Turbulence

Romanoff Pointe Blank

"You should go."

Natasha chokes on her drink, believing Clint Barton has just told her to go to one of her Alias, 'Fanny's', 10-year college reunion.

Sitting on the sofa of the cabin with his three kids in tow, she sits upright in the dimly lit living space;

"I'm sorry, I'm in hiding, and you think I should venture to UCLA into the public eye for the sake of a reunion? What am I supposed to say? Hey, remember me? I poisoned Mr. Camp 10 years ago."

"That's exactly what I mean; you carry a lot of guilt. See what it feels like to be normal. Go, I don't know, reunite with an old fling."

Natasha snorts, shaking her head 'no'. She clamps down on her jaw, elbows over her parted knees as the tip of her boot hits the ground.

Barton takes up his beer and responds as if he can read her like a book, brushing off the table, "Banner will turn up. Don't give up hope."

Her head falls with a forced laugh over his reference to Banner as she tugs at one of the green stud earrings, "It's been two years after I followed him for ten. Bruce would've shown up on my radar by now."

"Do you need me to pull some strings?"

"I came out here to forget about all things green and purple for a little while."

Clint nods solemnly.

He pauses long enough for Natasha to feel his eyes on her, "I only meant to say that you should go to your reunion. See some old friends. Make new ones. Leave the gun at home. Try not to kill anyone for a few days."

Natasha sighs, swirling her drink. She chugs the contents;

"Fine, fine. I'll give it a shot."

"Don't give it a shot. Don't shoot anything."

"Who is she not shooting?" Laura is a welcomed invasion, closing Lila's bedroom door as she joins the duo.

Clint makes space for his wife and taps her knee as she makes herself comfortable.

"Nat's going to the UCLA 10-year reunion."

Natasha rolls her eyes, "He won't quit."

Laura stares, unwavering in her focus.

Romanoff leans to gloat in the belief that Laura is on her side;

"She thinks you're insane."

Clint shrugs.

"No,' Laura starts, 'I think you should be cautious. But I think attending is a fantastic idea."

"Not you, too," Natasha glares.

"Not for the reasons you think," Laura reaches for her phone.

Clint groans, "Don't make it a mission- it's a vacation."

"Not as long as this millionaire is alive," Laura taps the black and white photo on her screen and passes it off to Natasha.

Romanoff accepts it eagerly and zooms in.

"His name is Vester Beischel,' Laura shakes her head, 'he got on my radar after we took that little trip with the kids to California- you remember that snob bar owner, don't you, Clint?"

Barton widens his eyes and scratches his head, "Err-Yeah. I remember all of our vacation bartenders. I wasn't looking at you or anything."

"I wore the yellow daisy-printed dress that evening."

"Now I remember,' his eyes glow in genuine recollection, 'Terrible drinks."

"The worst champagne."

"Other than making a bad mimosa, what's his crime?" Natasha questions.

Laura shifts toward Romanoff, "I'm so glad you asked. He's got a handle on local authorities who disregard his schemes as long as they get a cut. Supposedly there's a laboratory under that bar of his. Illegal experimentation, Super Serum, all that jazz."

"Supposedly," Clint echoes.

"Find out what he's hiding. Get to the root of it and then take action."

"He's in L.A.?" Natasha requests clarification.

"He's a fellow graduate actually,' Laura is happy to oblige, 'Who happens to have RSVP'd for this exact reunion. He's highly reactive. Unpredictable. I'd advise you to proceed with caution. Who knows how many of your old classmates are also involved? Trust no one."

"That's easy."

Barton holds his head and reaches for a magazine on landscaping near the small table beside him, "Never mind what I said earlier; pack the gun, Nat."