Grin and Bear It

Fourteen months earlier...

"Y/N, you're free to go."

You stood slowly from your small bunk, taking time to stretch out your muscles. The street clothes they'd given you that morning still felt strange, your once-favorite jeans scratched at your thighs, and the worn-in leather jacket gripped your even more defined biceps like a straight jacket.

You swung your backpack over your shoulder and took one last look at the cell you'd called home for the last two years. Well, twenty-three months and twelve days, but who was counting? Certainly not you.

You followed the guard down the hallway, past the whoops and congratulations of the women who'd fast become your family. You'd write them, you'd promised during your last week in the yard. Maybe even a visit if life ever brought you back to this godforsaken place in the middle of nowhere. The kind of place that discouraged you from trying to escape simply because there was nowhere better to run.

"Is there someone you'd like to call to pick you up?" The guard's voice brought you back and you realized you were already in the lobby, already past the barricade that until this moment you weren't allowed to cross out of fear of another six months being tacked onto an already arbitrary sentence.

"Uh, no." Your voice was hoarse, out of practice at conversations that didn't involve cellblock gossip and illicit trades of chewing gum.

"Well then, here's a bus voucher." The guard held out a piece of paper and you took it with a gracious nod. Wonder how long that habit will take to unwire, you thought to yourself as you headed to the door.

"Hey!" the guard called after you. "Next bus doesn't arrive for an hour. You're welcome to wait in here."

"I'm okay, thanks." You called out, already halfway out the door. You'd planned on walking anyway.

Less than twenty yards out the door and you were already running, backpack flipped around on your chest, its familiar weight comforting as your feet reacclimated to a proper pair of sneakers. Sure, you'd been allowed to jog in prison, even sprint if the mood overtook you, but doing laps around a dusty yard was nothing compared to the feel of the open road.

Plus, there was the added issue of your speed. You were fast. Superhuman fast. And that, as you had learned years ago, made you a target. And targets, try as they might, more often than not ended up in prison. So you'd spent the last two years hiding the fact that you'd been injected with a knockoff supersoldier serum when you were sixteen. Instead, your muscles were from a relatively successful high-school wrestling career. The scars were from a less successful MMA career that helped pay for a degree you'd never finished. Nobody asked any follow-up questions. You were clearly a misfit, and the Haverford Women's Penitentiary was full of those.

A couple of hours and a few dozen miles later, you made it to the nearest town. It was getting dark so you decided to stop for the night. Besides, it's not like you had much of a plan or anyone waiting for you. That was the problem with treating a bunch of criminals like your family; when they turned on you, you were on your own.

The only open restaurant was a bar. You weighed your nerves about seeing a familiar prison guard against your empty stomach but your stomach won out. That was one of the few downsides of the serum; you needed to consume what would be considered an absurd number of calories for someone your size to even begin to feel full. Add to that your equally empty wallet and you compromised with a bottle of beer at the bar.

"Come here often?"

The familiar voice made you jump and you turned in horror to see your old boss, Adicus Kilroy, sitting on the stool next to you.

"You're getting sloppy, Y/N. Don't tell me prison made you soft." Kilroy smiled patiently, and it made you wonder how much re-acclimation you had ahead of you.

"What are you doing here?" was all you could manage to stammer out.

"You wound me," he said, putting a hand on his chest. "Did you truly think I forgot you were being released today? Of course not."

Upset with just the beer, your stomach seized the opportunity to let out a particularly loud rumble. Kilroy grabbed a menu off the bar. "Here, let me buy you dinner."

"No, thank you." You quickly chugged the rest of your beer and grabbed your backpack, making a beeline to the door.

"Come on, Y/N. Let's celebrate," Kilroy called after you. But if he said anything else, it was lost as the heavy door closed behind you.

You stood on the sidewalk for a few seconds, pulling in air in halting breaths, one hand on your stomach and the other on your forehead. How had Kilroy found you? Was it a happy accident? Or something more planned?

"Hey, Y/N. Long time no see." Your eyes popped up as two men walked across the street. Well, there was your answer. Whatever this "family reunion" was, it was definitely planned.

"Hi, Louis. Hi, Seb," you greeted the two men you used to call brothers with a tired smile but didn't move from your spot in front of the bar's large windows. Not like they cared about making a scene, but a girl could hope.

Kilroy exited the bar and beamed at the three of you standing on the sidewalk together. "Oh, how many nights I've dreamed of this day." He held out his arms, a proud parent showing off his prized offspring. "Come now, we have so much planning left to do."

Louis and Seb followed behind in disciplined lockstep but you stayed put, brain still catching up to what was happening. Kilroy noticed and waved you along. "Come on, Y/N. You're the missing piece."

The way he said your name -- like he owned it -- cemented your feet to the ground. "I don't know what you're talking about, but whatever it is, I'm not helping you."

Louis and Seb both looked expectantly at Kilroy, bracing for him to admonish you, the obstinate daughter. But instead, Kilroy simply smiled and walked over, crossing into your personal space. "I've been planning this job since the day they arrested you. It'll net us over five million. I promise I'll give you half and then if you want to walk away, walk away. What do you say?"

You stared into his face, at the lines that had deepened since the last time you saw him, when you realized he'd betrayed you to save his own sorry ass. You wondered what differences he saw in your face; if the hatred was as hidden as you hoped.

"Look, Y/N. I know you're broke. Two-point-five would set you up real nice." He was desperate, you could smell it a mile away. Louis and Seb were competent henchmen but neither of them had the serum; you'd knocked both of them out cold in training enough times you were surprised they hadn't developed permanent brain damage. So whatever this job was, it required skills only you possessed. Which, you had to admit, after two years of lying, was a pretty appealing sales pitch.

You eyed Kilroy, trying to convey a "don't fuck with me" attitude. "Walk me through it, and then I'll decide."

"We've learned that a private lab has acquired and synthesized a version of Steve's supersoldier serum." Natasha stood at the front of the conference room and pointed at a map projected on the wall. "Unfortunately, we've also learned that they plan to sell the serum to the highest bidder."

She looked out at the concerned faces of her teammates, leaving Wanda to last. The young witch was the Avenger's newest recruit and this was her first mission briefing. Wanda twirled the rings on her finger, attempting to appear calm, but Natasha could see the subtle movements of Wanda's eyes that betrayed her anxiety.

"All the usual suspects have come out of the woodwork," Natasha continued, "but we have one advantage on our side: timing. The lab's head scientist is planning on holding a demonstration this weekend to showcase the serum's effectiveness to potential buyers."

Natasha paused, analyzing her colleagues as they digested the news. Bucky and Steve had the most intense reactions. But she was the most surprised by Wanda, whose mouth folded into a tight line of disgust. "What do you mean, demonstration?" Wanda's accent was still thick and this was the first time Natasha could remember her speaking up in front of the whole group.

"It varies," Natasha instinctively tried to soften the news, even though she knew it was pointless. "Sometimes they use animals and sometimes they use..."

"Humans." Wanda finished her sentence with a clinical certainty that scared Natasha. It was like looking in a mirror at the person she was back in the Red Room.

"That's why we're going in early," Steve cut in, his tone soft yet certain. "So we can make sure that doesn't happen."

You stayed up all night cleaning your guns, making sure they were just as ready as they had been when you last fired them two years ago. Kilroy's plan was stupid, but with a few tweaks, you'd agreed to one last job. Because, frankly, he was right. You were broke.

The sun rose as you rode shotgun down the highway towards the lab. You were a criminal once again, less than twenty-four hours after your release from prison. That had to be a record or something. Louis hummed along to the radio as he drove while Kilroy and Seb fiddled with the tech in the back. Apparently, Seb had spent the two years of your incarceration becoming a decent hacker and locksmith, two things that would be essential on this particular job given the lab's high-tech security.

As the lab came into view, it wasn't what you'd expected. Instead of a chrome and glass compound, it was a squat, drab building nestled in a forest. It resembled a ranger station more than a facility for producing its own bespoke variety of supersoldier serum.

"Okay, remember the plan," Kilroy said as he handed out earpieces. "Seb gains access to the lab, Louis steals the vials, and Y/N takes out anyone who gets in our way."

The three of you nodded as you piled out of the van. The air was crisp and the dappled sunlight gave the place a fairytale-like quality. You had to admit, it was all a bit too surreal. Or maybe you'd just forgotten what the world could look like when it wasn't encased in barbed wire.

You and Louis stood guard as Seb cracked the entrance code to the front gate. "You look... good," Louis said to break the awkward silence.

"Thanks, you too," you whispered back. You weren't much for small talk, especially in the middle of a job, and breathed a sigh of relief when Seb cracked the last digit and the gate swung open. "Let's go."

The three of you breached the building, unconcerned with security cameras given the balaclavas covering your faces. Just like the outside, the interior of the lab was unassuming, more like a neighborhood doctor's office than a top-tier research facility.

"Hey!" You turned just as a security guard sprinted down the hallway. One quick glance at his waistband told you everything you needed to know -- the man wasn't even armed.

You rolled your eyes. "I got this," you said, nodding to Louis and Seb to continue on. You used the security guard's own momentum against him, tossing him to the ground and cuffing him with his own handcuffs in one fluid motion. "I suggest you stay down," you ordered as menacingly as possible before grabbing his radio and running to catch up with Seb and Louis.

You found them down the hallway in a dark lab, staring at a glass case full of vials. "Great, you found them. Let's go." But before you could take another step, a deep female voice called out from the shadows.

"Take one step closer and I'll shoot." From behind a desk stepped the one and only Natasha Romanoff, original member of the Avengers, gun pointed squarely at your head.

Without missing a beat, you held up the security guard's radio. "This radio is rigged to a bomb attached to the bottom of your jet. Shoot me and it'll detonate."

Before you could judge whether she'd bought it or not, you lunged at Natasha, knocking her gun out of her hand and pinning her against the wall. The surprise in her eyes was evident, she wasn't expecting you to be this strong.

"Go!" you yelled at Louis and Seb as they hurriedly grabbed the vials and ran out of the room. Somehow, Natasha had managed to get her foot against your abdomen and shoved you off of her.

"They're making a run with the vials," she yelled into what must've been the Avengers' comm system. Great, who else was here, you wondered.

You grabbed your own gun and pointed it at Natasha. "Let them go and I'll let you live," you growled out, but your heart wasn't in it. Not now that the difficulty level of this heist had quadrupled.

"Not a chance," she shot back. The two of you circled each other, guns pointed, unwavering.

"Nat, Steve needs you." A slight brunette appeared in the doorway and you acted on pure instinct, firing off two shots in her general direction while never taking your eyes off Natasha. A sharp yelp confirmed what you already knew -- you'd scored a direct hit.

"Bruce, we need medical! Wanda's been shot!" You were surprised at Natasha's response; everything you'd heard about her seemed to suggest she was a highly-trained spy. But now her guard was down as she watched her teammate collapse in the doorway, a hand grasping at her already bloody abdomen. Her eyes refocused on you, narrowing to mere slits. It was a look you'd seen on people you'd crossed before and it was never good. But coming from Natasha Romanoff? It was a billion times worse.