Chapter 1: Cognitive Recalibration
As Natasha cowers behind an abandoned car, the Winter Soldier pushes forward through the crowd trying to escape the destruction caused by Hydra. Knowing from previous battles with him, she had dialed an emergency code as fast as she can could when she first saw him. A bullet to the shoulder, her pulse is pounding so fast she can barely breath .With each second the one opponent that she has never been able to best gets closer to ending her life. Suddenly the monstrous roar of a crotch rocket speeding its way towards her is her saving grace. Backup has arrived.
"Bad Dog!" Nat can hear screamed from behind her. She twists around the car to see a woman casually strolling towards the soldier who is now standing on top an SUV, a rocket launcher rifle pointed in her direction. Pulling twin berettas from hip holsters the strange woman begins barraging the soldier with cover fire as she screams over her shoulder.
"Nat get Cap to safety!"
Before checking to see if they were clear, she rushes the soldier. Within a series of charged kicks and a series of left hooks to his shoulder she has disarmed him and drove him under the cover of the overpass. As he pulls a knife, she throws off her aviator shades and gracefully flicks her hands to the sides of his face tendrils of shadow radiating from her fingers as she catches his gaze.
"It's time for some cognitive recalibration." she sneers, dropping the power
"Razdrobit!" She growls in Russian, while her pupils shifting into predatory slits.
His knife falters, his eyes blinking rapidly like waking from a dream.
A smile spreads across her lips as he slowly looks her up and down. Standing before him in her leather jacket and jeans, weapons strategically placed all along her body as her raven hair flows around her in the breeze.
While he centers himself she snatches his earpiece, crushing it beneath the heel of her boot.
"Vina?" He whispers huskily, confused at the woman in front of him.
She reverts her eyes back to normal, putting her hand up halting him from speaking.
"First, the muzzle." She interjects, her fingers wrapping around the lower face mask, yanking it off his face.
"How?" he begins once again but she can feel the Hydra operatives drawing into their location.
She shushes him into silence, leaning forward she quickly whispers into his ear, following with a roundhouse kick to his face, making him stumble backwards as she sprints to her motorcycle, burning rubber as she speeds away from the onslaught of agents.
Cracking his jaw, he picks up the rifle and rejoins the forces. Now with newly awoken urgency inside of him.