14464/Something To Be Done

Something To Be Done
Date of Scene:	30 June 2022
Location:	Operations, The Triskelion
Synopsis:	A man captured and put to death. The Black Widow goes hunting.
Cast of Characters:	Phobos, Black Widow (Romanoff)

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Phobos has posed:
    "I need forensics and video analysis on the job, four teams working independently."
    The woman's voice was strained, Maria Hill's expression had been a little more haggard he last several days. And not just because of the field op situation. Things were going on with SHIELD and HYDRA, and it was not going well. Some minds with a darker turn to them were thinking it could be a coordinated effort. Though, to be fair, few had a darker turn than Maria Hill. For she was a realist and the reports coming back were negative.
    "Get it off social media and transpose the metrics so it's auto removed. Don't give them the satisfaction." As she spoke to the faces on the multiple displays in her office they would wink out of existence as they went about their tasks.
    "R&D were you able to get good scans of the gear and equipment?"
    "Yes, Deputy Director. Mostly conventional arms and equipment visible in the cave setting, but the suit is definitely ours." A nod is given, then she frowns. "Video forensics, I want every bit gone over. Compare the captures with last known images of Agent Aaron."
    A glance is given across her display to the screen as she frowned, fingertip hovering over the contact button. She said, "Do everything we can to identify the corpse. Hill out."
    Which is the moment as she closed the comms and all those windows shut, leaving her in the dark of her office as she touched that one button labeled simply, 'Romanoff'.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
Natasha was sitting in her office. The AI had been working for the last hours as she waited to learn more about the cypher. To find out about those who knew an Olympian. To learn what a Red Trigger was. She had all her blueprints. All her data. That was the only piece that was left to try to figure out. The last pieces in the puzzle. Admittedly, she didn't have nearly enough intel. But in these circumstances? That didn't matter.

As her phone rang, she watched it a moment. Allowing it to ring three times before reaching for the headset that went with it and slipping it into place over her ear. Then she pushed the button to answer.

"Agent Romanoff."

Phobos has posed:
    "Romanoff. Hill."
    The slightest of pauses, just enough of one to let Natasha know in the way she can gauge people that Maria has told herself she wasn't going to hesitate. But she did anyways. And she could read it in the way she pushed forward quickly after that slightest pause.
    "We've got some intel. It's not good news. The Red Talons of Hydra sent us a video file, same time they posted it to seven different social media sites. We got it taken down before it could populate too much after we executed the analysis of it. I've got four teams working on it to dig up what we can."
    She stops, then says. "It's of them executing what they claim is a captured imperialist invader who is using our equipment. We have people on it to analyze, could be faked. But you've got a go code and blank check."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
Silence.

It stretched out for about a minute. The information being processed. Kept apart from her emotions. Those were shut down. They had to be. Otherwise, Natasha wasn't sure she could function. It was time to be what was created in the Red Room. The machine that let nothing get in the way of the mission. There would be time for emotions later. Whatever those emotions might be, once this all played out.

"I want a fully loaded Quinjet in 30 minutes," she finally said to the Deputy Director. "And the moment that I take it, I tender my resignation from SHIELD." That way they wouldn't be responsible for what she was doing. She knew this phone call would not be recorded. Knew this was between them. Probable deniability if things went wrong. If they went right, she could "officially" be forgiven due to her overly emotional state upon the news that her fiance might have been killed in action.

"I need the video." As much as she didn't want to see it, she needed to. She knew him better than anyone. She might be able to tell better than the analysts. "Thank you, Deputy Director Hill."

She reached for the off button on the phone but didn't push it until after she said, "Black Widow out."

Because Agent Romanoff was gone.

Phobos has posed:
    The comms closed after Deputy Director Hill just nodded. Though at her desk she lowered her head and exhaled slowly. After a moment she shook her head, sitting up and furrowing her brow as she stared at the screen. Exhaled again. Then hit the keys needed to bring up those requests.
    Quinjet and flight plan pre-approval, security systems disengaged. No tracking unless Widow engaged it herself.
    The resignation was noted, marked, not submitted. Left half in and half out of process and the time marker will be clear should she finally hit the submission and it'll show she tendered it now. But for now if things went right... she could cancel and there would be no record of it.
    It was only at sending the video on to Agent Romanoff's device that she hesitated. She had watched it once. Hated it. Had seen the same and worse before. Still hated it. But Agent Romanoff would need it. So just thirty seconds after she hung up the call...
    Black Widow's display would mark the arrival of the video.
    Down in the depths of the Triskelion Agent Murtaugh, responsible for the armory and tactical gear received a signal and he looked over at his partner in logistics. "Hey Cavalera? C'mon, it's dead here. Early lunch."
    That left that room clear for anything that Agent Romanoff would need.
    The last thing Maria Hill did was activate the old expense account that the Black Widow had used when she first joined SHIELD. There. Everything covered.
    Now one last call to make, though this one was triggered by a display that simply said, 'Fury'.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
There was a dead stare at that file. Eyes as cold as stone. She was distanced. Apart. Yet she still couldn't get her finger to touch the mouse, to move the cursor over and click to open.

Natasha closed her eyes. Took a deep breath. Held it. Counted off the seconds. At one minute, she released and drew in another. It was a full five minutes repeating these actions before she finally brought her hand up to the mouse.

It was just an agent. It was not anyone she knew. There would be no face to see. If there was, they would've already identified him. Unless it was that messed up but she still thought they would've been able to get a scan of some sort.

She double clicked the file to open.

Phobos has posed:
    The viewer opened. A dark display with the pixelized artifacted look of a cheap camera having a hard time coping with too little light. Then a spotlight came on from off screen to the side, showing a rocky interior area, a cave of some sort with an array of tools powered and otherwise hanging from several racks as well as wiring connected to the metal frame of an upturned mattress skeleton.
    But it was the figure tied to a seatless metal chair that took primacy in the image, displayed front and center. The figure was hanging with head down, wearing the suit she had seen before from R&D. Though it had been better. For now the limbs had none of the electronics attached to hem. The boots were no longer in place, nor the gloves. The helmet was still on, but the mirrored visor was shattered giving a glimpse of the circuity that was underneath. But of the figure nothing was visible save their hands tied to the arms of the chair and their lower shins as the feet were off screen.
    A heavy-set dark-skinned man steps ino view wearing a green uniform. A three clawed hand displayed on the heraldry of his upper right shoulder. He too looked haggard, but definitely in better shape than the man in the chair.
    And then he started to speak.
    "Again you attack us. Again you seek to control the peaceful people of Sarkovia. You send to us your monsters. Your creatures. Your demons from other worlds. Your robots. Your drones. Your missiles. Your monstrosities."
    "Yet we are still standing."
    He looks at the camera and shakes his head, cruel face twisted in a frown as he speaks with heavily accented English. "You give aid to our enemies. Money to the unrightful rulers of this land. And you then persecute us for daring to defend ourselves? No more."
    The man shakes his head as if exasperated, "No more."
    "What choice do we have but to show you to warn you to show you what such terror will be brought down upon you and your people if you continue to harm our way of life?"
    The heavy man straightens up, shaking his head and looking truly disappointed as he frowns, "Bu we are not barbarians. We will send your man back home to you now that we have learned everything he has to say. Learned all of your secrets. We will send him home to you."
    Then he reaches over and from the nearby table picks up a heavy broad-bladed machete and brandishes it. "In pieces."
    He turns and then snaps an order in Sarkovian, << Hold him. Hold him for me! >>
    Which has two more figures with black bags over their heads reach over and grab hold of the man in the chair. Some struggling takes place, the bound man's feet digging into the ground.
    << His arm. Hold his arm! >>
    One of the men with he black bags on grabs the man's arm and suddenly there is a loud /THWOK!/.
    There are screams, muffled screams as the helmet remains in place and LED lights flicker. But when the large man turns back he holds up the severed hand of the prisoner to the screen. Holds it, then tosses it aside. << Hold him again. Hold his shoulders! >>
    The large man turns back around and then raises the machete again. And begins chopping.
    The file goes on for another twelve minutes before it ends straight to black after the violence is over.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
If Hill or Fury were monitoring, they might become concerned. Natasha watched through the video fully. From start to finish. She pushed the play button again but moved the slider over. She paused just before the machete was grabbed. She tightened the frame in, examining the various wounds on the figure. Then rushing forward with another slide to where the violence actually started. Then when the hand was held up to the scream, she paused again. Tightened the view closer to the hand. Then moved it forward more. Into the continued dismemberment of the living man. Brief moments of muffled screams. Of the man trying to pull away before being cut.

Fear.

The video was closed and Natasha was on her feet. She picked up a bag she already had nearby. It didn't seem to have much in it. Then she was off to the armory. There, she picked up everything she wanted. It took less than five minutes. The bag was full and quite heavy by the time she exited the armory. And then she was heading to the rooftop where she walked for the Quinjet.

Once inside, she closed the rear door and went through the preparations to take off. Although, admittedly, she skipped most of them. The safety protocols were not that important to her. Not now.

She pushed a button to fire up the comms, calling Hill's office. She didn't give her time to answer, just said a few words. "It isn't him." The line was cut as the Quinjet took to the air in a verticle take-off. Once high enough, the engines were shifted and she was headed east.