Natasha is slowly falling apart, and it's only getting worse from here.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
If I time it right, the thunder breaks When I open my mouth I wanna tell you, but I don't know how
. . .
Norway
"After the Sokovia Accords," Natasha tightens her grip on her freshly bought hot chocolate, as the heat flows through her. She can't handle the smell of coffee, even the thought of it makes her nauseous. "The hunt is on for the remaining Avengers," the newscaster continues over the radio, "Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff are currently on the run."
Natasha continues driving down the long, curvy road as her thoughts spread through her mind. Thoughts about the team. Tony. Steve. The team's in prison, and she knows she's gonna have to come up with a plan to get them out. But she can't right now. Not without some type of help.
Finally, she pulls up to the safe house, anxiety building up through her. She opens her door, stepping out, over the soft grass. She walks around the back of her car, pulling her weapons case out of the back. Quickly, she grabs her favorite glock. The familiar feeling washes over her.
Natasha places the gun out in front of her, striding to the door. She kicks the unlocked door open with her foot, listening closely for any noises. She grips her gun tighter, not risking putting it down until she's sure there is no threat.
The redhead makes her way to the small bedroom in the back of the trailer. She listens closely, hearing the sound of a man snoring. She allows herself to smirk, lowering her weapon. Natasha shakes her head, as she makes her way around the bed. She always finds him sleeping.
Natasha gently kicks him in the foot, watching as the man jolts awake. Her smirks deepen, shaking her head slightly. "You're in my bed."
Mason huffs, struggling to get off the bed. "I'm... I'm not even under the covers," he argues, as he rubs a hand over his sleep-glazed eyes.
"Did you get everything on my list?" Natasha changes the subject. She makes her way into the small kitchen, hearing Mason follow behind her.
"Got passports, entry visas, a couple of local driver's licenses," Mason smiles proudly, "Mix and match, you should be able to stretch it to 20 or so identities."
Natasha nods, filing through the IDs placed on top of the counter. Nadia Davis. Emma Jones. Fanny, wait, what? "Fanny Longbottom?" She playfully glares at Mason, watching as he lets out a laugh.
