Blood.
The culmination of every drop from every target was now a giant wave of red.
And the tide is coming in.
Natasha screams and runs forward into the dark, only to be pushed back by a mass of shadows. She stares into the dark and chokes back a cry of fear from what she saw.
Faces… shadows forming the faces of every mark she's ever had to kill, every mission's target ever eliminated.
Not a single name to hundreds of shadow faces, they don't need names- Every face is labeled by a cry, - be it of pain or misery, pleads for mercy, or outcries of anguish – all were followed by the shuddering sound their last breath had made once they were felled by her hand.
The memories of past missions flood her mind in ways the approaching wave never could; leaving her shattered and raw.
She remembers them all.
Every.
Last.
One.
Now the tide is closing in fast- she almost wants it to. Anything is better then staring into the ice-cold eyes before her, filled with accusation and calling out with screams of vengeance.
The shadow's wraith-like claws sink into her flesh and bind, offering her before the ever closing-in current.
Her instincts kick in and snap her out of the paralyzed state; she thrashes and squirms, but the shadows and claws hold her in place, restrained and frozen, watching in terror as the wave of blood comes rushing down…
And apparently, so does she.
THUD!
Black Widow woke up from the nightmare, looking hazily up at the ceiling from her bedroom floor momentarily dazed from her fall from the bed, only to be brought to the reality of the nightmare that is to come. She has a mission today. Today, like every other day of countless past missions- and if she should be successful, countless future missions-she will kill someone.
It is how it has always been and how she believes it will always be. Since the Red Room had trained her and molded her into the assassin that she is now, she has never found reason to question it.
Until today.
Until today, mission assignments had never bothered her. Until today, she had found solace in the way Red Room would issue their assignments in a cold and distanced manner, leaving no room for sympathy for the targets.
Until today, she never cared.
But as she stared down at the pictures of the targets, she saw herself.
The surveillance photo was of three people in a park, a mother with long brown hair and a smile only enhanced by the laugh lines she had; a father with laughing blue eyes and an amused grin on his face as he looked down at the small figure beneath them; their daughter. The little girl has long brown hair and small elegant features with a happy beaming face as she looks back at her parents.
As Natasha looked at the photo of the young family, the woman and child's hair changed to a dark red shade instead of the brown and the man's blue eyes changed to a bright emerald green. She was swept with some of the few memories she had of her past; her real past.
Green eyes
Long red hair
Laughing, smiling faces.
Love.
Natasha can't remember what it felt like to be loved, but she remembers knowing that before her parents were taken for her; they had loved her, she can't remember what it felt like, just that she had been… it is only a echo of a memory lost on the path that had made her what she is now.
As she looks down at the picture among the rest of the mission details, she knows that she is compromised. Black Widow may have been assigned to kill the wife and child of the man in the picture; but Natasha Romanoff may not be able to go through with it.
She mentally corrects herself- No. I can, and I will.
She has, after all, done this before. This time will be no different.
Before her chauffer can arrive she starts to get ready; shower, hair, dressed, weapons.
She makes a point to stick to the monotony of routine. Hell, she practically clings to it.
After exiting from the bathroom of her small agent-issued apartment, she walks over to her suitcase and rummages through the clothes, the small closet at the side of the room was ignored; a spy never unpacks.
Dresses and lingerie were cast off to the side, usually she is relived when seduction is not required in her missions, but today it is only a cold comfort.
She forgoes the Black Widow uniform and instead dresses in a plain black shirt with long sleeves and some long jeans tied off with a belt. Then after looking outside at the cold snow and ice outside; opts for a fur lined jacket as well. She may be a bio-engineered weapon, but she still can feel cold; even if she's Russian.
The weapons she picks are her standard gun, secured by her hip holster, and her vast array of knives, hidden in places she really would rather not explain. She would receive the sniper gun once her chauffer arrived.
For now. She waits and stares into the apartments small chimney fire.
She can practically feel the flames dying out.
A/N: Hi there! This is my first fan fiction, (and story in general) so I would really love some feedback and comments, reviews would be great! Thank-you to the people that have already followed this story, it means a lot!