Titanium (Ti)
Atomic Number: 22
Atomic Weight: 47.867 amu
Solid at room temperature; strong metal resistant to sea water, chlorine, and aqua regia; easily oxidized; relatively abundant in the atmosphere
Warnings: Fire hazard, potentially explosive
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"Zejdź ze mnie do diabła!" Malka screams, yanking her arms against the restraints. "Przysięgam, że cię zabiję!" She doesn't care about the terrified nurse desperately trying to remove the IV from her arm or how she cowers. Malka only cares about standing up on her own, free of control. (Get the hell off of me. I swear I will kill you)
"Would you stop scaring the nurses, Malka?"
Malka aims her glare at Barton and Natasha who stand by the door. "I don't know, Nat," she spits. "Maybe when they let me go!" She pulls on the restraints.
Natasha lets the terrified nurse out, though Malka notices a few vials of blood on her tray, before sitting at the edge of her bed. "You gave us a scare," Natasha says. "Are you you?"
"Is Barton?"
"I'm good, thanks for asking, Laska," Barton replies with a roll of his eyes.
"Let me go."
"Not until you answer the question."
"Well, I don't want to kill anyone more than usual, so yeah. I'm good. Now, let me go."
It's a relief when Natasha unlocks her from the bed. Malka instantly grabs her bare wrist, running her thumb over the numbers there as she looks around the room and rises to her feet. "Thank you," she mutters, her heart calming in her chest. "Coulson's gone, isn't he?"
Natasha nods.
"Loki in the wind?"
"Unfortunately," Barton says.
She runs her hands through her hair, shaking her head. "He's not the puppet master. I saw it in his eyes, he's not in control of this. Doesn't mean he isn't going down, but even if we end this, it's far from over."
Narrowing her eyes, Natasha rises from the bed and crosses your arms. "You're not pissed?"
"Oh, I'm mad," Malka says. "I just...I want to end it. I want this to be over, but it won't be. Loki is just the beginning. Something worse is coming."
The door to the room slides open, Steve sticking his head in. "Time to go."
"Go where?" Natasha asks.
"Tell you on the way. Can you fly one of those jets?"
"I can," Barton replies.
Steve waits until Natasha nods. "You got a suit?"
"Yeah."
"Then suit up."
"And just when I thought I could sleep," Malka mutters. "Better be a good plan."
Turns out, pretty solid plan. Walking through the base feels stranger than usual with most eyes averted or working elsewhere. No one truly recognizes the four so-called freaks marching to a jet.
