France, 1942
Cold air bit at 13 year old Natalia's cheeks and her breath condensed in clouds of steam as she was drug through the streets of Paris. She was not happy about it. Every chance she got, she dug her heels in, stomped through puddles, and cursed in Russian.
"You make any more noise and the Nazis will get us." warned a gruff male voice that belonged to the hand clamped around her wrist.
"I should be at the Red Room! Why do I have to be with you?"
The man stopped short and turned to face the undersized girl. "Because your Papa Ivan said you were getting a little too good at what they were teaching you."
"That's the point, Logan."
He grunted and pulled her along again.
After going through an array of back allies, each one stinking in its own particular way, he knocked on a battered door and pushed his way in.
Natalia had been hoping for a warm room with comfy chairs after the trek they had been on- she was sorely disappointed.
The room was damp and dimly lit- just a single bulb hung over a table. Natalia could see a few men in dark clothing sitting around it looking at maps and other papers.
Wordlessly, Logan motioned for Natalia to sit over in the corner where wallpaper was pealing down the wall. He obviously wanted her out of the way while he sat with the men.
The floorboards creaked slightly as she did as he wished- for all of sixty seconds. As soon as Logan was occupied at the table, she slinked over through the shadows to see what they were up to.
From what she could see, none of the men was particularly remarkable. She knew better than to assume that meant anything- after all, she and the other potential Widows were trained to look unremarkable. She decided to look closer and something caught her eye, one of the men seemed to be wearing something colourful under his jacket. As she peered closer, Natalia could just make out a white star on a blue background and a bit of red.
Her eyes widened, "Captain America?"