The lost Widow - Natasha Romanoff x Female

Chapter XXV

"Since when has Natasha been such a fury?" muttered Tony.
He was slumped in an armchair, holding cool packs with both hands, one to the already forming bump on his head, the other to his ribs, that would give a juicy bruise. No one dared answer him for fear Natasha might still be within earshot. They all, with the exception of Nat, Yelena and Nina, sat in the lounge, most licking their wounds. "Do we have any more ice cream?" volunteered Sam from the sofa. "The last one's on Tony's head," Bucky replied.
The door flew open and almost tore off its hinges. The only thing missing was the gun in her hand, that would have completed the bizarre picture of Natasha absolutely fuming with rage. Her dishevelled hair still had the dust and smoke of the crash stuck in it, her suit was filthy and her face had not been spared either. "Who the hell came up with the insane idea to shoot us down?!" Her scream echoed around the room. "How reckless can you be?! You're lucky everyone is still alive!" she continued her loud monologue. Tony had pressed himself deeper into the seat, everyone was still alive, but, the way Natasha looked right now, that could change very quickly. "If Nina had been seriously harmed, believe me, none of you would have escaped!" Several deep gulps rang out, none doubting this threat in the slightest. "Hey, nothing happened, you guys survived it after all," Tony tried meekly. Now he was really glad Natasha didn't have a gun on her. "Okay, okay. Nat, maybe you could calm down a bit, for now it's important that we're all okay. Nina's being patched up." Yelena had also joined in and managed to calm her sister down at least a little. "She wouldn't need to be patched up if  someone  hadn't decided it was a good idea to shoot a rascal right in our faces!" she continued to fume.

For a few seconds no one said anything, letting Natasha's rage cool down a bit. Then Tony decided to make another attempt at an explanation: "In our defence, how were we supposed to know it was you?" Relieved that Natasha didn't immediately punch him in the face, he continued. "All we saw was a strange jet coming straight at us, were we supposed to just wait and see who it was and give ourselves the benefit of the doubt and get the enemy right in the house?" He was right in a way, if they had known who they were facing they wouldn't have dared even think of attacking. "What kind of jet was that anyway, I've never seen anything like it." "Well, now you won't have much chance to look at it either. Where you shot it down."
"You shot down my jet?"

All heads turned to the person suddenly standing in the doorway.
Nina looked as if she had been trampled by something, numerous small wounds around her face, most of which had already dried and formed small scab lines. She held her right arm in front of her still aching stomach, her left supported her weight on the door frame. All in all, one should have felt mostly sorry for her. But the ice-cold look in her sometimes-loving eyes showed absolutely no pain or weakness; it was the epitome of menace. "Who. Has. My. Jet. Shot. down? Which one of you was stupid enough to do that?!"
Tony's greater desire was the ability to take the shape of a pillow. More easily than he would have liked, the reproachful looks in his direction announced his guilt. "So, the genius decided it was an intelligent idea to mess with me?" Nina's voice was fearfully calm as she asked the question that was absolutely not a question. But then, after Tony had literally melted under her gaze, she turned it away from him. All eyes followed her as she strode over to the window and looked out. There it lay, the wreckage of her once graceful jet, her masterpiece. For a moment she felt a slight sadness rise within her. This had been her master project, a true success. It felt as if she had lost her first-born. Her gaze slid over the pile of scrap metal, the spire that once formed the cockpit in which so much of the finest engineering had been embedded.
Nina's brow furrowed finely. "You just blasted a missile at it?" she asked - this time, really - slowly. Tony, expecting it to be a trap looked briefly at the other faces.
"Uh, yeah," he admitted meekly. "The normal missiles from the defence system, I take it?" she continued, not taking her eyes off her baby. A quiet 'yes' was the answer. "Mm." she mumbled and nodded.
"Are we sure she didn't hit her head once too often?" whispered Sam to the group.

Nina crossed her arms in front of her chest, still looking out. A slight undertone of reproach resonated. "I just wonder why you hit it."
Two faces abruptly lost colour and four feet tried, as quietly as possible, to leave the room. Natasha already had her hand hovering over the doorknob, when the sharp point of a knife rammed into the holt, between hand and doorknob, and stuck, trembling. Immediately she yanked her hand back. Shocked looks shot back and forth between the weapon and the thrower. "What the fuck, Nina. Can you maybe leave my sister'-" A second knife slammed into the wall millimetres from Yelena's temples. No one moved.
"What the bloody hell have you done?" hissed Nina. The fingers holding the third knife twitched menacingly. "I save both your asses, get beaten green and blue, only to have you destroy My baby, on its first real flight?!" Nina's voice started at calm danger and rolled over in full fury. Space was too short, time too short, and Natasha's reaction too slow to do anything before the cold edge of the knife pressed into the flesh of her throat. "Wow, Nina, is that really-" the pressure intensified. Steel blue eyes bored into hers. Even if Nina was smaller than the Russian, her gaze nearly kicked her into the ground. "I told you, do not, under any circumstances..." A mad glint peeked out in the dilated pupils. "Under no circumstances, touch anything."
No one would have been surprised if Natasha's body had slumped to the floor, dead. "Nina, could you maybe-" The look, like water cannon of irascibility, hit Yelena and silenced her.
"Who, which one of you did it?"