Sorry about the wait! I was going to post this chapter last week but as I was doing my final read through, I realized I didn't like where the story was going. So I basically spent the past few days rewriting this chapter about four times.
But to reward you for your patience, have an extra long, action-packed chapter!
I don't own Marvel, etc.
The quinjet touched down on Moroccan soil in the center of the bustling Dejmma el Fna square, the busiest market in Marrakech. The sun began to dip tiredly in the sky as Captain America, followed by Bruce Banner, Hawkeye, and the Black Widow, exited the jet. Natives and tourists alike gawked at the sight of the worlds mightiest heroes assembling in the middle of the marketplace, but were wise enough to keep their distance.
"We couldn't have parked somewhere a little more...private?" Captain America asked uncomfortably as more people began to gather around.
"Sorry Cap, but this was where we tracked Thor and Stark," Clint informed him; except Iron Man and the God of Thunder were no where in sight.
"Typical," Rogers exhaled, not overly surprised that a third of his team was missing.
Natasha turned to Clint and shrugged, glancing around for the prince and the playboy. Somewhere nearby, the cry of a young child rang through the square. The Black Widows eyes fell on a young boy, no more than two years old, being lifted off the ground by his mother. The mother cooed and hugged the child close to her chest, bending over to kiss a knee that collided too roughly with the ground. At her touch, the child calmed. Natasha's mouth fell into a hard line and she quickly averted her eyes to the other side of the market.
"Glad you could make it," a shout from behind called, the voice unmistakably belonging to the billionaire.
The group spun around to see Tony, faceplate up and tea in hand, rising from a small table to meet his teammates. Thor appeared behind him, toting tea as well, wearing a smile that revealed he was victorious in their racing adventure across the Atlantic.
At the sight, Captain America sighed sharply and rubbed his forehead. "Can you two please focus?"
"Well now that you're finally here we can get to work!" Tony smirked, tipping the cup back at his lips. Then he passed the empty dish to the Captain, who was growing more irked with every second. "What's the game plan?"
"We're splitting up," Natasha broke in, crossing her arms over her chest, "Captain and Thor will take the east location, Bruce and Clint will take the west, and you and I have the north."
"What, you and Katniss don't want to..." A death glare from the Black Widow silenced Tony from whatever remark he planned on making about their relationship. "Yep, sounds good."
"All three locations are guarded fairly heavily," Natasha continued, "but SHEILD wants us to avoid detection as much as possible until a location can be verified. Sorry Bruce, but the Hulk is a little to conspicuous for this mission."
"Fine by me," Bruce nodded. "The Other Guy will stay on stand-by."
"Once the real location of the tech is revealed, all Avengers fall back to that position if back-up is required," Captain America cut in.
"What are we to do once we locate these weapons of SHIELDs?" Thor inquired.
"You'll have a charge to set up and then once you get clear of the building-"
"Boom," Clint grinned like a child on Christmas morning.
Steve smiled at Hawkeye's enthusiasm. "Is everyone clear with the mission?" Simultaneous nods confirmed their understanding. "Okay Avengers-"
"Dissassemble!" Tony grinned, eliciting a snort from Hawkeye and groans from the rest of his team.
Natasha rolled her eyes, "Really Stark?"
"What?" he smirked, "Okay, fine. Just...go wherever the hell you should be. Come on, momma spider!"
Natasha bit her tongue to avoid sharing some very choice words with the playboy, and started forward north as Iron Man blasted off into the sky. But a hand on her arm belonging to her archer kept her firmly in place. No words were spoken, but they communicated perfectly.
Be safe, read the slight furrowing of Clint's eyebrows. Her replying nod was sharp and quick, indicating for him to do the same. He pursed his lips and released her arm.
"Lets go, Doc," he called to Bruce as he started jogging westward, peaking back one last time at Natasha before disappearing into the mass of people.
The rest of the Avengers dispersed and the Black Widow trailed after Stark.
Natasha was walking through a crowded side-street market, the edges of the walkway lined with various vendors selling everything from exotic spices to colorful tapestries, when Tony's voice filled her ears.
"Alright, I'm about three minutes out from where you are by our target. I scanned the building and there is definitely something going on in there. I'm picking up at least twenty heat signatures, with a huge cluster of them hanging around the first floor."
"Fantastic," she replied dryly and discretely into her com-link. As she passed a stall selling headscarves, she sneakily swiped a black scarf from the table without drawing the attention of the stand's keeper. "Have you contacted Rogers?" she asked as she turned the corner and wrapped the scarf in its traditional fashion around her fiery hair.
"On it," he confirmed. A minute later his voice returned, "So how do you want to tackle this?"
"You stay up top, watch the men inside, and I'll infiltrate," she devised, "Could you walk me through the building?"
"Like a day at the park," she could hear the smile in his voice.
"Good," she replied as she veered left down a deserted alley and then right.
At the sound of footsteps, the Black Widow unholstered her pistol and paused, her back pressed up against the stony exterior of a building as two men dressed in green from head to toe, guns in tote, marched past the mouth of the alley. From her position, she watched as the men proceeded another block before stopping at a wearhouse-like stone building, punching a code into a keypad, and disappearing inside.
"I've got a visual," she whispered into the com as she prepared to move in.
"You're all clear," Tony confirmed, "Nice headscarf, by the way. But if you wanted to blend in, I think a belly dancer would have been a more appropriate disguise."
Natasha rolled her eyes and jogged up to the building, surveying the area for potential threats. "We're here," Natasha spoke subtly, informing the rest of her team of their whereabouts.
"Copy that," Captain America's voice buzzed over the com.
She reached the doorway and waited for Stark to feed her the code.
"Six-four-six-three," he told her and she pressed the appropriate keys. Beep, beep, beep, beep.
A green light blinked over the doorknob signaling her successful entrance and she slipped inside.
"There should be a stairwell to your left."
She turned as directed and confirmed.
"Okay," Tony said, "take that to the second floor- you'll get a better view up there. But be careful, you've got men guarding at the top; three heat signatures."
Cautiously, Natasha began climbing the flight of stairs towards her objective. That's when she started seeing doubles. Her head began to pound- like Thor was using it for hammering practice. Her stomach twisted into nauseating knots and the staircase began to swirl and wind in her vision. Then sudden bout of dizziness took its toll, sending her to the ground when her foot caught on a step.
"Agh," she gasped quietly to herself as she collapsed against the rough wall. Blinking roughly, she tried to straighten up, but her body continued protest as the room began spin like a terrifying carnival ride.
Oh god, not now. Not in the middle of a mission. Not while she was trapped in the middle of hostel territory with armed guards standing thirty feet from her slumped over figure. She reached a hand up to her forehead and brought close to her eyes for examination. Blood stained her fingertips, dripping wet from the gash where here head collided with the stone stairs. God-fucking-dammit.
"Were coming up on our target," she listened when Rogers disclosed over the com as she struggled to regain control of her body, "What's your status, Hawkeye?"
"We've made it inside our wearhouse," Clint checked in, "No sign of the tech yet but we'll keep looking."
Clint. Just hearing his voice intensified her will to conquer this- whatever the hell was happening to her body. She wanted him here, by her side, telling her to fight this ridiculous internal battle because he knew she was stronger than this. But this was also exactly why he didn't want her in the field in her condition. She sucked in a hard breath as her stomach tightened.
"Good to know," Steve replied, "Once you can verify that location is empty, report back to the quinjet. Natasha and Tony, update?"
"I'm picking up a lot of heat signatures, Cap," Iron Man reported when the Black Widow remained silent.
"Keep me posted," he requested.
"Will do," Iron Man replied. Then he switched his com back to local, "You alright, Romanoff?"
"Peachy," she whispered through her teeth after an agonizing moment. The room was stabilizing and her head was lightening, but her gut kept up its relentless rebellion.
"Natasha..." The concern was obvious in his voice.
"I...I think I'm going to be sick," she breathed, squeezing her eyes shut and balling a fist over her frantic stomach.
"Do you want me to come in ther-"
"No!" she whispered fiercely, "It's just morning sickness. It'll pass."
"How can you have morning sickness at six in the afternoon!" Tony cried, baffled.
"Thats just what it's called, Stark," she grunted back, "not an actual timetable."
"Well you can't afford it!" Tony reminded her, "Tell that little hawkling of yours that you're in the middle of a very delicate- and deadly- search and destroy mission."
Natasha winced at the 'hawkling' comment. But as much as she hated to admit it, Tony was right; she couldn't let the baby endanger the mission. Through gritted teeth, the Black Widow worked to push the pain to the back of her mind like she has had to do on countless other occasions. With a deep breath, she rose to her feet and steadied, mentally chastising herself for reacting so weakly before.
"Okay, I'm good," she breathed.
"Thank god," Tony breathed, an edge of relief to his voice, "Now take care of those guys up there. Whatever you do, do it quietly because you've got four others patrolling just outside."
"Copy," she replied as she inched up the remaining stairs. Natasha peaked her head out from behind the wall to find the three green-clad guards standing at attention just outside the stairwell.
From around her wrist, she plucked one of her Widow Bites and slid it into the hallway. In seconds, the three men were sprawled out on the floor, unconscious and unaware of her presence. She slipped past them and through the door. On the other side, the Black Widow ducked behind a pillar as two more guards strolled past her.
This level was almost entirely open to the football field sized ground floor below; a thin metal banister lined the rectangular walkway that made up the second floor. That meant shooting the men was out of the question if she wanted to keep a low profile. Natasha craned her neck to peer over the railing down to the main floor of the wearhouse. In the center of the room were wooden crates, piled high like an Egyptian pyramid. She also counted at least ten armed men standing like a fence around the impressive structure of boxes.
"There's definitely something here," she whispered to Stark.
"Can you get a closer look?" he asked hopefully.
"Not without blowing my cover," she said decisively. Then she glanced up at the industrial sized windows lining one of the walls of the building and an idea hit her. "Hey Stark, drop three smoke grenades in through the south windows."
"Erm, why?"
"I just need to confirm the tech is SHIELDs," she told him, "The smoke would cloak me as I jumped down there past the guards. Then we can blow this place to hell."
"On it," he replied and she heard the whoosh of his stabilizers.
Natasha slid a pair of glasses from a compartment in her suit and wrapped the around her eyes. "Count it down for me."
"Incoming in three, two, one."
At that exact moment, a glass window shattered as three canisters jettisoned through it. A thick grey gas exploded furiously through the open ends of the canisters and soon covered the entire wearhouse in a smoky fog. Frantic shouts in Moroccan signaled now was the time to act.
Natasha sprinted from behind the pillar and hurtled herself over the banister, rolling on her shoulder as she landed the fifteen foot drop gracefully before jumping to her feet. Thanks to the special technology in the glasses SHIELD supplied or her, she was able to see perfectly in an otherwise zero visibility situation. She zipped past guards like a ghost of the night, dancing around them until she finally fell upon the pyramid of crates. The SHIELD agent forced the first box she laid her hands on open and checked the contents. Remnants of Phase Two, including a number of weapons and masks, sat inside.
The smoke was beginning to clear as the Nine Pieces' agents cranked the vents to maximum power. Satisfied with her findings, Natasha darted away from the center of the wearhouse to the side of the room, taking cover behind a wall of barrels as visibility returned.
"It's all here, Stark," Natasha confirmed as she caught her breath, stowing her glasses back in their designated compartment.
"وكان شخص ما هنا. العثور عليها، وأحضر لي منهم بالنسبة لي" A high ranking officer commanded his men. Natasha was able to translate: "Someone was here! Find them, bring me them to me!"
"Okay I'll set the charge up. Get out of there!" Tony ordered.
Natasha waited for an opening before sprinting out from her cover and towards the entrance.
"Rogers," she called into her com, "we've got confirmation-"
"Hey!" she heard a cry from behind her in Moroccan, "You shouldn't be here! Stop!"
The Black Widow glanced over her shoulder to see two muscular guards close on her tail. She ducked into the stairwell and pressed her back to the wall. Then she greeted the first guard that rushed past her with a swift knee to the chest. When he fell, the second guard stumbled over him and Natasha smashed her pistol against his head, rendering him unconscious.
After a deep breath, Natasha emerged out of the stairwell and grabbed the door. But her tuned senses picked up movement from her six. She dropped to her knees just as the butt of an AK47 slammed into the door. Natasha quickly delivered a sweeping kick, knocking her attacker's feet from under him. She proceeded to shoot three guards that entered the hallway.
"What happened to keeping a low profile?" Stark quipped when her heard the gunfire.
"Fuck it," she shouted as she fired two more shots, "We're past search, on to destroy."
"'Atta girl! And Steve wants an update," he told her.
"Tech found, preparing to to finish the job," Natasha fed him as she bolted out of the wearhouse, "Okay Stark I'm cle-"
A direct blow to her calf sent her tumbling to the ground, her gun flying out of reach. The guard with the AK47 stood over her, pointing the barrel between her eyes. She growled, knocking the gun away, and the bullet meant for her embedded itself in the dirt. Before the guard could react, her heels plowed into his chest, sending him flying onto his back.
"Romanoff!" Stark called, "Are you out of the building?"
Another, stronger looking guard exited the building, making a beeline for the Black Widow. She dogged his first attack as she tore the headscarf from her hair.
"Yes!" she managed to grunt a reply to Tony.
A second wide punch grazed her left arm as Natasha flipped over the man. As she landed, she pulled the scarf around the guard's throat and used his wight to wrench him to the ground.
But the flip was a bad, truly terrible idea. Her vision began to swirl and she staggered a step back. She barley had time evade the swooping knife from the first guard that came barreling towards her neck. Natasha thought she aimed her elbow to connect with his jaw, but the blow ended up landing below his shoulder.
Fuck! She'd promised Clint that she would be careful. But she couldn't even land a hit properly!
The knife made a second pass, this time scraping along her cheek. She could feel the tug as the blade sliced into her skin and warm blood streaked down her face.
With a newfound rage, Natasha grabbed the man's head tightly in her grasp, jerking it roughly to the side. His limp body collapsed onto the ground.
But she was dizzy, her reflexes were delayed. Natasha didn't realize she was in immediate danger until the chokehold around her neck jerked her upward and the knife pierced her lower back. The blade dug into her, sending anguished cries from every nerve, lighting the pain center of her brain up like a Christmas tree.
She wanted to scream as the knife was yanked from the cavern it created in her body, but she couldn't make a sound; her airways were blocked so that not even a squeak could pass her lips.
The guard laughed a maniacal, torturous laugh. He kept laughing as Natasha, devoid of oxygen and leaking blood like a faucet, grew weaker in his grasp. His arm tightened more and more, and the tighter he strangled her, the more he laughed. But then it stopped- the laughing, the strangulation- and the pressure on Natasha's neck released. Unable to support her body, Natasha slumped onto the ground. Beside her, the guard laid dead, an arrow protruding from his neck.
And the last thing she remembered before the black curtain of unconsciousness was draped over her, was Clint's hand reaching for hers.
And that wraps up Natasha's last mission!
Since I already have the next chapter nearly finished, it should be up within the next day or two. They won't be as exciting but expect a hell of a lot of fluff from here on out.
Let me know what you though!
Authors note: I think the Arab translation was a little rough. If someone who knows the language wants to shoot me a message, I'd be glad to change it!