Callused fingers run through copper red hair. The bun that once was there is gone. Even after many years ballet is in her blood. It's in the way she fights her battles, graceful and precise. Black Widow suits her like a fine pair of Louboutin heels. These are the things that will forever be Natasha Romanoff.
Bloody knuckles and bruises laced her body. Raised to kill with subliminal messaging. A orphan too young to know what was going on. A horrible childhood if you could even call it that. The routines are long gone yet the memory sticks with Natasha. Agruments with herself learned to be much more quiet as time went on. This was only the beginning of Black Widow.
The click of trigger, a skilled shot is made. One mission after the next, dancing rehearsals fill in the middle of the in between times. Flowers on stages and graves, crying and cheering, shows and funerals. She is the catalyst. The smell of gunpowder is hidden by perfume. Hidden in plain sight is her speciality. Natasha the one who no one would ever guess is a master spy.
Red in the ledger repeats through her head. Caught by a agent who used to be in the circus. He sees something in her and gives her a chance to be good. She takes it, she knows how much she needs it. The change Natasha needed most. Hope fills her soul for the first time in a long time.
The unchangeable past haunts her late nights. She's thankful for Barton and Fury, they helped her become a better person. The person she can look into the mirror and like on a good day. Prayers become vows, vows become oaths. God isnt merciful, Natasha knows this better than others. A struggle that is close to over, a win in sight.
Avenger, Hero, Spy, Dancer, Survivor, words that are Black Widow but most of all Natasha Romanoff. A woman who plays a life with the cards that are dealt. The one who smirks behind the cards before laying it all down. Fiesty as fire, a deadly spark that burns within.