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Secret Bit of Right From Wrong	By : ChrisCross Category: Marvel Verse Movies > Avengers, The Views: 9417 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Captain America or The Avengers. I make no money, and live on reveiws alone

Chapter List
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The couple woke from their afternoon nap refreshed, now that their needs weren’t quite as pent up. They still would have made love again, but the sun had moved since they first found the lake, and the leading edge of shade was encroaching on their improvised bed. They dressed quickly, not wanting to get caught naked in the dark woods, before scouting the area. It turned out the lake was an ideal place to camp, with fresh water and a blackberry patch just a bit off from the sunny rock they had spent the afternoon on. It didn’t take them long finding another pine tree to modify into a sturdier lean-to than their first, meant to last a few days, not just a night. Karen wound up doing a lot of the construction, sparing Steve the exertion, which his aching lungs appreciated, even if his chivalry didn’t. He hated the idea that she had to pick up his slack, but when he tried to help, he got an unusual response from someone who had said outright that she hated camping.
“No way, José. You can offer design advice, but you are not carrying these.” She gestured to the heavy deadfall branches he’d tried to lift. “I know this is a point of pride thing, the whole mentality of ‘caveman lift heavy object, caveman strong’,” Steve found her imitation of a cave man was as hilarious as it was infuriating. “but right now, right here, I’m the one better suited to do the physical labor, and you’re the one who huffed and puffed all through making our first camp.”
Objecting, he tried to get around her to pick up a branch. “I can’t just let you do all the work. A man should look out for his girl, not turn her into grunt labor.”
“‘Let me?’ ‘Let me!’ Oh. My. God. I can’t believe it; that is so chauvinistic…. I sometimes forget you grew up pre-sexual revolution, but then you go and say something like that.” Indignantly crossing her arms, the look on her face promised trouble if he didn’t shut up and listen. “You get this one freebie lesson, because you spent 70 years in arctic ice, but learn it now, or you will regret the day they thawed you out, Rip Van Winkle. Women fought and died to have the vote, we spent the sixties fighting and dying to own our own bodies, the seventies to have equal rights in the eyes of the law. We have careers, from female machinists, to brain surgeons, to politicians. The days of ‘barefoot and pregnant’ are over.” Realizing that her rant was a tiny bit overkill, she tried to soften the overall impact. “I appreciate you not wanting to make me do hard labor, but when I say I want to do the heavy stuff, saying I can’t is insulting at best. And in all honesty, the physical activity is probably the best thing for me, right now. The more endorphins I can rack up, the better I’ll be when it gets truly dark.”
“Ok, I get it. Telling you that you can’t do something is like saying you have to do something. I’d say I’m just a bit old-fashioned, but you already knew that, and it isn’t a good excuse any way.” Looking sheepish, he tried to mend the damage he inadvertently did to this new thing blooming between them. “I guess I’ll just head over to that berry patch and get us some dinner.”
“That’d be great. Bring back any thorny branches you think the plant can spare, I don’t want a raccoon or something crawling in with us, and maybe nature’s barbed wire will discourage them.”
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At a small airport in southwestern Russia, a group of super heroes disembarked. Using Natasha’s contacts and general knowledge of the area and Tony’s pull with just about every military in the world, they had managed to get landing clearance at an airport just a few hours’ drive from the stretch of heavily forested terrain they would need to search. They had toyed with the idea of waiting for Wolverine to fly to New England and join them, but as he was currently in Madripor, it was quicker for them to fly separately. Dr. McCoy volunteered to stay with their plane to co-ordinate their eventual meeting. Dealing with the hot-headed and animalistic mutant was a job best served by someone he knew, everyone agreed.
The research jointly done by Dr. McCoy’s team and Bruce had pointed them to an area that had been a popular camping, hunting, and fishing location, before having an insane dictator for a neighbor took its toll. A few brave souls still tried to camp here, die-hard nature lovers wanting to see some of the most unspoiled wilderness in Europe. As a result a small business had cropped up to cater to these daring eco-tourists. In the little shack that served as a storefront, Natasha spoke with a craggy-faced woman in rapid-fire Russian. Cate and Clint stood back and admired the easy manner with which their co-worker ignored being back on her home soil, despite that home soil not being particularly welcoming. Although not fluent in the language, it became apparent to both observers that negotiations were not trending in their favor. When Widow came back with a grim look on her face, it was confirmed.
“She says that we can rent the ATV’s they have available, and buy any supplies we need, which unless you really have a hankering for jerky, I think S.H.I.E.L.D. has covered.” Reluctantly, and only at gentle prodding from her partner, she continued. “The bad news is that due to the recent…unrest…that this area’s gone through, it would be incredibly stupid to go anywhere without a guide who speaks the language. The ATV’s can only seat two, so at least one of us would be alone. I could probably get us out of any sticky spots, but neither of you speak Russian or Latverian.”
“I fail to see the problem.” Cate’s normally dry tone had been tinged with bitterness ever since the attack, lending a caustic air to any criticism, no matter how small. “We do what she says; we hire a guide.” Moving toward the weather-beaten old woman, she was stopped short, intercepted by a similarly ancient man.
“No. You are trouble. Government trouble. We cannot afford.”
Something in the way he said ‘government’ sounded very familiar to Clint, who spent most of his childhood in Carson’s Carnival of Traveling Wonders. To anyone that had a background involving carneys that tone said more than his broken English. It said “I’m afraid of the government because I very probably have done something illegal, but not necessarily immoral.” His willingness to step forward and body-block an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. said volumes too. It said “I may be a societal outcast, but I still have many, many misfit friends who will fight beside me if needed.” Altogether the man had told Clint everything he needed.
“Hey, Rube, show a little respect.” Clint took a bouncing step to stand beside Cate, catching the man’s rather suspicious eye. “Government Trouble here lost a sister in these woods, and I lost somebody who might as well be a brother. We want to be gone as much as you want us gone, but we are not leaving anyone behind. I’m sure you know what I’m saying; family looks out for family, be they blood or otherwise.”
“Is very sad. Hope you find. My family still cannot afford.”
The former stuntman dropped the cheerful tone of his voice, instead darkly growling. “I understand wanting to dodge this particular bullet; I’ve done it before, many times. But I’ve never shoved another person in between me and it.” Slashing a hand down and to the side to emphasize the word ‘never’, he pushed his voice even darker. “‘Ourselves to ourselves’ is one thing, but letting two people starve to death in the woods, turning away two people who are way more like you than you think? That is very, very different. I don’t know about Russia, but in America we don’t reject another carney in a time of crisis. It’s a code.”
The man stiffened in either shock or outrage, and then slowly relaxed. “Yes, we have code too. Is easy to forget, so many years we be respectable. It must be turning me into Gadje.” Shaking his head at this, he turned and gestured at a door covered in a thick curtain. “Please, come in, we do business. My wife will bring bread. Call me Dmitri.”
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Behind the heavy, tapestry-like curtain lay a dimly lit sitting room. Low sofas covered in threadbare red velvet circled a similarly dilapidated table, too tall to be a coffee table, too low to be anything else. Framed palmistry diagrams shared the wall-space with shelves of strange-looking bottles and bundles of dried plants. Gauzy blue-green scarves covered the room’s few lamps. In all, it looked exactly how you’d expect a gypsy fortune-teller’s parlor to look.
Taking a seat on the surprisingly comfortable couches, the rescue party watched as Dmitri removed the scarves, flipped the painted frames to show mirrors, and pulled down one of the bottles. The increased light, now a natural pale yellow, rendered a very different appearance to the room. Now it looked more like the living room of an under-funded eccentric. As his wife entered the room with a tray of mismatched teacups, a salt-shaker and a loaf of brown bread, Dmitri moved to sit on the remaining sofa. Their host pulled the stopper out of the green glass bottle he had previously brought down from a shelf. Using the teacups, he poured a shot of strong-smelling alcohol for each of them. When they all had a shot, he raised his cup in the near-universal sign for ‘cheers’. Refusing to discuss business until the vodka was consumed; he insisted that it was “bad luck to do deal without having drink.” When the acrid liquid had been finished, Dmitri steepled his fingers in front of his body.
“So. Now we talk of our dealings. You need guide, but to do what? I have many cousins, but some are better at certain things.”
After a brief look passed between the agents, a silent agreement to let the one in the party who had netted this meeting take the lead.
“Well…” Clint’s voice began slowly, picking up in speed and strength as he went. “We’re looking to do a search and rescue, so someone who knows the terrain would be helpful. We may find our people in need of medical care, and I think we only have battlefield type training.” He looked hopefully at his companions.
“I’ve let my Red Cross certs lapse, but I have all of Steve and Karen’s daily meds with me.”
“So, yeah, maybe someone who could handle typical nature-related first aid. We’re expecting a tracker in a day or so, but we’d like to get a start, so a decent woodsman would be good.” Not wanting to over-burden the list, Clint stopped there. “Who do you have who can fit that bill?”
“My cousin Yuri, his daughter Tanya, they both can do this. Yuri is better follower of trails, but Tanya grew up in these woods, knows them like they are her own home. She also trained with avalanche crews in Urals.” Pausing for thought, Dmitri leaned back in his chair. “You want to hire both, that is thirty thousand American dollar. You want hire only one: is twenty thousand. Pay only in American dollar or Ruble, no Euro.”
“Seems a bit steep for a job that will likely only take 48 hours.” Natasha spoke softly, taking care not to get agitated with the man.
“No, Tasha, that’s pretty normal for anything that puts the family at risk. Besides, Stark’s good for it.” Clint waved her off. “We’ll hire Tanya, but that much hard cash could take a day or two to arrive….”
“Da, I know the way it is. Tanya will do the work, and we’ll wait for the money. But Sergei Topolov at the customs is also my cousin. You understand?”
“We won’t run out on you. I’ll sign a contract if you want.” Cate was antsy, and the words came out sharp. The wizened gypsy didn’t seem to mind.
“Good that you understand. Contract I do not need, unless you want magic paper to give you trust. Now, to seal our agreement, in the way of my people, we eat of the bread and taste of the salt; that our deal be filling and pleasing to us both.” As he spoke, his wife passed out slices of the dark, nutty bread, dabbed with butter and sprinkled with salt. When they all had eaten the bread, he poured another round of vodka. They made a toast to family, and although it smelled and tasted like industrial disinfectant, the team downed it readily, relieved that they would have a guide.
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Secret Bit of Right From Wrong