Serenity.

﹤QUEENS﹥↛ 56TH STREET ALLEYWAY — AREA EVACUATED BY S.H.E.I.L.D DAMAGE CONTROL

"Two days, I suppose."

"That's your expert opinion?"

"Well," Bruce sighed, pulling off his gloves as he stepped up from his crouched stature. "I'm not a coroner, I prefer to work with the living, if anything."

Natasha crossed her arms, standing in line with the good doctor. They looked down upon the bodies. The four men, bloodied and lifeless, were scrawled on their backs between a dumpster and the alley wall, radiating a rather heinous smell.

While the scent left the two onlookers starkly opposed to being in the presence of the corpses any longer, small pests were less than dissuaded. Flies and maggots littered the bodies, feasting on the rotten flesh.

"They were beaten, that the cause of death?" Natasha asked, remarking on the dark bruises covering their faces, which hadn't been subject to bloating quite yet. Dry blood, turned a deep burgundy, ran from their noses.

"The beating surely did cause internal damage, but ultimately it wasn't the cause of death." He reached into the pocket of his overcoat, pulling out a small bottle. Hand sanitizer. Bruce poured a hefty amount into his hands."Their central spinal cords were severed, they died instantly afterward."

"So wh—"

"Someone snapped their necks." A deep voice interrupted the red headed woman, making her scoff as she turned towards his figure, just a few meters away.

"Nice of you to join us, Bucky."

The former soldier lowered his hood with a gloved hand, "we're not gonna find anything here. We should move on."

"Move on to what, exactly?" Natasha snarked, gesturing vaguely above their heads. Helicopters roamed the cloudless azure, ones driven by S.H.E.I.L.D. operatives. They were in search of the missing subject as well. "This is all we've got."

"And what is it exactly that we've got here?" silence hung heavily between them, the looming presence of death finally seemed to catch up with the trio.

They'd captured her face through the CCTV, but the image was unfocused and blurred; she'd only looked to the camera for a swift second while she'd been forced to cross the street. There wasn't enough for them to work with.

"He's right." Bruce finally said. "There's nothing here... just people killed by a ghost."

The only person who knew what happened was the girl they were in search of.

The alleyway was a complete blind spot (and no one claimed to see the altercation), so it was like the fight never happened. The only proof of said occurrence was the dead men.

"They were uncoordinated," Bucky broke the silence that had fallen between them. "Pulled a gun on her in the middle of the street."

"Anyone could've walked into the alleyway," Natasha added. It was quite odd that no one did, she didn't think the city could be that oblivious (even during lunch hour).

"They're desperate."

The former soldier nodded along with the doctor's reasoning. "True. But a public, four-man ambush isn't Hydra's version of desperation. Not for Se- a powered subject."

A Hydra agent would've been more careful, to reduce the risk of discovery. A Hydra agent wouldn't have cornered a girl in a public alley.

"They're mercenaries," Natasha said matter of factly.

"Are you sure?"

"We're sure," she nodded, glancing from the bodies and then back to Bucky. "We won't find anything else here."

Once again, Bruce wanted to ask whether or not she was sure. But he refrained, not wanting to sound like a broken record. "Let's head back, and convey what we found."

They'd have to tell the rest what they hadn't found.

﹤QUEENS﹥↛ ?

She needed new clothes.

For one, the blood was starting to smell. But it also made her a spectacle, a reason for people to remember her face. Someone had probably already reported her, giving the authorities a vivid description. If the police knew, Hydra knew. Everyone knew who she was. Everyone wanted her back in the cage.

She clenched her fists, nails digging into the flesh of her palms. She was already messing everything up.

Maybe she shouldn't have left in the first place. She didn't know how to operate in the real world, not without a mission.

The girl didn't know where to find clothes. Various stores lined the streets, but she couldn't tell which of them had what she needed. She'd expected to see outfits on display or big bold letters that said 'clothes' in the window. There was none of that though, so she had to guess.

She walked into one of the larger shops, with plenty of people inside. That made it easier for her to blend in, a generous space with a generous population.

The entry bell sounded as she walked inside, and the young man at the front desk waved enthusiastically. "Welcome to Queens' Selection, let me know if I can help you with anything."

She paid no mind to the greeting, she rushed into a random aisle. The girl acted as if she was surveying the items on the shelves- which just so happened to be kitchen appliances.

For a second, she was tempted to grab a knife from one of the sets. The weapon would make her feel safer, and guarded.

But she wasn't there for weapons, she was there for clothes. Just clothes. There was no need to get sidetracked.

Soon enough she wouldn't need weapons, and she wouldn't need to hurt anyone- she hoped. It was a childish hope, and she had it nonetheless. 

The girl read the labels hanging in the air, figuring that the store would have some of everything.

There was an aisle in the back of the store, called 'comfort wear'. That was where she needed to be, so that's where she went.

She didn't mull over the options for long- the selection didn't vary much anyway. Dark-toned hoodies, and light-toned joggers. They were similar to what she was wearing (just not blood-stained, obviously).

She grabbed one of each, wanting to take no more than what she needed. Taking extra just meant she would have something more to carry. That would just slow her down, she couldn't afford to slow down at all. 

The girl felt eyes on her, and when she glanced to her side she found them- found him staring at her. 

He was strong like a mercenary, but she could tell he wasn't one. He wasn't a normal civilian either, he just didn't have that air. In both of his hands were grocery baskets, filled with produce and meat. He wasn't ready for a fight, he was shopping. Like her. 

Normal people didn't fight in department stores, she reminded herself. They didn't cause a ruckus over a glance in their direction. She had to be normal.

So she stared right back at him and decided that she would keep staring until he did something.

Normalcy was torturous.