I'm rummaging through your closet

[fronttowardenemy]

WHO: Frank Castle and Natasha Romanoff
WHERE: the safe house Frank has established for himself
WHEN: Today why not
WHAT: mister castle do you have a moment to speak about our lord and savior registration
WARNINGS: TBA


[ It's tricky to establish groundwork. He hasn't accumulated much in the means of an arsenal, and Murdock's stipulations make that even more troublesome. Non-lethal is always something he can manage; it simply takes more time to prepare for it. Sparing lives involves a lot more effort than killing them. It keeps the devil off his back, so it's worth the frustration -- for the time being. It's better to have allies in a place like this, for as long as that can be maintained.

There's a meager collection of weaponry gathered here, spread out across the table he surveys. Not much, but enough to get a job done. Besides that, the safe house isn't very furnished; a Spartan workplace. A cot. A desk. A stack of notebooks and old machine parts (that may have been a part of a motorcycle once) to occupy his hands when his work can't be done. Coffee brews and he listens to a worn television set telling him the new reports.

Nothing that he hears bodes well. ]

Comments

[assassinat]

[ Frank Castle isn't an easy man to track, at least not in Heropa. While she misses the arsenal she built for herself back home, Natasha's accepted in the past couple weeks that she's going to have to pick up the pieces and start over. Scraps and one man's trash being her treasure, that sort of sentiment is where she stands currently.

At least sentimentally. Where she actually stands is on the brink of danger, but throwing caution to the wind in favor of answers is just ingrained in her mind. Admittedly, she was unaware of Frank's existence in this world until curiosity bit her and she began to dig beneath the surface. After all, if there's someone here who can hack S.H.I.E.L.D. then Natasha wanted to be on the same page as her when it came to the secret of this world. Matt might reprimand her for being inappropriate and digging in his business specifically, but it isn't the first time she's left Hell unscathed.

When it comes to dancing with the devil, Natasha can pass gracefully as his partner in perfection, but when it came to other killers? It doesn't go as planned most of the time and she's prepared for that. Fortunately for her, it looks like he doesn't have much, but it's enough to even leave her soaked in the floorboards. That thought alone is why she takes the risk of revealing herself early, but not in a compromising situation. There's still enough time to duck behind something should he grow hostile, but she silently prays it doesn't come to that.

Frank Castle isn't exactly the kind of man you want to surprise or to attack you. Natasha knows this much. ]

You're not registered.

[fronttowardenemy]

[ He doesn't hear her come in; of course he wouldn't. A reputation like hers is built with good reason. It's more that she lets him know she's here. On the first sound of her voice, his reflex is quick: a pistol from the table is grabbed, cocked, and aimed in her direction.

...then lowered, when he realizes who he's dealing with, but not discarded.

Blue on blue. ]

No.

[ He says that bluntly, his good eye narrowing as he appraises her. This was the sort of confrontation he intended to avoid by siding with Murdock: no one knocking on his door -- or breaking through it -- to demand more of him.

Not that simple. ]

Shouldn't surprise you.

[assassinat]

[ It isn't that she's come to demand things of him, no, simply just an understanding. Not that she's able to read him that easily. In the few seconds of a gun being pointed towards her, Natasha doesn't fear the loss of her life, but instead regrets the mistake that was the assumption that all would be well. That she could just simply walk in here and speak with him about his choices.

The best answers are the ones that are the hardest sought, so once she's sure she's safe? ]

It doesn't. [ What does surprise her are the number of people who consent to it, herself included. ]

I want to know what happens to those who aren't.

[fronttowardenemy]

[ In another circumstance, he might set the gun down entirely, but Natasha isn't strictly calling herself a friendly. With talk like this, it could escalate to confrontation; it would be wiser to keep the weapon on him.

He keeps it in his hand as he moves to the opposite side of the room, where coffee is brewing. He carefully keeps himself positioned so his good eye is towards her. ]

Answer is nothing. [ Well. Debatable. He bats the idea back and forth for a moment before he relents to continuing. ] Yet.

They aggravate things. Try to breed change by rewarding imPorts who coax others into switching over. Otherwise, depends on how noisy you are, and what you do.

[ His case is a step beyond the rest; the glowing blue on his arm reads 'vigilante' and so far he's stayed under the radar. ]

Having second thoughts?

[assassinat]

[ As tempted as she is to remind him that shooting her won't necessarily keep her down, Natasha decides that prodding a nursing paranoid will end horribly for her. His name and reputation both are enough to keep her wary, though not enough to keep her away. ]

If you think I've come here to tell you what to do, you have the wrong idea.

[ About her, mostly. No man or agency owns or commands her. This world is no different in that regard from the one she left behind. ]

They brought in a Russian spy imPort in the middle of a war that breeds paranoia of spies and expect me to play nice, to get along with their leaders.

Tell me of these rewards. [ What is Tony Stark getting from her cooperation. ]

[fronttowardenemy]

Depends.

[ Frank pours himself a cup of coffee, straight black and steaming. It's cheap stuff, used for the caffeine rather than any sense of taste. Mug in hand, he turns back towards her.

He isn't the kind of host who offers to share. ]

Varies: usually extra luxury and inside information; locked intel. The second part you can get yourself, if you know how.

[ Which she obviously does. He watches her over the rim of his cup. ]

It will escalate; you know it will.

[assassinat]

[ When she heads out for scuffles like this, it isn't with the intent of sharing a cup of coffee with someone. Occasions of that sort are better spent with individuals she can trust to keep an eye out for her as well as themselves instead of just looking out for number one. ]

It will. [ Of that she has no doubts. ]

Intel from whom? Parc Holiday or some other official they've placed in charge of us? From what I've heard so far, it seems as though they're nothing more than chickens running around with their heads cut off.