Old Friends Chapter 6

By: Cadet Deming

I don't own the rights to Captain America or The Avengers, Marvel and Disney do, so please don't sue. Rated T for violence, language and adult situations. Thank you so much to those who read and review-)

Grim Reaper pulled Brock by his arm out of the smoke and to a secret door in the safe house. His grip was painful against Brock's damaged skin. The door closed behind them, revealing a garage.

Brock protested, "Let's go back. I can finish Rogers. I'm not done yet!"

He wheezed, feeling thick liquid in his mouth. He hoped it wasn't blood. When Steve had thrown him against the wall he may have cracked something.

Eric said, "No, we're getting out of here. I'm calling a tactical withdrawal. You were getting your ass kicked by Rogers and about to get beaten, and even I couldn't take on Rogers and Romanoff by myself. Plus I got nicked by a spare bullet. You'll have to drive as my real fake arm is back in there."

Tactical withdrawal was military speak for retreat. He hated having to do this.

Reaper tossed Brock some keys. A black SUV was parked on a lift in front of them. It was a Mercedes-Benz with tinted windows. Brock grudgingly got into the driver's seat. The lift rose them to the surface and they drove off.

Brock hated giving up, but he coughed some more and realized it was blood. It tasted like copper and failure and wasted opportunity.

He asked, "Where do I drive us? Where is it safe?"

"There's no such thing as safe in our line of work, not permanently. Just drive as far away as possible. I'm going to have to call Strucker again."

"And tell him our target walked right up to our front door and beat us? How incompetent does that make us look?"

Eric said, "Do you think this is easy for me? I used to have a 98% kill count. The past few days it's dropped to 96%."

"Sorry to ruin your batting average."

"I should have done better against the redhead. She's female and a foot shorter than me."

Brock reassured him, "Natasha is the best female fighter in hand-to-hand combat I've ever met. I've seen her take on 12 guys at once and win. The rumor is the KGB did experiments to alter her reflexes. Be proud you held your own against her."

Eric clutched his side with his good hand. Brock saw a blood stain on his shirt. It looked like he was more than "nicked."

"Thanks," Eric said. "Be thankful you went up against a superhuman and survived."

Maybe that was the problem. Brock was a mere human trying to take down Avengers. Even if he hadn't have been caught off guard, the odds weren't in his favor. It took a superhuman to fight a superhuman.

He said, "I need more soldiers under my command. That and a hospital I don't need to fight my way out of."

Reaper said, "I have to call our fearless leader for reinforcements. I have to warn him not to answer any calls from the computer left behind anyhow."

"Was there anything else incriminating back there?"

"Some minor weapons and food. Nothing to reveal any other splinter cell locations. They have my zombie Blu-Ray collection. And my meds. Bad things happen around me when I go off meds."

"Bad things happen around you when you're on them."

Eric grimaced and dialed his phone. He spoke in German. Brock alternated between watching the road, checking if they were being followed, and watching his friend's expressions. He didn't understand most of the words, but Eric sounded defensive, then apologetic, then frantic and finally resigned.

Eric hung up and said, "We're not getting reinforcements. His sending us to a local cell that's been experimenting on human subjects. They have a medical doctor or two on staff. He wants us to undergo some of the procedures so we'll be more evenly matched."

Brock frowned. All of the experiments he was aware of HYDRA performing had such low survival rates the subjects were usually unwilling prisoners of war. It was the only reason someone like Bucky Barnes had been kept around.

He realized he didn't like Strucker. Pierce had inspired such loyalty he would follow him blindly, risk life-and-limb for him, and be willing to die for the cause. He wasn't so sure he'd do the same for the Baron and his "HYDRA is dead, just do what I order you to" mentality.

Brock asked, "What if I don't want to be a lab rat?"

Eric flashed him a warning look. "It wasn't a suggestion."

Brock thought back to his one conversation with the Baron. He had said he liked to have a guaranteed good outcome for himself no matter what.

Brock said, "So if the procedures work, he's created super soldiers of his own. And if we die, he's punished us for our failure to capture or kill Rogers. Either way Strucker wins."

Eric sighed. His Cheshire Cat grin was completely gone.

The Reaper said, "Or we could go to a regular hospital, be arrested and get the death penalty. Or not go and both bleed out in the car. Hail F #$%ng HYDRA. I could call my brother, but I think I've exhausted asking him for money and I don't think he'd help you at all."

"Wasn't your brother a contestant on The Bachelor?"

"Please don't mention 'The Bachelor.' On second thought, forget about my brother."

Brock said, "What's the name of the splinter cell he wants us to go to?"

"Project Serpent Squad. I'll give you the address."

"Why did it have to be named after snakes?"

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Steve balanced a bag of ice cream in one hand and his phone in the other. He told Sam about the events of the day.

Sam said, "Did Nat break up with Clint or was it vice-versa?"

"She didn't say. Why does that make a difference?"

"If she broke up with him, she probably wants space and doesn't want to jump into something new. If he broke up with her, she's probably feeling lonely and insecure. It'll make it easier for you to make a move."

Steve didn't want to do anything slimy or manipulative. He assumed Natasha would be savvy enough to see through it anyhow.

He said. "This is the Black Widow we're talking about. I can't see her being lonely or insecure about anything. And I don't want to take advantage of any woman. That just isn't me."

"All is fair in love and war, man. What are you bringing with you?"

Steve instinctively lifted the bag he carried. "Ice cream. Should I bring flowers?"

"Nah, it's too early for flowers. Ice cream sounds more like two platonic girlfriends hanging out together. Is she 'friend zoning' you?"

Steve had a hard time keeping up with slang and modern dating rituals.

"How can I tell if she's 'friend zoning' me?"

"When you open the door to her place tonight, and she answers it in baggy sweatpants, her hair in a ponytail and no makeup on, she's friend zoned you. If you show up and she's dressed real fine and she looks hot, you've got a shot."

Steve imagined even in sweatpants and no makeup, Nat would still look beautiful.

He said, "Sam, if you're such an expert on women, how come you don't have a girlfriend?"

"Because…I…er, I guess because I spend so much time trying to help other people solve their problems, I forget to fix my own."

"So how about you take your own advice and find yourself a nice girl?"

"I don't meet a lot of nice girls that aren't co-workers or PTSD counseling patients who are off-limits."

"Try to expand your social circle."

Steve realized how ironic his advice was.

Sam said, "I'll try, but who's got the time? I'm meeting with someone in Air Force Intelligence tomorrow to help with my search for Bucky."

"How can the Air Force help?"

"Why does everybody in the other branches gotta dump on the Air Force?"

Steve thought about making a "Chair Force" joke, but didn't want to be mean spirited.

He said, "Any help is good, but I'm concerned about jurisdiction."

"I'll see what they can do. It's worth something."

Steve reached the door to Natasha's building. "Thanks again. I'm at Nat's now."

"Give me a play-by-play later. Good luck and good night."

Natasha lived in a beautiful apartment complex. It was only six stories tall as there was a law in Washington, DC that structures couldn't be taller than 130 feet, so the tallest buildings in the area were confined to places like Alexandria, VA and the surrounding cities.

Her lobby was decorated with swirled marble and painted ceilings. A grand chandelier reflected light below. The lobby was empty except for the security guard. The security guard gave Steve a double-take when he signed his name on the guest register. Steve was used to being semi-famous. He wasn't entirely comfortable with it but had learned to cope.

Natasha buzzed him up. She opened the door wearing tight jeans and a loose sweatshirt. Her long hair was styled straight and covered one of her shoulders. She was barefoot and her toenails were painted bright red.

He noted she wore makeup, just a little eyeliner and blush. Steve normally didn't pay attention to women's makeup, but he was analyzing every detail and looking for any sign he had a chance with her.

Her appearance seemed to suggest she was sending him mixed signals. Mixed signals he could work with.

Steve wished he had brought flowers, roses in the color red to let her know exactly how he felt about her, but it was too late now.

She hugged him and invited him in.

To be Continued

Author's Note: Sorry if this was a shorter chapter