Possession

A Stolen Hard Drive

The night flew by as you downed more and more drinks by Wanda's side. To your satisfaction, she got on great with all those who meant something to you. You couldn't deny that you had spent majority of the night a higher level of intoxicated than you had planned, yet you didn't mind as you wound up in bed the next morning with Wanda huddled into your shoulder. She woke at your movement, pressing herself further into your side as she groaned, holding her hand to her head.
"Hungover ?" you questioned, your voice still thick with fatigue.
She hummed a confirmation, before stretching and sitting up. You pulled the pillow from beneath you and stuffed it over your face, instantly dreading the work day ahead which would no doubt be made even further unbearable due to the intolerable hangover you were succumbing to.
Wanda left your side, taking your wrist and forcing you up.
"Get dressed. I'll get you an ibuprofen for the headache. Carol told me you've got a big job today."

At the compound, you slouched in your seat, utterly regretful of last night's alcohol consumption as you fought your way through a blinding headache. You scanned the room, stopping on each person's face to examine any damage left by Bucky - now you had put two and two together to realise it had been him who'd tormented your team members in an attempt for them to switch sides. Pretty much everyone in the room had been left with some remnant of their encounter with him. Maria's being most detrimental - visibly. You were in a daze, your mind dancing between Wanda, the feud, Natasha...

"Hey ? Anyone out there ? Y/N, are you even listening ?"
Tony was stood at the front of the room, his arms folded and his face hiding his disappointment in your little engagement with him.
"I'm giving this assignment to you and you're not paying any fucking attention."
You father rarely swore, especially not at you. You realised you'd best listen up. You straightened yourself, rubbing your eyes for a moment before perking up and forcing your own interest into the subject.
"Sorry, dad. What is it ?"
He sighed, pulling up a map and some side photos onto a large holographic screen.
"Natasha was here last night to steal a load of our files. Here's the photo evidence."
He turned on his heels, holding his arms out with a condescending bravado that pointed toward the blatant compound map, matched with photos of a disguised Romanoff raiding the building.
"She can't have got in here without a hard drive. I don't wanna know how she got it, so I'm not gonna ask. But whoever she's stole this from..."
You less than subtly ran your hands along the length of your cargos - of course your drive was nowhere to be found. She must've pocketed it during your bathroom encounter.
"Y/N, just get the files back. I want them by tomorrow morning."
You stood as the others swiftly left the room, shouting for Tony as he lingered in the doorway.
"How am I-"
"Figure it out."
His expression remained stern as he closed the door gently behind him, leaving you on your lonesome, stood in the centre of the deserted room. His irritation with you was made more than evident. You suddenly recall that yesterday he had messaged you about an important mission. Clearly, he had assigned it to someone else after this colossal mistake you had just made and though you were hesitant to self-admit, the clear dissatisfaction your father was feeling toward you hurt. So, instead, you got to work - desperate to fix your error.

After only a few minutes sifting through some of Natasha's mob's recent public domain use's, you narrowed down a hotline and bypassed the security using one of Dr Cho's discs. Upon reading through some messages sent between Steve and Natasha, the severity of the situation became increasingly evident. Natasha was planning on selling the files from your hard drive and the other's to the government, in exchange for complete immunity to attention from the authorities throughout her reign over the gang. Clearly, the government were being hard done by here. You were certain there were no files on your hard drive  that amounted a high enough price to pay for a lifetime of exemption.
Unless, perhaps they had forged them. Placed faulty and incriminating evidence between the already implemented files. After all, your hard drive was only home to some key passcodes, previous action card's and some guide's from Tony. Now that the passcodes had been changed and everything else available was out of date, the drive was worth nothing. Or it would have been, if you weren't certain they had forged lies into it's memory.

You straightened, picking up your phone, ready to message the team. As you were composing the text, you were overcome by an inkling of guilt. This was your wrong-doing, surely you should be resolving it alone.
Instead, you sent a number of messages to Wanda, apologising in advance for your assumed to be late arrival home.

You re-sat yourself, pulling some strings in order to access the messaging mainframe, sending a targeted email to Natasha from an inactive account. The email held a virus that would allow you to track her location for the next 48 hours. You were aware this was rookie tech, but hoped that Natasha was a little new to the job to be looking out for suspicious emails. You laid back in your seat, kicking your feet upon the table and lighting a cigarette between your teeth - anticipating any message that would indicate Natasha had opened the email.

After a final drag from your cigarette, you blew the smoke back at the screen as you watched a little red exclamation mark appear next to the email, followed by a matching red triangle that was speeding down the freeway headed for the красный club. Of course, this could be none other than Natasha.
Your mouth fell open with disbelief, shocked at her beginner's error.
"The son of a bitch actually fell for it."

You swiped the keys to your Harley, adjusting your lack lustre outfit before heading to the blacked out motorcycle. You sighed, arming a gun to your holster and attaching a lengthy blade to your calf strap. You held your face in your hands, praying for your own safety before keying in your destination for the night - the красный.