2014-04-24 - Cutscene: Cold Storage

The red-headed woman looks at the unconscious form on the bed. Other than the other woman's swollen stomach and dark circles under her eyes, the two look identical. The one standing in the doorway runs her fingers over the gun strapped to her thigh, fighting the urge to pull it out and put a bullet between the other woman's eyes.

If it wasn't for the two men standing with her on either side, and the other man down the hallway... she might just. James's presence makes her uncomfortable. He should be in Russia, he should be killing for them-- not wearing armor and a costume that's hitting the uncanny valley for Steve's. His hand rests on her lower back, almost possessively, but comforting.

That is uncomfortable as well. She doesn't ask him to remove it. She doesn't push him away, she doesn't pull away. She just watches the other woman breathe, slowly, occasionally shaking as the particles inside her continue their work.

The other man, on her other side, moves to the woman in bed and scans her with some sort of device of his own devising. The tall scientist with wings of white hair at his temples hmms, already losing himself in the scientific possibilities.

"So, can you do it, doc?" A familiar voice says behind her. She glances over her shoulder, seeing the scowling form in purple with his arms crossed across his chest. He's refusing to enter the room. She can't blame him. She doesn't want to be there either. But she must.

Who else can make this call? That's her, on the bed there, and regardless of anything else, that is enough for the Black Widow to insist on being the one to make the call.

Mr. Fantastic glances back out at Hawkeye. "Oh-- of course. Apologies, I was just fascinated with how the speed particles are breaking down the clone. It's an imperfect one, and--" a sharp glower from the Winter Sold--no, Captain America, now-- silences the scientist's train of thought.

"I want her on ice. And I don't want anyone knowing where she is. Not even me." Or Fury. Or Stark. Or anyone else that might have something they can use her for. But she doesn't say it outloud.

Mr. Fantastic looks over at Widow, the real one, curiously. "What about the--"

She cuts him off before he can say it. "You said yourself she will not survive long enough to deal with those. Put them all in stasis. We'll deal with them later." Her tone is cold, uncaring.

The scientist nods, murmuring to himself as he considers how to move the other one, what all he needs to do. The archer looks away, angry and discomforted with the entire business. The assass--the soldier draws her a step closer.

The spy allows it, but doesn't break her gaze on the other. Not until the scientist removes her, and takes her back to the Baxter Building and then parts unknown. As the other leaves, the archer stalks back down the hall, muttering something about a beer.

The soldier looks down at the spy. "It's over now, Natalie."

The spy looks at the now-empty bed.

"It's never over, James." And then she takes her leave. She has work to do and things she must catch up on.