Romanoff doesn't answer straight away, busy moving another plant in front of the door to slow down any followers. Then she straightens.

"Copy," she repeats, and makes her way through the crowd. At least the dancing lights make the blood-splatters look more like paint.

She crouches down, and pulls out what to anyone else would appear a backpack. "Got it." It fits her back snugly - of course, thank you, SHIELD, and she secures.

Then she jumps.



She really does love SHIELD's backpack gliders.