Chapter 1

Natasha

A/N:

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANY CHARACTERS [EXCEPT FOR THE OCs].

THANK YOU BAIBE AS MY PROOF READER

SHE TOSSED.

She turned.

Your very first mission, Natalia. Remember? 12th July, 1942. Russia. You were 16. Natalia, your past cannot be hidden.

"The timetable has changed. Our window is limited. One target at level 7," a man told her, the first man on her hit list, "I want confirmed death in 10 hours."

Several hours later, a quinjet landed in Paris. Jeremy Lassen, that was her target.

Walking into the bar, she quickly scanned her surroundings. Drunk men, stripped girls. She got in a revealing red dress. Typical Black Widow style – she wore red and black all the time – represented her the most. Her target loved women, too much. He probably didn't realize one of them would be the one who murdered him.

Approaching him, she caught the rhythm of the music in the bar. Holding up her glass of wine and swaying her hips, she moved closer and closer toward him. That obviously caught his eyes. He eyed her body, like most men in the club did. Some even looked like they would break their necks just for one more look.

He walked to her, still eyeing lustfully, "Having a nice time, eh?" he said, holding her waist, too tight for her liking, gently mumbled at her neck, "May I take you to some place, hm, more private?"

She said no more, and followed him to his hotel room.

As he pushed her onto the king-sized bed, he almost ripped off her dress. Almost. He must've felt a sharp pain shot through his body. She looked at him venomously, as he looked down at her, brown eyes meeting green ones. Blood was sheeting down and a knife was stuck firmly in his gut.

Horror filled his eyes when she stabbed him. And the look On his face. His eyes were staring right into her soul, and kept on asking her the same question, "Why me? What did I do?". Guess the guns and silencers weren't necessary anyway. Blood was pouring out, staining his plain white business shirt. He was choking on his own blood, unable to speak, struggling to breathe. He muffled a bit, and opened up his mouth for air. Instead, more blood was coughed out. The warm, slick red liquid was slowly flowing down her body and tinting her dress. She kept on holding tight to the hilt until she saw the light of life fade in his eyes.

You drive it through their heart to the hilt. You look into their eyes and do not pull it out until you see their soul. That's what they told her when she first learned to kill a man.

"Shhh. It's worse if you try to fight it," she murmured on his lips, exhaling warm breaths, itching the dying man, "Trust me."

He twitched for a bit, but eventually gave in. And there he was, laying still on the bed.

She got off the bed, zipped up her half fallen dress, wiping the blood off her hands with disgust, and got dressed properly.

Natasha shot up from her bed, sweating and panting. Haunted by those bloody memories she had of her past that was brought up yet again, she fought off the fatigue that had been bothering her for weeks, hell, or maybe months – because of those sleepless nights – and worked her way into the kitchen.

She looked out of the floor-to-ceiling windows of her luxury apartment, the skyline of Hong Kong was right in front of her and the city was slowly waking up – it's 5 in the morning – she did not understand why, but she found this scene somewhat peaceful.

After the airport fight months ago, she had been having nightmares, again. They just never seemed to stop.

If only Clint was here.

But he's not, a little voice told her, he's still in that god forsaken prison in the middle of nowhere, remember?

Steve's gonna get him out of there! Another voice told her, full of confidence. Along with the others, of course. He's Stevie!

Steve. God, can she stop thinking of him for just one day (or stop giving him cute – wait, what? – nicknames like, Stevie, for that matter)? Her thoughts had been lingering around the captain, non-stop, to a point where she thought it was kind of irritating. No, not irritating. More like a love-sick school girl drooling over some real hot guy in school.

Natasha! She chastised herself. She shouldn't be thinking about this right now, should she not? After all, he is nothing but her partner, Your captain. That little voice reminded her. She shivered. Your captain, that little voice kept on, Your Stevie.

Natasha and Steve had formed a stronger bond since DC, and her feelings toward the captain was not exactly the same as before. After he told her he would trust her with his life and all. And then she repaid her debt to him in the airport – she helped him and Barnes escape.

Maybe you have a crush on him!

Hush! She scolded herself, You should not be having these thoughts. Not ever. You are not worthy, Natasha. You will never be worthy. You have no place in this world. You are the Black Widow that everybody fears. You should not have feelings.

But how can I lift Thor's hammer? Natasha's mind wandered back to that night when she had silently snuck into Thor's room after Sokovia and tried to, or rather, successfully lifted up his hammer for she was totally bored and wanted to try if she could lift it – when no one was around.

She shook off the thought.

"Never mind," she mumbled while draining a cup of orange juice she poured to herself earlier, "I'll just try to sleep."

[Lines references and edited from:

["The timetable has moved. Our window is limited. One target at level 7. I want confirmed death in 10 hours." – Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014)

["You drive it through their heart to the hilt. You look into their eyes and do not pull it out until you see their soul." – Snow White and the Huntsman (2012)

["It's worse if you try to fight it. Trust me." – Underworld: Awakening (2012)]