We're in the Endgame Now | Endgame [2]

Chapter 4

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A sleep-deprived Irina watched the holograms of missing persons on the round table in the common room pop up. It'd been two weeks since Thanos his fingers —no one's come close to finding him or any possible solutions to bring everyone back, nor had any trace of her father been found.

The restless nights had taken its toll on her; dark circles under her eyes, the constant need to move around and keep busy, despite every movement feeling like a weighted-sack of bricks.

  The hologram of the wrinkly old man disappeared —someone's grandfather, husband, father—  and another took its place. Freckles dusted his round pale cheeks and nose, while his pencil straight, fiery red hair covered part of his bright blue eyes —he looked to be eight or nine-years-old.

  The kid's hologram faded. "Can the Air Force, or any branch, help us?"

  "No." Rhodey looked up from the tablet in his hands, "Not since Thanos just happened." Frustrated, Irina swiped the holograms away —she couldn't bare to see another kid's face. It made her sick to her stomach. "Sorry, kid."

  "I'm not a kid anymore."

  "You're still that annoying little kid in diapers that could never stay outta her daddy's things."

  A ghost of a smile formed on Irina's lips, "Dad always said I 'never liked being out of the garage'."

  "And you didn't. You just had to be in the middle of, whatever the hell he'd be working on."

  Irina remained silent, smiling as she remembered all the countless hours she used to spend in her father's workshop/garage in Malibu. She shook the memories away, her smile fading as she sighed, "Have you ran anymore deep-space scans or satellites?"

  "Ran another space scan an hour ago. And the satellites .  .  ." Rhodey tapped on the thick-framed tablet, " .  .  . satellites came back empty."

  "Run another," Irina ordered, and pulled one of the chairs out.

  "Yes ma'am."

Occupying the once-vacant chair, she ran her fingers through her downed-curly locks, "And Fury's pager? Found anything yet?"

  "Unfortunately no." Rhodey placed the tablet on the other side of the round table —opposite Irina— and leaned over the back of another chair, "The signal's still transmitting, and that weird symbol is still on it. And we still don't know who it's for."

"Clearly Fury wanted someone to see this signal," Irina muttered to herself. "Does Bruce have any ideas who it could be for? Or even Thor, or Steve, or Nat or someone."

"Nah-uh. We're in the dark with this thing."

A heavy sighed escaped between Irina's lips. "And the frustration thickens . . ."

"We'll figure it out," Rhodey said, optimistic. "We always do."

Irina nodded, scooted her chair, then stood. "Nat in the training room?"

"As far as I know, yeah. Kicking someone's ass, the air's." Rhodey shrugged, "One or the other."

The dark-haired woman smiled and exited. She passed Thor and Rocket in the lounge room, giving them quick greetings before continuing. She entered the training room moments later, Natasha's grunts as she swung, kicked, and did all her Widow-moves reaching her ears.

"I think you killed it," Irina said.

  On the mats, Natasha froze, fists up. Realizing who it was, she dropped them, and narrowed her stance to normal. "Hey."