[ Okay, she's teasing, she can't help it. But yeah, Natasha doesn't want to think about it either, although that particular mental image is nearly enough to--
Yeah. Never mind. Best to focus on the mission. ]
We do, yeah. So let's get at it, all right? I'll head for the stairs, ninety seconds. Watch the big guy on your eight o'clock; SIG in a shoulder holster beneath the jacket. Could be undercover Federal.
[But his attention is now entirely on the man, as much as it can be while still playing the part of being the average patron. Even if he does get odd looks every now and then because he's still wearing thick leather gloves.]
And he's ordering drinks but not actually drinking them. He's acting, just like we are. His eyes are still too alert. He's been communicating with the goon behind me, might be a partner.
I'll try to get the goon to follow me, you work on the waitress and keep the first one in your eyeline. If he starts something, finish it. We can't afford any loose ends. I'm going dark on mobile, activate ear-comms.
[And turn on the ear-comm he will, forcing his attention on the waitress, who looks delighted every time he smiles at her.
She's got a cute smile; with any luck, she'll be uninvolved in this entirely, so he can send her on her merry way after a night of flirting. Hopefully without a gunfight.]
[ There's static at first, but the transmission clears only moments later. Stark-Tech at its finest, of course. ]
I'm upstairs. The goon...well, he'll wake up. Eventually. The manager's office is...locked, of course. Hmm...
[ Rustlings emanate over the comm, there's a small click, then Natasha's voice again. ]
I'm in. Give that girl your best grin, Barnes. Keep that maybe-Fed down there, I'll be...maybe ten minutes. Don't want to blow this place to hell and back.
[His tone is even, professional. With him charming the girl, once in a while glancing at the maybe-Fed.
The girl is incredibly appreciative of the attention, but a part of him wonders if maybe she's a plant. Or he could be paranoid. He's probably being paranoid.]
[ Although she's not quite comfortable with trusting Barnes to watch her back--not yet, anyway; her shoulder still throbs in cold weather, thank you very much. (And let's not mention her hip, let's just not.)--Rogers has vouched for him, and Steve's affirmation does mean a lot...although her private opinions are just that: private.
But hearing Bucky's return tone does much to alleviate her innate concerns, and Natasha breathes a little easier; maybe there's hope for the man, after all.
She holds radio silence for a few more minutes, only swearing under her breath when a wire slips, but finally a few locks click, a hinge creaks, and her murmur of victory in perfect Russian echoes across their connection. ]
Verifying intel now. Pay your tab and head for the perimeter. Pinch the girl's ass and act more drunk than you actually are, and I'll meet you at the half-mile rendezvous.
[ Then her voice becomes a shade more saturnine, amused. ]
[He remembers every wrong he's ever committed. It's the problem with the serum-induced eidetic memory. Eventually, he'll have to talk to... well. Pretty much everyone about the things he's done; especially for the people Steve cares about, because they matter to someone he cares about.]
Copy that. I'm not gonna overdo it.
[He sounds as serious as he always does, but the second sentence is said with a lighter tone.
....He's going to get punched for this, but at least it'll keep his cover. He's not quite at the rendezvous point when he next speaks on the comms, but when he does, he sounds he's trying not to laugh.]
Just so you know, I think she hit me so hard she dislocated my jaw.
[ When her turn comes around, bring lots of vodka. Lots. But for now, all's well that ends well, and hopefully this particular mission has. She has the intel they'd been sent for, no ruckus emerged downstairs, and Barnes' report verifies that, so.
Natasha doesn't reply via comms, but instead steps out of a shadow at the small garage where she'd stowed the motorcycle, her own lips twitching in amusement. ]
Well done. Although I'm a little surprised she didn't reciprocate the sentiment. She'd been undressing you with her eyes since you walked in the door earlier. [ A nonchalant shrug. ] Mmm, her loss, right? Let's get going.
Gonna take a while to climb back on that horse, is it? [ Not surprising, really. The man had been literally 'put on ice' for seventy years. ] You'll have to get out more, practice helps.
[ She flicks the lock on the shed's door, opening it and, catching Bucky's eye, tips her head towards the bike. ]
[ She smirks in response, throwing a leg over the bike behind him and easily sliding aboard. ]
Women don't come with manuals, Barnes. Maybe we should make that your next training itinerary. [ Tony would get the biggest kick out of it, if so. ]
Let's not go for any impressive theatrics until we're out of this county, yeah? Don't want any local cops pulling us over.
[ It was surreptitious, but Natasha did hesitate just a fraction before slipping her arms around Bucky's torso and settling close; she had no intention of becoming road pizza any time soon. ]
I know. But I'm 70 years outta practice; I know hardly anything about this world anymore.
[He laughs at the comment, trying to picture how that sort of training would go.]
I think Steve would turn into a tomato, can you imagine?
[It might be a little awkward, he's still getting used to this whole human contact thing, but he only tenses up a little bit, foot on the gas pedal almost as soon as the engine revs up to life.]
But you're not stupid, you're still able to learn.
[ She considered giving him a light pinch for that depreciation, but opted to not as the bike's engine came to life beneath them.
She had to giggle, though, at the image of Steve Rogers' face--yes, tomato was a good description, although 'cherry red' might work, too. And no stranger to motorcycles, driving or riding, she only clung lightly as Barnes maneuvered back to the main highway, single headlight a bright beacon down the road ahead.
A few miles later, however, she felt the hair on the back of her neck shiver; something didn't feel right. She gave Bucky a tug with her left hand, a prearranged signal meaning "take the next left", and as it turned out, the next left was a little-used dirt road leading off into darkness.
But she watched over her shoulder as they made the turn, and sure enough, headlights flashed into illumination not five seconds after they left the main road. Shit. ]
Gun it, Barnes! [ Natasha tightened her arms and gripped Bucky's vest tight. ] We've got company!
Nah, you're right. I wouldn't've wanted to take the girl home, anyway, given the situation.
She was pretty cute, though. Might send her "sorry I was drunk" flowers.
[He'd probably follow that up with a wink if he hadn't been driving, just to make the light tone all the more obvious.
Bucky turns his head sharply to towards the direction of the lights, cursing.]
Damn, they're fast!
[He cuts out the lights. It makes things a little more hazardous, but that's the only chance they've got. He presses down on the gas pedal, fingers tight on the handles.]
[ She knew she should have neutralized that "maybe-Fed" back at the bar. Now it was coming back on her ass, but gnashing her teeth about it now wasn't going to accomplish much. Although there was no guarantee that their pursuer was the same bloke, she still couldn't afford a tail.
Natasha felt Bucky gun the engine; she held on out of instinctual habit. Until the flood of headlights illuminated the road in front of them, and the roar of an interceptor-level engine drowned out even the motorcycle's dragon-growl. They were flying down this dirt road, and she was briefly thankful for wide open spaces--no obstructions to bar the way.
But they had to do something about the jackass on their tail. So she hitched one leg around Barnes' waist and ducked beneath his right arm, swinging around to sit directly in front of him, strong legs locked around his torso as she yanked his handguns from their holsters. Aiming was tricky--she had to thread her arms beneath his, her hair was whipping in a frenzy around both of their faces, but in that moment, she trusted Barnes to keep them steady and upright, and her snarl was sucked away by the wind as she resolutely began pulling both triggers over and over.
The headlights suddenly went out with a crash of broken glass, and Natasha kept firing, emptying both clips into the vehicle behind them. Two bullets permeated the radiator, the rest peppered the hood, windshield and blew both front tires. She reloaded as the SUV fishtailed, began to skid, then finally slewed off the road into the cornfield beyond the mild ditch, rolling over twice before crashing to a stop.
Guns reloaded and ready, Natasha tapped Bucky's metal shoulder, indicating him to slow the bike, but she didn't immediately move as they rolled to a stop, both weapons still trained on the smoking vehicle some fifty or so yards behind them. She didn't look at Bucky, but kept focus on the target. ]
[It's because of all of his training, even if it was something he didn't go through willing, something that doesn't entirely feel like it happened to him, that Bucky is able to keep so still as Natasha reaches for his guns. He can drive and do this, no problem at all. Especially considering their lives are on the line, and it's not exactly like anyone is going to be coming for their help.
Natasha will take care of it, all he has to do is keep the bike steady and make sure that they don't crash. He doesn't stop, even when he knows the car has probably stopped.
He only starts to slow when she taps on his shoulder, craning his head behind him, sharp and alert.]
Got it.
if i'm taking too many liberties, bb, just yell at me. :)
[ and since things are evolving into more action than dialogue, i'm gonna switch to prose, but pls use whatever format you prefer! (it's just easier for me since i tag on my phone half the time) ]
Guns still pointed even after the bike rolled to a stop, Natasha carefully ducked back beneath Bucky's arm and slid off of him, her eyes never leaving the vehicle some distance behind them. She did, however, toss one of the Sigs back to its owner, instinctively changing the clip in the one she still held.
She knew Barnes would flank their target, approach from the side--it was their training, eerily similar as it was in most things. So Natasha slipped off to the left, trusting her partner to sidle towards the right. Moonlight on water made more noise than the two assassins, and Natasha had the pleasure of wading through the tall corn, although the stalks stirred only briefly, as if with the wind.
But not long after, a surprised shout rang out, followed by a thunk, a man's yelp of pain, another sickening thump, as if someone bludgeoned a watermelon with a mallet, then the corn fell still again. Unfortunately Natasha spied the second occupant too late, and she was in a poor position to take him down. The second man scrambled to his feet, pulled a weapon and fired, although she was gone five seconds before he'd even brought up the gun.
He parks the bike, even if there's a high chance they're not getting back on it. He's just grateful he didn't crash the damn thing. Bucky catches the Sig effortlessly, adjusting the weight in his hands. He turns to look at Natasha, just for a moment, before he does exactly what she expects, sliding to the right, moving silently and deadly.
He's quiet, head craning just slightly to the left, so he can listen as closely as he can in the general direction Natasha walked off in. The sound of the yelp is enough to bring Bucky's assassin training to the forefront. He barely remembers it, like it happened to someone else, but he suddenly feels sharper and focused, stalking towards the sound. Not running, but he moves as silently as he can, to take care of the second man, gun trained in front of him.
Getting shot was no joke. She could definitely attest to that. And as long as that maniac had that pistol in his hand, she wasn't going to present a target, damnit. Slithering back around the driver she'd felled, Natasha crouched amid the corn stalks, silently counting as she waited for Barnes to handle the second shooter.
She knew how good he was, how deadly he could be, and it didn't surprise her in the slightest that there was absolutely no noise, other than the night breeze rustling the stalks, and when she eased up to gain enough of a vantage point, nothing else stirred other than the still-spinning tires on the overturned vehicle.
Her victim gave another groan, swimming up from unconsciousness, and she bludgeoned him again, leaving him limp amid the stalks. She gave a low whistle, scarcely audible, but she knew her partner would hear, and signal the all clear.
Bucky spent too long being an assassin; he'll never do that again as long as he lives. But he'll allow himself to shoot someone if it keeps his people safe. Kill them? No, he can't do that. But he's no fool.
The second shooter is there, apparently unaware of how close by Bucky is. But he's too close to Natasha for Bucky's comfort, and it's probably only because he's so used to moving in absolute silence that he's able to sneak up behind the man completely effortlessly, slamming him to the ground.
The man shouts in surprise, but he's unconscious before he hits the ground, and Bucky is quick to pick up the pistol with his metal hand, crushing it like it's made of putty. He drops it to the ground, because even when the guy wakes up, he's not going to be much of a threat with a destroyed weapon. A quick pat down ensures there aren't any other weapons on the man, not even a knife, so Bucky leaves, whistling his own all-clear.
He circling around to avoid going in the direction he came before he meeting up with Natasha, giving her a right-handed salute.
Killing was for amateurs. And it was damned difficult to get any sort of information out of a corpse. She waited until Bucky signaled the all-clear, then emerged from the cornstalks and approached the ruin of the SUV, gazing at it with more than little bit of pique.
"Thanks," she told the other assassin shortly; she was still peeved at herself for not double checking their backtrail after leaving the bar. "Any ID on this goon? The other one was clean. No wallet, no credit cards, nothing." Her brow furrowed. "But neither one of them is the possible Fed, so who are they?"
She could have contacted FRIDAY and had the AI run scans on both men, but even Stark's signal was patchy way out here. So they were on their own for the moment.
"None," Bucky says, clearly annoyed. "Didn't even have anything on him other than the gone. Whoever they are, they're careful." He looks to the unconscious shooter with interest. "Whoever they are, their employers couldn't have told them much about us. It's pretty strange, dontcha think? It's not like either of us are much of a secret." It was oddly a small ambush, even for some of the lesser known members of the Avengers.
And it's not like Bucky and Natasha are unknown. "We probably shouldn't stick around. It's probably a trap. Even if they weren't expecting us to take them out so easily."
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maskirovka) wrote2018-04-08 02:44 pm
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[When was the last time he's actually gotten laid?
Never mind, he doesn't want to think about it.]
I'll be sure to. We've got plenty to do here, after all.
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[ Okay, she's teasing, she can't help it. But yeah, Natasha doesn't want to think about it either, although that particular mental image is nearly enough to--
Yeah. Never mind. Best to focus on the mission. ]
We do, yeah. So let's get at it, all right? I'll head for the stairs, ninety seconds. Watch the big guy on your eight o'clock; SIG in a shoulder holster beneath the jacket. Could be undercover Federal.
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Doesn't look like much, right now.
[But his attention is now entirely on the man, as much as it can be while still playing the part of being the average patron. Even if he does get odd looks every now and then because he's still wearing thick leather gloves.]
He's looking tense, whoever he is.
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I'll try to get the goon to follow me, you work on the waitress and keep the first one in your eyeline. If he starts something, finish it. We can't afford any loose ends. I'm going dark on mobile, activate ear-comms.
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[And turn on the ear-comm he will, forcing his attention on the waitress, who looks delighted every time he smiles at her.
She's got a cute smile; with any luck, she'll be uninvolved in this entirely, so he can send her on her merry way after a night of flirting. Hopefully without a gunfight.]
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I'm upstairs. The goon...well, he'll wake up. Eventually. The manager's office is...locked, of course. Hmm...
[ Rustlings emanate over the comm, there's a small click, then Natasha's voice again. ]
I'm in. Give that girl your best grin, Barnes. Keep that maybe-Fed down there, I'll be...maybe ten minutes. Don't want to blow this place to hell and back.
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[His tone is even, professional. With him charming the girl, once in a while glancing at the maybe-Fed.
The girl is incredibly appreciative of the attention, but a part of him wonders if maybe she's a plant. Or he could be paranoid. He's probably being paranoid.]
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[ Although she's not quite comfortable with trusting Barnes to watch her back--not yet, anyway; her shoulder still throbs in cold weather, thank you very much. (And let's not mention her hip, let's just not.)--Rogers has vouched for him, and Steve's affirmation does mean a lot...although her private opinions are just that: private.
But hearing Bucky's return tone does much to alleviate her innate concerns, and Natasha breathes a little easier; maybe there's hope for the man, after all.
She holds radio silence for a few more minutes, only swearing under her breath when a wire slips, but finally a few locks click, a hinge creaks, and her murmur of victory in perfect Russian echoes across their connection. ]
Verifying intel now. Pay your tab and head for the perimeter. Pinch the girl's ass and act more drunk than you actually are, and I'll meet you at the half-mile rendezvous.
[ Then her voice becomes a shade more saturnine, amused. ]
And don't overdo it, please?
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Copy that. I'm not gonna overdo it.
[He sounds as serious as he always does, but the second sentence is said with a lighter tone.
....He's going to get punched for this, but at least it'll keep his cover. He's not quite at the rendezvous point when he next speaks on the comms, but when he does, he sounds he's trying not to laugh.]
Just so you know, I think she hit me so hard she dislocated my jaw.
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Natasha doesn't reply via comms, but instead steps out of a shadow at the small garage where she'd stowed the motorcycle, her own lips twitching in amusement. ]
Well done. Although I'm a little surprised she didn't reciprocate the sentiment. She'd been undressing you with her eyes since you walked in the door earlier. [ A nonchalant shrug. ] Mmm, her loss, right? Let's get going.
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Despite his comment, his face looks perfectly fine. That's probably not a shock, with his healing.]
You'd think so. She was pretty into me. I guess I moved too fast on her.
[Or he gropes her too hard. Whatever the reason, that had been a bit of a shock to him, but at least it meant that his cover had been kept in tact.]
Lead the way.
[They're not through this yet.]
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Gonna take a while to climb back on that horse, is it? [ Not surprising, really. The man had been literally 'put on ice' for seventy years. ] You'll have to get out more, practice helps.
[ She flicks the lock on the shed's door, opening it and, catching Bucky's eye, tips her head towards the bike. ]
C'mon, you drive. It'll look better.
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Shouldn't take me on the missions that involve sweeping women off their feet. I'm not much use.
[But he slides into the driver's seat, smirking.]
I might need a manual more than practice.
[But that's clearly meant to be a joke.]
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Women don't come with manuals, Barnes. Maybe we should make that your next training itinerary. [ Tony would get the biggest kick out of it, if so. ]
Let's not go for any impressive theatrics until we're out of this county, yeah? Don't want any local cops pulling us over.
[ It was surreptitious, but Natasha did hesitate just a fraction before slipping her arms around Bucky's torso and settling close; she had no intention of becoming road pizza any time soon. ]
Ready when you are.
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[He laughs at the comment, trying to picture how that sort of training would go.]
I think Steve would turn into a tomato, can you imagine?
[It might be a little awkward, he's still getting used to this whole human contact thing, but he only tenses up a little bit, foot on the gas pedal almost as soon as the engine revs up to life.]
Let's get outta here.
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[ She considered giving him a light pinch for that depreciation, but opted to not as the bike's engine came to life beneath them.
She had to giggle, though, at the image of Steve Rogers' face--yes, tomato was a good description, although 'cherry red' might work, too. And no stranger to motorcycles, driving or riding, she only clung lightly as Barnes maneuvered back to the main highway, single headlight a bright beacon down the road ahead.
A few miles later, however, she felt the hair on the back of her neck shiver; something didn't feel right. She gave Bucky a tug with her left hand, a prearranged signal meaning "take the next left", and as it turned out, the next left was a little-used dirt road leading off into darkness.
But she watched over her shoulder as they made the turn, and sure enough, headlights flashed into illumination not five seconds after they left the main road. Shit. ]
Gun it, Barnes! [ Natasha tightened her arms and gripped Bucky's vest tight. ] We've got company!
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She was pretty cute, though. Might send her "sorry I was drunk" flowers.
[He'd probably follow that up with a wink if he hadn't been driving, just to make the light tone all the more obvious.
Bucky turns his head sharply to towards the direction of the lights, cursing.]
Damn, they're fast!
[He cuts out the lights. It makes things a little more hazardous, but that's the only chance they've got. He presses down on the gas pedal, fingers tight on the handles.]
Hold on, Romanova.
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Natasha felt Bucky gun the engine; she held on out of instinctual habit. Until the flood of headlights illuminated the road in front of them, and the roar of an interceptor-level engine drowned out even the motorcycle's dragon-growl. They were flying down this dirt road, and she was briefly thankful for wide open spaces--no obstructions to bar the way.
But they had to do something about the jackass on their tail. So she hitched one leg around Barnes' waist and ducked beneath his right arm, swinging around to sit directly in front of him, strong legs locked around his torso as she yanked his handguns from their holsters. Aiming was tricky--she had to thread her arms beneath his, her hair was whipping in a frenzy around both of their faces, but in that moment, she trusted Barnes to keep them steady and upright, and her snarl was sucked away by the wind as she resolutely began pulling both triggers over and over.
The headlights suddenly went out with a crash of broken glass, and Natasha kept firing, emptying both clips into the vehicle behind them. Two bullets permeated the radiator, the rest peppered the hood, windshield and blew both front tires. She reloaded as the SUV fishtailed, began to skid, then finally slewed off the road into the cornfield beyond the mild ditch, rolling over twice before crashing to a stop.
Guns reloaded and ready, Natasha tapped Bucky's metal shoulder, indicating him to slow the bike, but she didn't immediately move as they rolled to a stop, both weapons still trained on the smoking vehicle some fifty or so yards behind them. She didn't look at Bucky, but kept focus on the target. ]
--be ready.
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Natasha will take care of it, all he has to do is keep the bike steady and make sure that they don't crash. He doesn't stop, even when he knows the car has probably stopped.
He only starts to slow when she taps on his shoulder, craning his head behind him, sharp and alert.]
Got it.
if i'm taking too many liberties, bb, just yell at me. :)
Guns still pointed even after the bike rolled to a stop, Natasha carefully ducked back beneath Bucky's arm and slid off of him, her eyes never leaving the vehicle some distance behind them. She did, however, toss one of the Sigs back to its owner, instinctively changing the clip in the one she still held.
She knew Barnes would flank their target, approach from the side--it was their training, eerily similar as it was in most things. So Natasha slipped off to the left, trusting her partner to sidle towards the right. Moonlight on water made more noise than the two assassins, and Natasha had the pleasure of wading through the tall corn, although the stalks stirred only briefly, as if with the wind.
But not long after, a surprised shout rang out, followed by a thunk, a man's yelp of pain, another sickening thump, as if someone bludgeoned a watermelon with a mallet, then the corn fell still again. Unfortunately Natasha spied the second occupant too late, and she was in a poor position to take him down. The second man scrambled to his feet, pulled a weapon and fired, although she was gone five seconds before he'd even brought up the gun.
it's all good!
He's quiet, head craning just slightly to the left, so he can listen as closely as he can in the general direction Natasha walked off in. The sound of the yelp is enough to bring Bucky's assassin training to the forefront. He barely remembers it, like it happened to someone else, but he suddenly feels sharper and focused, stalking towards the sound. Not running, but he moves as silently as he can, to take care of the second man, gun trained in front of him.
♥
She knew how good he was, how deadly he could be, and it didn't surprise her in the slightest that there was absolutely no noise, other than the night breeze rustling the stalks, and when she eased up to gain enough of a vantage point, nothing else stirred other than the still-spinning tires on the overturned vehicle.
Her victim gave another groan, swimming up from unconsciousness, and she bludgeoned him again, leaving him limp amid the stalks. She gave a low whistle, scarcely audible, but she knew her partner would hear, and signal the all clear.
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The second shooter is there, apparently unaware of how close by Bucky is. But he's too close to Natasha for Bucky's comfort, and it's probably only because he's so used to moving in absolute silence that he's able to sneak up behind the man completely effortlessly, slamming him to the ground.
The man shouts in surprise, but he's unconscious before he hits the ground, and Bucky is quick to pick up the pistol with his metal hand, crushing it like it's made of putty. He drops it to the ground, because even when the guy wakes up, he's not going to be much of a threat with a destroyed weapon. A quick pat down ensures there aren't any other weapons on the man, not even a knife, so Bucky leaves, whistling his own all-clear.
He circling around to avoid going in the direction he came before he meeting up with Natasha, giving her a right-handed salute.
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"Thanks," she told the other assassin shortly; she was still peeved at herself for not double checking their backtrail after leaving the bar. "Any ID on this goon? The other one was clean. No wallet, no credit cards, nothing." Her brow furrowed. "But neither one of them is the possible Fed, so who are they?"
She could have contacted FRIDAY and had the AI run scans on both men, but even Stark's signal was patchy way out here. So they were on their own for the moment.
"Find anything else interesting?"
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And it's not like Bucky and Natasha are unknown. "We probably shouldn't stick around. It's probably a trap. Even if they weren't expecting us to take them out so easily."
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