Work Text:
Natasha woke up. She hadn't anticipated that. She hadn't anticipated ever waking up again, much less waking up able to move. Or alone. She pushed that thought aside and kept her breathing steady as she opened her eyes a slit to examine her surroundings. Urban, dark, wet. It smelled like the ocean was nearby, salt under the scent of city life. A moment's hesitation and she sat up to look around herself properly.
It wasn't much, the same way of dank alleys everywhere, but that was comforting in its own way. She checked to make sure that she was alone, took a moment to verify the cardboard structure was empty, and then let herself examine the scraps of newsprint and wrappers near her feet. English, nearly entirely English. That decreased the number of places this could potentially be.
The name "Gotham" was in the various pieces of newspaper several times. Natasha tried and failed to place it and then drummed her fingertips against her thigh. She liked that right now, she decided. She could be someone who drummed her fingers when she needed a tell, at least for now. A quick glance down at her suit led to her twisting her lips in amusement. The finger drummer wouldn't wear this. She needed to get new clothes or be someone else. She leaned her head back to try to find a way up to the roof, up to where Clint might've been, if this was a mission. If she hadn't been certain she was going to die on the last one she remembered.
A number of potential reasons came to mind and she considered them, partly to shove down the part of her that kept circling back to being alone. There was no point in railing against it now, in indulging her anger and hurt. Those were emotions for someone who didn't have the kind of responsibilities she had. She needed to figure out where she was, how to check in, how to get home.
The explosion felt timely. The kinds of people who might have the answers she wanted would respond to that. She was up and out of the alley immediately, running towards the smoke. A hand grabbed at her and Natasha smothered a snarl to raise her eyebrows at the man. "I wouldn't. Joker's at one of his games again, and you know what he's been like this week."
Natasha didn't, but wasn't it interesting that he assumed she would? A quick glance at him to take in his unease, his resignation. A grimace would look right here. When he caught sight of it, he huffed a quiet laugh. "Mad the Bat hasn't been out to play. Even one of their dramatic chases through the streets would be better than this." She nodded, let her expression shift to the tired smile of so done with this shit even as she considered what he had just said. What the hell was going on here?