A Little Song Bird

The Netherlands

August 10, 2019

11:29 am

"Doll, come on, we need to head out." Bucky's voice rings in my head as I'm shaken awake. Opening my eyes, his face fills my vision and I can't help but smile. It'll all be okay since I have him back.

"Squirt! They won't let me kill him!" Wade screams from another room and I choke back a laugh as Bucky lets out an exasperated sigh.

"Please make him stop. I can't kill him, nor does pain stop his crazy ass." He grumbles. Standing and stretching, Nat comes into the room looking just as done as Bucky is. Her once perfect braid is now messier, as if she's been tugging at it.

"Wade!" I shout and something crashes to the floor. "Get your shit together! Don't make me decapitate you again!" Yelling as I enter the room he's in, Wade turns to me with hands raised in surrender. Pierce is slumped over, unconscious, in the chair. The sound of an engine fills the air before I can even attempt to deal with this. Not that I really wanted to have to carry around Wade's head anyway.

"Supplies are here!" Nat calls closer to the front door. Shooting a glare at the man in red, I leave the room. Pierce is going to have to wait. Making my way to the porch, I see one of the Shield jets land in the small field.

Barley waiting for the engines to stop, I approach the door. It opens easily, the black exterior is cold under my finger tips.

"Hey Shadow," Maria calls from the cockpit as I look over the bags on the floor. Though, the jet itself is catching my attention more than anything. I really like it. Much nicer than mine. All kinds of fancy gadgets that mine doesn't have.

Her footsteps approach and I nod in greeting. "It's all here. Everyone's tactical gear, some weapons and some things for Saint that Fury's had in development." Her professional tone is almost comforting, the less emotions the better. I've always liked that about her.

She grabs a bag and heads towards the door, "Oh and this is yours." Gesturing to the jet and then she salutes me before stepping out. Whistling, I spin, taking in the beauty of the jet as I wander to the cockpit. Caressing over the gadgets and controls. I grin. She's beautiful.

Back in the hangar, I squatted by the four bags, each labeled with our initials. BW, WS, WW, and TT. Though I ignored the first three, already knowing what's inside. I'm curious what Fury developed for my boy.

The sound of the zipper fills the jet but my jaw drops at what stares back at me. A vest, similar to what I've seen army dogs in, but this is sleeker, more aerodynamic. It's breathtaking, the sleek black material similar to the material in the widow suits.

Looking back into the bag there sits four redesigned boots. Perfect to protect his feet. Voices filter in from outside but curiosity wins over. Unzipping the bag labeled for me, my eyes latch onto the outfit.

Fury knows me all too well.

Sitting on top is a snowy white fedora with black trim. A grin takes over my face as I hold it in my hands, memories of my murderous world tour surface. The fedora was my signature to them, a signal of what was to come, a sign of La Fantasma.

Gently placing it on the floor, I look back into the bag. Sleek black slacks unfold as I lift them, but I know better, it's filled with hidden pockets. Under them is a dark green vest top, with a low v-neck, perfect for stashing knives in my bra.