All of District Thirteen's interesting shit to say was going to be put immediately on pause in the wake of Tony's first little bombshell. All things considered, really, she'd prefer anger to terror right now; anger was more uniquely suited to getting the blood flowing back through her extremities. "So," Natasha said, and paused for a minute, the sheer unfairness of it all spiking in her voice, "so the only person who actually signed on for all this bullshit, the only person who's perfectly willing to die and leave behind a beautiful, martyred corpse, he is the only one they want to give the fucking get out of jail free card to?"
Oh, it was infuriating, the same way it had been when Bucky had made noises about wanting to take Steve's place and made worse because she knew goddamn well Steve would have been the first to protest it. Which was why none of them had filled him in on this plan in the first place and why, quite frankly, the lone bright spot in all of this was the idea that maybe at some point during these Games, she would get to see Steve Rogers feel some actual fucking fear. She would get to see the look on his face when he realized what a fucking idiot he was and how in over his head he had always been, and she was not a good enough person to derive no satisfaction from the idea of it.
She wanted to see him mired in regret, in terror, possibly even pleading, a little. She wanted to see him stripped of the self-righteousness and the bravado for five fucking minutes. And now, it seemed, if she wanted even a shot at getting anyone else out of of there instead of cashing in on her own exit strategy, she had no choice but to extend some of her own shelter to him.
She stood from the bed abruptly and hit the lights, stalking to the mirror so she could begin ripping the rest of the pins from her hair with excessive violence. It seemed very important, suddenly, that if she had to digest this news, that she not do it while dressed as a sexy pile of shrubbery.
Her jaw was set, sharply enough to cut glass as she stared into the mirror in front of her, Tony reflected behind her on the bed. "I spot two immediate problems with this," she said. "The first of which is, good luck convincing Steve there is any world in which Clint and I would invite him into our alliance at this point. The second of which is, say the gamemakers do have instructions to take it easy on me. You don't think it's very likely that they have similar instructions to take him out as soon as possible?"
That was what she'd bet on. Stane wouldn't want to risk giving Steve a grand stage to make a last stand on. He'd want it done quick and efficient, probably a little showy and bloody, if that was possible, and if it wasn't, he would settle for 'quick and efficient'. Smart money said the plan was to try and take Steve out at the Cornucopia, and it wasn't a far-fetched plan, if Rogers was intent to play the prince of passive non-violent resistance who would never raise a hand even in self defense.