Pandora

4

      "Nat said she mentioned Strucker. We've already gathered the intel that they've been experimenting on people," Steve mentioned, leaning against a table.

Dark eye narrowed, Fury nodded. "Then we should get as much information out of her as possible, by any means necessary."

"I don't think scare tactics are going to work," Tony piped up, stopping his chair from spinning.

"And why not?" Fury frowned.

"I may or may have threatened to kill her if she didn't stop resisting," he casually stated. "It was only to convince her to stand down, but she pretty much told me to get it over with. She doesn't seem to care if she dies."

"And we aren't Hydra," Bruce gave Fury a disapproving look. "'By any means necessary'? Really? We aren't going to hurt her to get information," he firmly proclaimed, determinedly holding his ground against the Director's doubtful gaze.

Dismissively waving his hand, Tony sighed. "Ignore him. Bruce here got attached to Twig on the flight."

"I did not -"

"Then it's settled," Fury declared, "Bruce will talk to her."

Blinking, processing the order, Bruce took a tentative step back at the expectant expression on Fury's face. "Right - right now?" he uncertainly asked.

"Right now."

Anxiously looking to the monitor, Bruce saw Pandora standing in front of the glass with her hands by her side while Natasha and Clint spoke to her.

Boredom plastered itself to her face and she patiently waited for them to finish. It wasn't that Pandora wasn't interested in the rules they were laying out for her; it was the fact that they thought a simple cell would keep her contained for long. After everything she'd done, she at least thought they'd be a little smarter about where they caged her.

Spotting a familiar head of curly hair make his way down the hall, Pandora leaned to the side in attempt to get a better look at the good doctor as his footsteps gathered the other agents' attention. Awkwardly waving, Bruce cleared his throat and joined Natasha's side.

Putting his glasses in his shirt pocket, he nervously smiled. "Fury sent me here to talk to Pandora," he briefly explained.

Scoffing, Natasha curtly shook her head. "That's too dangerous for everyone involved."

Shrugging, he motioned the camera in the corner of Pandora's cell. "I'm just following orders."

"And I'm not letting you in there," she swiftly retorted, placing a hand on her hip.

"That's fine, I can talk to her out here," Bruce said and focused on the girl standing across from him. "Um, hello again. Are you feeling okay?"

Remaining silent, Pandora pointedly glared at the other agents.

Sighing, he apologetically looked to them. "Can you guy's leave?"

After a moment of deliberation and the okay from their boss, the agents dispersed, but Natasha refused to leave. "I don't care what happens, I'm staying," she stubbornly said. "Barton, you can tell Fury I'm not going anywhere."

"It's your funeral." Clint gave her a two-finger salute and walked off with the rest of the agents.

Appreciatively smiling, Bruce fought back the worry rising his his gut. Lightly shaking off his nerves, he saw Pandora return to the bed, sitting near the navy-blue jumper placed next to the blanket. For a moment, they merely stared at one another, and he uncomfortably coughed as Natasha stood protectively behind him.