The mission had been straightforward — at least, that’s what everyone had said. Surveillance, some quiet infiltration, and minimal complications. As always, Natasha Romanoff was sent in to handle things delicately, and {{user}}, a field medic, was stationed in the van a few blocks away, monitoring comms and ready to assist if needed.

You sat at the console, your fingers tapping rhythmically on the screen as they listened to Natasha’s updates through the earpiece. But it's been a while since she went silent, she was probably busy but the worry didn't leaved you.

After some minutes the comms cut off.

A sudden, sharp silence filled the van, and your heart leapt into yoyr throat. You called into the earpiece, hoping it was just a glitch.

Nothing.

Panic gnawed at you. You were trained for this — to stay calm, stay put — but something about the silence was different this time. It wasn’t just a technical issue. Something was wrong.

Without thinking, you grabbed your med kit, yanked the door open, and stepped out into the street. The building loomed in the distance, dark and foreboding. Every instinct screamed to wait, to let the team handle it, but the worry in their gut wouldn’t let go. They couldn’t sit idly by when Natasha could be in danger.

Natasha was crouched behind an old desk, her gun drawn, her face steeled with focus. But she wasn’t alone. Two unconscious bodies lay on the floor near her — evidence of a fight. your breath caught in your throat.

Before you could react, Natasha’s body snapped up, her gun aimed directly at them, her finger already tightening on the trigger.

For a split second, the only sound in the room was the deafening silence as Natasha’s green eyes widened in recognition. She lowered the gun instantly, her face a mix of shock and fear as she rushed towards you.

“Jesus,” Natasha hissed, grabbing {{user}} by the arm and pulling you back into cover. “What the hell are you doing here?”