Conundrum

Maria sighed to herself and checked the time again as she left the bar. Another shift, another mundane night; and to top it off, it was pissing down rain. It was one of the few times she cursed her decision to get her motorbike. It was going to be a wet and freezing ride home.

A miserable kind of groan redirected her attention. It was a young woman, around her age. Maria didn’t recall seeing her in the bar.

“Have you got a way home?” She asked too abruptly, causing the woman to look up at her surprised.

“No.” Despite the cold, her voice was stoic and firm.

Maria sighed again, and shook off her leather jacket and held it out to her. It wasn’t made to insulate against the weather, but it was better than nothing. “I’ll give you a ride if you want.”

“No.” The word was repeated again with the exact same inflection. 

“No, what? No, you don’t want the jacket? Or no, you don’t want a lift home?” She was beginning to lose her patience.

A hand reached out and took the clothing. “Why are you helping me?”

The ex-soldier shrugged, and irritably replied. “Because it’s the right thing to do. That, and I would rather you get home safely rather than catch pneumonia at best, or get assaulted at worst.”

“I don’t have a home.”

Maria sighed for a third time. “I don’t have much, but I have a hot meal, a waterproof tent, a warm blanket and a mattress you can sleep in for the night. But I’m not standing out here for a moment longer. I’m tired and it’s cold.”

“Lead the way, soldier.” The woman replied, with a now amused quality to her voice. 

Her guest seemed a little flirtatious, sitting on the bike behind her and making sure to press her entire front against Maria with a slow wiggle and a quiet quip, “Show me how fast you can go, baby.”

Yep, this one would have found trouble tonight.

Her guest was no different from her other ‘guests’. Maria let the woman sit out on the undercover deck while she went inside to heat up some leftover stew and to retrieve a towel and some dry clothes. The woman didn’t seem offended or upset in the slightest by not being allowed inside of the house.

Under the light of the deck, she was able to get a good look at her. Dripping red hair that seemed strung together by the rain, full lips, a heart shaped face and intelligent green eyes. The clothes and jacket left little to the imagination. Her guest had a curvy, hourglass figure. A curvy, fit hourglass figure.

Her throat went dry, and she pulsed at how this person’s physique affected her.

Maria shook her head as if it would take the feeling away, and tried to focus on what mattered. It didn’t make any sense to her. Just what was someone like this doing out here?

“My name’s Nat.” The person now known as Nat introduced herself while she wolfed down her meal. “Were you really that concerned about me being assaulted?”

“That was a bad area of town, there was a decent chance of that happening.”

“Aren’t you the conversationalist?” The redhead teased, then slowly sucked on the fork as she removed it from her mouth. “I’d be worried about the poor soul who tried to assault The Black Widow.”

It was an odd title. 

A dangerous title.

Tension filled Maria’s body, as every fibre of her being went on high alert. 

She narrowed her eyes, “Are you threatening me, ‘Nat’?”

Green eyes darkened, and narrowed back at her. 

“I wouldn’t threaten my knight in shining armour,” The woman’s tone kept the same light tone as she replied, “Besides, I don’t make threats. I make promises - and only to those stupid enough to threaten me.”

There was nothing specific that screamed danger to Maria other than Nat’s title, and yet she was left with the strong impression she was a king about to be checkmated. 

Too bad she didn’t know how true that thought was.

“It’s late,” Maria deflected. “I’m going to tuck in, I have an early shift in a few hours. That shed is an outhouse if you need to relieve yourself or if you want to change.”

“I’m cold, what about keeping me warm?” Nat asked her, with a growing smile.

“You’ve just had a hot meal, and there’s a clean wool blanket in the tent.” She replied gruffly.

“Can you check? Just in case?”

“G’night.”

*

The click of the switch and her bedroom light shining brightly into her eyes woke Maria up. She reached for her handgun under her pillow.

“Don’t even think about it.” A deep male voice instructed. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you Maria, I just want to ask you some questions.”

“You broke into my home, what -” She stopped herself from saying more. 

She had no idea who this was, how he got into her room and she had a temporary guest in a tent that had less protection than her.

Perhaps that wasn’t too true, her guest had a rather peculiar way of being frightening without doing a damn thing.

“Your little friend?” He asked as if reading her mind. “Will you tell me about her?”

“I don’t know anything to tell.” She replied bluntly. “And even if I did, I’m not sure I’d want to tell someone who broke into my house and is pointing a gun at me. Will you least have the decency to let me get dressed before interrogating me?”

The man stared at her as if she were crazy for a moment and then burst out laughing. “Bitch, as you pointed out: I broke into your home and I have a gun pointed at you. Now you’re asking me about having decency?! Get out of here. Aren’t you afraid I'll shoot your ass?”

“No,” Maria answered, growing irritated at being made fun of, and his language. “If you were going to shoot me, you would have already. Now please do one right thing tonight and close your… eye while I get changed, sir.”

And he did. 

He did shut his single eye still laughing that same crazy laughter. The barrel of the gun followed the sounds of the movements she made as she grabbed clothes and put them on.

She snorted to herself. 

If he were going to shoot her, he would have done it when she was still in bed, and in less of a position to fight back.

His laughter eventually died down, and his next words sent a cold chill running down her spine. “That sounds like something your father would have said. My name’s Fury. I’m the head of my division. How about a job? I can’t imagine someone with your background being happy with loading trucks and seeing people piss themselves every night.”

Maria slowly did her hair in an effort to buy some time. 

Fury knowing her father meant nothing. It didn’t mean they got along, it didn’t mean they shared the same ideals and principles. All it meant was that they had worked together on some level that Fury knew the basics of who Edward Hill was.

What was more telling though was this man - Fury, knew who she was.

“Sorry, I’m not interested in working for criminals.” 

There was a slapping sound by her feet, and Fury replied. “I’m no criminal, Hill. I lead an organisation called S.H.I.E.L.D aka Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division.”

“That’s quite a mouthful. I’ve never heard of it, now go away.” She snipped.

“The primary function of S.H.I.E.L.D is to provide protection for humanity, worldwide and against any threat. We could use someone like you. Someone loyal and dedicated to what’s right and wrong.”

Maria’s lips twisted, she was being played like a fiddle. As if Fury knew exactly what drove her.

“Have a think about it.” He continued. “I’ll leave this information for you. You have until the end of the week. Now turn off the damn light.”

“You turned it on.” She growled, seeing a folder only thirty centimetres away from her feet.

Maria turned off the light anyway. A minute later she heard her bedroom window open, and the man was gone.

Great. 

Some theatrical headcase was playing games with her. 

She bent over picking up the folder that had an address and time written on the front, then went outside. Her tent guest was also gone, leaving a simple message that said ‘thanks babe’ formed by sticks found from around the yard.

She really had been played like a fiddle.

Maria looked down at the papers in her hand, and sighed once again. Might as well get started and see what this was all about.

Assuming that this Fury was at least somewhat truthful in what he said, this did sound much more appealing than what she was doing with herself now.

*

Her point of contact was a mild mannered man named Phil Coulson. She liked his reserved kind of quirkiness. Maria found herself being driven to an underground military base of sorts, where Fury was waiting for her.

He didn’t seem surprised to see her. “Hill, get your ass over here. What do you think?”

She blinked and peered over the large paper on the table. Blueprints with the appropriate markings. How the hell was she supposed to know with no context?

“What’s the situation, sir?”

The man paused, and seemed to look around, making eye contact with every single person except her.

Then he laughed. That same ridiculous laugh from the night in her room a week ago. 

Others laughed with him, even if a bit nervously. “Let’s get this straight, Hill. I’m Fury. I’m not ‘sir’, or ‘mister’, I’m not ‘Director Fury’. I’m just Fury, got it?”

Maria briefly wondered how much trouble she’d be in if she punched ‘just Fury’.

“Got it.” She echoed instead, with a single nod.

“Hostage situation,” Just Fury began explaining. “We didn’t negotiate. S.H.I.E.L.D doesn’t negotiate with the enemy. But they’re demanding quite a bit of uranium-235 and plutonium-239. We have no status reports of the hostages currently. How do you think we should proceed?”

Maria’s blood ran cold. “Sir… Those are components to make nuclear weapons.”

He raised a brow over his single eye, “I knew that already, bitch. What I want to know is how to solve this damn problem!”

She gritted her teeth at being called ‘bitch’ for the second time by this man in the two times she’s met him and for the fact he was the Director and asking her (who is not currently employed) for the fix-it to this situation.

“Well obviously we want to extract the hostages alive, along with the other components they have acquired to make nuclear weapons with. It’d be too dangerous for a team and the hostages to power their way in. Have a team on stand-by and send a discreet person or two to enter here or here,” She pointed to two large conduits on the blueprint. “to get detailed information first and then send the team in for the extractions?”

“‘Obviously we want to extract the hostages alive’?” Fury quoted questionably. “We know nothing about who these hostages are, or why they’ve been detained to begin with.”

“Well, it stands to reason that we wouldn’t just leave them to die. There’s a reason they’re hostages, and regardless of the enemy’s own - there’s no reason we should let them die. But if that’s what you want to do, you’re the boss. I’m leaving.” Maria growled out as she spun to go the way she entered from.

That same stupid laughter erupted from the man. “I like you Hill. Carter, go infiltrate that building. Coulson, have Hill outfitted in a tactical suit and have her meet with Team Omega. Maria, you’ll be leading Team Omega.”

She stopped in surprise. “What-?”

“Haven’t they taught you anything in the military, Hill? I’ve given you your assignment, now get to it.”

Maria found out after they were successful with the operation, that the entire thing was a damn set-up to see how quickly she could think on her feet and to assess her physical capabilities.

She glared at Fury as he looked way too pleased with himself.

“You’ve just had your first taste with us. You’re not in the military anymore, Maria.” He said, “You have permission to voice your disapproval and concerns. I’ll consider them. But if I give you an order, then you better follow it. Now, how about an official position with S.H.I.E.L.D?”

And that appeared to be how she joined this circus of an organisation. Fury placed her directly into the intelligence division to start out with. It wasn’t as satisfying as being out on the field. But Maria learned that S.H.I.E.L.D’s strength lay in its secrecy and not brute strength or technological advances (though they had the capacity to rely on them too).

*

A few years later, Maria was still at S.H.I.E.L.D. She learned that Fury had been truthful. The organisation did its best to serve and protect without the red tape of standard organisations. Because of that, Fury had earned both her respect and loyalty. Very rarely did she have any moral issues with his decisions.

Maria gave everything she had to him and to his people.

In her father’s words; she became indispensable.

She and her team managed to locate and trap a man named Clint Barton. Barton was cooperative, wanting to join S.H.I.E.L.D. 

His partner was not. 

Fury sometimes was way too relaxed regarding his own security, and Barton’s partner got the jump on him, holding The Director hostage with a gun to his head.

S.H.I.E.L.D didn’t reward enemies by negotiating with them. Maria was the only person to follow Fury’s orders, by drawing her gun and pulling the trigger. 

Barton’s partner also pulled the trigger as Fury tried to take him by surprise and move.

The bullet grazed the side of his head.

The first thing she said to him when she entered his bay in the medical wing was “You’re really stupid.”

“And you’re really obedient.” He quipped back.

It was true, she rarely went against his orders and respected and trusted the man to the point of blindness now.

Just as there was solid reasoning for following his orders this last time. “It’ a good thing I am then, huh. He was a murderer and an extortionist. He only wanted his freedom to continue being those things. There’s no reasoning with men driven by greed.”

“He could have killed me.”

“You didn’t seem that worried.”

He laughed that silly laugh of his. “It’s hard to worry when I know you’re nearby to do what’s necessary, Commander Hill.”

Her brow twitched in confusion at the new title.

“You heard me, Commander Bitch. Now get outta here, and make sure no one’s slacking off.”

“Don’t rush to get out of bed. I’ll make sure everything that needs to get done will get done.”

“I know you will, Maria.”

It was in that position then that she started looking into assassinations and murders. Particularly assassinations and murders where the victim was always last seen or last heard of being in the presence of a female matching varying descriptions.

It was a game of cat and mouse. Their target was always ten steps ahead, and it was impossible to try to catch a target they knew nothing about. How do you catch someone when you don’t have a description, agenda or even an affiliation of some kind? Literally the only thing Maria was able to determine was that the target either worked for the Chinese or Russian interests and that was purely by how the victims deaths benefitted those countries.

“Christ, Maria.” Fury said abruptly, as he entered her office without knocking. “Have you slept at all in the last two days?”

“We’re missing something, sir.” She muttered, ignoring his question and continuing to visually scan the pictures of all the victims.

This target, these deaths were driving her crazy.

“And you’re going to find the missing piece on no sleep, are you?” The Director asked, his voice was dripping with sarcasm.

A creeping sense of failure to the people and to herself continued to creep up.

Maria asked the question that had bugged her from the first time she met him. “Did you really know my father, sir?” 

“He was as tough as nails. I didn’t know him well, but he was an honourable man.” He paused for a moment and added, “The apple didn’t fall far from the tree.”

Maybe on another day, or in another time the comparison might have filled her with a small bit of pride. In this circumstance, it only reinforced her sense of failure. “He would have already found this son of a bitch.”

“Bullshit.” Fury disagreed, bluntly. “He was tough and honourable, but he let himself be bound by the rules everyone else set around him. You may be grounded by his principles, but you’re smart enough not to be trapped by those boundaries, you’ll get this asshole. But not if you can’t think straight. Now, go the fuck to bed. That’s an order, Hill.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Nick,” He replied. “My name is Nick.”

“Carson,” Maria muttered suddenly as something occurred to her.

“No, my name is Nick.” Fury repeated slowly as if she were dumb.

“Nick, I’m talking about the politician Carson. Isn’t he expected to be giving some con of a  speech in a week's time about electric cars and becoming less dependent on Russian fuel and Chinese imports?”

“Set it up,” The Director replied, seemingly to have caught on to her train of thought.