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girl wonder. chapter five
"YOU own a costume?"
Dick doesn't take his eyes off the road, so he can't see the passive aggressive glare I give him after he asks his question.
"No, I don't. Not everyone does this professionally, you know."
"Well, do you own any weapons?"
"Just my fists," I tell him, holding up my balled hands.
We're zipping down dark Washington D.C. streets in his Porsche, which is extremely impressive, by the way, considering how old it is.
"They'll do."
I'm surprised when Dick comes to a sudden halt outside of a huge warehouse building. We're so close to the city so it's not exactly the most remote place to carry out illegal activity.
"Stay here for a minute," he tells me, climbing out of the car. I frown and open my mouth to protest, but he's already slammed the door shut before I can even speak. He shuffles through the trunk, while I stare ahead at the building which is entirely swallowed by darkness. There's no movement. No noise.
After sitting in a pool of confusion for about two minutes, Dick pulls my door open, fully clad in his infamous red and green suit.
"Holy shit," I mutter, taking him in in all his glory as I step out of the car. I thought he was buff and intimidating before, but seeing him as Robin makes my chest tighten ever so slightly. I'm scared that if I make a wrong move, he'll snap my neck without thought.
"Ready to do this?" he asks.
I breathe out a defeated sigh. "I guess."
"Hey, Natasha," he calls, after I've turned around and begun to walk towards the building. "I appreciate this, alright? I know it's not really your thing, but the fact that you're doing it means a lot."
I give a weak smile and shrug a little. "I don't like letting people down."
Dick chuckles lightly. "Come on. We don't have much time."
He races ahead, but I catch up to him without effort and soon we come to a metal door. Dick fiddles with the handle and when it doesn't budge, he steps back to examine the surroundings and look for another way in.
I step forward and yank the handle off the door, throwing it to the ground and peeling open the door.
Dick stands there for a moment, astonished.
"What? I told you I was strong," I tell him.
We head inside, ducking as we manoeuvre our way through the place. It's dark, damp and cluttered with old furniture and random objects covered in plastic tarps. I don't even want to know what's under them. We follow the faint echo of voices until we reach a huge, open area and crouch down behind a pile of wooden crates.
Immediately I spot Hawk and Dove crouching helplessly against a van, surrounded by at least two dozen men, all of them armed.
Dick taps my shoulder and leans in towards me.
"I'm going over to the other side. Wait for my signal," he says in such a low whisper that, if I had been an inch further away, I wouldn't have heard it.
"What's the signal?"
"You'll know."
Once again I frown and I'm about to ask him what that means, but he doesn't listen. He's already snuck off into another room on the far side of the van.
Soon enough there's talking, or rather taunting. A guy with a voice that belongs in a horror film promises Hank and Dawn that the pain he's about to cause will be the worst and last pain they'll ever feel, which sends a shudder down my spine. All of a sudden there's a scream, then more screaming, then the sound of someone falling to the floor.
I take it that that's my signal and jump up. Some men have already taken off, scrambling to find any exit, but I easily catch up to them. I'm just inches away from one, so I reach out to grab his shirt. I pull him back towards me and thrust my knee into his back so he's winded. Once he's down on the ground, I pick him up by his leg and toss him in the direction of the other runners, knocking two of them down like they're bowling pins.
Behind me, another one charges at me, but I catch the fist he throws at me, grab his head and smash it into my knee.
Someone begins to fire shots at me relentlessly, so I duck and scurry behind the van where I crouch beside the door, dodging each bullet smoothly. The glass of the window above me explodes into pieces and I have no choice but to tear the van's door off its hinges.
With a makeshift shield, I break out of my hiding spot and make a run for my attacker, who's on the other side of the van. Bullets pelt at the door which is right by my face. They're getting harder and harder until finally I drop the door and pluck the machine gun from the attacker's hands and jab it into his face. Grabbing fistfuls of his jacket, I jerk my head forward so that it collides with his and he's out cold.
All is quiet but for the faint grunting from the other side of the warehouse. I jog back past the van and into another area, just as Dick finishes off a guy by striking him across the face with a gun in hand, a shower of blood splattering across the window.
When he turns to me, my mouth is hanging. The bottom half of his face is freckled with crimson. The eyes behind the black mask are void of any remorse.
Without a word, he brushes past me and stalks back to where the van is, stepping over unconscious bodies littering the floor. Hank and Dawn are stood there, waiting until they're finally safe. Hank has an arm around Dawn's shoulder and rests all his weight on her.
"You're welcome," is all Dick says, then turns around and leaves the warehouse.
