C҉R҉O҉W҉ | ᴍᴄᴜ x ᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

IV - 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟

THE WORKSHOP, ONCE AN ORGANIZED space was now a chaotic mess of scattered tools, materials, and blueprints. Y/N had discarded his suit, left in his tightly fitted compression gear, his hair disheveled, and the dark paint around his eyes slightly smudged from hours of work. 

The suit he had been working on stood on a mannequin, a sleek, upgraded version of his previous attire.

But still a work in progress.

He picked up a sharp blade from the table. Without hesitation, he struck the suit with the blade. The blade barely left a mark, the new material proving its worth. He followed up with a series of forceful punches, each blow echoing in the otherwise silent room. 

Satisfied with the results, he stepped back.

A laptop on the workbench emitted a soft beep, drawing his attention. The screen displayed a progress bar, which had just completed its task. 

The encryption was now fully transferred to a small device that fit neatly in his palm.

He picked up the device, examining it closely. 

As he pocketed the device, his laptop buzzed with a notification. It was from Fury, informing him that new personnel would be arriving shortly. 

Y/N glanced at the window, the first light of dawn breaking through the horizon. The sun was rising, casting a soft glow over the hellicarrier and the vast ocean beyond.

He took a moment to appreciate the quiet beauty of the scene. The light seemed almost foreign. But there was work to be done, and the dawn only marked the beginning of another long day.

He walked over to a small washbasin in the corner of the room, splashing cold water on his face to clear his mind. 

The dark paint around his eyes smeared further, but he didn't care. He grabbed a towel, drying his face and looking at his reflection in a small, cracked mirror. 

His eyes were tired but determined, a reflection of the relentless drive that kept him going.

'New arrivals. More people to trust, or more variables to consider.'

••••••••

THE SOFT RUSTLE OF THE FABRIC broke the early morning silence as Natasha pulled on her attire. She slipped into a simple cotton red shirt, the color vivid against her fair skin. 

Finally, she reached for her leather jacket, zipping it initially but she pauses midway and decides against it, opting to remove the zipper altogether.

She stood in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection. She brushed a strand of red hair behind her ear, taking a deep breath.

Natasha clenched her jaw, her fingers gripping the edge of the sink. A soft knock on the door broke her trance. Natasha turned, before she slowly opened the door to find an agent standing there.

"Agent Romanoff." He greeted, "You're needed on the deck. The new recruits have arrived."

Natasha nodded, a silent acknowledgment, and followed the agent through the labyrinthine corridors of the Helicarrier.