Memorabilia

Benji rubbed his eyes as he sped down the small country road, breaking the speed limit for sure. Could saying he was an American count if a police officer finally showed up? Surely an american like him couldn’t know the speed limits? They were in kilometers after all! Please ignore the British accent good sir! No? Maybe go with Russian? He never did convincingly pick up an American one.

He didn’t exactly like speeding, his old job had enough of that, but he wasn’t keen on being out here for long. The needed gas was in his trunk, nothing extra. The chills creeping up his spine were only disturbing him more and more and he swore the car's lights whizzing past the tree trunks lining the roads were lighting up silhouettes.

He was way too distracted to drive this fast. On missions he was rarely the one driving. Ethan was almost always the one driving, him being considered the leadfoot of the team. It was between him and Luther on who got to drive shotgun or backseat. Benji really did prefer the back, even if “the back” was more often than not the back of a van that Ethan was driving either too nicely or like a madman.

Dammit it was way too late. It was around past midnight and being jet lagged didn’t help the least bit. Stupid humans, getting all emotional late in the night. “If you think people hate you, get sleep”? Whatever.

Benji’s vision blurred for a second and the forest only lit by his headlights became unclear. He lifted his trembling hand to his eyes and wiped at some moisture gathering there. The exhaustion was getting to him no doubt about that.

Benji quickly reached for the radio while slowing down a little, trying to find a radio station still churning out just something to listen to. He prayed to find some classical music. Surely some radio station has taken advantage of some grumpy and insomniac pensioner wanting to listen to some tunes at ass o’clock in the morning. Please?

Benji reached over to the tuning button and after a bit of prodding around, high pitch rustling filling up the car it came tooo…

Yes, success! NRK Klassik at 99,3! A beautiful melody filled Benji’s ears. It seemed almost longing and somber but still hopeful and comforting simultaneously. It had periods of both sadness and something akin to a summer in notes. Like bird sounds. It was haunting. Benji didn’t recognize it but it was most likely a Norwegian composer, duh. Norway had quite a few good ones too. Maybe Grieg? It was a good bet, he was one the most well known composers to come from these forests.

Benji could lose himself in the music for a bit. Just drift.
.
.
.
But not off the road. Hah! Stupid.

Benji slowed down for an intersection, intending to turn onto a bridge. He looked, not really expecting anyone to come from either direction at this time of day and moved ahead.

Suddenly Benji felt like he was falling, his stomach in his throat and empty but simultaneously filled with lead and tumbling around his insides. His breaths came out in short puffs.

He felt anxious, vulnerable. His hands gripped the steering wheel as he crossed over the ice cold river. Like presto music, fast fast fast.

Nothing, just nothing as he got over to the other side. He got over the river just fine. His white knuckled grip on the steering wheel relaxed just slightly. Just nothing damnit. Natasha’s place wasn’t far out.

_______________

Natasha sat in her darkened home. It had been an hour and a half since he left. It was taking him a while.

She glanced at Dunn’s partially unpacked bags. He had taken out some of his things during the afternoon. Some tech stuff. Hm. He did remind her of Stark a bit. At least her grievances with Stark were such a different kind of personal. A book was among the belongings too, with a little bookmark poking out. Stark wasn’t too much of a snob against literature, but preferred it in audio form while he tinkered.

Natasha glanced up from Dunn’s belongings on the living room floor. Yelena was staring outside, leaning just off to the side of the window, looking for any lights heading their way.

Suddenly Yelena twitched like she had seen something. Natasha moved up silently and managed to see outside.

“пизде́ц, he is finally here.”

Yelena was still staring outside.
“Took him sometime.”
“A trap for us? Awful planning on his part.”
“нет. No. Too obvious. мудак wouldn’t give up his cards this easily.”

Natasha stared at Yelena for a second. Yelena stared back.

Dunn had gotten out of his car and was pulling the needed fuel out too. The two of them watched and listened as he got to work filling up the generator outside.

The generator awakened and so did the house. The feel of Dunn’s footsteps up the stairs awakened them out of their staring contest. Yelena nodded her head slowly. They turned to look at him as he was opening the door but Dunn was looking at something in the woods. Natasha looked there too. Nothing seemed amiss.

“Duck!”

_______________

Benji poured the gas into the tank of the generator, then turned it on. Bloody thing had to be pulled to start. He finally got it on the fourth try. It was definitely stamina based, no skills required. He picked up the suitcase, holding on to it tightly. Yelena and him had left it inside the car and he was taking it inside.

The lights came on inside. The TV started blaring so hard he could hear it outside.

It was just quiet here outside.

He looked out into the forest, but there was simply nothing. No ominous cracking noises, no clicking of safeties giving away a particularly ill-mannered hunter.

Benji continued to glare into the trees while he moved to the door, being careful to step on moss and sand so as not to create noise. He wanted to hear what was coming. He could feel it out there. He trusted his gut on this. He was sure whoever it was hunting them, had stalked him on the bridge. He could feel the eyes on him. Whatever was after them wasn’t just some chill up his spine. It was there, he knew it.

He went up the stairs, switching his gaze briefly from the forest to the door ahead. He started opening it and glanced again at the forest behind him. As he quickly opened the door wider he noticed it. A small reflection in dark glass and gleaming metal that moved away when the light of the doorway illuminated it.

Shit.

A whirring noise came from the explosive launching at the house.

“Duck!” Benji screamed into the open doorway and dove left, away from the bath of the blast.

He was thrown sideways.

A high pitched whining noise assaulted his ears, like he had stood up too fast and his heart had not been able to keep up. His body was still lurching sideways even if he knew he was still and his stomach with it. He was heaving, trying to even understand up from down but the vertigo was making it impossible.

A liquid dribbled over his lips and started falling down towards one his ears, across his cheek.

He was sprawled sideways across the grass.

There was a yellow glow behind him, lighting up the trees ahead.

And the figure walking from them.

A tall, muscular figure clad in protective gear that spread over their entire body head to toe, masking their features completely.

His thoughts were hazy. His heartbeat getting even louder and quicker.

Benji mustered up the strength and, dragging his body upright from the ground, took a better look at…her.

Yes, he knew who this was.

Taskmaster.

Little Antonia.

Standing up on shaky legs, the adrenaline giving him a burst of energy and numbing the pain, he reached for the suitcase on the ground a few meters farther left of him

Damnit, damnit, damnit!

With the suitcase in hand, he glanced at Taskmaster.

Taskmaster who was running at him and was now within hitting distance.

Shit.

The hit…didn't hurt as much as he expected. Adrenaline was one helluva drug.

He went down, clutching the handle of the suitcase tightly. But Benji rolled with the punch and instead of falling flat on his back, he turned over on his left shoulder, pulling the case to his chest with one hand and pushing himself up with the other after the backwards somersault.

Taskmaster came at him again, now trying a straight punch instead of what Benji assumed to have been an uppercut. He dodged it and had to block a left hook right afterwards with his free hand.

Benji made a quick decision, throwing the case closer to his untouched car and grabbed Taskmaster’s right hand after another attempted punch with both of his, then twisting it and forcing her to move to his right with her hand across his chest, a tiny bit like an extremely violent and involuntary Allemande left. Then, while her stance was stretched open, he backflipped her, trying to aim her in a way that her neck would make first contact with the ground. As she was about to hit the ground, Benji pulled out his pistol, still miraculously in the back of his pants and aimed it at Taskmaster, intending it to finish her off.

She saw it coming though and managed to both shield her neck with one hand, cushioning the fall and flipping out her shield the moment Benji started firing. Benji fired thrice before abandoning that approach and trying to kick at her head exposed under the shield.

Taskmaster hit him in the knee with the shield, making Benji almost crumble to the ground. At the same time as he tried recovering, she directed a kick upwards that hit him in the chest. The blow wasn’t enough to wind him, but it knocked him backwards and he went flying.

Taskmaster flipped herself over and pushed herself up, sword in hand.

She next tried stabbing him with a blow directed downwards, but Benji, now standing up, again grabbed her hand and pulled the blow further down swiftly. He hit Taskmaster in the chest with his knee while she was going downwards and managed to grab the short sword Taskmaster had.

With his left hand occupied holding the wheezing woman he tried slashing at her neck with his right. The armor held and only sparks flew.

The move left her open either way and instead Benji jumped up, scissoring his legs around her upper body, one around her neck and the other under one of her armpits, then rolling to the side, causing the woman to go violently flying down.

The move winded him too and his injuries were slowing him down. Taskmaster was soon going to start mimicing him if he gave her enough time. He wasn’t going to win in the long run.

Benji knew when he was beaten. Instead of waiting for Taskmaster’s to try to break free, he kicked Taskmaster’s face and heard a crack of glass. He was already up by the time Taskmaster’s started to try to block another kick and was running to the case.
Suddenly a crack filled the night air. He heard a muffled yelp of pain. Turning around he saw Yelena, standing to the side of the half destroyed dwelling, aiming a gun at Taskmaster. The crack in the glass visor had provided a sufficient break for the bullet to destroy it. Taskmaster was holding her face, blood visibly gushing out of her mask.

Behind Yelena was Natasha, holding her side and covered in burns, staggering out of the ruins.

Benji looked her in the eyes and then glanced at his car.

Go.

_______________

The summer sun was heating up the car. They had passed the border of Sweden to Långflon a couple of hours ago without issue in their Norwegian car. They could cross to Denmark from the southern tip of Sweden by car and then to Germany.

Benji felt bad about keeping his mouth shut about Taskmaster’s identity. But had Natasha known the assassin's identity, she would’ve thrown their collective plan out of the window and tried “saving” the poor girl. They wouldn't have won the fight and instead would have just lost the vials.

Natasha made her own decisions and she was the one to condemn young Antonia. Benji knew the specifics. His contacts made him aware of Natasha’s role in the bombing. Benji would’ve wanted to right a wrong like that too. Guess this was his attempt at it actually.

He remembered his interest on why one of the best Widows went rogue. маленький Natasha was a rebellious bitty whippersnapper, but the higher ups had thought that defiance had been beaten out of her. Seemingly not. He had said that the mission in America and the aftermath had left its marks. She and Yelena saw each other as siblings! But he was only a techie and a trainer, what did he know? Apparently enough.

_______________

Ethan glanced up at the sign “Okse - sport oppbevare”. Benji had been spotted in the dock cameras going here and getting out, obviously having rented a car. No sightings afterwards.

Ethan stepped inside, looking over the store layout. Quite crowded, but he wasn't expecting a fight here.

“Hello?”, he called out.
“Hi!”, a youngish man with mousy but curly hair answered, emerging from what was some kind of back room, “what can I help you with?”
“I’m looking for a friend of mine. He hasn’t called for a few days. We were supposed to meet. He mentioned renting a car here. Around my height, reddish blond beard and hair?”
“Oh, mister Duncan! Yes, he was here yesterday morning, with a blond companion. What is this about, you know her?”
“We didn’t know he had someone with him?”

Ethan chose to lie, maybe the boy would tell him more eagerly about all little details that he would otherwise leave out.

“Oh, really? They seemed to know each other. Like, uh, are familiar with each other?”
“Familiar?”
“Yeah they were talking outside, they seemed like friends. A friend I hope, she looked bit too young for your friend?”, the man laughed out.
“You were listening?”
“We do not really get foreigners here a lot. Well, if you don't count like other nordics, like swedes, icelanders, finns,...”
“Yes, yes, but what did they say?”
“Uh, they were just joking I think? Talking about bicycles and Audis.”

Ethan decided to take a leap of faith. Why else would Benji so desperately and quickly try to get here, opting for swiftness instead of hiding from anyone looking.

“Did they mention anyone? I think he said he was gonna meet someone, but obviously ran late on us.”

“Um, no? The neighboring store might know something, his friend bought something there. But there is another foreigner here. She recently arrived. Well, depending on the opinion of recently…”

And that piqued Ethan’s interest.

“Who?”
“Her name is Nancy Reed. She said she is from America. She lives alone in the forest away from town.”
“Alone?”
“Yeah, she just sometimes takes trips to get groceriec and the like.”
“Do you know where she lives?”
“Uh, the grocer next door might know. Maja drives a snowplow so she keeps a log of where everyone lives. When spring comes she plowes away extra snow.”
“Okay, thank you.”

Ethan flashed the man a smile and stepped out of the shop, going up the street to the store next door.

This store was even more cluttered than the sportsware place. Looking around the various isles, he finally spotted a middle-aged woman he hoped would be this ‘Maja’.”

“Hello!”, Ethan greeted her, “I’m looking for a friend of mine. Named Nancy. I’m a bit confused on what address she meant. I was directed here, that you might help me?”

“Oh hellå! Yes, Nancy. You know her? Nice to see her get company! Stakkars kvinne, she never have friends with her!”

The woman gave him a big smile, then moved to stand.

“Address book is back….. You see her, tell her we finally have more peanut butter cups!”

Having gotten the address and specific instructions drawn on an old turist map., Ethan jaunted to their own rented car. Jane had opted to drive, while Ethan sat shotgun and Ilsa along with Luther were in the back seat. They all looked expectantly at him as he neared the vehicle. Ethan smiled wearily at them. The address wasn't much of a clue but it was all they had. They could rule it out while Luther looked for something more.

Ethan, against all logic, couldn't help but be hopeful. A hope akin to a man addicted to betting would have: “I’ll win this time!”. He knew their clue was almost nothing. But just maybe, their infamous luck wouldn’t run out just yet.

Jane was already zipping along the road, towards the direction of Miss Reed’s house. Trees were flying past their windows. There was some morning mist in the air, quickly disappearing the higher up and further inland they went.

The headlights of a passing car reflected in the mist, the car itself being behind a curve in the road. Then it came into view and…it was certainly odd. It seemed way too militaristic, even for what passed for the “countryside” here. An SUV, with tinted windows didn’t seem like a common choice of car.

Ethan’s heckles started to rise. The car zoomed past them. Ethan looked at Ilsa and Luther. Luther was still engrossed in his search but Ilsa had noticed the out of place car, same as Jane whose brows had become furrowed.

Jane floored the pedal and started racing down the roads, barely keeping the on the asphalt.

“Turn to the right in 50 feet,” Luther said, staring at the map of the area.

The turn took them to an old and thin looking road, devoid of asphalt and instead paved with sand, small stones and dirt. They nervously continued down it for about 10 minutes before they could see a break in the trees beyond turn.
And…

The ruined mobile home immediately confirmed that they were at the right address, just late.

The ground was covered in debris. There were multiple tire tracks and footsteps circling the property. The mobile looked as if the rood had been blown off. Ethan started walking towards it.

The remains of a lived in home were revealed from the ruins. It didn’t look like a safehouse. So Nancy Reed probably actually lived here. There were bags on the floor, some belongings scattered as the bags had been picked through. The effort had been abandoned or whatever had been looked for was clearly not there. Some debris covered the items but someone had already cleaned up. The van came to mind, that would be their next clue unless they found something here. Unlikely though, as they were not the first.

One of the bags had electrical parts and a mangled computer around it. Ethan walked closer to it.

Definitely Benji’s. It had some of his stuff, a glass case he recognized as his and a few patches forgotten on the bottom. And a book. Huh. Odd to take on the run.

The book didn’t seem to be anything special. But he seemed to have read on the account of the bookmark peeking from between the pages. Or maybe not. Ethan started pulling it out and.

It was a picture.

Of that night at the bar in Seattle.

Ethan kept staring at the picture in his hands even as he felt the rest of the team come to him, trying to see what had captured his attention completely.