We'll Fight Together (Romanogers / Steve X Natasha)

Good Luck

Within time, Steve and Natasha were sporting new threads. Steve now wore a new model of his old suit, which was much cleaner than his old. T'Challa explained that it was something Shuri had worked on after Steve had dropped off Bucky. Steve's orignal WWII suit was sort of an "inspiration," as T'Challa called it. A darker shade of blue and red, it's white stripes shown grey in the luminescent lights. The red gloves were gone, having been replaced by brown, fingerless combat gloves, and a tactical belt was wrapped snuggly around his waist. The attire fit perfectly, and it looked pretty damn good on him too, Natasha thought.

Natasha wore a combat suit too. She had on a green, armored, collared vest that covered a slim, black ensemble. The entire thing was fitted with a rugged belt, a thigh holster, and dozens of pockets. On top of that, she found it to be way more comfortable than her old Black Widow suit.

"I hope it's adequate, Miss Romanoff." The king smiled, his teeth as white as the surrounding walls.

"It's wonderful, thank you." Natasha slipped her pistol into the holster before lifting one of the staffs off of the weapons table. It was long, chrome, and knotted, each divot serving as a hand grip. Pressing a button on it's side, it came undone, separating into two sword-length halves. She took one look at it's sleek surface and knew that it was a match made in heaven, taking no time at all to attach it to a convent weapon quiver on her back.

Steve, on the other hand, stayed put. He decided that he preferred his unbrandished shield. Why would he not? It reminded him of 1942. Sure, he used guns back then, but he had also grown accustomed to his shield over the years. Things had changed enough for him; why not keep one constant?

They aircraft lurched forward and it was apparent that they had reached their destination.

"I'll go retrieve the children," T'Challa said, heading towards the ramp.

"I'm always one step ahead of you, aren't I?" Shuri appeared at the top and smiled down at the king. Clea stood at her side, her midnight-colored attire consisting of a bulletproof vest with a pop-up collar and a tactile belt. If it hadn't been for the innocent sparkle on her young, pale face, she would've appeared badass. Shuri turned to Clea and her grin widened. "Don't forget to contact me after this all blows over, alright?"

Clea was sporting a smile of her own. "Of course. The moment we win, I'll get a phone."

"I'll be awaiting your Instagram request, Clea."

The new friends gave a Wakandan salute to one another, though Clea's was awkward and definitely stood out as the work of a novice. Walking down the ramp, Clea joined Steve and Natasha at the center of the room. T'Challa turned to the three of them. "Wakanda won't be far, Captain. If the situation gets out of hand-"

"We'll be sure to call you, your majesty." Natasha nodded politely at the king. "Thank you for everything you've done thus far."

"You don't need to thank me," T'Challa assured them kindly. His eyes landed on Clea and he put a giant hand on her shoulder. "May the spirits aid you in the days to come."

Handing them a few thousand in pocket money, the Wakandan king opened the aircraft's hatch. He wished them good luck once more and after they dismounted the ship, he revved the engines and flew off into the blue sky.

Steve looked around at their new surroundings: the freshly-painted, nearly empty parking lot of a McDonald's, which was apparently closed for an employee inservice day. "Okay, now what?"

"Now we find the base and figure out a plan to infiltrate it," Natasha replied, using her hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she searched the area. Besides from a few cars and some confused bystanders, the intersection they had been dropped off at seemed to be devoid of public interest.

"I wish it was that easy," Clea noted. "HYDRA isn't exactly keen on visitors." She glanced up at Steve, who's massive height difference was blotting out the sun from her field of vision. "Though, I doubt you've forgotten."

"Any suggestions then?" Natasha asked.

"Only one." Clea pursed her lips. Several pebbles lifted from the ground, shaking in mid air before dropping– all at once. Whatever idea had sprung into her mind, she clearly wasn't fond of it. "We use me as bait."

Steve straightened his stance, his blue eyes hardening as he gripped his tactical belt. "We aren't doing that. It's too risky and I'm not putting you in harm's way."

"Besides, there's too many variables. One thing goes wrong and the entire plan goes to Hell," Natasha added.

Natasha spoke too soon; mere moments after her statement, the mortified wails of a crowd erupted in the distance.