SPENCER REBECCA BANNER WASN'T LOOKING FOR ANOTHER ANNOYANCE IN HER LIFE.
BUT APPARENTLY PIETRO MAXIMOFF HAD ALREADY VOLUNTEERED.
disclaimer : these aren't my gifs and I don't follow
plot lines
cover credits to @LogansNarnia !
A/n : did anyone see that new clip of the falcon and winter solider?? the past tense being used to to describe Steve? no thanks lmao
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IT'S DAY TIME.
Spencer thinks, anyway. It was hard to tell through the small slit of a window that pretty much only showed snow, but it looked a little pink. The last few hours had been fairly quiet, so Spencer assumed this was dawn and not dusk.
Not that it mattered. She was pretty sure these guys didn't follow standard timed itineraries.
Since the meeting with the first soldier, Spencer hadn't seen anyone else. There was no food, nothing to drink, and her headache had gotten worse. Her skin had faded back to normal, and she could feel her strength draining.
She was tired.
The guy who just stomped over her cell, however, did not care about Spencer's well-being.
Spencer stared for a second, not sure of what to do as he shoved the key into the cell door. Yanking it open.
"Vstavat," he growled, and Spencer had no clue what he was saying, so she stayed glued to the ground until he yelled something else, and grabbed her arm, yanking her to a standing position. Spencer struggled to stand, and the cuffs at her hand-cut into her skin, not allowing her to stand straight. "You speak English?" the man demanded as he shuffled her out.
Spencer nodded, swallowing hard. She wasn't going to speak, because she's pretty sure that her voice sounded weaker than she felt, and she had a feeling these people didn't do too well with weakness.
"Good," he said, sharply, pulling away from Spencer as she rubbed at her wrists, standing up straighter. His eyes pierced into her as he told her, "Now, you fight."
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"HOW'S THE SOURCE?"
"Not good," Clint replied to Natasha, glancing up at the woman who was standing over his shoulder. "Looks like a dead end. Seems to be a few rogue agents," he excused, scratching at the back of his neck. His chin jutted to the lab across the hall. "Does Tony have anything?"
"Dead ends, false trails," Natasha excused, letting her eyes peer across the hallway, where Bruce was hunched over a computer, and Tony and Steve were discussing at another desktop monitor. She looked back to Clint. "This doesn't look good."
Clint didn't say anything - he didn't have to. Natasha could tell by the way he hung his head that he agreed with her.
After a moment, he asked in a softer tone, "How's Bruce doing?"
