nothing in life is to be feared
Oct 7, 2015 12:42:11 GMT -7
Post by Natasha Romanoff on Oct 7, 2015 12:42:11 GMT -7
fortune seemed to favor us
Date: June 4th, 2015
Location: Lab D, Avengers Compound
Summary: In which Natasha and Dr. Foster stay up past their bed time and bond over science.
Two-Thirty Seven A.M
It was almost quiet in the compound at this hour. With construction restricted to work that didn’t require engines or welding, the graveyard shift was left with little to do beyond wiring and cleaning. Most of the recruits and researchers were catching whatever sleep they could manage, in one of the many warehouses-turned-barracks on the grounds. Patrols went into stealth, prowling the grounds and roads and buildings, ever vigilant. They were committed, Natasha mused, even if they were likely outmatched by any enemies that would dare target the Avengers compound. It took guts to face those odds.
The halls were soft, but Natasha’s bare feet were softer as she slipped through the labyrinth of halls crammed into Warehouse B, R&D. The structure had been adapted around the needs of their scientists and engineers—many of whom were working on projects several stories high, with need of significant shielding and distance, in case anything went wrong.
Natasha’s destination was a little more humble. She took stairs down to the basement two at a time, mugs hooked through her fingers and a small box pressed against her hip. Red hair left loose, and one of Sam’s old Air Force hoodies drowning her frame, Natasha seemed almost harmless. It might have been convincing, had she not moved like a shadow, practically prowling the halls.
She turned suddenly, drawing to a halt in front of a glass door, the only source of light on the floor. Inside, machines hummed and lights glittered, an electronic heartbeat in the night. There was a small silver plaque next to the door, Laboratory D printed in large letters, braille raised beneath it. Natasha opened the door, leaving only a whisper as she entered the lab.
It was small, by the standards of other projects, but the room could not be called truly small. It dwarfed her Brooklyn safehouse, easily three times the square footage. Every surface was covered with notebooks and computers and machines, scattered. Natasha glanced about, cataloguing exits and covers, before her eyes fell upon a woman engrossed in something that prickled Natasha’s curiosity.
Clearing her throat to announce her presence, Natasha raised her pair of mugs, clinking them together. Weight shifting to one legging-clad leg, she offered a half-smirk in greeting.
“Dr. Foster” she said simply, as if a two AM visit from Natasha Romanoff was at all a normal thing. "I thought you might be in need of a coffee break."
Location: Lab D, Avengers Compound
Summary: In which Natasha and Dr. Foster stay up past their bed time and bond over science.
Two-Thirty Seven A.M
It was almost quiet in the compound at this hour. With construction restricted to work that didn’t require engines or welding, the graveyard shift was left with little to do beyond wiring and cleaning. Most of the recruits and researchers were catching whatever sleep they could manage, in one of the many warehouses-turned-barracks on the grounds. Patrols went into stealth, prowling the grounds and roads and buildings, ever vigilant. They were committed, Natasha mused, even if they were likely outmatched by any enemies that would dare target the Avengers compound. It took guts to face those odds.
The halls were soft, but Natasha’s bare feet were softer as she slipped through the labyrinth of halls crammed into Warehouse B, R&D. The structure had been adapted around the needs of their scientists and engineers—many of whom were working on projects several stories high, with need of significant shielding and distance, in case anything went wrong.
Natasha’s destination was a little more humble. She took stairs down to the basement two at a time, mugs hooked through her fingers and a small box pressed against her hip. Red hair left loose, and one of Sam’s old Air Force hoodies drowning her frame, Natasha seemed almost harmless. It might have been convincing, had she not moved like a shadow, practically prowling the halls.
She turned suddenly, drawing to a halt in front of a glass door, the only source of light on the floor. Inside, machines hummed and lights glittered, an electronic heartbeat in the night. There was a small silver plaque next to the door, Laboratory D printed in large letters, braille raised beneath it. Natasha opened the door, leaving only a whisper as she entered the lab.
It was small, by the standards of other projects, but the room could not be called truly small. It dwarfed her Brooklyn safehouse, easily three times the square footage. Every surface was covered with notebooks and computers and machines, scattered. Natasha glanced about, cataloguing exits and covers, before her eyes fell upon a woman engrossed in something that prickled Natasha’s curiosity.
Clearing her throat to announce her presence, Natasha raised her pair of mugs, clinking them together. Weight shifting to one legging-clad leg, she offered a half-smirk in greeting.
“Dr. Foster” she said simply, as if a two AM visit from Natasha Romanoff was at all a normal thing. "I thought you might be in need of a coffee break."
round every dark and twisted bend
