Just so you guys know as you're reading the story, Signora means Mrs. or Ms., just so you aren't confused. There are some Italian in here. I don't speak the language so I kept it as simple as possible, but if it is wrong, please let me know. I love all of you and thank you for your support :)
Also, do you guys want me to comment on reviews at the beginning of the chapters anymore? Or do you want me to PM? I don't know so just give me your thoughts
They didn't have as great of a farewell as she had hoped. Steve said his goodbyes to Natasha, Clint, and Marsha individually. Tony was nowhere to be found and Pepper was busy running an entire business. Thor... well, Thor was in Asgard for who knows how long. And Bruce hadn't bothered to show up. He sent some half-baked goodbye through Jarvis who left a voicemail on Natasha's phone.
The nerve he had. Saniya fully planned to give him a piece of her mind the next time they spoke. As his friend, she deserved something better than that.
In fact, it bothered her more than it should have. She wasn't his number one priority, so it shouldn't have been that big of a deal. Bruce was probably busy with more important things than her. Or maybe he was in another mental breakdown and needed her to metaphorically slap him out of.
But, the longer she thought about how he hadn't even bothered to at least call her himself, the more pissed off she was. If he was having a mental breakdown, he could help himself out of it because she was leaving him on his own.
That was what she was ranting in her mind, but it wasn't true. The second he said the word, she'd be swimming across the ocean to New York.
Clint propped his feet on the dashboard of the SHIELD-provided car. His head was turned, telling Marsha an exciting story about how he single-handedly shot down a plane from another plane, all while flying in the middle of a hurricane.
"So, the other plane goes down and Timothy yells up to me that we're out of fuel and about to swim with the fishes." He paused like a comedian waiting for an audience's reaction. Marsha smiled politely.
Natasha weaved the car down the narrow Italian street with ease. "You forgot to tell the part where Timothy was still dressed in his costume from his theater group's rendition of the Godfather," she said as she narrowly missed clipping someone with the side mirror.
His eyes widened. "You're right! I left an entire part of the story out."
Clint then continued to recall the story for Marsha whose face only became more awe inspired. The more her sister was impressed, the more disgruntled Saniya felt. When he reached the end of the story, making Marsha burst out in giggles, she reached the end of her patience.
"I know what you're doing," she snapped. "We're not going to your friends. I am not going to become your SHIELD minion."
He raised an eyebrow. Natasha stopped the car and turned her head. Her gaze was like a knife slicing through her organs, slowly and without mercy. Saniya pushed herself against the car door, gripping the handle in case she needed to make a break for it.
"And where," Natasha asked with a steel edge, "did you get that idea in your silly head?"
Saniya tried to make herself as tiny as possible. "Uh... Steve?" she squeaked.
The assassin narrowed her eyes. "If you're going to lie, don't make an outlandish claim like that."
She stuck to her guns. Maybe Natasha would appreciate that and leave her alone. "I'm telling you, it was Steve," she continued. "He might not like me, but Captain America always stands for the truth." Saniya forced her back to straighten as Natasha stared her down.
There was a long moment of silence. It made her stomach roll with each passing second.
Natasha turned around to reach for a knife to kill Saniya with for talking back... wait, no, she was just turning around to continue driving the car.
"You did better than the last time you lied to me," Natasha complimented. Her glare, though being shot from the side of her eye, was potent enough to break a sweat on Saniya's forehead. "I know Stark said something to you. It's not a secret that he's been looking through SHIELD files."
She almost laughed at the fact that she never suspected Bruce. Not trusting Natasha to believe her if she said something about Tony, she kept her mouth shut.
"That wasn't the original point of the trip, though," she told Marsha and Saniya. "We're here to track someone, you're here to observe. And, if you happen to form a bond to us, that only benefits SHIELD." The smirk on her face made the assassin very punchable. Well, just look it. She doubted she would be able to actually hit her.
A strong blush rose on Marsha's face. "I think both of you are amazing, even if Saniya doesn't," she said so quietly that they almost didn't catch it. There was a flicker of emotion —something akin to pity— over Natasha's face.
Saniya went back to brooding. Her comment had the desired effect and the entire car was silent for the rest of the ride.
Natasha didn't tell Saniya and Marsha where her secret house was, only that it was in Italy and close to the border between Austria. Just as they drove out from behind a mountain, a small town was seen nestled in the landscape. But, Natasha drove past the cute town to a small house on the outskirts, higher on the mountain.
There was a shoulder-high stone wall surrounding the entire front yard, making it impossible for anyone to drive up to the house. The gate had jagged spikes sticking from the top and a large padlock holding it shut. Just beyond the edge of the yard was the house, which looked just as intimidating. Except for two windows and a door in the front, it was a cube of bricks.
As Saniya tugged her bag out of the trunk from underneath Clint's heavy gear, a cat hopped onto her bag and meowed loudly. It's claws punctured small holes in the bag. The cat was pure black —she had a feeling the universe was giving her a sign about her future luck— and fur thick with thistles. Despite the rugged appearance, the cat was plump, like a furry, black loaf of bread.
She flicked her hand, hoping to scare the cat off of her luggage. "Go away," Saniya scolded. "Shoo."
"Liho," Natasha cooed. With only an outstretched hand, the cat leaped into her arms. Natasha tutted at the animal. "We'll have to get you cleaned up, won't we? Hasn't Signora Arlotti been taking care of you?"
The two rocked back and forth, similar to a mother lulling a child to sleep. Clint pulled his archery equipment from the trunk, allowing Saniya to yank hers. He reached out to pet the cat. Liho's eyes widened to an almost feral expression and hissed, crawling on Natasha's shoulders. He dropped his hand and continued pulling bags out of the trunk.
"Damn cat never liked me," he muttered under his breath.
After seeing its reaction to Clint, Marsha stayed five feet away at all times. The two sisters and Clint dragged the bags to the gate while Natasha turned the numbers on the lock, Liho balancing on her shoulders and glaring back at them. Saniya stuck out her tongue at the cat while Natasha wasn't watching.
The bags were dropped roughly to the floor when they entered the house. Saniya wrinkled her nose. It smelt like her neighbor's house: old people. Looking past the smell, it was a pleasant room. House plants, ranging from small cacti to ferns overflowing in pots were displayed on all free surfaces. A lonely couch sat in the middle of the room, looking out at the garden. Some black and white photos were hung on the walls, but many were faded by the sun.
"Signora?" Natasha called out.
From the back of the small house was a shuffling of slippers. An old woman, who had to be well in her eighties, lit up with joy at the sight of Natasha. The gentle valleys on her face deepened into Mariana Trenches as her lips curved into a Thor-worthy smile. "Natalia!" She pulled the assassin in for a warm embrace, touching their cheeks together. Her elderly eyes fell on Clint with the same openness she showed Natasha. "E Cleto!"
In a manner that had Saniya wondering if she had a stroke, all three of them spoke in rapid Italian. Even Marsha, who proudly proclaimed that her aunt was fluent in Italian and taught her some, was completely lost.
Signora Arlotti straightened her nightgown with frail, veiny hands. The sweet old lady beamed at Saniya and Marsha. "Come si chiama?"
There was a spark of excitement in Marsha's eyes. She understood what the woman was saying now, at least. "Il mio nome è Marsha. Il nome di mia sorella è Saniya," she answered.
Though Saniya did not know a single word in Italian, she knew that Marsha butchered the pronunciation. Clint smothered an amused laugh at her broken Italian while Signora Arlotti simply smiled. She glanced at Natasha. "Americanas?"
A full-bellied laugh came out of the assassin's mouth. "Sì, Signora." Liho gracefully dropped to the ground and rubbed itself against her legs.
She frowned, nudging Marsha discretely. "Did she just call us Americans?"
Her sister nodded with some hesitance. "I think so."
Saniya scoffed under her breath. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"She's right, isn't she?" Marsha whispered back. Fair enough.
Signora Arlotti turned to pat their cheeks as if they were grandchildren who didn't visit often. "Benvenuta a Italia!"
Saniya smiled back, because what else was there to do when someone was talking to you in a language you didn't understand? "Gracias," she replied.
Marsha giggled. "Saniya, that's Spanish. Thank you in Italian is grazie."
She picked up her bag before the devil cat could walk on it again. Liho glared at her as if moving the bag was a great crime. "It was close enough," she defended. "So, what's the sleeping arrangement here?"
Clint pointed towards the couch. "There's your guys' bed." Her lips curled at the small couch. It would be too small for a child, let alone two adults. He rolled his eyes. "Don't be that way. It's a pull-out."
"That's... better. What about you and Natasha?"
"We have our own room next to Signora's."
Marsha placed her bag on the couch when Signora Arlotti, Liho, and Natasha left for a walk around the garden. Their chatter grew quieter with each passing second. She opened her mouth, glancing at the two through the window, then closed it. Chances were, the same question was on both of their minds, but she was too polite to ask.
Saniya, though, was blunter and not afraid to offend in this case.
"Is Signora Arlotti her grandma or something? Who is she?"
Clint shrugged. "No idea, but I know she's not Nat's grandma. She doesn't have any family." He pulled the cushions off of the couch and stacked them in a neat pile. "Signora takes care of the place while Nat is away. That's all I know."
Marsha watched as Clint pulled the spring bed out of the couch. He struggled in keeping the bed parallel to the ground. "Where's Signore Arlotti? Is there one?" she asked.
"Never seen him," he replied. Clint glanced over his shoulder. "He's probably dead. Don't ask her about what really happened to him, though."
She tugged at her sleeves until they completely covered her hands. Even in the humid Mediterranean air, Marsha covered herself like a turtle with a shell. "Why not?"
"Because she has a gooey center like you. I don't want to be partly responsible for making her cry." Clint placed his hands on his hips and sucked in a deep breath. "Italy is the best."
Saniya could see why Clint was so excited about being in Italy. The cliff the house was on was extraordinary. In all honesty, she had jumped from prettier places, but there was a particular magic to this one. The land was alive, the feeling of it ran up her legs and tickled her stomach. And when she closed her eyes, the earth breathed under her body.
She was one hundred percent sure Clint hadn't felt what she was. He didn't seem as fascinated with the tingling grass or flowers that almost seemed to sing. He just liked the view of the town and clean air, which she had to admit was refreshing from the city.
Marsha ran her hands in the grass, rolling her shoulders as she did so. "Do you..." she let her question hang in the air, glancing over at Natasha and Clint.
Saniya nodded. With a sigh, she fell back on the plush grass. "It feels so nice," she sighed.
Signora Arlotti was sitting in a lawn chair barefoot. She ran her foot back and forth on the grass, similar to how Marsha and Saniya were. When she noticed Saniya watching, the elderly woman smiled and nodded, like she understood what they were feeling.
There was a faint buzzing in her ear. Saniya swatted around her head, expecting a bee, but there was only air.
"Witch."
Marsha paused halfway through a stroke of the earth. "What did you say?"
Saniya turned her head. "I didn't say anything," she answered honestly.
"I thought you said witch."
She frowned. She was pretty sure she would have noticed if she said something. "I didn't say anything." Marsha frowned but didn't press any further. She wasn't one to push anything.
It had been a peaceful fews hours since they arrived. They had done nothing but relax. She was afraid Natasha and Clint would immediately work on the mission, but she had Signora Arlotti to thank for the lack of action. Whenever Natasha said anything along the lines of work, Signora Arlotti distracted them with another conversation.
Her peace was bound to be broken soon, though. It was only a matter of time before she would be forced to watch Natasha and Clint hunt someone down like a wild animal. Saniya wasn't particularly excited for that. She'd prefer sitting on the cliff. Or better yet, jumping off of it.
She caught Marsha's sad frown out of the corner of her eye. Marsha's peace was broken a long time ago and she was struggling to find it again. It was a surprise she got the woman to come to Italy, let alone leave their room. The past few days... weeks... had been rough for her. Not a single night passed that there wasn't at least a tiny sniffle before she fell asleep.
Marsha did well to hide her sadness behind a smile all day, or maybe she forgot about everything when she was around others. But when she was alone at night, the thoughts couldn't be kept at bay. Either way, Saniya admired Marsha for being stronger than she would have been in that situation.
"Are you okay?" she asked, picking grass out of her dark hair.
Though her bottom lip trembled, Marsha didn't show too much emotion. Over the short time she knew Natasha, Marsha had learned a thing or two about making a mask. "I'll never be okay," she admitted, "but I don't feel as bad as I did yesterday."
She propped herself on her elbows. "Do you want to talk about it?" she offered.
Marsha nodded with zero hesitation. "Yes, I really do." She squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed away any moisture that was forming. "But it's going to hurt too much if I do. I'm not ready."
"Promise to talk about you parents when you are?"
"I promise." Marsha rolled back on the grass, lying on her back like Saniya. In an act of pure innocence that brought back memories so faint she wasn't sure they were real, Marsha held her hand. "Signora Arlotti had a sister too."
"What? Did she tell you that or something?"
Her head shook in a motion that would have been missed if Saniya wasn't paying attention. "No. I saw a picture back in the house. She had a twin sister."
Saniya shrugged.
The clouds were so fluffy and calming to watch. Maybe if she closed her eyes for a while...
"Non di più, per favore. Dobbiamo lavorare!" Clint cried out as Signora Arlotti tried to press another beverage on him. The archer held his hands up and backed away.
She covered her eyes with her arm. "What's happening now?"
"I think you have to work now," Marsha translated. Her grip around her hand tightened a fraction then she released.
Saniya groaned out a long 'no' that lasted for a good five seconds. Natasha then told Signora Arlotti something with words too fast to be any sort of language. Marsha scrunched her face as she struggled to follow along.
"And I think I'm staying here with Signora."
That caused another long groan to be released. "Ugh, you get to stay here with the magic garden and I don't? This is not fair at all!" Clint yelled her name from the house at a volume that would be impossible to pretend she didn't hear. "Coming!" she screeched back in response.
Getting up from the ground was harder than expected, but she managed to follow the assassins into the house. Natasha, already ready with a small sports bag on her back, twirled the keys around her finger. Clint, without asking permission, wrapped a belt harness around Saniya's waist. Then, he took one of Natasha's leather jackets off a rack and made her wear it.
"It's so hot, though," she complained.
"I know, but you'll need it to hide this." He held up a gun and slipped it in the harness. Saniya stared wide-eyed at the weapon stuck to her waist.
The keys stilled in Natasha's hands. "Stop that. Clint taught you how to use it."
"Yeah, but not well," she protested. As a testament to her lack of skill, Clint nodded in agreement.
She shrugged. "At least you know how to not shoot yourself with it." Natasha sighed. "It's just a precaution."
Clint opened the front door, breathing in the Italian air. "Let's go. We got a sighting in Tolmezzo a while ago and we can't lose the scent."
Natasha strutted out first, hips swaying side to side. "You make us sound like dogs," she teased.
Clint threw back his head and howled. He poked Saniya's shoulder as Natasha rolled her eyes. "Howl with me!"
Eh, what the hell. In a clash of notes that would make any musician convulse, they howled at the sky. Though she fully intended to be a thorn in their sides the entire trip, she grinned as Clint patted her head.
Clint shook his head at Natasha's retreating form. "Howl for us once, babe. Even Saniya did it and she's been Ms. Pouty-face this entire time." He wiggled his eyebrows.
Natasha was breathtaking when her smile was real. Saniya immediately understood why Marsha became flustered any time the assassin came near her. And based on the lopsided grin on Clint's face, he was just as love-struck as her sister.
"I'm not howling," she replied.
Saniya crossed her arms. "I'm not getting in that car until you do," she decided.
Natasha scowled. "I can force you to."
Clint shook her shoulder. "Nah, not when I'm here to protect Sani." He smirked. "It can be a little howl, nothing fancy," he compromised.
She glanced around at her surroundings. Nobody was there to hear her. The assassin gave a resigned sigh then turned her head to the sky. The 'howl', if one could call it that, lasted for one second and was more like singing than a release of primal energy.
"There. Are you two done being idiots now?"
Clint shrugged. "I'm done. How about you?" he asked Saniya.
She began to make her way to the car. "I'm good for now."
Murders. So many murders.
After hearing a watered-down version of why they were in Italy, she regretted coming. Searching for the woman only seemed like inviting trouble, and that was something she didn't want to do. That wasn't right... inviting trouble could be fun in some situations, but this was reckless. This wasn't something she could quickly erase by using her abilities. This was a one-way ticket to getting her own personal grave.
She felt scared. The same fear she felt when she experienced her first and last police raid on the chop shop that pulled her out of poverty. It was the same crippling fear she felt when she realized she didn't want to get married so young. The same fear of when she came face to face with the Hulk...
No. She took that last thought back. That wasn't the same kind of fear.
There was a difference between the type of fear she felt for this and the Hulk. This fear made her want to leave and never return. When she thought about the Hulk and recalled how scared she was, well, it made her excited to overcome. One motivated her to be braver while the other made her want to run away.
Saniya tried to explain why she felt two different types of fears. It was confusing to separate the two from one another, let alone come up with an explanation. The only thing she could come up with was that this woman, who killed all those people, didn't mean anything to her. She was just a nameless killer. The Hulk was completely different territory. He was Bruce. He... was something different.
This whole trip could not be spent with her being philosophical about the Hulk. She struggled to get her mind back on track.
She cleared her throat. "So I'm not actually going to help you guys chase this girl down, right?" Her foot tapped against the seat in front of her.
Clint raised an eyebrow. "Why? Do you wanna?"
"No!" Natasha smirked at her outburst. "I really don't want to be anywhere near her."
Natasha pulled out a folded piece of paper from her bag and handed it to Saniya. It was a list in painstakingly neat cursive. Each word was written in Italian.
"The boy who usually brings Signora Arlotti groceries is sick with a cold. You can shop while we look for the target."
Saniya was very offended.
"What?" she snapped. "You bring me to Italy, telling me that I have to and that it will be a good way to get experience for SHIELD, then you have me get groceries? I did not come to Italy to buy bananas!"
Clint coughed in a bad attempt to hide a laugh. The same feeling of when she knew she was being purposefully egged on, making her cheeks burn a deep scarlet. "It's either this or help us bring down the target."
Long story short, she dropped her stubbornness and chose the grocery store. They let her out at the local store with only the instructions of 'don't wander far' and 'keep your phone on'. They would only be at the hotel a couple of blocks away.
After leaving her in their dust, she took the time to properly look at the list.
zucchero
pane
formaggio
lattuga
... and the list went on with words she didn't understand. This was cruelty on the more subtle level. Leaving her in a foreign country with no knowledge of the language had to be done on purpose. They were most likely laughing about it in the car, knowing that she was way out of her element.
Agent Musa would approve of this method. She would was a good opportunity to train her resourcefulness. Screw that. Saniya didn't want this trip to be an educational experience. How could she be a proper stick in the mud when she had to use all her energy in deciphering Italian?
She glanced at the grocery store. It was quaint with an open window and rows upon rows of fruits and vegetables. Saniya sighed. The odds of finding someone who spoke English were slim.
Saniya took her old flip phone and searched through her contact list. Maybe she could call Natasha and...
Her finger froze over the button. Somehow, Bruce's phone number was in her phone.
She would remember if she asked for his number. Unless she did it in her sleep —unlikely, since many had told her that her words were unintelligible when she was asleep— someone else put it there. But, not spitting on a blessing, he was the smartest person she knew. If anyone could help her out and not laugh at her distress, it was Bruce.
He picked up after the third ring. "Hello?"
"Hi Bruce," she chirped in reply.
"... Saniya? Did Tony give you my number? How did you get it?"
The smile that rose to her face dipped a bit. He didn't sound as welcoming as she imagined him to be. After the poor farewell and this, she was beginning to think she annoyed him. It wasn't an impossible assumption and this wasn't the first time that crossed her mind.
"I... uh..." She kicked at a stone. "I just found your number in my phone. I'll... hang up now. Sorry if I irritate you."
Before she could face further humiliation, she slammed the phone shut. Her cheeks burned. Not her smoothest moment, but it was a reflex reaction. Something in his voice made her feel like she did something wrong.
As she pushed open the door of the grocery store, she ran through every interaction with Bruce. She did push friendship on him without much regard for what he was feeling. He was too kind to say he didn't like her, so maybe all this time he was just pretending he could stand her.
She picked up a basket and began scanning labels for any of the words on the list. If luck was on her side, the words would match the stickers on the food. But as she searched the labels, she began thinking she acted prematurely with Bruce. What if he was in a bad mood, but now he thought she was weird?
Her phone began to ring, echoing Beyonce throughout the store. Before she could further embarrass herself in a foreign country, she answered.
"Hi, this is Bruce, again."
Bruce, being the angel he was, called back. He was so kind.
"I'm sorry if I said anything to upset you. I truly did not mean to if I did," he apologized, though it was clear he didn't understand what he was apologizing for.
Saniya was given a second chance to not seem like a freak that she knew he thought her as. She sucked in a calming breath through her nose. "Don't worry about it. I honestly don't care anymore," she lied. She threw a box of spaghetti into the basket. "How's New York? What've you been doing?" Though the scientist didn't catch it, there was the underlying question of what was more important than saying goodbye to her.
Bruce took several seconds to answer. "Let's just say I cannot wait until you guys return. Tony's been putting all his excess energy into annoying me."
"What did Tony do?"
"He won't stop talking about your butt."
She froze halfway through the turn into the next aisle. Her head strained to look at her behind.
There was the faintest sound of Bruce struggling out an explanation. "I didn't mean to say that."
She threw a box of cookies in the basket, not caring if it was on the list or not. "What has he been saying about my butt?" He didn't reply. And if she didn't check that the call was still going, she would have thought that he hung up. "Bruce!"
"Can we forget I said anything?" he pleaded.
"Not until you tell me what he has been saying about me," she demanded to know. "Is it good or bad things?"
"I mean... it's neutral."
She glared at the tiles with such a heat that she could melt steel beams. "In the short time I have known him, he has never been neutral about anything." Instead of using the demanding tone from before, it was time to try another approach. She had to know if Tony was insulting her butt or not. "Please tell me what he's been saying. I won't stop bugging you until you do," she said with a voice as soft as she could with her current emotions.
He sighed, a clear sign he was giving in. It was ironic that he had a side of him that was so brutal and the other that gave in at her request. "Promise me you won't think any differently of me afterwards."
"I saw you Hulk out and didn't think badly of you," she scoffed. "What is it?"
"I cannot believe I'm telling you this," he grumbled. "He has been looking for security footage of all the times I... ah... accidentally —that is the key word— looked at your... posterior."
It took her a second to process what he said. And when she did, she let out a little laugh. Bruce had checked her out. Bruce had checked her out. The action of him looking her up and down was impossible to imagine, but there was video evidence of him doing so. Hopefully Tony would make a montage because she really wanted to see these videos.
She felt like she won a million bucks. The crisis of him hating her was averted and confidence was restored. If he liked her body, then he technically liked her. It was sort of shallow, but she was willing to take it. As long as Bruce liked her in one way or another.
"So," she drawled into the phone, "did you enjoy the view?"
Bruce choked a little.
He was saved from her question when someone in a green apron started speaking to her in Italian. She blankly stared back. "You know what, just text me the answer. I have to figure out how to communicate with someone from another country, so I can't have to go." With one hand, she closed her phone and slipped it in the jacket pocket.
"Marco," she said, referencing to his name tag. The worker stopped talking and stood at attention. "English?" she tried.
Marco was her new knight in shiny armor, filling the role as 'Italian Jarvis'. He lifted his thumb and pointer finger in the sign for 'a tiny bit'. "I know little English." Though his accent was very different from hers, at least they were speaking the same language.
She was tempted to hug the teenager. Saniya showed him the list of food she needed to find. "Do you know where I can find all this? I have no idea what these things are and I'm incredibly lost." Marco looked at her like she just tore off her shirt and an alien sprouted from her chest. Though, that reaction was fair. He said he knew a little, but she still sprayed him with a fire hose of words. "Sorry. Where are these?"
He seemed to understand that because he took the list and gestured for her to follow him. Within fifteen minutes, they found everything she needed. Well, she assumed it was everything, but she had no way of knowing it wasn't.
Marco helped her pay with the credit card Clint slipped her and placed everything in a nice paper bag. He even taught her what zucchini was in Italian. She'd give him a ten out of ten if she could rate the store's employees.
Overall, the trip to the grocery store couldn't have lasted more than a half hour. Natasha and Clint never specified when they would return so she waited for them on a bench outside the store. Marco gave her weird looks through the window every couple of minutes, but he didn't bother her. She sort of wished he would. She didn't want to sit alone.
Her phone vibrated. It was a text from Bruce with one word: yes.
He liked her butt.
It was official. They were on flirting terms. Now, all she had to do was be super sweet then ask him out of coffee. Then they would go out several more times before...
...before what? She came to the brutal realization that she wanted a long term relationship. Seducing a man for a good time wasn't hard, but having one stick around for months or years was a different game. It didn't help that the only 'serious' relationship she had was to avoid getting married. But that ended after she no longer needed to trick her parents.
Most of the men she dated didn't last more than two months, and more of their time was spent in bed rather than getting to know each other. She was happy with that lifestyle because at the time she wasn't interested in a committed relationship. There was no need to when she was content not being tied down. Her dating was about sexual satisfaction rather than finding her better half.
And the few men she was willing to seriously date didn't return those feelings, leaving her with a slightly bruised ego and a lack of experience compared to Bruce. He was considerably older than her. He had to have tons of experience dating women, despite his dorkiness. Just like this whole trip to Italy, she was in unfamiliar territory.
There was a roar of a car, interrupting her thoughts. It barreled down the street, much faster than the speed limit.
"What the..." she whispered as it skidded past. She blinked. That was the car they drove here in. What were Clint and Natasha doing?
Several seconds after the car, the earth shook with an unnatural tremor. Beyond the rooftops of the shops, a fiery blast filled the air, shooting debris and flames into the sky. She could hear the screams of a child from several blocks away. A thick column of smoke rose in an ominous cloud.
Beyonce filled the air, but she couldn't tear her eyes off the smoke. Marco and several other grocery workers stood outside with their mouths agape. The song stopped, then started again a second later.
Her fingers fumbled for her phone. "Hello?" she answered meekly.
"Where are you!"
"N-Natasha? What just happened?"
The assassin was running. Her breath was labored and her words were not as smooth as they usually were. "Are you still at the grocery store?"
"Yes, but—"
"Our car was stolen but SHIELD is sending another. Don't move!"
Saniya blinked herself out of shock. So the car that passed her must had been theirs. "Do we need a car now?"
"Yes!" Natasha growled.
She nodded. This was an emergency. "I'll have a car by the time you get here."
"Saniya—"
Before she could begin her protest, Saniya shifted into action. She grabbed Marco by the shoulder. "Do you have a toolbox?" she asked slowly. He just blinked, face white with horror at the sight of the explosion. "Marco! Tools! Do you have any?"
He nodded then ran back inside. Marco came back out with a box with basic tools. Though he should have, he didn't ask any questions, instead standing with his co-workers in confusion. Saniya twisted the hammer in her hand and ran to the side of the building. There, a line of cars was waiting for her to pick her first victim in several years.
Choosing the right car brought back memories. She'd only done this twice, but it was all vivid in her mind.
"And ya just jiggle it around like this and WHAM! Car started," Greg hollered as the car older than her parents roared to life. He draped his large hands over her thighs, slowly inching up. "What da'ya say? Wanna stop workin' in the shop and jack some cars with me?"
She rolled her back, pushing her chest forward. Despite her suggestive posture, she pushed his hands away from her legs. "Ask me again when I know something more than jamming a screwdriver into the ignition," she said.
He wiggled his finger with a dangerous gleam in his eye. "Then Toots, you're really going to like what I've got to show you." Greg planted a sloppy kiss on her lips.
That day she helped him steal a car right out of someone's driveway. He showed her how to get a car started with only a screwdriver and pliers. In return, she took apart a truck and scraped off the serial numbers.
The memories of Greg were mostly surrounding sex and money. The entire foundation of their short-lived relationship was built off it. But the most important thing she learned from their time together was how to be a successful criminal. She had lived an honest life ever since they broke up, but there was no shame in putting that knowledge to good use.
She removed her jacket and wrapped it around her hand. There was no going back now, she thought as she swung the hammer through the car window. Immediately, the car alarm blared, bouncing off the buildings. She hoped everyone was too preoccupied with the explosion to notice.
Avoiding broken glass, she unlocked the door. Saniya fought to recall all the instructions the Greg gave her. She remembered his exact instructions in how to take apart an engine, but how to hot wire a care was a blurry memory. That was frustrating.
With no regard for the damage it would cause to the car, she jammed a flathead screwdriver in the ignition. She twisted the screwdriver like she would with a key.
Nothing happened.
"Crap. I really thought that would work," she hissed. It was an old car, but not old enough for that specific trick to work. Saniya huffed violently. Everything got slightly more complicated. "Plan B."
She ducked her head low and removed the screws in the steering wheel console. As soon as it was removed, she threw it out of the car. A set of wires sat before her.
"Oh no. Red or brown first?" she muttered under her breath. Her memory was failing her, so she picked the wires at random.
Since the first set of wires didn't shock her, she assumed those were the right ones. As she twisted the stripped ends together, the dashboard lights flashed on.
Next, she moved to the brown wires, stripping and tapping them together. The piece of junk vibrated with life, congratulating Saniya on not being a failure.
"I'm the best!" she yelled and pumped her fist.
Safety first. She buckled herself then floored it. Not even a minute later, she spotted Natasha and Clint running down the street. Clint looked funny running with a bow and quiver on his back. It was so out of place next to Natasha with two large guns strapped to her waist.
Swerving into oncoming traffic, she parked against the curb,
Clint stared at the car then at her. "I'm so confused about what's happening here," he confessed. He was looking at her in a new light, almost like a proud father.
Natasha opened the passenger side door. "It's not confusing. She stole a car." Clint shrugged and got in the backseat. Legality wasn't much of an issue at the moment. "You know how to drive fast?"
She rolled her eyes. "I didn't work in a chop shop for two years and not learn how to drive cars fast."
The agent was as professional as ever. "Great, because we're losing the signal of our car." She held up her phone with a moving dot on a map. There were steadily longer intervals between each blink.
Before they had a chance putting on their seatbelts, she stomped the gas pedal.
As I was reading through the chapter, I realized that her skill of hot-wiring sort of came out of nowhere. There were hints in past chapters about wanting to be a mechanic and knowing someone from a chop shop. They were tiny clues that I'm not sure if anyone but me caught. If anyone wants, I can find where each of those are so you can look back.
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