Supergirl/MCU fic: Code 4
Title: Code 4
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Crossover between Marvel Cinematic Universe and DC Comics Supergirl
Characters: Kara Danvers, Natasha Romanoff, Diana Prince
Word Count: 1300
Disclaimer: This story is for fun and no profit. I do not own any of these characters --I'm just borrowing them briefly.
Summary: My concept? Natasha Romanoff and Kara Danvers are buddy cops who love Christmas and stopping crime and we can thank the multiverse for letting this happen. Also, Code Four means no further assistance needed.
Authors note: I borrowed a lot of Nat and Kara's more over the top cop antics from Chuck Norris jokes--they're damn funny.
Natasha Romanoff is the toughest cop in the National City Police Department.
This is a known fact and not an opinion.
She’s followed very closely by Kara Danvers, but Kara ceded the top spot when she once saw Nat throw a grenade that killed ten people-before it even exploded.
The chief of detectives, Diana Prince, partnered them up, and while the crime rate in the city went down sixty five percent, the chief's paperwork tripled one hundred percent due to the large amount of carnage and mayhem that went along with Danvers and Romanoff's police tactics.
When Natasha's former partner, Clint Barton, heard that Kara was assigned as Nat's new partner, he knew National City would never be the same again.
And not because the women wouldn’t get along and have epic cat fights in the streets, but rather that the two detectives were too similar.
Sure, Kara was more of a stickler in following the rules while Nat was more of a “fly by the seat of my pants” brand of cop, the two shared a deep joy for the Christmas season.
They would go five blocks out of their way if they saw a massively festive light display, and Kara was known for personally congratulating homeowners if she found their nativity scenes particularly gorgeous. One of her favorites had the Holy Family, the Grinch and Santa Claus all hanging out by the manger.
Of course Natasha being the contrary person she was sometimes questioned long standing holiday traditions: “An orange in my Christmas stocking? What am I, in 19th century London, in danger of getting scurvy?”
Kara would simply laugh at Nat’s rant, though she did agree with the whole “hiding the Christmas pickle.” Seriously, what kind of head case thought up that phallic nightmare?
Every cop at the 113th precinct knew that the two women would immerse themselves in all of the Christmas clichés: they'd make homemade gifts, bake cookies by the dozens, string popcorn and cranberries into garland, wear ugly holiday themed sweaters, eat figgy pudding and drink egg nog by the vat.
Kara had yet to convince Nat to go caroling because there wasn’t enough alcohol in National City for that activity but never let it be said that Kara Danvers and Natasha Romanoff didn’t have the Christmas spirit.
“Hey Nat, did you watch the tree-cast for this weekend?”
Natasha paused in the cleaning of her service weapon to lift a quizzical brow at her partner’s words. “Tree-cast?” she repeated.
“Yeah you know, a tree-cast instead of the forecast, so we can know the best day to cut down our Christmas trees.”
At the words ‘cut down’ Nat brightened visibly. “Can I use my new chain saw?”
“Heck yeah!”
To Natasha and Kara’s everlasting dismay, not every moment in police work was high energy, action packed adventures filled with daring escapes and fight sequences
Sometimes a detective had to put down their firearm and actually talk to people, either by knocking on doors or making phone calls.
Unfortunately, calling their witnesses to ask follow up questions was not Nat’s strong suit, but it did entertain the crap out of everyone in the squad room.
“Why are you asking me for the color of the day? You’re not on the job.”
“For the last time, you don’t TAKE pot!”
“Listen pal, I didn’t dial the wrong number, you picked up the wrong phone!”
“The only time I was wrong was when I thought I made a mistake.”
After the tenth call ended with Natasha slamming down the phone in an angry huff, Kara decided to offer her beleaguered partner a slight reprieve.
“Hey Nat, do you want to go check id’s at the Keystone Pub?”
Nat tilted her head in consideration but Kara’s next words pushed her over. “It’s their annual combination Santa Run and College Karaoke competition.”
Chief Prince marched out of her office and pointed dramatically at Natasha and Kara. “You two. In my office. NOW!!”
Most law enforcement officers would have looked worried or at least mildly concerned, but Kara and Nat got pulled into their chief’s office at least once a week and were quite used to getting chewed out for their-usually Nat’s-over the top behavior.
The partners exchanged a look trying to remember if they’d done anything to warrant their chief’s anger.
“Is this about when you commandeered the mayor’s son’s car?”
“It was a 2019 Camaro, fresh off the lot, I had to drive it.”
They had gone to a late night viewing of Scrooged and of course they couldn’t see a film without a robbery going down at the jewelry store on the next block. And as Kara helpfully pointed out, because it was at the height of the holiday shopping season, a robbery could easily morph into a hostage situation.
Natasha flatly refused to use her personal car for police work because she was ridiculously proud of her 1978 Chevy Impala. It was dark green with leather upholstery and it still had its original eight track stereo. She had it detailed once a month and washed it twice a week using specialty soaps she’d gotten from the original owner.
It would probably take the combined opportunity of chasing down Jack the Ripper, the Lindberg baby kidnapper and the Zodiac killer for Natasha to offer to use her precious car.
So Nat borrowed the first vehicle she could find-- “borrowed” being a polite way of saying she opened the car door and threw the driver to the ground--and in her defense, who could have guessed that the mayor’s teenaged son liked Bill Murray movies?
Chief Prince glared at both detectives as they stepped carefully into her office-files were stacked precariously over every flat surface and Kara wondered if the majority of the paperwork was about them-when she decided to do a preemptive strike.
“Chief, we’re sorry about commandeering Mayor Olsen’s car, but we didn’t want the bad guy to get away.”
Chief Prince waved her hands impatiently. “That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Nat shared an apprehensive glance with Kara. “Well, if this is about my laughing at the locks on Commissioner Parker’s gun safe, I’ve seen Advent calendars more difficult to break into.”
The Chief’s expression darkened at Natasha’s words. “No, it’s not about that either.”
Now the detectives looked at a loss for words when Kara suddenly snapped her fingers. “I bet we’re in trouble for your telling crime lord Morgan Edge that we didn’t need twitter, because we were already following him. And then telling him he was getting coal in his stocking.”
Their chief wordlessly shook her head.
The women traded yet another look, both realizing it was probably in their best interests to stop talking.
Later on, when they were sitting in the Keystone Pub after being suspended for three days without pay, the women grinned at each other in a conciliatory yet tipsy manner before Kara spoke.
“You know, I bet we could have kept our badges and guns if you hadn’t asked the chief if she could make pancakes on a waffle iron.”
Nat shook her head. “I just wanted to make sure the precincts ‘Cops and Kids Breakfast with Father Christmas’ would be the best one ever.”
She leveled a knowing gaze in Kara’s directions. “No one wants a repeat of the last year’s sausage gingerbread breakfast casserole fiasco.”
“You know that’s right.” Kara shuddered in agreement before turning to her partner with a serious expression. “Do you really think the chief ‘s sick of defending our screwball antics to the Commissioner?”
Nat took a long sip of her White Christmas margarita. “Nah, I just think the chief’s under normal holiday stress. I mean, how much trouble do we actually cause?”
~~~
Please enjoy the companion pieces: Dutch Wonderland , Industrial Hooligans, The Cracked Sugarhouse and A Mirthless Stable
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Crossover between Marvel Cinematic Universe and DC Comics Supergirl
Characters: Kara Danvers, Natasha Romanoff, Diana Prince
Word Count: 1300
Disclaimer: This story is for fun and no profit. I do not own any of these characters --I'm just borrowing them briefly.
Summary: My concept? Natasha Romanoff and Kara Danvers are buddy cops who love Christmas and stopping crime and we can thank the multiverse for letting this happen. Also, Code Four means no further assistance needed.
Authors note: I borrowed a lot of Nat and Kara's more over the top cop antics from Chuck Norris jokes--they're damn funny.
Natasha Romanoff is the toughest cop in the National City Police Department.
This is a known fact and not an opinion.
She’s followed very closely by Kara Danvers, but Kara ceded the top spot when she once saw Nat throw a grenade that killed ten people-before it even exploded.
The chief of detectives, Diana Prince, partnered them up, and while the crime rate in the city went down sixty five percent, the chief's paperwork tripled one hundred percent due to the large amount of carnage and mayhem that went along with Danvers and Romanoff's police tactics.
When Natasha's former partner, Clint Barton, heard that Kara was assigned as Nat's new partner, he knew National City would never be the same again.
And not because the women wouldn’t get along and have epic cat fights in the streets, but rather that the two detectives were too similar.
Sure, Kara was more of a stickler in following the rules while Nat was more of a “fly by the seat of my pants” brand of cop, the two shared a deep joy for the Christmas season.
They would go five blocks out of their way if they saw a massively festive light display, and Kara was known for personally congratulating homeowners if she found their nativity scenes particularly gorgeous. One of her favorites had the Holy Family, the Grinch and Santa Claus all hanging out by the manger.
Of course Natasha being the contrary person she was sometimes questioned long standing holiday traditions: “An orange in my Christmas stocking? What am I, in 19th century London, in danger of getting scurvy?”
Kara would simply laugh at Nat’s rant, though she did agree with the whole “hiding the Christmas pickle.” Seriously, what kind of head case thought up that phallic nightmare?
Every cop at the 113th precinct knew that the two women would immerse themselves in all of the Christmas clichés: they'd make homemade gifts, bake cookies by the dozens, string popcorn and cranberries into garland, wear ugly holiday themed sweaters, eat figgy pudding and drink egg nog by the vat.
Kara had yet to convince Nat to go caroling because there wasn’t enough alcohol in National City for that activity but never let it be said that Kara Danvers and Natasha Romanoff didn’t have the Christmas spirit.
“Hey Nat, did you watch the tree-cast for this weekend?”
Natasha paused in the cleaning of her service weapon to lift a quizzical brow at her partner’s words. “Tree-cast?” she repeated.
“Yeah you know, a tree-cast instead of the forecast, so we can know the best day to cut down our Christmas trees.”
At the words ‘cut down’ Nat brightened visibly. “Can I use my new chain saw?”
“Heck yeah!”
To Natasha and Kara’s everlasting dismay, not every moment in police work was high energy, action packed adventures filled with daring escapes and fight sequences
Sometimes a detective had to put down their firearm and actually talk to people, either by knocking on doors or making phone calls.
Unfortunately, calling their witnesses to ask follow up questions was not Nat’s strong suit, but it did entertain the crap out of everyone in the squad room.
“Why are you asking me for the color of the day? You’re not on the job.”
“For the last time, you don’t TAKE pot!”
“Listen pal, I didn’t dial the wrong number, you picked up the wrong phone!”
“The only time I was wrong was when I thought I made a mistake.”
After the tenth call ended with Natasha slamming down the phone in an angry huff, Kara decided to offer her beleaguered partner a slight reprieve.
“Hey Nat, do you want to go check id’s at the Keystone Pub?”
Nat tilted her head in consideration but Kara’s next words pushed her over. “It’s their annual combination Santa Run and College Karaoke competition.”
Chief Prince marched out of her office and pointed dramatically at Natasha and Kara. “You two. In my office. NOW!!”
Most law enforcement officers would have looked worried or at least mildly concerned, but Kara and Nat got pulled into their chief’s office at least once a week and were quite used to getting chewed out for their-usually Nat’s-over the top behavior.
The partners exchanged a look trying to remember if they’d done anything to warrant their chief’s anger.
“Is this about when you commandeered the mayor’s son’s car?”
“It was a 2019 Camaro, fresh off the lot, I had to drive it.”
They had gone to a late night viewing of Scrooged and of course they couldn’t see a film without a robbery going down at the jewelry store on the next block. And as Kara helpfully pointed out, because it was at the height of the holiday shopping season, a robbery could easily morph into a hostage situation.
Natasha flatly refused to use her personal car for police work because she was ridiculously proud of her 1978 Chevy Impala. It was dark green with leather upholstery and it still had its original eight track stereo. She had it detailed once a month and washed it twice a week using specialty soaps she’d gotten from the original owner.
It would probably take the combined opportunity of chasing down Jack the Ripper, the Lindberg baby kidnapper and the Zodiac killer for Natasha to offer to use her precious car.
So Nat borrowed the first vehicle she could find-- “borrowed” being a polite way of saying she opened the car door and threw the driver to the ground--and in her defense, who could have guessed that the mayor’s teenaged son liked Bill Murray movies?
Chief Prince glared at both detectives as they stepped carefully into her office-files were stacked precariously over every flat surface and Kara wondered if the majority of the paperwork was about them-when she decided to do a preemptive strike.
“Chief, we’re sorry about commandeering Mayor Olsen’s car, but we didn’t want the bad guy to get away.”
Chief Prince waved her hands impatiently. “That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Nat shared an apprehensive glance with Kara. “Well, if this is about my laughing at the locks on Commissioner Parker’s gun safe, I’ve seen Advent calendars more difficult to break into.”
The Chief’s expression darkened at Natasha’s words. “No, it’s not about that either.”
Now the detectives looked at a loss for words when Kara suddenly snapped her fingers. “I bet we’re in trouble for your telling crime lord Morgan Edge that we didn’t need twitter, because we were already following him. And then telling him he was getting coal in his stocking.”
Their chief wordlessly shook her head.
The women traded yet another look, both realizing it was probably in their best interests to stop talking.
Later on, when they were sitting in the Keystone Pub after being suspended for three days without pay, the women grinned at each other in a conciliatory yet tipsy manner before Kara spoke.
“You know, I bet we could have kept our badges and guns if you hadn’t asked the chief if she could make pancakes on a waffle iron.”
Nat shook her head. “I just wanted to make sure the precincts ‘Cops and Kids Breakfast with Father Christmas’ would be the best one ever.”
She leveled a knowing gaze in Kara’s directions. “No one wants a repeat of the last year’s sausage gingerbread breakfast casserole fiasco.”
“You know that’s right.” Kara shuddered in agreement before turning to her partner with a serious expression. “Do you really think the chief ‘s sick of defending our screwball antics to the Commissioner?”
Nat took a long sip of her White Christmas margarita. “Nah, I just think the chief’s under normal holiday stress. I mean, how much trouble do we actually cause?”
~~~
Please enjoy the companion pieces: Dutch Wonderland , Industrial Hooligans, The Cracked Sugarhouse and A Mirthless Stable