“The saddest thing about betrayal, is that it never comes from an enemy,”
The evidence of the crime spread across the island that seperated the common lounge and the kitchen.
Dummy offered a whir and a rush of beeps.
In the weeks she had been working in the tower, Darcy had become fluent in his unique language, which had earned her the spot as his favourite human.
She shook her head and her lips thinned into a line, “I know, Dummy,” she said softly as vengeance filled her like a burning river of fire, “There is no room for mercy. As of this moment, we are at war.”
Maybe it had been a mistake for her to let Tony re-programme Dummy with a learning software. The little guy had grown quite bloodthirsty since he’d started following her around.
Darcy gathered the carnage into her arms to place it on the soft red couch, out of view from the door.
She lifted her head and climbed the breakfast island on light feet to shimmy into the vents, settling in for a long wait, the butt of the rifle she stored there rested against her shoulder so she could watch through the scope.
Dummy trundled around the lounge in circles, letting out warbling grief-filled beeps.
The lights glinted off his red paint when the door slid open an hour later and Tony walked into the lounge with his head lowered over a tablet. She held in a disgruntled grumble when she watched him sit on Celia. He gave a yelp and fumbled for the tablet before it could crack against the floor.
“Short Stack!” He yelled, “What happened?”
Her clothes whispered against the metal of the vent as she fired off a text. Tony’s phone beeped and he dug it out of his rumpled slacks.
He groaned and let his eyes drift around the room, trying to find her hiding place, “Don’t forget the rest of the team’s moving in today,”
She scrunched her nose and sent another text,
“I know you weren’t consulted, it's happening anyway. Don’t maim anyone,” He called and to most people it would sound like an off-handed joke but after last time, he meant it.
Natasha led Steve and Clint through the barren corridors of Stark Tower,
“This place is a maze,” Clint said, examining the halls of their new home
“No, it's no, we’ve been down this corridor three times. What are you doing, Romanov?” Steve asked,
“Evading,” the Black Widow said simply with a shrug and turned abruptly when the vent above them whirred to life, blasting cool air through the humid building. She stilled for twelve seconds before relaxing and ushering them into a lounge.
“This is the common room. Lounge,” she pointed to the state-of-the-art cinema set-up and the deep couches and armchairs that took up most of the room.
Dummy spun frantically in the corner until she cut a glare at him, waiting for the incessant beeping to die down before continuing, “Kitchen, fully-stocked. Jarvis can add anything you want to the shopping list, just ask-”
She cut off and dropped with a roll as the vent above her creaked and a dark figure fell from it to land on top of the Russian with a war cry that was echoed by a long shrill beep from Dummy.
The pop of bullets sounded and Natahsa was pelted with rubber and foam until she raised her hands in surrender and the figure hopped off of her with a glare.
A dark, tight braid fell to the middle of her back and black-framed glasses perched on her scrunched up nose. She raised a modified nerf gun and pinned the spy on her back with a bare foot planted on her chest, “You killed Ceilia.”
“You’re getting better,” Natasha offered, her lips curled with the hint of a smile, “Ты легко можешь исправить Селию.”
“Не в этом дело, Нат,” She growled back with a perfect accent, “Она заслуживала лучшего,”
“What’s happening?” Steve asked in confusion,
“Gentleman,” Natasha purred and nudged the foot on her chest until it moved to let her up, “Meet Darcy Lewis, she works with Stark.”
“This isn’t over, Widow.” Darcy hissed to Natasha before turning, “Sup Biceps,” she nodded to Clint, “Long time,”
Her red-painted lips pursed into a smirk as the archer's face drained of colour. Steve’s eyes darted between his teammate and Darcy,
“Oh, I forgot about that,” Natasha said and laughed freely when Clint sputtered with indignation.
Steve’s brows furrowed deeper at the sound and he had to wonder where this version of the Widow had been during their missions with Shield.
“Someone tell me what’s going on.” He said when it looked like Clint was about to pass out from shock,
“Darcy is the heir to the Raniero Mafia, one of the Five Families,” Natasha offered, “Clint went undercover with them a few years back until he was called into New Mexico,”
“The Five Families are still around?” he asked,
“There’s only really two now,” Darcy said, “Raniero and Balducci, the rest are either in jail or they hung up their colours and went legit.”
“Does Tony know?” Clint asked weakly, he hadn’t known who she was in New Mexico, not until after Thor had left and she’d cornered him in the local bar,
“Pfft, how do you think Howard made his billions?”
“Howard was Mafia?” Steve asked, unwilling to think the worst of his dead friend,
“God, no. Did you never see him fire a gun? Worse than the stormtroopers according to Pops,” She snorted and gilded around the lounge to collect a steering wheel and several mechanical parts from the couch, “Nice to meet you, Cap. Birdie,” she said and added, with a glare at Natasha, “Watch your back, Romanov,”
Darcy offered a sloppy salute with the steering wheel in her hand and swanned out of the room, her feet barely a whisper on the carpeted floor.
“Who’s Ceilia?” Steve asked.
“Her car,” Natasha grinned like a cheshire cat, “This is a warzone, Rogers, welcome home,”
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