Agent Ward, LEOPARD (grantward) wrote in thedoorway, @ 2015-06-19 21:54:00 |
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Seven in the morning. Natasha jogged up to the door, waved to a neighbor across the street, pulling earbuds out and tucking them away. Just another neighbor on a morning jog, if a morning jog lasted all night and crossed burroughs. Her feet led toward the master bedroom but stopped outside the other door, closed and likely locked. A couple thumps on the lighter side to get his attention, “Breakfast in ten in the kitchen.” Shower could come later. Some flour, a pinch of salt, a couple eggs, a little sugar, milk. The pan sat, with a little oil in it, ready to go. But Natasha whipped the eggs with sugar and salt. Then came the flour and milk. Black Widow athletic casual blended in on the streets of Manhattan and the sidewalks in Queens. Though Natasha hadn’t observed a still night, even discouraged a few unfortunate criminals, she hadn’t learned anything on Mason, and she needed to learn more about HYDRA. “Breakfast isn’t bribery,” Natasha spoke when she heard Grant answer, “It’s just blini. But I do need some information on HYDRA.” Grant was in the kitchen in about six minutes, a grey t-shirt and jeans pulled on. If you had told him a year ago that he would be living and sharing space with Natasha Romanoff next year he would have looked at you and told you that whatever you were drinking had clearly gone to your head. But even with that being true, it was a hell of a lot better than living in a solitary cell in SHIELD prison, and he couldn't complain. Romanoff herself had turned out to be a surprisingly decent roommate, and breakfast was just one example of that being the case. And information on HYDRA, well, that would be one of the reasons that he was here. Perhaps even the primary reason. "You want coffee?" He asked, as he walked into the room and headed for the coffee maker to start it. And as he filled the pitcher up with water he glanced over at her. "What type of information we talking about here?" The dough evened out, no lumps, nothing to give it away, and she dropped a small spoonful into the pan, where it spread and cooked immediately. Blini didn’t take much time. “Caffeinated, please,” Natasha agreed. There was enough room for Grant. There was enough room for Steve Rogers. The line came at the Hulk dropping by. Square footage cost a premium, and it wasn’t a studio apartment. Her thoughts had been mostly on Mason or the various characters she actually had seen. But the Sandbox hadn’t provided the Avengers much more than frequent flier miles. They needed names, something she’d said as much about to Steve. Grant wasn’t the first, final, and only line she had on that, but he wasn’t likely to play many games about it. Tell the whole truth? Eh, maybe, maybe not. But it was a simpler situation, something she could do on less sleep. “Names,” Natasha replied, “Locations associated with them, last you knew. Higher up, on the scientific side. Developing new technology from alien artifacts. Something tesseract based or like it.” Grant considered what Natasha had just asked for with a tilt of his head and a brief raising of one eyebrow as he returned the water to the coffee maker and poured it in and started the button. Did he have all of the names? Certainly not. Not in an organization as large as HYDRA, but did he have some? Yes. And he had some that were higher up. He had given Coulson a few as good faith, mostly to help procure the possibility of seeing Skye - however little that had worked out for him - but this was different. Somehow in the past few months everything had shifted around quite a bit. He was no longer in prison and this was mostly because Natasha Romanoff had taken a chance on him. He had no particular reason to believe otherwise. That chance had been based in his training and history, but it had also most certainly been based in the information that he could offer. Grant didn't particularly have any desire to tie himself firmly to another master - not as he had with Garrett - but there was a recognition of opportunities given that needed to be acknowledged. He reached up to pull two mugs out of the cupboard and set them next to the coffee-maker. "Tesseract based, or alien artifacts," he said aloud. Much of what Garrett had worked with had been the centipede project, which had not been tesseract based, but had dealt with alien artifacts. Ultimately whatever serum he'd poured into himself had made him completely crazy, as opposed to merely narcissistic and power-hungry, and had almost certainly been not of this world. "The latter is easier than the former - and may feed into the former - because it's possible there are things related to the Tesseract that don't have immediate ties to it, but are still." One flip of the first blin, and Natasha waited patiently. No surprises came from her request, not that SHIELD, SWORD, or the Avengers were interested in HYDRA, in the part developing new technologies, nor that - from Grant’s experience since first sticking to Garrett’s side - he would be used as a method of gaining information. Her odds of getting good intel were higher perhaps than Coulson, but Natasha swallowed the expectations and gratitude that fed into her receiving it. Intel hadn’t been the reason she took Grant Ward out of his cell or onto her team. LEOPARD was more important than a piece of intel, more than any single piece of intel Natasha could think of. She dropped the blin onto a plate and moved it closer to him. His development into an independent and good person paid off more than any intel in his head. But it was a matter of galactic importance, the infinity stones. Natasha wasn’t breathing those words out loud. Enough people in the world lusted greedily over the sceptre or the tesseract without even her mildly less limited understanding of what they were. If it gave Grant the wrong impression of her, Natasha had to work through that. Safety of the world and the galaxy had to be a higher priority. “And SWORD has possession of the tesseract,” Natasha added, “which makes it more difficult for HYDRA to continue tesseract based developments. The latter’s a good lead.” Grant glanced at the coffee maker and when he saw it wasn't quite completed he turned his attention back to Natasha as he ran through the names and locations - what he did know about Centipede and what Garrett had been involved with. And there were some pieces that were larger, more complete - names and people at the head of centers - and then there were some pieces that were literally just pieces. And there was always a part of him that hesitated, how much did he say, how much did he hold back to maintain usefulness, if he gave too much would they give up on this freedom that they had offered him? And if so - what did that mean for his future? "Centipede operated worldwide," he said finally. "Much of the serum that they were building was from alien technology. Some of the locations were known before SHIELD fell apart, and I'm guessing you've still got those - the Argentina connections, the New Mexico ones. I was never there, but I was told there was a major center in Belgium in Europe. They were all working to create super soldiers, with alien technology and artifacts where they could." Her hands went through the motions, cooking each thin pancake one at a time. It took almost no attention at all. His posture, his face… all were infinitely more important. It saddened her, to see the person in a cage, someone conditioned to see his value in information (possibly skills… but always on deliverables)... a value subject to change at any time because it had a clock on it. He hadn’t made as much progress as she wished, but then… it wasn’t something she could change overnight. “Everyone can know about those,” Natasha smiled a little. She had, after all, published them online. It took some digging, but it had been in there. Some information had been above her clearance level, and Natasha had taken the time to do her homework. “Belgium… would infuriate NATO if they knew. Any names or rumors to go along with that location?” Before Grant had the time to consider what was worth telling, Natasha held up the spatula in a stop motion. “Grant,” she looked over at him, “Your value to me is independent of how much you tell me. And no one else is going to know how much or how little you say.” If he couldn’t believe that yet, if he had to hold onto something, Natasha had other avenues of networking. Grant Ward had made a living off of being able to hold secrets tight and play parts perfectly. His marks in that regard were up with Romanoff's in terms of ability, but it took all of that and a little besides to keep himself from looking startled at her remarks. And while it might or might not be true, he wasn't going to spend the time currently to unpack it. He would, but it would need more time and privacy than the kitchen was to allow. He turned around and poured the coffee for both of them and set one mug down near Natasha. "Von Strucker is in Europe, but I'm not certain if he's in Belgium or not. As far as I know he's in the European branches more than he is anywhere else. I'm educated guessing that a lot of the works with the serums came out of the Belgium branches. Von Strucker's higher up - he probably did some oversight of what was happening there - but I suspect his headquarters were further East." A sizable stack of blini were on one plate. Natasha stuck the spatula in the middle and took the top half to a second plate. That one she sent Grant’s way. He needed something warm and fresh just then. She acted no different for his clear shock and surprise. It wasn’t a movie, some moment that made all the difference and made him trust her immediately in the moment. Perhaps take a risk, make a bet… that either way it was better for him to tell more. But trust came with thought or without any realization whatsoever. Natasha nodded and accepted it. She’d heard the name a couple times in her work. It was a solid lead, his name and possibly something in Belgium. The more she digged up on him, the easier it would be to find the cover in Belgium. “Thank you, Grant,” Natasha turned the stove off and took her food and drink to the small table. “That’s a great help.” Grant took a sip of the coffee and then reached out for the plate. The food was delicious looking, and perhaps all the better for the fact that it had been so long since he'd had the opportunity to have real food like this. Prison food was certainly nothing to write home about -- as if he had a home to write to. He found a fork and took a bite. They were as good as they looked. Who knew Natasha Romanoff was a decent cook on top of all her other skills? But for now he offered her the smallest of smiles. "And thanks for these, Natasha. It's good." And whether he was talking about the blini, or the place to stay, or the offered trust Grant really couldn't be certain. |