Hey. I'm back with the next chapter. I hope you like it!

Fury was stood at the head of the table in parade rest. He had a look of anger splashed across his feature but he didn't make a comment about it if Amadeus showed nearly ten minutes late. In fact, the look on his face could almost be described as understanding. It was going to be a long day.

"Would anyone like to tell me what happened and why I only found out about it half an hour ago?" Fury's single eye swept across the room, assessing each of the heroes in turn. He was anxious and annoyed. He should have found out yesterday and he still didn't know the entirety of what had happened.

The explanation came out in bit and pieces as people started, stopped and interrupted each other. Fury's frown seemingly deepened as apologies, excuses and explanation tumbled out but he didn't say a word- he got the impression that he would get a better picture if he didn't stop the explanation because attempts at bringing order usually just resulted in arguments (something that he picked up after spending so long working with teenagers). He was in a room full of overgrown children; there were a few actual children as well, however, they were being more mature than the so called 'adults'. The Avengers were testing his patience.

Each word said made Fury want to slam his head against a wall. Hard enough to knock himself out. It was fair enough for the Avengers to let the younger heroes lead but he just couldn't understand why they didn't intervene when two teams that worked well together were struggling. Why didn't anyone tell him about the ray? He could have sent agents to track the villain, the trail was probably cold by now. Idiots.

He understood why the teenagers, young, rebellious and desperate for an approval that they didn't have to earn, hadn't contacted him. They would have viewed it as admitting to failure or inviting questions about their incompetency. They, for some reason, hadn't yet learned that making a mistake once was not the same as never being able to win.

He didn't like it. He didn't have to like it. He could understand and, in his experience, understanding was all that was needed to eventually convince the teens to talk to him. It had already worked, to an extent. The young heroes would always try to solve a problem by themselves before asking for help and he could respect that. He always knew that any call from them was genuine and that they had at least done something by themselves first. At the same time, he also knew that they would always try to ask for help when they were out of their depth. It was a system that he wished some his adult agents would adopt.

When the Avengers' desire to talk finally waned Fury was exhausted. He let out a deep sigh as he looked around the room again. "What are you going do about all of this? Stark, it's your tower and I am trusting you to come up with a sensible solution."

"Yeah, I'm sorting it. Got some sound proofed rooms being converted into something liveable now. I've brainstormed a few ideas of where to start for whoever does the research, if you want it."

"Good. I'm leaving all of you to sort this mess out but I expect reports if anything changes. Please try to keep this out of the media. Dismissed." With that little speech still hanging in the air, Fury left the room, leaving it in silence. He had done what he could and what he thought was best, however, the lead brick in his stomach didn't shift and the pain in his soul did little to diminish. He couldn't help feeling responsible for the young heroes. The villain's capture and the cure's invention couldn't come fast enough.

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It took only a few hours for the sound proofed rooms to be prepared. All of the hypersensitive teens were let into the rooms and left to their silence. Natasha could feel a stirring of emotion, a emotion that she shoved as far back possible, when she caught sight of the teens. They all wore expressions of pain clearly on their faces and her heart clenched. These were children suffering, young and full of life. Although, that last thought ought to be amended- they barely looked alive at that moment. She secretly hated seeing people suffer, especially children. She was perfectly capable of extracting information through whatever means necessary, and yet, despite this, she hated it and only used the most extreme measures in the most extreme of cases.

Natasha had thought that she had left the pain and anguish behind when she became an Avenger. She was a hero and heroes saved lives. Sure, there were always the ones you failed to save but the lives saved outweighed the lives lost.

She was trying. She was trying so hard. Trying so hard to make up for the sins of her past by rejecting being an assassin and becoming a hero. What kind of hero was she if she let her fellow heroes suffer like this? What kind of hero was she if she didn't intervene in an attempt to prevent this? What kind of hero was she if she let children fight alone? What kind of hero- no. No. She shouldn't continue like this. There was a endless rabbit hole full of 'what if's and 'if I had's that she would go on forever in if she began the free-fall into regret.

It was best to move on. Move forwards. Move toward the future and a cure. This was not a permanent torment for the children. They would find a cure and the teens would bounce back and fight crime in the city once more. The alternative was too dystopian to dare imagining. These were the next generation of heroes, the people who would save the world in her stead when her body grew to old and tired to do so.

She had to help them.

Natasha was acutely aware that none of the teens had eaten yet, so she joined Steve in the kitchen to help him make lunch. She wasn't an overly good cook but, at the very least, she knew how to avoid giving someone food poisoning. She mechanically helped make sandwiches as she internally discussed what could be done in more than the immediate short term.

She wasn't afraid to admit that her scientific expertise was too far below what would be required to have a direct impact on developing a cure. Unfortunately, without the scientists at S.H.I.E.L.D. working on the cure, the Avengers didn't have a biologist who would be able to more accurately work out what was abnormal or what was the root of the problem.

Tony Stark was an engineer. He had a scientific background in physics and chemistry which would be somewhat useful but it wasn't specifically what was needed. Bruce Banner, when he wasn't the Hulk, was a physicist as well. He did have a bit more of a biological background than Stark but he still wasn't a biologist. There was also the fact that he was Hulk a lot of the time and the stress of the situation was likely to trigger the Hulk whenever Dr Banner was in control. It didn't matter that Stark and Banner (and the Hulk to extent- when he utilised Banner's knowledge) were considered geniuses because genius had its limits and geniuses had to specialise at some point.

The right person for the job was someone who understood biology and, ideally, already knew something about the powers of the affected superheroes and could break down how they worked.

There was a possibility that someone in Stark Industries employ would have the right scientific qualifications but the Avengers, and the teens not suffering from a severe sensory overload had unanimously agreed that the affected hero's condition should be kept secret from those who didn't already know.

The only possible exception to that rule would be someone that everyone knew enough to be willing to trust. There were not a lot of people that fitted that description. That meant no outside help. 

Natasha shook her head in an attempt to block out the negative thoughts. There was no use in bemoaning what couldn't be changed. A better use of her time would be to figure out what she could do to help. Now, the question was, what could she do to help?

For some reason that she couldn't fathom, she felt a strange sort of attachment to the spiders that wasn't entirely professional. In fact, it was an almost maternal feeling. The wisecracking Spider-Man had wormed his way into her heart when he temporarily joined the Avengers, the dark and defensive Scarlet Spider reminded her of herself (a bad start but a hidden want to do good), the jock named Flash had everything that he knew taken from him but turned a bad turn into something worth admiring, the young Miles and Amadeus were two children lacking in close familial bonds. In a way, they were the children that she wished for but was unable to have for herself. Perhaps, one day, she would take in a child like on of those boys. A child with a difficult past or present who she could help to guide towards something beautiful. She was getting ahead of herself, sure, but dreaming of that future was what helped her keep going during the dark times.

After several minutes of pondering she settled on using her spy skills to find out something about the villain. There was nothing about her on the Avengers or S.H.I.E.L.D. databases. That meant that the villain was dangerous. A danger that was impossible to determine. Knowledge was power and the Avengers were currently severely lacking in that department. They only had a name and that would have to do for now.

The spy padded down the hallway to the sound-proofed rooms as silently as she could- she had no idea if they were well enough soundproofed to stop all external sound from entering but she wasn't taking any chances. She knocked quietly on each door and left a plate of food, a notebook and pencil along with a note saying that if they had any suggested contacts, it would be best to pass the information on, outside each door.

I took her twenty minutes to pack bags for both herself and Clint and a further ten to convince the archer to join her. Thirty minutes later she had the mission cleared by the Avengers and Fury, found a suitable car to begin the hunt for this mysterious 'Lost' and headed out on a mission of great personal interest to her. If anyone stood in her way, they would be drained of information in any ways necessary and swiftly disposed of. Not that she would admit anything like that out loud.

Natasha was itching for a fight.

That's it, for now. I'm sorry if this is a bit filler-y but there are plot relevant details in here- I promise.

I've been experimenting with the pov in the last few chapters. If you have an opinion on this I'd love to hear it.