Adaption Isn't Easy (Steve/Natasha)

[Steve Rogers]

“…And come to think of it, I’d appreciate it if you kept where I live to yourself. SHIELD knows where the apartment is, of course, I just like to keep my space.”

The Captain nodded his head and responded with a quick answer, "Consider it our secret." He could sympathize, having someone like Tony Stark know your home address could be troublesome. He didn't mind carrying a few boxes up and down a few flights of stairs, compared to some of the missions he'd been on lately, that would be a cake walk.

Neither had any idea of what was waiting for them on the Helicarrier, their plans for the day were about to be chewed up and turned into a string of running one liners, most not even making all that much sense. Steve had seen a lot since becoming Captain America, an army using the power of ancient Norse mythological technologies, creatures from another world coming down and smashing up Manhattan, even a humble man transforming into the most powerful creature on all of Earth.

To say he was prepared for their next encounter, was a complete falsehood.

[Wade "Deadpool" Wilson]

20 seconds of fuel left.

Deadpool towards the hull of the helicarrier - and, while gawddamn that was a stupid name, he couldn't fault them for being descriptive - like a missile. Like a stealth missile, with radar-absorbant paint and funny angles and thermal baffles on the exhaust.

Otherwise, countermeasures would have blasted him out of the sky already. And that would suuuuuuck.

15 seconds of fuel left.

"Window window window where's the gawddamn window I'ma kill oh! There is is!"

The observation window loomed up in front of him. Deadpool released the handles and drew the specialty gun he'd purchased for this mission.

---

A few days ago...

"Whaddya got for me?" Wade asked.

The Fixer looked at him speculatively. "What are you looking for?"

Wade slapped his hand on the counter and leaned, gesturing around. "I need some motherf*****ghuge handgun. Something ginormous. Something tiny-dicked rednecks would carry around so they can boast 'look at my girth!' Whaddya got like that?"

Fixer actually looked surprised. "That's not your usual style, Wade."

"Yeah, I know. But I'm going for something big."

"Well, lemme see... how about this?"

This was a gold-plated Magnum Research .50 AE Desert Eagle. Wade picked it up, carefully, using two fingers.

"Fixer?"

"Yeah?"

"Do I look like a pimp?"

"No, you look like a clown."

"Then why you tryin' to sell to me like I'm a pimp?"

A beat.

"That actually sounded better in my head, you know. But no. No, I don't like it. What else you got?"

Fixer checked again. "Big, you say?"

"Yeah. I need to shoot through armor glass."

"Fair enough. How about this?"

Now, this was the bastard love child of a revolver and science fiction. Wade picked it up, carefully.

"Jesus. It's a f*****g car."

"Mateba Model 6 Unica auto-revolver," Fixer said. "Chambered for .454 Casull - the load-out you use for wild pigs."

Wade sighted along the barrel. "For pigs? With this thing, you'd just beat the pig to death."

"C'mon back to the range. I think you'll like it."

Ten minutes later, Wade asked "Tell me about HEAP rounds."

---

The present, again...

13 seconds of fuel left...

The absurd monster auto-revolver in Deadpool's hands bucked like a mule and roared like the Hulk. He fired it in rapid succession, numbing his hands as the massive .454 rounds hammered out as quickly as he could squeeze the trigger. Spiderwebbing appeared on the armorglass as the HEAP rounds penetrated and exploded.

Throwing his hands in front of his face, Deadpool screamed like a little girl as the fragmented but intact glass filled his vision.

---

0 seconds of fuel left...

"Ooouuuuch...."

The interior of the observation room was a mess. Furnature and shards of armorglass and pieces of jetwing were scattered everywhere. Deadpool lay crumpled against the wall, shoulders on the floor, legs against the wall and bent at funny angles, arms spread wide. He groaned again.

"Motherf****r," he managed, then made a sharp gasping sound as his legs snapped back to the correct direction and shape.

A few seconds later he kippuped, landing on his feet and doing a few quick squats. "There we go," he laughed, "good as new."

A quick glance around assured him that yes, Virginia, there were security cameras. He flashed the closest a victory sign, and smiled behind his mask. "Helllooo Neeeewww Yoooorrrrk!" he shouted, "It's Saturday Night!"

And then, like the proverbial greased lightning, he dashed through the door.

[Natasha Romanoff]

* * *

Just as they were nearing the Helicarrier, the master alarm went off. The whole ship looked like a bloody Christmas tree, all blinking lights and whirring signals. Immediately, the pilot of the copter she was in began to speak into his headset, making a move to pull away from the deck without waiting for orders.

“что Вы делаете!” Natasha slipped into Russian for a moment, backtracking as she regained her composure and tried again in English. “What are you doing?”

“W-we’re haulin’ out, Miss. Can’t get through for clearance, safer to just stay out the ways for a while, y’see?”

Safer. Yes, safety abounded when it came to SHIELD.

Sharply, she sized the man up. She’d never seen him before, and she’d been with SHIELD a long number of years, so she deduced he was new. She also figured that maybe it wasn’t exactly his ideal line of work, what with how he was so concerned about safety and all. Worst of all, he thought she of all people would want away from here; the shock that she’d even bothered to question him was written all over his face. Sexism had stopped surprising Natasha years ago, but it still disgusted her.

“You’ll hover at 50 feet – you don’t have to land – and then you’ll take your clearance, understood?”

Fishing in her jacket pocket, she flashed her SHIELD i.d. at the man for good measure; now was not the time for an argument. His quiet nod and the set of his jaw told her she’d do as she said, but he wouldn’t be happy about it, which was just fine with her. She wasn’t in the business of being a people pleaser.

Opening the copter door, she was immediately greeted by the loud rush of swirling air and shrieking alarms. Her curls blew back, streaming in the air currents as she tossed the rope ladder down and gestured for Steve to follow. Swinging in the air, one arm always threaded through the rungs of the flexible ladder, she quickly made her way downward, jumping the last few feet to the deck.

She froze as she landed, taking a look around without ever glancing back to see if Steve was following; she trusted he didn’t have a problem with heights. The alarm was a master alarm, not letting on where it had been tripped, and she immediately made the decision to head straight to the director's headquarters, i.d. in one hand in the rare case that there was anyone on board who didn't recognise one of them.

* * *

[Steve Rogers]

Steve hadn't exactly been paying much attention to the ship until the alarms and lights began to blare. Again a technological marvel to behold, Steve was more overwhelmed than impressed. The entire base was just so far ahead of what Steve was used to, he didn't exactly know what to make of it. Now they were in the middle of some kind of attack, and he didn't even have his uniform on hand, let alone his shield. This could be a major problem. Shaking off doubt, as soon as Natasha shot him a look, he followed and then climbed down, jumping to the deck as soon as Natasha had.

He landed on his feet, but almost immediately, Cap felt a massive amount of wind pressure. Lucky for him, Steve could fight off the wind. He looked to the Black Widow and managed to yell over the near deafening winds, "Agent Romanoff, you need to get inside now!" He was strong enough to stay on deck, but Natasha wasn't superhuman, one wrong step and she'd be flying off the side of the deck. The Captain nodded toward an entrance, "Get moving, I'll spot and cover you. We don't even know what we're dealing with!" He wasn't sure if she could even hear him, so Steve made sure to use hand gestures as well.

The duo started making their way towards one of the entrances on the repaired Helicarrier. It took a few moments, and Steve had been focused on Natasha while they walked through the heavy winds, but eventually arrived. Pressed up against the wall while Widow moved to open the door, Steve called out to her, "Is this how moving out of a secret base is going to be every time, because I might just go back to my apartment if the Tower'll be like this."

He was joking of course, mostly. As he knew, SHIELD was pretty good at breaking into Avengers Tower, he wondered what someone with ill will towards the team could do, given the chance. Steve focused on getting inside and assessing the situation. There was a spare uniform, based on his original from the war, and a titanium version of his shield kept in the vaults, he needed to get there if they were dealing with hostiles.

[Wade "Deadpool" Wilson]

Deadpool sprinted through one of the halls of the helicarier, laughing like a maniac.

Really, this was the sort of thing that shouldn't work. You just don't get away with a one-man home invasion of a secure facility like this, particularly dressed in a red-and-black gortex and kevlar bodysuit and making no attempt at stealth.

Which is, of course, exactly why Wade had decided to tackle it in this absurd fashion. There was no good way to sneak aboard, and no good way to disguise himself as a SHIELD agent. So, particularly since he strongly doubted they had anything aboard the ship that would kill him, he decided to eschew subtelty in favor of a strategy influenced by tactical geniuses like Yosemite Sam and the Tasmanian Devil.

Not that he was ever especially subtle...

"Woooo-hoooo!" Deadpool howled as a quartet of SHIELD agents with shotguns and MP5Ks stepped from around the corner. He lunged through the air John woo-style, Beretta 93Rs blazing away in each hand, bullets and shotgun pellets wizzing past his body and pinging and richocheting on the bulkheads. He hit the ground, tucked and rolled, and came up on his knees.

The agents were scattered on the ground, unmoving.

"Damn! I'm good!" he crowed, popping the clips and adding fresh rubber rounds. He wasn't getting paid based on a SHIELD bodycount, after all. Besides, if they caught him, bruises and cracked bones would make them far less likely to stuff him in an incinerator.

A bullet ripped through his throat. Wade wobbled for a second, surprised, one hand dropping a pistol and reflexively going to his throat. Then he fell heavily forward, smacking into the deck in a pool of his own blood.

"This is Vaughn," a blonde agent said into his shoulder mike as he stepped forward, keeping the body covered. "Intruder is down. Say again: intruder is down."

"ee ins ah isey rin, ee ins ah oha rin," gurgled the body, faintly.

Two more agents moved forward as well, covering the body. "I don't think he's dead, Wendell," one of them said.

"he hrins ah laaer hrin, he hrins ah ciier hrin,"the body gurgled, a little clearer.

"Oh, hell," Vaughn breathed. "Control, we need medical. Now."

"he sinns ta sonns tat rehmin him uff ta ood times."

"Say again?" control responded.

"he sinns the sonns tat remin im off the best times." The body was clearly singing, off-key. "oh danny boy, danny boy, danny boy..."

"Medical! Now!" Vaughn gestured at the other two. "Cuff him!"

"Are you serious? There's blood..."

Deadpool, chest and facemask covered with blood, exploded into the air as if he had levitated from the deck. "I get knocked down, but I get up again!" he sang as he caught the nearest agent in the face with a boot, "You nay ever gonna keep me down!"

He twisted like a cat, landing crouched on his feet. "I get knocked down, but I get up again! You nay ever gonna keep me down!"

Springing forward, he drove the top of his skull vigorously into the second agent's chin. There was a crunch, followed by wooshing sound as Wade landed on top of the agent, knees buried in his stomach. He bounded up again.

"I get knocked down, but I get up again! You nay ever gonna keep me down!"

Spinning, he launched a roundhouse kick at Vaughn. The SHIELD agent's training kicked in and he blocked with his shotgun, only to have it torn from his grasp by the unexpectedly powerful blow. Wade planted his foot, then snapped a front kick at Vaughn's abdomen. Vaughn brought his arm down in a block, and found his arm just being kicked into his own stomach. He sagged to his knees, air exploding from his lungs.

"Flash! KICK!" Deadpool roared, backflipping and kicking Vaughn in the chin twice.

"Say again, Agent Vaughn?" the shoulder mike crackled.

Deadpool landed lightly on his feet, scooping up his dropped pistol with one hand and snatching up the mike with the other. "He said," he shouted, "He needs f*****g medical down here. Jesus, buddy, pay some f*****g attention, why don't you?"

Laughing, he dropped the mike and raced through the halls. There had to be stairs, or an elevator, around here somewhere.

[Natasha Romanoff]

* * *

Natasha didn’t argue with the Captain; inside was exactly where she wanted to be. Slinking along the walls, she passed the mess hall and made her way to the door she knew would lead them into the inner halls. From there, they could use the stairwells to travel between decks; she assumed the elevators had shut off, and she wasn’t willing to take chances with them.

The door of course was locked, and the wind as the chopper flew away buffeted her curls harshly into her face as she dug in her pocket, reaching again for her SHIELD i.d. She had a moment of doubt, wondering if her security level had been demoted without her knowledge on account of her loyalties. She hadn’t expressly sided with the Avengers, but she was moving out of the SHIELD base, and she knew how perceptive Director Fury was...

As it turned out, her fears were unfounded, and the light blinked green as she swiped the card, ducking into the comparatively quiet corridor, her eyes trained on the hall instead of Steve. Her hand itched for her gun; she should really at least bring her holster to the gym. One clearly never knew when it might come in handy.

She crept along, turning one corner and then another. The third corner laid out a scene of unconscious agents and broken glass. Tasha darted through, ignoring the people on the ground as she strode through. She knew Steve would stop to check them; she’d been reading people for years, and she knew he’d do it. Flattening against the wall next to the only door they’d come across that had been left ajar, she silently counted to three, ducking into the room at two and a half.

Nothing. There was glass, and carnage. But it was still.

Glass.

She swore in Russian, loudly, punching the com on the wall as she stormed back into the hall.

“Medical to E deck, room 204, that’s an order. Repeat, E deck, 204.”

She looked back at Steve, forgetting the com entirely.

“They came in through here, not out. I’m going down, I think that’s where they’re headed.” She was already halfway around the corner headed for the utility stairwell, not willing to take the time to see whether Steve was staying or coming; he could certainly take care of himself either way. Her head was still swimming with the logistics, distracting her -- how the hell had someone pulled this off?

* * *

((Also: holy god, the Beretta 93 Rs. Unf, so much love.))

[Steve Rogers]

Steve was rather amazed by the state of the corridor as well. Not as upset as Natasha was, but certainly astounded. It looked like a small Hulk had ramapaged on through. Really an impressive amount of chaos and destruction. Shaking it off, Steve remembered that they had a job to do now.

Find out who was responsble, and neutralize the target. Cap looked around the ground and found half a shattered door. He picked the steel door by it's rail-like handle and made sure it fit on his arm. He didn't have his shield or uniform on hand, so this would have to do for now.

“They came in through here, not out. I’m going down, I think that’s where they’re headed.”

Steve nodded, but also tried to speculate, "SHIELD is responsible for defense of the entire planet, and someone tried to attack the directly, for a second time? Whoever it was had to have seen what ended up happening to Loki. What could possibly possess them to break into the helicarrier?" That was the baffling part to Steve, an Asgardian fighter had been held here had it not been the mass confusion from the Hulk attack and the SHIELD agents who'd been converted by Loki's Cosmic Spear.

Only someone completely out of their mind would attempt to attack the Helicarrier after SHIELD had managed to overcome that attack.

Captain America rubbed the back of his head, "No one in their right mind would attack this place. It's pretty much suicide."

[Wade "Deadpool" Wilson]

He was two flights up the utility stairwell, when he heard the E-deck door open again. Curious, Deadpool stuck his head over the railing and looked down. Staring up the stairs was a chick in a black jumpsuit - not a SHIELD uniform, just a jumpsuit - with red hair and wrist bracers and a hard expression that he didn't bother to check out because he was far more interested in her cleavage.

"Niiice," he whistled, before something clicked. "Hey, wait... You're the Black Widow, right?"

Babe is hawt! Gotta act suave! Gotta look cool! Deadpool thought, wondering at the same time if he'd remembered to put deodorant on. Then he slapped himself on the forehead. "What am I doing"

Thumbing the ring from a concussion grenade, he dropped it down the stairwell. "Call me!" he shouted, miming a phone with finger and thumb as he sprinted up the stairs, the metallic clank of the grenade echoing behind him as it bounced. "I know a lovely little dinner club in Belfast!"

[Natasha Romanoff]

* * *

Natasha cocked an eyebrow at the whistle, rifling through her mental Filofax for who this person likely was. She’s spent a good deal of her time on the Helicarrier committing important things to memory, considering it part of her training, and likely adversaries had taken priority.

She watched, fascinated as he seemed to have a conversation with himself, and a name popped into her head: Wade Wilson. The Weapon X Project. She didn't recall all the details, but she knew what he was capable of, and for all intents and purposes… he was a mutant. And probably the only one crazy enough to try breaking into this fortress of a vehicle.

She narrowed her eyes as she followed his sightline to his focus, a very slight shrug rolling off her shoulders at the thought. Whatever works, she thought. A distraction was a distraction.

And a grenade was a hell of a distraction.

“Steve, your shield!”

All the stats she’d seen on vibranium suggested it could contain the blast, but she wasn’t taking any chances. It was big enough to protect him, and that's what mattered; she could take care of herself.

On instinct, she dropped, one leg circling around to kick the door shut behind them in order to protect the people on the other side. She continued the motion, using the momentum to propel herself over the railing of the utility stairwell, all but swan diving into empty space as her fingers grasped for the railing of M-deck, the painted metal becoming a glorified gymnastic bar. She hauled herself over, pressing herself against the wall, relying on the two decks between her and the blast for sufficient cover.

"Ireland?" she spat bitterly, just before the explosion hit.

* * *

[Steve Rogers]

“Steve, your shield!”

"I know a lovely little dinner club in Belfast!"

"Ireland?"

It all flashed faster than Captain America could even think to speak out. Cap knew what she wanted from him was to protect himself, that wasn't how Steve did things. As the grenade was about to go off, Captain Rogers took a leap in front of the Black Widow, blocking off the explosion between them. The grenade rocked the walls of the corridor, leaving most things between Cap and the one behind throwing the grenade a total wreck. Recovering and rising to his feet, Steve spoke to the man for the first time, "I don't know what brought you here to the SHIELD Helicarrier, but you sure picked the wrong day to attack."

He was rather surprised actually, that someone was crazy enough to throw a grenade only a few feet in front of them.

But the man was gone already. Gritting his teeth, Steve looked to Natasha quickly before asking, "Are you alright?" She looked fine, and as soon as she gave him a confirmation, Steve was barreling after the man. In the staircase, Steve saw the angles of the walls, smirked, and tossed his shield.

If he'd gotten the speed right, he'd hear a thud in just a moment.

[Wade "Deadpool" Wilson]

The concussion grenade went off with a satisfyingly loud bang and the over pressure of the blast, concentrated by the enclosed space of the stairwell, exploded upwards and down the shaft. Even Deadpool, three flights up and sheltered by multiple layers of metal stairs, found himself smashed into a wall by the impact.

Carefully, he shoved himself back from the wall and leaned, one hand on his head. "Ow. Mental note: smaller grenades..." He twisted his head back and forth, cracking the vertebrae.

"I don't know what brought you here to the SHIELD Helicarrier," a male voice growled, "but you sure picked the wrong day to attack."

"Would you believe," Deadpool smirked, turning to look behind and down, "that I heard about this smokin' redhead in a catsuit, and Ioooomph!"

The vibranium shield, deflecting off of several walls, caught Wade square the sternum. The impact knocked him off his feet, sending him sprawling on the floor, gasping in an effort to recover his breath.

The broken ribs were just the icing on the cake.

"Oooow..." Deadpool groaned, inhaling sharply as his ribs popped back into place. "Did... did someone just hit me with a f**king frisbee" He eyed the shield. "Waaaiit... Oh, crap. Really?"

With an inarticulate whoop of joy, he bounded to his feet and scooped up the shield. "This is gonna make me a mint on eBay!"

Just then, he registered the pounding of booted feet on steel. Spinning, he saw a large, muscled, angry-looking blonde man charging up the stairs at him. "Easy come, easy go," he sighed. Then, with all the force he could muster, he spun the shield at Captain America's head.

[Natasha Romanoff]

* * *

The blast had her ears ringing, and from the wave of energy that hit her, she was glad she’d put distance between her and the grenade. As it was, she felt her cheek pressed against the steel utility door.

Gritting her teeth and hoping her ears would return to normal sooner rather than later, she took off at a sprint, eager to regain the ground she’d lost by taking cover. M… U… back to E-deck, where a scorched radius was visible at the base of the next jaunt of stairs, shrapnel lying like smoking confetti. She heard a thud, and a glance upward confirmed what she’d suspected: the Captain had been better suited for that threat, and he’d beat her to the punch.

She hoped it was literal. If it wasn’t, it would be when she got there; punching was a very satisfying pastime of hers. Nothing better to help shake off the aftereffects of an explosion.

Taking advantage of the knowledge that Wade was downed, she clicked a setting on her left bracelet, taking careful aim and firing off a slimline grappling hook at the railing of the floor they were on. With another click it began to retract, and she was pulled along through the center of the stairwell. She was a few meters away from being clear when their adversary swung back Cap’s shield, and she knew exactly where it was headed. Almost regretful that he would only heal if she shot him, she left her firearms where they were and instead vaulted over the trajectory of the disk, landing on it and knocking it out of line. It skipped away harmlessly, but propelled her into the wall. Her shoulder took most of the impact, and she knew instinctively that tomorrow wouldn’t be pretty.

Whipping a pistol from her belt, she levelled it at the man, deciding that if nothing else, it would make her feel better to shoot him.

“You going to tell us what you’re after, then?”

She didn’t expect him to answer; there were still a few levels left to run up. Luckily, stairs were good for her thighs.

* * *

[Steve Rogers]

(Seems like this is a better place for Deadpool to go ahead. Pass.)

[Wade "Deadpool" Wilson]

Catsuited redhead out of nowhere!

Deadpool blinked for a moment, then snarled in frustration. "Aw, c'mon!" he shouted, as the shield went one way and the Black Widow went another. "If I'm gonna throw away an easy fortune, you could at least let me hit him!"

The Black Widow caromed off the wall in what looked like a fairly painful fashion, then spun and drew a pistol. “You going to tell us what you’re after, then?"

"Yeah," Deadpool called cheerfully down the stairs, "Because this is the part in the movie where the bad guy spills the beans and gives away all of his oh wait! I'm not a movie character!"

He spun and sprinted up the stairs again. "Not a good one, anyway! I was utterly wasted in that one flick!" The metal steps clattered under his boots. "Gawdamn clawed midget, stealing the show..." he muttered bitterly.

Pausing at the top of the shaft, he looked down and waved. "Belfast, right? See you there?" Spinning, he grabbed the door, then turned back and shouted down the shaft again. "But, uh, ditch the boy scout. Three's a crowd, y'know?"

He swung the door open, to discover a half-dozen SHIELD agents. "Uhm...." he said, giving a small wave. "Avon calling? No? Have you heard the good news about Xenu, then?"

They brought up their submachine guns.

[Natasha Romanoff]

* * *

She didn’t even bother firing off a shot. This wasn’t a therapy session, and she knew it wouldn’t do any good; the caliber wasn’t nearly big enough to stop him for any real amount of time. With an eye roll, she stowed the Glock back in its holster.

They were going to do this the hard way. That was alright with her, honestly it saved her the workout when they got back to the tower. Her feet pounded the concrete steps, lips twisted into a sneer as she ran. Flights zipped by, and she dug her heels into her movements, hating that he was still just out of reach…

And then there was the firing squad. Her boots skittered on the floor just a little as she skidded to a stop. Pleasantly surprised, both at the backup and the fact that they weren’t aimed at her, she smartly stayed out of Wade’s reach, well off to the side away from the barrels. “You gotta know when to fold ‘em,” as the Yanks so charmingly put it, and this was certainly one of those times; her Widow suit wouldn’t stop a bullet from one of those.

When she spoke, it was obvious she was a touch winded, and her clipped consonants were tinged with hints to her original accent.

“For the record, I can’t stand Ireland.”

She wondered if the agents knew who he was; she only recognised one of them, and she caught the girl's eye for half a second, her glance holding a warning. If she were smart, that would mean something coming from the Black Widow.

* * *