Chapter 1
Domino walked into the bar with a cocky grin plastered on her face.
"Give me the usual" she shouted over to the bartender, and he nodded, like he did almost everyday.
She spun into her seat, momentarily feeling the safety given by the gun holster strapped to the back if her neck. She had transformed into Diana Winters for this event , complete with the baseball cap that hid part of her face.
The man behind the bar handed her the drink and a dart. She picked the dart quickly and threw it behind her, as if she were simply tossing it over her shoulder, and it quickly plunged into the bullseye at the end of the ragtag room. Her grin widened as she looked towards the big man in front of her.
"It's my lucky day, isn't it?"
He sighed, obviously tired with this nearly daily routine. He passed another free drink over the counter. Domino grabbed his wrist and pulled him close. His eyebrows shot up.
"Tell me you have a job. I think I'm going to go crazy."
"I don't have a job, Dom-"
The mercenary fell deeper into her seat, dejected.
"But I have info."
Domino took a sip of her beer and smiled, "Spill it, Bean."
Bean scowled at the use of his nickname and said, "Armageddon wants its project back."
The smile disappeared and her glass fell from her fingers. It broke against the hard wooden floors and Domino cringed at the sound, feeling as if it had shattered against her head instead. Flashbacks of single cells and needles involuntarily invaded her mind. For the first time since she had escaped, all alone in a bar, Domino trembled.
And something inside her turned cold.
The phone rang for the 7th time. Whoever is trying to reach her is really desperate. Throwing a pillow over her head she tried to drown out the noise.
The phone didn't stop.
"Gawd! Seriously?" She pulled herself to an upright position and ran her fingers through her messy red hair. Her hand wandered to pick up the phone.
"Hello?"
"Natasha! Finally! I've been trying to reach you since forever!"
She frowned at the voice she didn't recognize.
"Who is this?" she asked, "and how did you find my number?"
"It's Clint...?"
Her brow creased in confusion.
"Clint Barton? You're husband? Are you okay Natasha?"
"I'm not married... And my name is Natalia not Natasha." she replied
"What have they done to you Nat?"
"Who?"
"Redroom..."
"They saved my life. Why?" she pulled herself off the bed.
"They didn't save you... They..." Clint sighed, "They brainwashed you... Again."
"Brainwashed?" the word itself sent chills up her spine. "That's not possible, they saved me when my parents died in a fire."
"No they didn't, they started the fire. Natasha- Natalia, please tell me who do you think you are?"
"My name is Natalia Romanova. I'm from Russia. I've lives there my whole life. I grew up on a farm when I was little and now I work as a ballerina and dance teacher. My parents died in a fire and Redroom saved my life."
Clint's heart raced. They had done it.
"No... Listen to me Natas-Natalia. You're name is Natasha Romanoff you are an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. You have a family and 3 loving children back in America. You went back to Redroom because you were scared they would kill us. Now they have brainwashed you. You need to try and remember Natasha."
Natasha stopped and stared straight ahead. Her heart pounded twice the speed. This man, whoever he is, was scaring her.
"Clint... Mr. Barton. I'm sorry but I think you have the wrong person. I'm not Natasha Romanoff. I'm sorry but I can't help you."
Her finger slid to the "end call" button.
"No Natasha wait-"
Beep.
Silence filled the room. His words were still fresh in her mind. Her fingers slid up to the speed dial button and called the first number in her list.
"This is Redroom services Johanna speaking how may we help you?"
"Hi... It's Natalia... I need to speak with the director..."
Halfway around the world Clint Barton was swearing at his cellphone.
"Dammit Natasha!"
He pressed "call" again.
"The number you are trying to reach is unavailable. Please leave your name is phone number after the beep, we will return your c-"
He threw his phone on the couch and buried his face in his hands.
"I'm sorry Natasha... This is all my fault" he whispered.
Then he picked up his cellphone again.
"Hello?"
"Frank? This is Clint. I need your help."
On the other line Clint heard the bitter chuckle.
"My help? After all that we-"
"It's Natasha." he interrupted, "She's in trouble."