on their way as they spoke. For two reasons actually. One, they were, as mentioned before, extremely dangerous and very efficient, unlike those back water hicks that comprised the USST's Avenging Avengers Brigade. The second reason had to do with the two corpses sitting on her sofa.

Natasha, after her team's demise, had been thoroughly studying the dark art of necromancy for some time now, and was intending on bringing her team back to life. She had just finished prepping the ritual when there was a knock at the door. A direct assault?! she thought as she grabbed her gun, then put that down and grabbed her paintball gun.

She nearly ripped the door off its hinges and almost blew Maria's head clean off her shoulders. "Oh, it's you guys. Can't be too careful." She pulled Hill and Cap's Pal in before quickly closing the door. "This war has gotten real, guys. Clint and Bobbi are dead."

"I know, we heard. Any plans for a funeral?" Cap's Pal asked.

"No need. I've been studying necromancy for about," she paused to check her watch, "500 seconds now, and am now ready to resurrect them." She flipped the hood of the black cloak she was wearing over her head and headed for the kitchen. She pulled out a bag of resurrection powder, or sugar, and walked back, only to quirk an eyebrow at the dumbfounded faces she was receiving. "What?"

"Necromancy?" Hill exclaimed in disbelief. "I know you want to win, but isn't that a little extreme? I mean, it's just paint–"

She was cut off by Natasha slapping her in the face. "This is NOT just paintball! This is war; us vs them! You hear?! They killed Clint…oh, yeah, and Bobbi, too, but no one cares about her."

"Hey!" Bobbi's corpse shouted, taking offense.

"We are going to win this war, even if I have to kill everyone in this tower! Now step aside, junior." Maria moved out of the way, rubbing her red cheek, and watched her light the candles that were making up a circle in the center of the floor. "Make yourselves useful and move those corpses into the center of the circle. Make sure not to light them on fire or something."

As the two mercenaries did so, even while commenting on how heavy Barton's dead body was, Natasha was pouring the resurrection powder around the perimeter of the resurrection circle. "That'll do. Now step back; it's about to get medieval up in here." With two handfuls of resurrection powder, she began to chant her incantations. Maria was fully convinced that it was just complete gibberish that she was making up as she went along. "By the power of the Supreme Overlord of Darkness himself, I command these corpse to rise!" She threw the powder at the two corpses and fell to her knees. "Riiiiiiiiiiise!"

Clint and Bobbi stood up. "We're alive! But how?" Clint asked.

Natasha flipped her hood back and wrapped her arms around Clint. "I resurrected you. Clint, I'm so glad you're alive again."

"Thanks, Natasha," Bobbi said.

"You're welcome, Clint. I don't know what I would've done without you here, by my side, as a brother, friend, confidant, lover, soul mate, partner, life saver, snuggle buddy, cuddle monster, tickle dummy, smooshy wooshy pookie bear, my wittle –"

"Hey, what about me? I died too."

"What about you, Becky?" Natasha condescended.

"Bobbi."

"That's what I said, Billi. Anyways, Clint, it's good to have you back. And now, our revenge."

"What did you have in mind, Nat?" Clint inquired as he began to clean his gun.

"Twofold. First, we kidnap Jane Foster, to show those democratic jerks not to mess with us, and then assassinate President Rogers, to pretty much win the war."

Clint and Bobbi nodded with approval as the two mercenaries leapt up in protest. "You can't just kill Captain America!" his best pal protested in defiance.

"Of course I can, I'm Russian. Or at least I was, I think. Don't really know anymore. Anyways, you'll do what we command, Coulson. We're killing President Rogers, and that's final."

"Can't we just kidnap him and kill Jane?" Coulson had pretty much resorted to begging at this point.

"Yeah, I agree with that. Hey! We can even make him strip down and give us lapdances! And I can keep watch over him during missions and give him fifty tongue lashes and kittyboard him," Maria added, maybe becoming a little too excited.

"Wow, subtlety is nowhere to be found in your vocabulary, is it Hill," Clint remarked from his perch on Natasha's mantle.

"And I don't think I want to know what you mean by kittyboarding," Bobbi added.

"Kittyboarding is when a woman–"

"Enough! We're killing Rogers and nabbing Foster, and that's final. Now here's the plan: Coulson is going to into Steve's room, and put a paintball into his skull. Quick and simple. Get in, boom, get out. You'll travel through the air vents. As for Foster, that'll be trickier. With Potts' death, Thor will likely never leave her side, meaning we'll have to lure him away."

"And how do we do that?" Bobbi asked, a little wary of Maria when she suddenly closed her eyes and started licking her lips.

"Easy, with poptarts. We just need to lead him away from their bedroom for a few minutes while Clint nabs her."

"Oh yeah, I like that," Maria uttered dreamily.

"Well, okay then. Let's move out."

–Washington DC, USST–

It took Phil only a few minutes to crawl through the vents and into Washington DC, or Steve's apartment. It was magical, being in the actual quarters of his biggest hero. It was too bad that that jerk Natasha wanted him to kill him, but if it was for the betterment of the Dictatorship, then he would push aside his personal feelings and –

Phil quickly dove behind a sofa and drew his paintball handgun as he heard the front door opening. Sure enough, President Rogers was right there, right within shooting distance. Phil was more that adept enough with a firearm to shoot him there; but he couldn't. He was just so patriotic and cool, that he couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger just yet.

He stood tall and aimed the barrel of the gun toward his hero. Steve turned and, understandably, was taken surprise. "Phil, wha –"

"I'm here to kill you, Cap," he stated. Why he didn't just shoot him right then, instead of telling him that was anyone's guess.

"So, you're with the Communist Dictatorship of SHIELD, I take it?"

"That's right. Now, don't make this any harder than it needs to be." The gun began to shake as tears rolled down Phil's cheeks.

"Do what your country asks of you, son," Steve said calmly. He appeared to have already come to terms with his life and decided that he had a good one day term as President.

He…called me son. Phil heaved out a yell and turned the gun on himself, shooting himself in the chest. He screamed out about how horrible of an idea that was as he fell to the ground before dying.

Steve watched his lifeless corpse writhe in pain with a confused expression and quirked eyebrow. "What the freaking hell?!" he heard from the open air vent. He turned and saw Natasha half hanging out of the vent. "Crap," she exclaimed before tossing a grenade at him and crawling back into the vent.

Steve batted it away and dove behind the recliner next to his sofa. It exploded, covering all of his furniture, but thankfully not him, with black/red paint. He sighed with relief and shook his head at the dead body in his living room. "Better call Lieutenant Odinson for disposal."

–A few minutes later–

"He killed himself right there, you say," Thor repeated with a mouthful of poptarts that were just left on his kitchen table. He felt more than comfortable with eating a few before returning to his bedroom, because it wasn't like Jane was going to get kidnapped while he was gone or something silly like that.

"Yep. I need a clean up crew, too. Romanoff threw a grenade into my living room and it blew up all over my furniture."

"Consider it done, my friend." He hung up and opened the door to his bedroom, fully, and rightfully, expecting his girlfriend Jane to be lying on his bed, exactly where he left her for exactly five minutes while he went to go retrieve the poptarts. Because there was no way in Asgard that the poptarts he conveniently found in his kitchen, despite there being no one else in his apartment but him and Jane, were a clever trap and distraction so she could be kidnapped while he was gone. "Oh Jane, I have ret– No!"

Jane, of course, was nowhere to be seen. Only a small, yellow piece of paper was left in her stead. It read:

"W3 h v3 J ñ3.

$u©k 1†, $H13£D. 8D"

It took Thor nearly an hour to decipher the encrypted message.

"How on Asgard did they write all of those symbols? Egad! They have Jane!" He stood slowly as ominous music began playing in the background. "These cowards no neither shame nor belief in innocence. And now, they shall not know the mercy of the Son of Odin!"

A/N: Uh oh, now they've gone and made Thor mad.