Chapter Text
The crusty old, what Maria liked to call a ‘piece of junk’ telephone on her desk rang for the 7th time that morning, its shrill ring reverberating off the paint-chipped walls of her office and into her brain.
“It’s Hill.” She spoke sharply, letting the person on the other side know to keep it quick.
“Agent Hill. Uh, Commander Hill.” The nervous intern on the other side corrected. Maria could hear an audibly gulp through the receiver. “I am reporting an update on the-”
“Name and department?” Maria cut off, pinching the bridge of her nose, already preparing to send out a memo regarding phone etiquette.
“Right, uh,” the poor intern muttered, “Stevens, Narcotics department of the NYPD. Here to report an update on the drug bust on Allen Street. Two kilos of crack cocaine, but word is out that there are more. Detective Marks is requesting a UC.”
“What’s the situation?”
“There have been reports of a new drug out there. Three officers have been hospitalized after responding to an overdose call. The victims reportedly displayed extreme aggression and unusual pain resistance, and the suspected distribution network is expanding. Detective Marks thinks that Allen street was just a mid-point, and that they’re moving larger quantities through a rotating set of couriers.” There was a pause and an audible gulp before he continued, “ He wants someone embedded to track the chain upstream.”
Maria leaned back slightly in her chair, eyes drifting toward the city map pinned on the wall across the room.
Allen Street. Loud. Heavy traffic. Easy to obtain information.
Maria seldom used her precious UCs for drug bust. Hell, drug busts weren’t their usual point of focus, but the NYPD had been reaching out for help due to the unusual amount of ODs that had been occurring. It hit a record high last month, and with more drugs circulating the street, it was affecting their operations. Still… using her UCs for a drug epidemic seemed like a waste of resources.
“I’ll see what I can do.” Maria said shortly, promptly hanging up the phone.
She allowed herself to sit in quiet for a whole minute, before exhaling with a controlled breath and dialling another number.
“What’s up?” A raspy, slightly irritated voice came through, Maria could hear the slight pant in her voice, which meant that she was most likely at the gym.
“Hey, can you come to my office?” Maria requested.
“Uh, I’m busy.” The redhead replied, sassier than usual.
Guess she’s still mad about last Friday.
“I’m sorry. I should have made it clearer. My office. Now.”
The line went quiet for 5 seconds except for some breathing sounds, before there was an audible click and the phone went silent.
Maria counted the minutes before the door swung open. Natasha Romanoff walked in still in her workout gear, hair pulled back, a light sheen of sweat still visible, irritation set in her features.
Maria deserved it, mostly.
“You summoned?” Natasha plopped down on the chair across her table, grabbing a towel from her shoulder and wiping the back of her neck. “What is it that couldn’t wait an hour?”
Maria slid the file towards her. Natasha glanced down at it, flipping through it with a hum.
“A drug bust?” She said, unimpressed.
“NYPD flagged a spike in ODs tied to this network, and there’s something out there about a new drug. Marks wants a UC to track it upstream.” Maria summarised.
“And you’re considering it.” Natasha assumed.
“It’s not our lane. I don’t like allocating resources there.” Maria leaned back slightly. “But it’s bleeding into it. Instability, more noise on the ground.”
Natasha closed the file, her eyes flicking up. “So what’s the ask? You want me to go in?”
“No.” Maria replied, a little too quickly. “I don’t know.”
“You usually get one of your CI’s for intel. Do that.” Natasha shrugged.
“That’s the problem. I lost most of them in the last year.” Maria rubbed at her forehead.
“Lost?” Natasha raised a brow. “Like they all died?”
“Like they reoffended. Or OD’d. Or shanked someone in the queue for bagels. Or… yeah, died.” Maria made a face. “Can I use one of yours?”
Natasha snorted. “Hell no. You have a serious retention problem. And terrible judgement, clearly. You need better CIs”
“I followed all the rules of making a CI.” Maria defended herself.
“I think that’s the problem.” Natasha leaned back against the chair, one arm draping down one side of the chair lazily. “You pick them clean, keep it transactional, never give them a reason to stay loyal beyond whatever deal you’re dangling in front of them. I’m just saying, your CI’s burn out because you treat them like they’re disposable.”
“They are disposable.” Maria said flatly. “That’s the job. They’re assets, but at the end of the day, they’re criminals I don’t send to prison. I’m not supposed to pamper them, or give them anything beyond their job scope. They’re all people who’ve made terrible decisions, Romanoff.”
“So am I.” Natasha said quietly, eyes flickering up again to meet Maria’s ones.
Maria paused. “That’s not the same,” she said softly.
The room was silent for a few moments as Natasha exhaled slowly, tapping her fingers against Maria’s oak table in a rhythmic pattern, a thoughtful look on her face. Maria knew she wasn’t mad. A little hurt, maybe, but not mad. Yet. “Tonight. 9 pm. Meet me at the carpark.” Natasha said decidedly.
“I have work.” Maria replied lamely, to which Natasha scoffed.
“You owe me.” Natasha gave her a look, the corners of her lips twitching up slightly into a faint smirk. “Besides, I’d be doing you a favor. So technically, you’d owe me again after today.”
“That’s not how favors work.” Maria’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“It is when I say it is.” Natasha pushed herself up from her chair, grabbing the file and tapping it once against the desk before dropping it back in place. “Nine.” She repeated. “And don’t wear anything that screams ‘federal agent with a superiority complex’.” Natasha paused as she was halfway out the door. “Nevermind, that rules out your entire wardrobe. Don’t dress nice.”
The door shut before Maria could respond.