Chapter 18
The odd thing about White Knight is that suddenly the moves that SHIELD had been so carefully watching stopped.
Maria had actually sent out troops at the last location of activity to search for a body because all movement stopped abruptly.
Natasha waited to hear back the results. The agents couldn’t find a body, at least not one they could contribute to White Knight’s brand of ‘justice’. The violent bloodshed of adults abruptly stopped.
Then cameras pick up sights of White Knight stumbling down the sidewalk in New York, across the world from where White Knight liked to linger. Natasha had watched the footage over and over again, taking in the sight of blood staining their uniform as they stumbled to one building in particular.
Natasha wondered what brought them to New York. Some part of her hoped that it was because White Knight wanted to reach out and talk to her, that despite White Knight fleeing before, they wanted to either speak or try and eliminate Natasha.
Either way, Natasha asked Maria to be put on a mission to scout out where White Knight had landed. Maria stares at her, raising an eyebrow and Natasha refuses to elaborate. So Maria simply agrees, telling Natasha that if she was a Widow and Natasha brought her in then she had to either be sedated or in magnetic lock cuffs. Natasha doesn’t argue, accepting a pair of cuffs from Maria, shoos Clint away after insisting she doesn’t need a partner for this, and heads out.
The apartment complex is rather small. They wanted to stuff as many people into the building as they could and the inside has the faint scent of mildew lingering in the air. Natasha enters and steps into the elevator as she tries to scout out which floor White Knight had sought refuge in. The carpeting in the hallway on the sixth floor has been cleaned recently but there are still dark drops like spilled coffee decorating the floor every few steps. Natasha follows them to one apartment in particular. She reaches out to knock on the door and waits.
The door swings open a few moments later to reveal a tired-looking woman, her frizzy hair a mess and bags under her eyes. “Can I help you?” She questioned, raking her eyes over Natasha’s form. “What brings an Avenger to my doorstep?”
“I’m searching for someone,” Natasha replied, unsurprised that she was recognized even in the casual clothes she was undercover in. “Have you had any recent guests come to stay with you?”
“Just my niece,” The woman replies cooly, gesturing to the couch in the background behind her where Natasha catches a glimpse of something human-shaped bundled under a pile of blankets as the television played. “Unless you’re searching for a thirteen-year-old who was recently suspended because she punched a boy’s nose for trying to look under her skirt then you’re at the wrong apartment.”
“No,” Natasha replied, searching for any hint of a lie in the woman’s face.
“Hey, Dina!” The woman turned to call to the figure snuggled in the pile of blankets. “What did you do that caused an Avenger to show up on my doorstep?”
“Nothin’ Aunt Layla!” The young voice protests from the blankets, a southern drawl in their voice. “Are you messin’ with me?” The figure sits up to reveal that they’re wearing a hoodie with the hood up. Their head turns toward the door but the upper half of their face is cast with shadows.
Natasha only sees a jaw and lips, too little evidence to go on. “I see. I apologize for the intrusion, please forgive me.”
The woman’s eyes suddenly snap onto Natasha at the apology and Natasha thinks that she may know more than she realized when her stare is just a little too hard. “It’s fine.” The woman, Layla, assures Natasha. “You have a job to do, I get it. But I highly doubt that thirteen-year-old girls are Avenger-level threats.”
Natasha refrains from mentioning that children as young as eight could be deadly given the right circumstances. Instead, Natasha gives her a smile. “You’re right. Thank you for your time.” Natasha turns on her foot and the woman goes to close the door.
Natasha picks up on the young voice asking. “What was that for, Aunt Layla?”
“They’re searching for someone, kid,” Layla replies as the door shuts and locks.
Natasha heads back to SHIELD and searches for information on the woman in the apartment.
Layla El-Faouly, age 28, of Egyptian descent, and the last living member of her family. She had no siblings that Natasha could find but Natasha knew that familial relationships didn’t have to be by blood. Natasha herself was an aunt to two children despite having no biological relationship.
The only name that Natasha had to go on was Dina. An Arabic-derived name much like Layla.
Maybe Natasha was thinking too much into it. But something didn’t feel right. If she was wrong then she was digging into the past of an aunt looking after her niece, disturbing whatever calm they had settled into.
If she was right, however…
Natasha doesn’t recognize Layla as a Widow but she wouldn’t scratch that possibility off the list either.