Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They belong to Stan Lee! I am simply borrowing them for my non-profit story.
A/N: Hello again, lovely readers! I'm not very good at military-style fighting and terminology, so if there is something that I could fix, please tell me :)
09:34 25-AUG-09, SHIELD HELICARRIER: FLIGHT DECK
"Clint! What the hell?" Natasha shouted as her partner had her arm in a tight grip. She nearly considered hurting him in order to get free, but changed her mind when she found herself on the flight deck.
It was a bright, warm morning. Workers were rushing all over the deck, occasionally signaling for a jet to take flight. A few SHIELD soldiers were jogging up and down the deck in unison with their leader barking at them to not lag behind. The two assassins went unnoticed, or if someone saw them, they didn't say anything.
"Clint," Natasha said again, more firmly this time. "What are we doing?"
Coming to a halt, Clint turned to face her, a determined look in his light eyes.
"We need to go back to Zurich," he said.
"You're crazy."
"No, seriously, Natasha." Clint released her arm, and ran his hands through his short hair. "Your life is potentially in danger. Those goddamn robot things that the mob in Switzerland have plans to build, could actually be built already."
Unwillingly, Natasha let a picture of a twenty foot tall machine with huge arms and legs penetrate her thoughts. She imagined that the robot would have empty red eyes, and would be ready to strike down anything in its path. SHIELD had big guns which were enough to take one of those machines down, but what about ten of them, or even twenty? They would be doomed.
A chirpy voice snapped Natasha out of the images.
"What are you doing out here, Agent Barton?" Agent Lana Birch's wide blue eyes looked curiously to him, completely ignoring Natasha.
"Agent Romanoff and I were talking about our last mission," Clint lied smoothly.
"It's such a nice day," Natasha said, hoping that her expression wasn't too sour. "It's hard to enjoy a beautiful day indoors. But what are you doing out here, Agent Birch? Aren't you supposed to be inside, writing reports for Director Fury?"
Lana smiled sweetly. "I have more important things to focus on today," she said, flipping her long hair behind her. "Although, I'm sure that Fury hasn't told you about it yet."
"Excuse me," Natasha snapped, "but I'm sure that I have a higher clearance level than you."
"I don't know about that."
"It doesn't seem like you know much-"
"Well, hope you have a good day, Agent Birch," Clint interjected, putting an arm around Natasha's shoulders and steering them away from the smiling blonde. "Very subtle, Nat."
"It's not like I punched her in the face or anything."
"Lana's a good person," Clint said, sighing.
"Oh, now she's Lana?"
"I call you Natasha."
"You've known me for ten years!" Natasha cried. "You've just met that woman a week ago."
Clint's expression turned amused. "Are you jealous, Tasha?"
"Me? Jealous?" Natasha sputtered. "Why would I be jealous of a slut like her? I mean"- Natasha quickly changed the subject- "Fury has yet to tell us about that all-important situation that Agent Bit- Birch had kindly told us about."
"We can find out later," Clint said impatiently. "Do you have your gear?"
"What do I need it for?"
"We're going rogue."
09:58 25-AUG-09, SHIELD QUINJET
As the two assassins fit the headset on their ears, a few workers were looking unsurely to one another. Natasha had told them that they had authorization from Director Fury to fly the jet. Clint buckled on his seatbelt and took the controls, starting up the Quinjet. Once they were clear to go, Clint took off down the short runway.
Natasha could hear Agent Maria Hill's voice through the headset, asking if their jet had permission to go. Fury's voice loudly denied his knowing, and Agent Hill began to shout to the workers, telling them to stop the jet.
"Shit," Natasha muttered. "Hurry up, Clint."
Clint nodded tersely, and just as she heard an agent say that he was going to hold them back, they had left the Helicarrier. Going as fast as they could, Natasha breathed a sigh of relief as the SHIELD Helicarrier disappeared from their sight. There had been a few incidents where other agents had gone rogue and tried to take a jet, but they had all been taken down right away.
Natasha looked out the front window of the Quinjet, seeing nothing but blue skies and clear water. She took a breath, still not believing that they made it safely off the Helicarrier. Just as she thought that, a couple of dots appeared on their radar.
SHIELD fighter jets.
"They're after us," Clint said unnecessarily.
"Rogue jet spotted," a voice said, which Natasha heard through the headset.
"Turn them around or take them down," Agent Hill said.
"Don't take them down," Fury's voice interjected. "Those are my two best agents- I'm sorry, Agent Hill- and I need them alive."
Natasha looked to Clint whose hands were tightly gripping the wheel. His knuckles were white, and his face was tense. They didn't want to get taken back to SHIELD; they had a job to do. Two fighter jets pulled up on either side of their Quinjet. Both of the pilots were motioning for them to turn around.
"Agents Romanoff and Barton," one pilot said. "We need you to turn around."
Neither of the assassins replied. They wouldn't turn around and they knew that Fury wouldn't order them to be shot at.
"Turn around now," the pilot repeated firmly.
"Or else what?" Natasha said, not being able to bear hearing that phrase again.
The line stayed silent for a moment. Then Fury's voice muttered, "Let them go. If they want to go rogue, then let them be. They no longer work for SHIELD."
"But, sir," Agent Hill's voice protested. "Once Barton and Romanoff aren't with us anymore, then they are considered a threat. We will have to have them found and killed anyway."
Of course, Natasha and Clint had thought of that. Once they were out of SHIELD's protection, they wouldn't be specialized agents, they would be hostiles. Natasha was willing to risk that; if they ended up saving the world from unstoppable robots, then going temporarily rogue would pay off. But any way that she imagined them failing, they would be detained and killed either by SHIELD or whoever was planning the robot invasion.
"This is your last warning," the pilot said again. "We will open fire in twenty seconds."
Natasha glanced over to Clint. He had a look on his face that she couldn't quite read. His hands were still clutching the controls tightly.
After five seconds had passed, Clint finally said, "Fire at them."
"What?"
"We can take their planes down." He had a hard glint in his eyes. "Go now, Natasha. I'll open the back exit and you can shoot with the guns we have at the back."
Without another second to waste, Natasha unfastened her seat belt and leapt out of the cockpit. Grabbing a grenade launcher, she stood at the exit which was slowly opening. The wind whooshing in caused her long red hair to whip around her head. Once the door was fully opened, Natasha pushed her hair out of her face, carefully aiming at the jets that were trailing their Quinjet.
As she pointed the gun to the first jet, she heard the pilot begin to count down: "Five, four, three, two, one-"
The pilot got to one, and Natasha fired two shots. The bombs exploded as they made contact with the wings of one of the jets. Natasha launched another two grenades at the other jet before the pilot could begin to shoot at them. As the sides of the jets went up in flames, Natasha was afraid that the pilots may not be able to make it out in time.
"I'm hit!" one pilot said. The other pilot echoed him.
Not even bothering to try to maneuver their now-wingless jets, their seats popped out into the air with a parachute billowing out above them. Natasha breathed a sigh of relief, and gestured to Clint to close the exit. Putting the grenade launcher back, she sat back down in her seat with a huff, and put her headset back on. Fastening her seat belt again, she looked at Clint.
"They'll send more," she said.
Clint shook his head. "They won't. Not now at least. Fury's not stupid. He knows that we'll probably find a way to evade them. He'll wait until we're vulnerable, then he'll find us."
10:27 25-AUG-09, SOMEWHERE OVER THE ATLANTIC OCEAN
They had disconnected all transmission to and from SHIELD headquarters. With one final warning from Fury telling them that they had an hour before someone started to hunt them down, they were alone. Clint was still at the wheel, staring straight ahead. Natasha idly picked at her nails, not knowing what to say to her tense partner.
"Aleksandr Bogrov," Clint said suddenly, sparing a glance in her direction. "And the Red Room. I have to know more in case we meet him or anyone else."
Natasha frowned. "No, Clint- "
She knew that she would pass out again. Ever since the day before, the flashbacks would come whenever someone mentioned the Red Room. A wave of nausea hit her just as her vision began to go dark.
Natalia dodged the knife's blade which would have slashed her face bloody if she were not trained. The attacker came at her again, but she grabbed the arm, twisting it tightly behind his back. With a slight gasp, he dropped the knife and Natalia kicked it away. The attacker wrenched itself out of Natalia's grip and came at her again, this time with only his fists up. Natalia smiled menacingly and blocked the first punch thrown at her.
Almost lazily, she kicked out at the attacker's kneecaps, satisfied when she heard a crack. He collapsed with a cry of pain, but his arms were still flailing around, attempting to ward himself off from Natalia. Clucking her tongue, Natalia held her foot a few inches above the attacker's ribcage.
"I always win," she hissed, and she brought her boot-clad foot onto his chest, snapping several of the ribs.
The attacker's face was covered partially by a mask, but his eyes were still visible. Blinking once, the attacker went still.
Natalia reached into the man's coat pocket and pulled out his wallet. Grinning at the number of bills folded neatly, Natalia stuffed them into her own coat pocket and strolled back out onto the streets of Moscow. Discreetly, she scanned her surroundings, finally spotting a man in a grey felt hat and a dark coat.
When she reached the man, he barely acknowledged her presence. He didn't even look at her when he began to talk.
"Was it clean?" he said in Russian.
"Yes," Natalia replied in the same tongue. "Nothing will be suspected until we reach the site."
The man nodded. "Well done, Czarina."
Natalia had many names that she went by when she was doing her jobs. Barnes particularly liked calling her that name.
"Let's drop by the coffee shop," James Barnes said, holding his arm out for her.
They always had to assume a sort of role as to not attract attention to anyone. For her months in the Red Room, Natalia had already been out on several missions to assassinate various parties. Aleksandr Bogrov was pleased with her work, although he never quite admitted it. But Natalia could see it in his eyes whenever she beat her opponent in training exercises.
Natalia and James walked down the street, inconspicuously looking to see if there was anyone trailing them. Once they confirmed there was no one hostile, Natalia was able to pull off her itchy mauve-coloured hat and put it in her small purse.
The inside of the coffee shop had a cozy feel, warm unlike the cold February weather of Europe. They found a seat in the back of the room, away from anyone else. James ordered his coffee black and Natalia asked for a cream and a sugar with hers. Once the waitress left, James pulled off his hat, revealing his messy dark hair. He held his hand out and Natalia grimaced. Pulling out a few bills, she slapped it onto James' palm, inwardly mourning at the loss of half of the cash she had taken from her kill.
"Damn you, Winter," she muttered, using his code name. "I almost think that you can smell money as much as the main man can smell fresh blood."
"Watch what you say, Czarina," James warned. "He always has someone watching you on your job."
They were talking about Bogrov. Even after so many assassinations done for him, Natalia still wasn't trusted entirely. James Barnes was the only person whom she could call an ally in the Red Room. He was considerably kinder than the other trainers, but still didn't treat Natalia as warm as one would be to a friend.
Natalia knew his story. He had been good friends with Captain America until he had supposedly drowned on a mission. But Russian general, Vasily Karpov, had found James Barnes unconscious in the waters and revived him. Upon finding him with no memories of his identity, the general had reprogrammed Barnes to become the Winter Soldier. The Winter Soldier was a Soviet assassin, much like Natalia herself.
He was unstable, if she understood correctly. His emotions went haywire because of the memory implantation that Karpov had ordered to be done in him. Natalia supposed that they usually didn't let him out of their sight, but somehow, he had been given clearance to go out.
She remembered sneaking into Aleksandr Bogrov's office one night and finding James' file. For some reason, his name was still labeled as James Barnes, even though he was called the Winter Soldier. Natalia didn't know why they still called him James Barnes and why they even told him his real name.
"Czarina," James said. "Your drink is going to get cold."
Natalia snapped her focus to the Winter Soldier. He was looking expectantly back at her.
"Your drink," he repeated.
"Oh, right," Natalia said, taking a sip from the warm mug.
Why didn't James Barnes appear to be as unstable as they had said he was? They were hiding something about the Winter Soldier that even Aleksandr Bogrov didn't know about. Natalia was determined to find out what it was.
A/N: Okay, so I admit, I didn't read the comics. I tried my best to find out what I could about all of these characters. So please R&R, but no flames! JM