The soles on her boots slapped the icy concrete as Natasha Romanoff raced on. Her long bright red braid flew behind her as she soared through the chilly streets of Moscow. She cut corners and raced past street vendors. She startled them and sent their merchandise flying. The newspapers she scattered looked like paper birds floating towards the ground.
The lonely teenager was terrified because someone was chasing her; someone unknown to her. Natasha was frightened because there was no safe place to run home to after school and no loving parents that had snacks waiting for her when she arrived home from ballet lessons. That ship sailed away forever and a day ago.
The wind nipped at her, almost as if to slow her pace down. It blew and whistled through the ratty holes in her black coat. It was worn through from several years of usage. It had served her well for the last three years. The poor coat had been through everything.
She raced on. Nothing could dampen her speed. After several years of living on the streets, Natasha was quite the runner. She swooshed through the nippy air, flying like the birds above.
Glancing behind her, she checked to see if the person in black was still after her. He was a shadow for all she knew. Although she couldn't see him now, Natasha knew better than to assume he was gone. She rounded a corner, into a dim lit alleyway. When she made it to the dead end, the redhead slumped down against the damp brick wall. The silence here echoed off of the walls. The shallow puddles of water sat still. She felt secure here for some odd reason.
Enjoying the peace she listened to all of the citizens out and about that day. She heard a woman calling out for her child, a man selling eggs, and a child telling a tall-tale story.
Amused, she thought back to her run. "That had to at least have been a mile in about five minutes," Natasha thought. She recalled crossing the mile marker in middle school track. That amazing taste of victory. The one she couldn't fulfill as of her living conditions.
That medal now lay somewhere
in a landfill. Lying there until the end... Shaking off her childhood memories, she began to trace scars on the old brick wall. None of them would tell her their stories. Nor, would she tell them hers. There was nothing to tell it. Just a rouge girl, out on the Russian streets; alone. She was the robin against all of the ravens.
The sun was hidden by the thick layer of fog covering the gray sky like a quilt.
Natasha was getting sleepy sitting alone in the alleyway. She was just about to rest her head when a pair of strong hands snatched her around the waist.
She shrieked in terror, worried about what might happen. Desperately, she tried to twist and squirm. The man in black squeezed her harder and cut off her airways. He was no shadow.
" Stop if you know whats good for you," the man hissed into her ear. He had a snakelike voice that sounded manipulative.
Running on adrenaline, Natasha violently elbowed him in the jaw. She heard the hollow crack that made her wince. Next, she brought her foot up behind her and kicked him in the knee. The impact made the man buckle.
Natasha was shocked at what she had done. She stared down at the man. He was solid rock! How could she push him down? It seemed like he wasn't expecting it either. Obviously she was plenty stronger than she thought. While the stranger was recovering from the blows Natasha yanked his gun from the holder at his hip and held it up at him.
She was just about to speak when a teenage boy jumped from a balcony above and landing squarely on the man as swiftly as a squirrel. The man let out a groan and fell still.
Natasha could tell the boy had hit his target when he looked up and smiled at her. His eyes lit up like a child with a candy bar. He had short blonde hair and rippling muscles, maybe around 5'9.
"Hey, I'm Clint," the boy casually said like they were old friends. Clint looked at her and laughed.
"And we need you," he finished with the sudden outburst of information.
Natasha looked at him with curiosity. The boy, Clint, was American.
" Uh, hello. I'm Natasha," she introduced herself. " Why are you here?"
" My group needs you. I can't give you all our information now," Clint insisted. " Please come with me. It can be you and me together, forever. "
Natasha knew it was probably wrong to trust the boy, but she felt in her heart that she could trust the stranger. Clint held his strong, firm hand out to her.
" Okay," she choked out, taking his hand. Her head was swimming with thoughts about the past few minutes.
The blonde boy led her out of the alley. When the reached the end that morphed into the sidewalk he asked," Hey, do you think that I'd be any good at archery? I've always wanted to try it. "