You Better Not Be Her Prey

Chapter 3: Ominous Note

Belgium. 

In the middle of the living room, a hole was busted in the ceiling, exposing the rafters above, and a rope hung down. At the end of it was a man. He had been long dead, for hours now at least. Eyes closed, head bowed, the rope cutting off his supply of air, with a large bite on his neck, weeping blood, and multiple stab wounds, all of the blood gathering in a large puddle on his floor. On the couch, a woman was lying there in a tactical suit, licking the blood clean off of her fingers. 

'These people are just awful, you know?' she said, almost as if talking to the dead body. 'They just keep hunting me - and it sucks. Stalking's a crime, right? Oh, well, you would know. You guys only hunted me for two years before finally drugging me and taking me to HYDRA. Fucking bastards. You've paid your price.' She looked over at the body, then laughed. 'Of course, you're not answering - you're dead. That therapist lady was spouting all that bullshit about love and healing and shit like that... she said I'm supposed to be in a mental ward or something. At least, that's what they do to supposed 'crazy' people like me. Am I that crazy?' She let out a long, loud sigh, and then looked over at the body. 'I don't think I'm crazy. The people who are hunting me seem to think I'm crazy. Psycho, even.' She sat up, looking at the body. 'They've got another thing coming, then.' She stood, scrawled out a short, sharp note on a Post-It, and tacked it to the glass coffee table. Then, grabbing his wrist, she pulled out her knife and flipped it, grabbing the man's left wrist and aggressively etching an 'A' symbol into the wrist, the new wounds oozing fresh blood. She licked the man's wrist, letting out a dark chuckle. 

Then, walking to the door, she turned. 'Oh, yeah... goodbye, Martin. And fuck you.' She left, leaving the door slightly ajar. 

Several hours later... 

Steve, Clint and Natasha made their way into the building. 

'Shit, we're too late,' Clint cursed, surveying the one-bedroom apartment. There wasn't long to find their victim, Martin Raspulovia, hanging from a rope in the rafters by his neck, having died several hours ago from strangulation. 'God, this is a mess. It seems she's always one step ahead of us.' He dug his fingers through his hair, Steve bending down to pick up a Post-It note on the coffee table. 

'She left this here,' he mused aloud. Natasha came up close to read over his shoulder. 

'Keep looking for me, you might just find me. Or I might find you first...' she said, reading the message aloud. 'This is all different levels of screwed-up,' Natasha said. 'She's playing us like fiddles. Steve, did you say anything to her?' she added, looking up at him. 

'No... I didn't. All she did was leave a message with her apartment number on it and the address.' He produced the note from his pocket, right next to where he kept the pill on hand for whenever he was around her next. She snatched it and looked at it. 

'If we track her to this address, we might just find her.' 

'Or maybe she just doesn't want to be found,' Clint shot back. 

'No, she wants to be found,' Natasha replied. 'Just like the note said. She's playing a game of cat and mouse with us. We better find her first - before she comes to us. Whatever we're dealing with here, she's got the upper hand.' 

'We'll get her, Natasha,' Steve said, taking the note and tucking it back into his pocket. 'I'm sure of it.' 

But on the inside, Natasha Romanoff wasn't so sure. She'd seen Steve's reaction to talking about her. His pupils got slightly wider, his heart beat faster. She'd seen that reaction in people before when talking about their significant others. This was no different. 

The question was, what was this mysterious tribrid killer doing to Steve Rogers, the Captain America? How and why did she enchant him so? 

Several hours later...

The team all sat around the table, while Tony perused the note. 

'Banner and I researched the place that was listed on this piece of paper. This is a hotel in Queens. She's trying to keep a low profile because this place is running on its last legs.' 

'But why her? She can get anything she wants,' Natasha replied. 

'Yeah, she can. Why she chose this location is a mystery to me. Okay... Rogers, you scout it out and report back. I'm giving you two days to complete a stakeout and investigate her comings and goings.' 

'Way ahead of you,' he replied and dumped a file on the table. He frowned, adjusting the JARVIS glasses he always wore, then pulled the file towards him and opened it up to find it chock full of images. Photos. 

'Wow... you're sold on this mission. This is great. Did you get to talk to her at the nightclub?' 

'Yeah - all she gave me was that piece of paper.' 

'Did she say anything about future kills, any new targets, anything like that?' 

'No,' he replied flatly. 

'Riiight...' Tony muttered, trailing off. 'What time will she be at the nightclub next?' 

'She always comes around every Tuesday and Friday evening. 8pm on the dot. Never late.' 

'Right. Tomorrow is Friday evening. Rogers, you've got the pill.' 

'Yeah.' 

'Okay, that one pill, if Banner's math is correct, is enough to knock out an elephant, so it should be enough for our gorgeous mystery tribrid. Slip it in her drink when she's not looking, and when she drinks, it'll take effect instantly. Natasha, Clint, you will both be in place around the nightclub, keeping eyes and ears in case things get into a pickle. She likes you already, Rogers. Don't screw this up.' 

'I won't.' But Natasha had a feeling... a sneaky suspicion, and she was going to confront Steve on it. Hopefully, before Steve's actions played right into the killer's hands.