Play My Music Chapter 10: Alive, an avengers fanfic

Disclaimer: This is self explanatory but I still need to say it.

I do not own any of the songs used in these one-shots

I do not own any of the characters from the Avenger Movies (or any other Marvel Movie) and Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. If I did, Romanov and Banner wouldn't be a thing, and if they were, it would have been done much more realistically than in Agent of Ultron. I don't list characters in here because for all I know they may never be used in my writing.

Some of these chapters might be set in an AU setting. If that happens I'll try to give a warning. Each chapter is a one-shot. The pairings are bound to mix up, personally I'm a Clint/Tasha shipper but I might surprise you. Disclaimer: This is self explanatory but I still need to say it.

Alive-By Sia

I was born in a thunderstorm

I grew up overnight

I played alone

I'm playing on my own

I survived

A small little red headed girl stood in a room with about 24 other girls roughly her age, possibly a year older. Her green eyes flicked from face to face, landing on the stern looking woman who stood in the center. She radiated an aura of authority that made the girls cringe and fear being reprimanded. They all stood in black shorts that barely reached mid thigh and grey tank tops made of a thin material.

The ground beneath their bare feet was cold cement, the light grey color an extremely depressing sight. Around her were white wash walls with the occasional floor to ceiling length banners hanging, a dark rich red that almost matched Natalia's hair.

The four year old little girl had not been here long, but then again not many of the other girls had been around for more than three months either. There was only a few things each of the girls had in common. They were all orphans, they were all recruited and in training to serve their homeland. Some of them had been taken from the orphanages, some of them had been taken off of the streets, Natalia herself had been taken from the snow covered ground as she watched the orange-red flames devour her family and home. All 24 girls had been recruited due to their resourcefulness. And none of them had even the foggiest idea of what horrors they were about to endure.

Natalia had learned very quickly in the first two months that the Red Room was not like home. There were no nap times here. There were no bedtime stories or night lights. Little girls, little feeble girls who cried at the sight of their shadows, were not welcomed here and she took that to mean that the Red Room would abandon her out in the cold snow. Natalia didn't whine when they received no bed time story or lullaby, she didn't cry when they handcuffed her to her bed and left her in total darkness, and she didn't dare think of breaking the rules.

And she didn't associate with the other girls. She kept to herself. The handlers and told them on the first day that they were not friends or sisters, they were rivals and competitors and possibly, if they were lucky, allies. But they were not to get close to each other, they were going to compete and had to be ready to do anything, at a drop of a hat, to ensure that they became the "Black Widow". So Natalia kept to herself and refused to seek companionship with any of the other girls.

Natalia watched silently as the handler pointed out one of the girls and motioned her forwards with two flicks of a finger. Natalia watched as the girl stepped forward, hands clasping tightly behind her back as she struggled to think of the girls name. She chewed on the inside of her lip as she thought this over.

And then the handler turned to another girl, the blonde girl who stood to Natalia's left and motioned her forward. Natalia knew that girl's name to be Antonia, and she only remembered it because Antonia was constantly scolded and made an example of by another handler.

"Antonia," The handler spoke with no drop of emotion, dark eyes watching her with not a bit of care, "Sofia."

'Sofia!' Natalia remembered as the woman gave two claps. With the signal to begin having been given, the two girls slowly circled one another.

It was Sofia who lunged first, her tiny fist connecting with Antonia's chin sharply and sending the girl stumbling backwards. Sofia moved quickly, feeling the sharp gaze of their instructor paying close attention to her, and sent a sharp kick into Antonia's stomach. The smaller girl fell backwards, the foot pressing down onto her stomach. Antonia squirmed desperately, trying to get back to her feet. The girl's legs flailed upward, weakly kicking Sofia in an attempt to get her off. But the girl pressed down harder on the smaller girl with her foot and turned to glance at their instructor. But the moment she turned her head, Antonia bit down on the other's foot. Yelping in pain, Antonia shoved the girl off of her while she was too distracted with the pain and sent a bony fist hurtling towards her face. But Sofia grabbed the girls wrist and twisted it painfully in one fluid motion, kicking Antonia's legs out from under her.

Natalia watched with barely surprised shock as Antonia was forced to the ground, Sofia sitting atop of the girl's back on her knobby knees. Sofia continued to twist Antonia's arm, bringing it back. Antonia cried out, thrashing a bit helplessly. Sofia merely continued to twist the arm back, using her free hand to slam the girls face into the concrete. And then Natalia saw red lightly splattered on the ground, a crack filling the tense silence. Now with a broken nose, a broken bloody nose, Antonia cried and begged for mercy. She cried in surrender but the instructor would have none of it, ordering Sofia to slam the girls face into the concrete again and again until she shut up.

Natalia couldn't look away as Sofia complied, feeling a sickening knot well up in her stomach.

Hey

I wanted everything I never had

Like the love that comes with light

I wore envy and I hated that

But I survived

Natalia sat silently in the cafeteria, staring at the food set out on the metal tray. A small serving of beef stroganoff sat on a white plate with a fork and beside it a smaller paper cup full of raisins and dried apricots. Very silently, she began to skillfully twist the beef stroganoff onto the fork and bring it to her mouth, wanting to get through the main meal so the fruit could be save for last like a dessert.

A new shipment of food had been brought in earlier that week, and the dried fruit had been a treat the handlers ordered as a sort of reward for the girls. They had been working hard, and today was the three year anniversary of the girls starting the program. The fruit was given to each girl as a sort of treat for surviving three years.

But at the same time, Natalia wished that the fruit wasn't fruit. She had always wondered what it would be like to get something with chocolate in it. Did chocolate still exist? She couldn't remember the last time she had any, but she swore she had tasted it before. How else would she know of it then? Or even a nice doll to have and own, a doll like the one she used to have before it was destroyed in the fire. At least, she believed she had once owned a doll. As the months had gone by, Natalia was finding it harder and harder to remember details of her old life. Like what her family looked like and the sound of their voices.

There had been a time when Natalia bravely asked the handlers why none of the girls had celebrated their birthdays or why they didn't receive candy or toys for their hard effort. They merely smacked her onto the ground, kicking her in the side as a consequence for her words. They had told her not to be greedy, that they were all very lucky girls to be chosen for the Red Room's Black Widow program. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity to train and serve their homeland against the evils trying to eliminate the vast, powerful family. They told her only little girls played with dolls and children celebrated birthdays. She was not a child anymore, she was not a little girl. She was a Black Widow in training, Natalia was no longer a child but something far more useful. A spy in training.

So Natalia hated that she felt this way, that she was greedy. She didn't complain anymore but she was always wishing and hoping that one day they would get something sweeter than dried fruit to save for dessert. She wished that they could hold delicate little nesting dolls instead of cold knife handles for once. She wished and hoped that one day the handlers would let them be children for just a day.

As she finished her third forkful of beef stroganoff, Natalia reached for her water bottle and slowly sipped it. The flavorless beverage was not soda, it didn't bubble or taste sweet. It was plain and ordinary, perfect for spies in training while real little children drank delicious fruit juice. Sure Natalia was fed, had a place to bathe, and somewhere to sleep, but she still wished for more than dried fruit.

I had a one-way ticket to a place where all the demons go

Where the wind don't change

And nothing in the ground can ever grow

No hope, just lies

And you're taught to cry in your pillow

But I'll survive

In the dark sleeping chamber, Natalia pressed the left side of her face as far into her pillow as possible. Around her, the beds squeaked as they all shifted their weight and struggled to find the most comfortable position they could in the bed. It was made even more difficult with the metal handcuff digging painfully into her left wrist, forced above her head as it was attached to the headboard.

Natalia slowly flexed her fingers, feeling that numbing sensation tingle through the tips of her fingers. Every night, her hand started to go numb and every morning she was terrified that her hand would never work again. Because she couldn't feel anything, and it was too numb to do anything but shake out and flex to regain the feeling. Her eyes burned, and the small child forced the sob down in her throat and pressed her face further into the flat pillow beneath her head.

The eight year old girl took a very shaky breath, keeping her eyes shut as she listened intently to the surrounding girls. The nightmare flashed behind her eyelids, reminding her of how one of the girls looked when Yelena snapped their neck. The way the girl cried just a bit before that sickening snap echoed across the silence and the limp body collapsed on the floor like a rag doll. The silence of all the girls, not a single person spoke as those dead eyes stared widely at Natalia.

Just thinking about it made her eyes burn with tears she was trying so hard to suppress. Crying was forbidden. Crying in front of the handlers was close to a death sentence, it gave them a reason to give up on you. To pick you next so unless you proved how much you wanted to love and serve Mother Russia you died and were forgotten. Most girls, including Natalia, learned to stop crying. They learned to lock that sadness deep down and persevere. But there were times where Natalia couldn't help but silently cry just a bit into her pillow at night like some of the weaker girls. She was really good at it, at doing it so no one knew. To the girls, crying shunned you away. It made you look like an easy target. They weren't suppose to be friends here, but crying ensured that you didn't have any allies.

She took a shaky breathe through her nose and shoved those memories away, focusing on the way her red and white striped pajamas felt warm against her exhausted body. She focused on how the blankets felt comfortable, despite their light weight. They weren't heavy, but they kept the girls warm enough and Natalia had learned to appreciate everything about the bed. It was a luxury that could easily be taken away.

But those memories continued to come back with other memories, of how it felt to hold a knife and what it was like stabbing something. Memories of brutal beatings from girls like Yelena, Yolanda, and Alexandra persisted, trying to make her feel weak. Natalia didn't want to be weak though, she wanted to live and be strong. She didn't want to die. She wanted to live.

'This place is hell,' The eight year old thought silently as one lone tear rolled down her cheek and onto the pillow, dissolving into the fabric, 'This place is hell.'

All the eight year old wanted as she slowly tried to fall asleep was to survive.

I'm still breathing

I'm alive

The two seventeen year olds stood raving each other, not in their normal training attire but in black cat suits. Natalia stared at the blonde in front of her, remembering in excruciating detail all the merciless kills she witnessed Yelena commit. She remember how much loathing Natalia felt for her as well as the slightest bit of admiration. Natalia remembered all the times they had competed with each other, not on the training mat but their other les sons such as learning languages.

Yelena gave the other girl a dead eye smile, blonde hair straight and grey eyes flicking briefly across her in a calculating manner. Natalia was doing the same, staring at the girl with an emotionless, dead expression. Win or lose, Natalia refused to show Yelena any feelings which could impediment her survival of the fight. She stared upwards at the taller woman and waited in anticipation for their handlers to signal their last fight.

When the soft pattering claps barely echoed throughout the room, Yelena lunged like a tiger at Natalia, arms out stretched to seize her by the throat. But Natalia was quicker and she was expecting this, after spending 13 years training together and watching each other kill the other girls you learned to see some fatal habits in each other's attacks. The red head gripped Yelena tightly by the wrists, digging her fingernails sharply into the skin before forcibly pressing down on them in an attempt to snap her wrists. Only one of the wrists snap, and as that familiar sound echoed and Yelena barely concealed her cry of pain, Natalia loosened her grip ever so slightly on the other. The blonde competitor seized her opportunity to free it and socked a well placed punch at the side of Natalia's throat.

Natalia moved backwards, her nose scrunched in discomfort as Yelena procured one of the knifes hidden within her costume. They slowly circled each other, one of them with a knife and broken wrist and the other unarmed but uninjured. Natalia slid her hand into the hidden folds of her own suit to procure a weapon, but the minute she had one hand unavailable Yelena streaked forward. Natalia quickly moved to the side, narrowly missing the jab Yelena would have sent to her abdomen and revealed her own knife. Natalia brought it down towards her shoulder but the blonde clasped her free hand around it. Ignoring the pain that it caused her to do this, Yelena began to twist Natalia's arm in a painful and awkward fashion as a means for her to drop the weapon.

Natalia bent her knee upwards, and in one solid motion brought her booted foot down onto the other's side. It sent Yelena tilting sideways, but she used this momentum to pull Natalia closer and stabbed her in her upper arm. It was in there for only five seconds before Yelena spun away, releasing her grip on the other's arm, and took the knife with her.

Blood fountained from the wound, pain flaring along it as Natalia moved backwards to get some space. She could feel the blood flowing down her arm, soaking into the fabric of her suit and making the arm cling to her in a disgustingly uncomfortable manner. Natalia's eyes never left the deadly grey gaze Yelena had on her, watching the red head with an almost predatorily look. Natalia took a deep breath in, looking for a whole in Yelena's defenses. Yelena had been initiating most of the attacked so far, and while Natalia was holding a strong defense she had to catch Yelena off guard while she was recovering and planning.

Tightening the hold on her knife, Natalia sprinted for the girl with the attention mostly on her tightly wielded fist. Yelena snatched Natalia's fist, holding it in a vice like grip as her weaker, injured hand held the knife loosely. She pressed down harder and harder on Natalia's wrist, slowly cracking the bones in a much more painful and grueling manner as she had broken Yelena's wrist. The pain itself caused Natalia to clench her jaw as a means of enduring it.

"Poor little Natalia," Yelena crooned insultingly, "So close... But we both know you don't have what it takes to be the Black Widow. We all knew it was always going to me. We all knew that someday I would be the last one standing, while you girls burned in hell like the failures you are. Poor little Natali-AH"

Natalia stared her right in the eyes and stabbed the cocky bitch in the middle of her sentence. Yelena stared, gasping from the shock and pain as she stared down to see a knife embedded where her ribs ended, and with a sickening feeling worried and wondered if the knife breached her pancreas or any other organs. As she stood in shock, Natalia wrestled the knife fairly easily from Yelena's other hand. But once Natasha had firmly gripped it, Yelena's hands were coiled around her throat in a crushing grip. It left the red head gasping faintly for air, using one hand to claw at the others as she struggled to get Yelena off. Natalia's chest started to ache and her vision beginning to blur at the edge. Her grip was slipping on the newly required knife. And then she remembered that she had a knife and gripped it firmly.

Yelena gave a pained shriek as Natalia drove the knife deep in her hip, giving it an extra twist which loosened the grip around her throat. But before Yelena could take hold of her again, Natalia slipped away. But suddenly Yelena had taken hold of Natalia by the back of her head, hand fisting her red hair, and yanked her backwards. Loosing her balance, the shorter seventeen year old fell backwards onto her butt, staring up at the pissed off blonde as a boot was brought down mercilessly on her face. Blood spurted over her face as a disgusting crack echoed, the pain sharp and hot. Her hand immediately went up to cover the blood flow and injured nose, green eyes wet with pained tears. They slid out from the very corners of her eyes and rolled down her face, dripping onto the concrete.

"You bitch!" Yelena hissed angrily, taking out another knife. She was on top of Natalia before she had a chance to get up, shoving her completely down onto the ground and sitting on top of her.

Natalia gripped Yelena's hands as she held the knife, wrestling with the blonde in order to keep her from stabbing Natalia to death. Their arms trembled and Natalia pressed as hard as she could, trying to ignore the pain in her arm. She felt a bit light headed from the blood loss and wondered how Yelena must feel with those knives still in her side.

If Natalia could merely yank the knives out, Yelena would die sooner. The blood loss would weaken and then kill her. But that was too dangerous, letting go of one of Yelena's hands would mean death.

"You're nothing," Yelena hissed, "You're nothing but a pawn, a tool, something for me to crush and suffocate the same way a spider wraps it's pray in silky webbing before sucking it's blood out. You're an insect. A ladybug. A grasshopper. A cricket... Useless bugs. Spiders are useful, they kill other bugs and benefit the world. They're overlooked and people are always killing them but that's because they don't understand how valuable spiders are. And I will become the Black Widow!"

Yelena's arm hovered closer to Natalia, and the red head did the first thing she could think of. She brought her head up, tilted it, and bit down on Yelena's arm. The blonde screamed in outrage rather than pain, pulling back. Natalia released her hands, instead gripping the handle that was stuck in the girls side and ripped it out. The blood flooded out like the water withheld by a broken dam, staining the concrete floor as it puddled beneath them. Yelena's hand turned red as she struggled to cover the wound.

Natalia backed away, getting to her feet, and watched as the color red continued to drop onto the floor. She watched Yelena's knees start to shake and felt a pang of guilt in her chest. The blonde looked back, staring at their handlers as their eyes fell towards Natalia expectantly.

Those grey eyes widened heartbrokenly, because Yelena knew that she was done. She was dead in the eyes of her teachers and nurturers, that they were waiting in expectation to see the red head finish her off. Everything she worked so hard towards, her dreams and ambitions, they did not matter anymore. She failed.

Natalia couldn't bring herself to continue watching Yelena any longer and pulled from the hidden folds of her suit, a sleek little pistol. It was light in her palm and she stared at Yelena, unable to watch the woman any longer. To die slowly under the watchful gaze of people you admire was not a fate for Yelena. For anyone. It needed to be quick. So, Natalia flicked the safety off and her green eyes watched Yelena as her grey eyes locked with Natalia. They hardened angrily, and despite the pain she was in, Yelena removed the knife from her side and gripped it tightly. Then she charged, on shaky legs as her face paled several shades and she gripped a blood coated knife.

The snap of the gun going off was the last thing Natalia truly heard, everything else sounded muffled. Like she was half deaf or everything was being filtered through a pillow. The bullet hit Yelena in the chest and her body crumbled to the concrete with a thud, labored breathing racketing throughout the silence for a few seconds before she was officially dead. Before Natalia officially became the Black Widow.

I found solace in the strangest place

Way in the back of my mind

I saw my life in a stranger's face

And it was mine

It was a room she had entered multiple times before, but it was still as unrecognizable as ever. Natalia followed behind her handler and the scientists, not once hesitating or suspicious as she stared at the machine in the center. It looked like a large MRI scanner, a circular chamber that a bed like slab slid you in to. She approached it silently at the instruction of her handler, staring at it with keen observational eyes.

"What does it do?" She tilted her head, allowing the red curls to shift over her shoulder. But she received no answer, much to her unease.

"Lay down Natalia, we don't have any time to waste," Her handler responded in an ever familiar cold tone.

Her movements were slow as she turned and gently slid her body along the long white slab. At the end of it was a little structured block she was instructed to set her head against and it made the assassin think of it similar to a pillow. It even had the crest in the center from where the head would have flattened a normal pillow. But this was hard and cold, and she was instructed to hold still as a scientist approached her with a needle. She merely stared ahead, not trying to get distracted or caught up in the way her heart started to beat a little harder and a little faster. Or how her palms were growing just the tiniest bit sweaty and goosebumps slowly rose along her arms.

The needle was brought up right to her temple, and the young woman didn't even flinch as the clear substance in it drain itself at the press of a plunger into her body. And for a moment, nothing happened. Natalia felt the same as ever, her body didn't ache in pain and she wasn't having any hallucinations. Even her vision was blurring.

But then, as the whir of the machine echoed in her head, Natalia realized that it was becoming harder and harder to close her eyes and blink. She also found it extremely difficult to suddenly turn her head, and the sound of the machine was more keenly observed.

Outside of the machine, the scientists began to diligently twist one final knob along the exterior. A glow of interchangeable light filtered out from the opening where Natalia's feet stuck out.

Ever since she had killed Yelena and claimed the title as the one and only Black Widow, the Red Room had gone to great lengths to prevent their greatest agent from succumbing to PTSD or remembering information they didn't want her to. Every week or two, a handler and their scientists would bring Natalia down and have her lay down in the machine.

The purpose of it was to prevent the girl from recalling her missions, to suppress her memories. The handlers were not stupid, they knew that no matter how disciplined a person was, there was no way for a person to protect themselves from the destructive consequences which came from committing a murder or going through torture. They needed her to remember her training, but they couldn't afford to have the Black Widow going through flashbacks in the midst of her mission or have PTSD nightmares that compromised her. It was too keep her in peak mental condition, to not remember whatever guilt or mercy she may have started to feel after a kill. So they wiped her memory, they did the treatment every week or bi weekly to keep the suppressed memories at bay. And when she was away on a mission, they just made the session longer.

Not only were they wiping her memory though, they were subliminally placing specific words that would immediately reset her behavior. They were fail safe measures to ensure that, if she ever did try to leave them, they would stop her. They had trigger words to reset her memory where her objective was to kill anyone who wasn't a part of the Red Room and to return to them.

Natalia was a stranger to herself, she had no recollections of what she done and why she did and how she even felt about it. She was a permanent tabula rasa, a blank slate. She was a stranger with nothing, her memories blurry or forgotten, suppressed in the deepest darkest depths of her brain alongside all of the emotions she stored. Her mind was the place Natalia Romanova dwelled, the safe place where she could be herself. And the saddest thing was that it was defenseless against the torturous hands of the Red Room.

I had a one-way ticket to a place where all the demons go

Where the wind don't change

And nothing in the ground can ever grow

No hope, just lies

And you're taught to cry in your pillow

But I survived

Grigory Drakov was one of the first on a long list of people the Red Room had a special grudge against. Drakov was a small but irritating thorn in the Red Room's side, a man who had once been a loyal supporter of the Red Room before actually learning what they did. When the man learned just what exactly the Red Room was doing, training and killing innocent little girls to create the perfect assassin, he immediately turned against them. He started to run an anti-espionage campaign outside of Russia, trying to protect ignorant countries from falling pray to Black Widows while bringing awareness of the brutal training conditions worldwide. Her handlers viewed him like a jellyfish, spineless. They had sent him warnings to seize his efforts before they took measures against him. Sadly, Drakov ignored them, choosing to relocate to England however to better protect his family.

His daughter, Galina, was her target. Drakov was a fool to go against the Red Room, to continue poking the bear, and the Red Room deemed that his punishment would be the death of his daughter. The consequence of his actions, of his betrayal to them, was the death of his child. Natalia didn't question it. She didn't protest. She took the assignment and boarded the first flight possible to England.

The Red Room hadn't given her specific instructions, leaving Natalia mostly on her own to complete the assassination and contact them once she was finished. At first, the young woman was worried about how to proceed without getting caught. She didn't know how to infiltrate the building without being seen by any pesky neighbors, but then she saw in her visual surveillance that Drakov hires a nanny to watch over his precious little Galina. And then the plan slowly concocted itself before her.

Disposing of the nanny was perhaps the most difficult task, because Natalia didn't want Drakov to suspect for even a minute that the woman had been killed by an assassin. No matter how likely it may be, the red head could not risk it and had to settle for something less bloody.

She had considered sending the woman away on a fake vacation or urgent trip to see family but that would be suspicious, especially if the nanny talked with family. She had considered smothering the woman to death but it would show up on the autopsy. She had considered running the woman over like a hit and run but that was sloppy, there was no guarantee the woman would be killed or how Natalia could plan it. Natalia had even considered slipping some cyanide into the woman's pills but not only would the death look suspicious to those who knew her, the nanny was extremely healthy. And then Natalia had come up with it.

She had been researching the nanny ever since she learned about the position and knew almost everything about the woman. Natalia knew that her name was Vanessa Wilkes, that she was 25 years old, single, and was allergic to nuts. A severe allergy. All it would take would be something with nuts or nut oil in it and the woman would die.

Natalia waited patiently until there was an evening Vanessa wasn't home before she silently broke in through the bedroom window. It was extremely quiet, the entire flat pitch black. Natalia didn't dare turn a light on in fear that a neighbor would see it and call the cops. She moved cautiously through the house and opened the fridge, peering inside to see what there was. The tin foil wrapped container of Chinese food was just what Natalia was looking for.

Inside the circular container was around three spring rolls, with what inside Natalia didn't quite know, with fried rice resting underneath it like a cushion. Beside the spring rolls was a tiny cup covered in tightly wrapped plastic wrap. Inside was some unidentifiable dark sauce, and Natalia smirked deviously. Bringing it to her nose, the overpowering aroma made her quickly recoil and reach into the small little backpack she was wearing. She pulled out a small bottle of peanut oil and a bag of finely crushed unsalted cashews.

Natalia poured the oil into the sauce, taking a small little toothpick from her bag to help stir it in. Once she was done, bringing it up to her nose to sniff it and finding the peanut scent completely masked, she covered the sauce again and placed it back where she belong. She considered adding the cashews but realized that if Vanessa ate the rice first, it would look extremely strange if they found the cashews in the rice. The peanut oil in the sauce was different, not many people knew what was in sauces and it would look like a freak accident by the restaurant.

After rewrapping the food and placing it back in the fridge, she moved through the drawers and cabinets in search of the epipen she knew was hidden. Finding it in the third drawer to the right of the fridge, Natalia took the small object and brought it over to a cabinet all the way to the left and hid it against the cabinet wall hidden next to a box of crackers. Then, without another word, she left.

And by tomorrow afternoon, Vanessa Wilkes died from an allergic reaction to the sauce.

Sitting very silently on the grey couch, Natalia looked at Drakov with a wide, pearly white smile. Her green eyes sparkled in false excitement, not that he could tell, and she sat perfectly poised to convey her false feelings.

"Miss Bailey-"

"Please," Natalia spoke in a sweet tone, a false but extremely convincing British accent contorting the way she sounded, "Call me Cadence."

"Alright Cadence," Now it was Drakov's wife who was talking, glancing up at her husband silently.

Natalia found them an odd couple. Drakov himself stood at six feet, with broad shoulders and sturdy physique. He had piercing grey eyes and his face was molded with sharp angles. He had dark brown hair gelled back off of his face and a matching bushy mustache. There were a few strands of grey along his lip and stretching from his temples, she suspected they came from the stress of running his campaign. His wife Ivanna was 5'4", a frailer woman who was still slightly plump and round from Galina's pregnancy. But other than that her arms were so thin and her wrists so tiny Natalia didn't understand how that could be considered healthy. She had rounder features, with a wide nose. Unlike her husband, she had very fair, thin blonde hair and dark brown eyes which contrasted sharply against her pale skin.

"Galina is a very finicky child," Dravok explained, "She goes through certain phases where she won't eat anything but one thing. Last week it had been oranges, two weeks prior it was Popsicles."

"She's a very high maintenance child," Ivanna agreed, "We aren't very sure if you would be able to handle her."

"I can assure you," Natalia smiled, almost feeling bad for this poor mother. What kind of brat had she given birth to? "There isn't a child yet who I haven't managed to tame. Galina can be as stubborn as she likes, I'm even more stubborn."

"Stubborn?" The woman frowns, "No, no, I would much rather you give in to her. She has a banshee like shriek and it would be much better if we keep her happy."

Natalia didn't fault to notice that Drakov scowled deeply at that, sensing an old conflict that still lived on between the two. She would take advantage of this.

"With all due respect Mrs. Drakov, spoiling a child will only make it worse in the long run. I promise you that none of my methods will physically harm Galina, I will only teach her the meaning of no. She needs to learn that while she will be your little princess, she isn't an actual princess."

"It's just that Vanessa always did as she wanted," The concerned mother insisted, and Natalia resisted scowling, because there was no way in hell she was going to agree to spoiling the little girl. Natalia grew up in hell, this young little girl didn't appreciate the things she had whatsoever. 'Perhaps it is fitting she dies.'

"And Vanessa isn't here," Drakov reminded, "It's time Galina learns about limits and the meaning of no. I am sick and tired of you spoiling her. Back when I was a-"

"Excuse me?" The wife hissed, "I spoil her? I didn't see you telling her no two says ago when-"

Natalia wisely chose to clear her throat, pulling the couple away from whatever argument they were about to launch themselves into. They turned to her, straightening and began to carry on with the interview. But as they continued, Natalia saw that they were both distracted from the argument they were almost prepared to throw themselves in. She saw in their eyes what they thought of her, Dravok satisfied and even a bit pleased with her while his wife was hesitant and disapproving. But that wouldn't matter, because this woman was merely worried about upsetting her child. She didn't even think to worry about her child's life being in danger.

Galina sat with a glare as she stared at Natalia, eyes narrowed as she regarded the new nanny. It had only been three days, three days in which Natalia surveyed her surroundings and planned escape routes. But in that time she had acted as nanny Cadence Bailey, who Galina learned to hate with every fiber of her being. The little girl hated the red head, hated how she was denied everything she wanted.

Natalia stared at the small three year old, a small little thing who possessed the strong structure of her father but round features of her mother. Her dark brown eyes scrutinized the woman as she stepped closer, closing the bedroom door behind her. Galina's brown hair was tied back in two pigtail braids, and she wore the most obnoxiously yellow night gown Natalia had the displeasure of seeing. The child sat defiantly on the bed, hearing the sound of her door locking but not recognizing it.

"I don't wanna go to bed!"

"I know," Natalia said, "But you have to go to bed Galina."

"You can't make me! I hate you!"

"Do you think I care?" The British accent was gone, replaced instead with the smooth familiar tones of her Russian accent. The child noticed the change immediately and said,

"You sound just like mummy and daddy."

Natalia stepped closer and closer, "Galina, it's time to go to sleep."

Galina stared up at Natalia, watching as a small little object was removed from her pocket and pointed it at the child. It looked to her like an L, but bulky and misshapen. It was pointed at her and suddenly, the hatred and anger Galina was feeling flushed right out of her. It was replaced with fear, chilling fear that made her whimper.

Natalia showed no remorse as she completed her mission.

I'm still breathing

I'm alive

I'm alive

Brazil was beautiful; a colorful country filled with luscious rain forests, bustling streets, delicious cuisines, and astounding works of architecture. São Paulo was a place of beauty and people in Brazil, and Natalia found her work in the overlooked sections. The sections where the poor suffered and gangs hid in the alleys, where the drug dealing and fighting was done where tourists wouldn't see it.

She moved through the streets, her red hair pulled back out of her face in a pony tail. She was dressed, not in a cat suit, but in normal attire. In a dark blue floral blouse, nice denim jeans, black flats which pinched her heels, and a slightly floppy rimmed hat and sunglasses to keep the sun out of her eyes.

As she walked, Natalia couldn't help but struggle to recite the plans for her mission over and over again. The Red Room had been contacted by two different drug cartels, competing at a stalemate. The two groups were both vying for the Red Room's support, promising resources if they sent an assassin out to kill the other leaders. But, there was a third group, far more powerful than the other two located in Uruguay that wanted the other two cartels dethroned so it could expand. They were offering greater resources than the other two cartels combined. So Natalia was on the side of the third party, playing a triple agent. It was... different. Nothing she had done before but not something impossible.

Natalia moved swiftly through the crowds, heading towards a small little church. She marveled silently at how a simple building, a simple idea, could bring two feuding individuals together for a brief moment under the faith of God. Both leaders, Arsenio Ferro and Vincente Castro, were members of the same church and one day out of every week they set aside their differences to worship with other hard working, faithful individuals.

It was a very small building, a rusty red brick structure with a darker, red brown tiled roof. The roof had a steep slope to it, a thin bronze cross protruding straight up from the edge of it. The dark stone steps were concealed by the crowd of individuals inching their way into the building. Looking upwards, Natalia saw a large circular stain glass window of a bearded man in a white robe. Natalia looked down at her clothes, then back at the people around her who were dressed in blouses and dress button down shirts, relieved to see that she was dressed appropriately enough.

Entering inside, Natalia shrugged her way as cautiously and silently as possible, clasping the purse that hung over her shoulders tightly. She made her way silently up a spiral staircase, the dark wood covered by thick red carpeting. As she crept up them, she glanced back at the crowd of people who were shoving forward to get their seats. She heard the children, some of them protesting while others pushed through the crowds earnestly. She then saw some of Ferro's men enter and made her way quickly up the spiral staircase before she was spotted.

The small balcony she entered looked down and outwards at the row of pews before her. She stared down at the people, spotting the two men on either side of the center aisle with leather bound books in their laps. She quietly opened her purse, pulling from it a small sniper handgun that the scientists in the Red Room had invented. It was a prototype but had done exceedingly well in the tests they performed on it. It was like a small hand gun but it had the accuracy and power of a sniper rifle.

Natalia crouched down beneath the railing, removing her sunglasses and hat as she watched the last few people trickle in. The balcony was positioned in the far back right corner of the church, out of direct sight from the priest and pastors down below. She was crouched on her knees, where usually a cellist or violinist sat and played accompany music to the service. But music in this church, she had researched, was saved for serious or special services like funerals, marriages, or Easter services. It was the best position to shoot two quick bullets unseen and escape.

She sat on her knees, listening in bored silence for forty five minutes. Natalia had never stepped foot in a church before, not one that she remembered of course, and found herself incapable of focusing on the words that the religious individuals down below spoke. She couldn't focus on it, Natalia found the information they spread to one another irrelevant and pointless. But at the same time she didn't know the meaning of faith, she knew of killing and fighting and what blood felt like when it was coating your fingers. Faith, blind faith that religion required, was foreign to her.

Natalia peeked her head over the railing as she heard the sound of around maybe 300 people rise to their feet. She watched as some bowed their head and tilted her gun accordingly so it was aimed at Vincente. He was the one farthest away and it would be easier to shoot from far away first then the closer man. She sat very quietly, finger wrapped gently over the trigger and waited. Her eyes skimmed a bit over the people around him, seeing a small five year old boy sitting on front of the drug lord and an elderly woman to his immediate left. And then, without another second to waste, Natalia pulled the trigger.

Screams filled the silent church as Vincente Castro collapse to the ground, a bloody hold erupting from where his dark black greasy hair usually was. The men around Vincente turned, one of the men shoving the elderly lady behind him as they turned their weapons onto Ferro's men and in the chaos Natalia shot at the bald drug lord. Then, as Ferro fell right in the middle of the aisle, more people began to give in to the hysteric screaming. The priest stood, trying to bring order back in his sanctuary but gunfire began to break out. One of Vincente's men had fired upwards towards her, on the hopes of killing Natalia and avenging the fallen man, but the gun was not suited for such actions. The bullet hardly made it and Ferro's men mistook the gunfire to be directed at them and returned it. Chaos reigned as people shoved children under pews or ran for the doors.

Natalia took that as her cue to get the hell out of there. She shoved the gun back into her purse and clipped it shut, shoving the hat onto her head and the sunglasses up her nose as she took the stairs two at a time. People were surging outwards from the front door and she quickly merged with the crowd. She could still hear the gunfire, threats being shouted in portuguese and the cries of innocent casualties. The red head continued to move, briskly walking with the crowd before she slipped away. She couldn't stay, it was only a matter of time before the cops showed up to break this up. And besides...

She had finished her mission.

You took it all, but I'm still breathing

With her red locks tied back in a neat and proper bun, Natalia glided through the sterile white hallways as if she were a ghost. Doctors passed her very silently, not once glancing back at her. She wore light blue hospital scrubs, nose and mouth covered by a face mask. As she passed a room, she faintly heard the hysteric sobs of a family and continued on her way with a neutral expression. She couldn't get distracted by the sick and dying that surrounded her, and forced back the icy chill weaving across her spine as she went deeper and deeper into the building.

For two years, the Red Room had been searching in vein to locate a rogue agent. The agent had fled two years ago, going MIA after partially completing a mission that didn't require the Black Widow's attention. For two years they had been searching for the traitor, worried that any day the organization would be revealed to the world. Every day Natalia woke up not knowing if that was the day some armed forces would break into the base. It wasn't until the fool was admitted into a hospital in Estonia did they find them.

The Black Widow had to admit that the foolish agent was rather wise. Instead of fleeing farther out, away from Russia, like they predicted, they hid in a small country right across the border that some people didn't know about. If only they hadn't been in a car accident, the poor agent wouldn't be facing the consequences he long deserved. Natalia wouldn't have been sent to the hospital, disguised as a nurse. The Black Widow wouldn't have gone down to the boiler room and cut the electrical cord which connected all the fire alarms to the Hospital's electrical lines.

Her shoes clacked against the tile floor as she watched the room numbers go by. B09, B11, B13... She walked silently until she finally came across B23, opening the door very quietly and peeking inside. Seeing no one else but her victim, Natalia flicked a 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door and entered the room.

Laying in bed, two brown eyes watched the Russian assassin as she approached the bed. Dark black hair, once cut short in a buzz it like manner, draped across the pale forehead and clung messily to the pillow. His left leg was wrapped in a bright white cast, propped up to alleviate discomfort. Bandages covered the length of his arms, concealing injuries she could only imagine caused by broken glass. The individual was a bit hazy from the pain killers they were on, which was better for the Black Widow.

She approached them very silently, grabbing two pairs of handcuffs from her pockets. They watched her very confused as she snapped the handcuffs to his wrists, one on his right and one on his left, then snapped the handcuffs around the metal bed railing. As they opened their mouth in protest, recognizing something was wrong, she shove a roll of gauze between the mans teeth and wrapped a long cloth around his mouth to hold the gag in place. He screamed against it but it came out as a muffled noise. The woman started to speak in Russian.

"You were a foolish coward to leave," She whispered in their native tongue, watching them scream and struggle.

But no one would come to save him, no one would hear his screams. She dug into her pockets, pulling out flammable materials in her pocket that she had come equipped with such as dried excelsior. Between the excelsior, some extra blankets she had found around the room, and some alcohol which she poured across the man, Natalia had the makings of a fire ready. The excelsior rested all around his head and feet, scattered carefully across his body. The blanket was draped over him, protecting the excelsior from the wet alcohol. The body thrashed as she produced a lit match.

"No one leaves us. You die with us or by us." The match fell and the red head spun on her heels as the flames erupted and exited the room. She barely opened the door, slipping out as the man screamed loudly behind her. The sign stayed on the door as she walked down the hall briskly, none of the doctors suspecting whatsoever of the tragedy about to befall the hospital.

Although, as she crossed the lobby and stepped onto the sidewalk, Natalia wasn't fully aware of what tragedy she caused. She had removed her medical mask, and as she began to turn the corner and remove her hair hair from it's perfect bunk screams of terror urged her to look back. Orange-yellow flames ate angrily up the side of the second floor, black smoke spilling out of the windows. The fire climbed hungrily, searching for food to satisfy the unsatisfiable hunger. The Black Widow could not help but stare at the flames, shaking as a forgotten memory dares to rear itself from the back of her mind. She remembered feeling the heat against her own skin, of screaming and crying. She felt a twist in her stomach, accompanied by nausea, as she thought of the undefinable number of infants and pregnant woman who were likely suffocating on the thick smoke and burning alive.

Never before had she felt so sick to her stomach by her actions, and never before had the Black Widow lost her cool collective facade in favor of running blindly from the scene of the crime.

I had made every single mistake

That you could ever possibly make

I took and I took and I took what you gave

But you never noticed that I was in pain

I knew what I wanted; I went in and got it

Did all the things that you said that I wouldn't

I told you that I would never be forgotten

And all in spite of you

The twang of his bow echoed in her ears despite the chaotic noise filtering in from outside. The arrow pierced the pillar right behind her, her heart thundering as she quickly regained her balance along the beam. Her eyes flew towards the shooter, genuinely curious as to what fool dared to go up against her because, honestly, what assassin used a bow and arrow like Robin Hood?

There was very little light up along the crossbeams, the dry air extremely stale with thick dust particles threatening to choke her airways. Her knees were bent, positioned oddly to keep traction and balance along the angled beams. Beneath her, despite not seeing it, was the stage with it's hard unforgiving wooden floor. Around them were beams and other structures; such as stage lights, a catwalk, hoisted up rolls of background and other special affect things she didn't really care to know about. It was difficult to see but she was able to just barely make out the man who fired at her.

He had a lean but physically defined man, most of the visible muscle rippling along his revealed arms. He was tall, she could tell from the way his legs were awkwardly bent underneath him and how he was bent over to avoid hitting his head. She saw the outline of the bow in his right hand and the quiver on his back. She could make out the very ends of his arrows from the top of the ovular object. But his facial features were obscured in the darkness, and for a moment she wondered if she would be able to shoot him before he fully saw her.

But before she could explore that thought any further, a slight little peep began to echo through the darkness and her eyes turned towards the arrow. A red little dot was flicker, flickering faster and faster as the beeping got louder. She quickly backed away, trying to get as far away from it as possible before it exploded.

BEEEEEP

The long, drawn out noise was accompanied by an intensely bright flash. Flashes of color briefly flickered in Natalia's vision, spots of blue, yellow, and green dancing brightly as she struggled to reassess the situation and surroundings. Her right hand clasped tightly around the dark black bag slung across her shoulders, as if any minute it'll be pulled right off of her. And then she finally realized that, instead of a tiny exploding device in the arrow head, it had instead illuminated the dark ceiling. And she got a better look at the archer who dared to cross her.

She noticed his eyes first, two stormy blue eyes the perfect combination of steely grey and light blue. They stared at her in the sake calculating manner she stared at him with. His hair, still slightly obscured by the shadows, was a light brown shade she shouldn't classify as either dirty blonde or just extremely light hair. It was fair enough to be dirty blonde but she didn't know if there was any blonde in it. He had a square, strong jaw and wore a dark black outfit with just some purple accents along the side. She saw on the black quiver, the faint bird symbol she had come to recognize as the symbol of S.H.I.E.L.D..

The moment his hand reached back for another arrow, Natalia was already in motion. The gun had come out of it's holster, a bang noise echoing around them as she fired at the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. He spun out of the way, keeping his balance along the sturdy but rather thin metal beam. His arrow flew towards her, but she jump backwards towards the beam behind her. Her body flipped in the air, toes landing at a point along the steel girder with the grace of a ballerina. Her finger pulled the trigger another time, a bit satisfied when she heard a slight hiss from the archer. She kept moving though because a stationary target was excruciatingly easy to take out.

Natalia leapt from beam to beam, zigzagging and running along them with a grace almost unbecoming of the assassin. She didn't dare wait to see what the archer would do, trying to get some distance and an advantage over him. She believed that eventually he would slip, placing too much weight on one side and fall all the way to his death.

But Hawk-Eye, he watched her with wide eyes at the way she moved from beam to beam, trying to get distance between them. A million questions popped silently in his head as he cautiously followed her, trying to waste as little time as possible jumping from beam to beam. How could such a deadly, re-known assassin have such astounding grace? How could she not have a single physical flaw? But he watched her with neutral eyes, keeping a passive and unbiased view of her as he ran as fast as he could after her. He couldn't let himself get distracted by the most deadly woman in the world.

The archer leapt onto the same girder she was running along and ran faster, being extremely cautious with each step so he didn't fall. While Natalia's footsteps were much more sure, her small feet graceful, it was as though God decided to make his every movement jerky and clumsy. He notched another arrow, lining it up, but just as he was ready to fire she jumped upwards, hands catching hold of the beam above and swung her feet back to catch him in the face. The archer skidded to a stop as best he could, stumbling as her feet caught his chest instead. He fell back, hands quickly scrabbling to hold on to the beam as his body slid sideways.

The red head swung overhead, watching him silently as her fingers tightened around the steel and she hoisted herself up onto the beam above them. Shadows concealed the upper half of her face, and the ringing of gunfire echoed as the bullets panged against the metal. It took Hawk-Eye three seconds to make the decision of letting go and as he did, he immediately reached out and wrapped his arms around the nearest beam, trying to not groan at the pull his shoulders and back went through.

Believing that the agent was no longer a concern, she hadn't heard the thud of his body hitting the ground but assumed she had the upper hand should he return, Natalia leapt from the girder she was on, gripping the rail of the catwalk and flipped onto the suspending platform.

But Hawk-Eye was not yet defeated, he pulled himself up onto the girder and watched her as she held herself determinedly, strutting across the metal platform. His line of sight followed her path, going ahead of her and smirked confidently. His calloused fingers picked a very specific arrow and he drew it back in his bow. Aiming the shot, he fired and watched as it flew sightless,y through the air and attached to the very bottom of the platform. A white light blinked, but Natalia couldn't see it.

The moment she's three feet away, approaching where the arrow is, Clint presses the button which triggers it and the arrow exploded. It was a strange explosion, not the kind that explodes outward. Rather, it sort of imploded, pulling everything inwards and down. The entire catwalk snapped in half at that moment, and the red headed woman tumbled through the air as gravity pulled her to the stage. The only proof he had that she didn't use the same quick thinking he did was the sound of her body impacting at the bottom.

Her breathing came out ragged, exhausted as her green eyes as she raised her head from the wooden stage floor. Skillfully, the archer made his way down to the ground safely, riding down from an arrow. The moment his feet touched the ground another arrow was drawn, his eyes on her as she tried to get up. The backpack had broken her fall and she felt beneath the fabric that the bomb was most definitely broken. A pained hiss barely made its way between her teeth as a hand went to her abdomen, feeling around it very gently. She had to guess that most, if not all her ribs, were cracks or broken. And it hurt like a bitch.

Her green eyes stared back at his, knowing that she was in too much pain to move quick enough to take him out and any fast movement could send a rib right through her lungs, killing her. She saw the arrow leveled at her and she let her shields slip just slightly. She settled her head back and waited quietly for the archer to end her. Her gun had fallen too far away, she was in no shape to fight and she honestly didn't want to fight. Not any more. She was done living her life killing random people for stupid reasons.

But the arrow never fired, Clint Barton couldn't bring himself to do it. She was letting him do this. She was laying there, allowing him the opportunity to kill her and go back to S.H.I.E.L.D.. He couldn't kill her. She was broken and defeated and haunted just like he had been when Phil Coulson found him. Clint knew that the mission was to kill her, but something told him that there was another solution.

He lowered his weapon, footsteps echoing in her ears as he approached her. He got down slowly on his knees and looked down at Natalia, watching as her green eyes stared up at him in confusion. He slowly slid his arms underneath her back and slowly helped the injured woman sit up.

"What are you doing?" She demanded, Russian accent slightly noticeable. Her nose scrunched up in confusion, the expression drawing her eyebrows closely together.

For a moment, he didn't answer, merely watching her reaction. She wasn't trying to kill him, she could easily attack him while he showed some drop in his defenses by helping her. He then said, in simple words, "Helping you."

And I'm still breathing

I'm still breathing

I'm alive (You took it out, but I'm still breathing)

(You took it out, but I'm still breathing)

I'm alive (You took it out, but I'm still breathing)

(You took it out, but I'm still breathing)

I'm alive (You took it out, but I'm still breathing)

(You took it out, but I'm still breathing)

I'm alive

Natalia didn't like the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D..

He was unnecessarily loud and vulgar, which made her extremely uncomfortable. He wore all black and wore an eyepatch like a pirate. He held around him this intimidating aura which came mostly from his loud, vulgar language and what she could only assume to be a willingness, like her, to do whatever it took to complete the mission. But his mission was different than her missions, he was protecting people where as she was killing them. And she knew he didn't like her back. He had cussed and addressed her to Agent Barton as if she wasn't even there. He told Agent Barton that she should be dead, a carcass.

Natalia would have taught this man a lesson if she could, but she wanted to be good. She didn't want to betray Agent Barton's good faith. She wanted to cleanse her ledger of all the red blood she covered it in for the wrong cause.

Natalia did not like any of the agents. They all stared at her with fear or apprehension, watching her every move as she strutted past them besides Agent Barton. She heard, no matter what tongue they spoke or how quietly they spoke, the little rumors and words they said as she came walking towards them and as she walked farther and farther away from them. She did not blame them for gossiping, she was a woman with a big reputation. But she was not heartless like they said, she did not enjoy killing. She was emotionless because she was raised to keep her emotions locked away. Emotions compromised people and she was trained to not feel remorse. To not feel anything for anyone.

Natalia did not hate Agent Coulson.

She didn't feel an immediate attraction towards the man, it actually annoyed her with how close Agent Coulson and Agent Barton were. But he treated her like she was a human, he treated her civilly and she respected that. She liked that. He would shake her hand and talk to her in this calm but not condescending voice and offered his assistance when Agent Barton couldn't give it. Natalia liked that, it made her think that she could learn to like Agent Coulson, but she stayed cautious. She would take it very slow, watch Coulson for any deceit.

Natalia liked Agent Barton though.

He was a bit of a pain in the ass, she had learned after enduring a couple horrible jokes on the flight to the Helicarrier. But he had faith in her, he was sticking his neck out for her. He should have killed her, he had an opportunity so many others didn't and yet he decided to be her friend. He decided to try and help her, to give her a redemption. He was giving her an opportunity she never had before. He was annoying and maybe a bit too friendly for her liking, but that was how he is and she would just need to adjust to it. She liked him. He was very supportive and wanted to help her.

And maybe it was time Natalia let someone help her.

I'm alive

Natalia looked down at the pile of paperwork she needed to fill out, the pen pinched tightly between her fingers. To her right was a stack of papers she had had finished filling out, most of it just pointless things about the mission Agent Barton had retrieved her from and acknowledgement from her that she must go through extensive surveillance given her history and a required psych analysis. On the left was the paperwork she still needed to complete.

The door slid open, but she didn't need to fully look up to know it was Agent Barton. The man nudged the sleeping agent awake, the man who had been assigned to watch her do this while the archer was at another debrief. The man jumped awake, startled and embarrassed as he stared at the unimpressed superior agent. With a jerk of the thumb, the agent scrambled from the room and left the two alone.

"How's the paperwork going?" He asked, taking a seat across from her as he watched her hand write another perfect signature along the line despite her hand cramping. He paused, taking the paper and spinning it around confused.

"Natasha Romanoff?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

"My new name," She said, her voice calm. She refused to let on how heavy and meaningful this was going to be for them both, especially for her, but Agent Barton picked up on it all the same, "Natalia Romanova died when she hit that stage floor. I am Natasha Romanoff, a person cleaning up Natalia's mess."

"Natasha," He repeated, smiling. Then he held his hand out to her and said, "Well, Natasha Romanoff, it is an honor to meet you. Clint Barton at your service."

She stared at his hand for a moment before clasping it firmly in her smaller one, shaking it.

Natasha centric Chapter. And my longest yet! For those of you unfamiliar with this song, it's the one they play with commercials for that movie The 5th Wave. I really think it fits Natasha, the whole struggle. She's had a shitty life.

The fight between her and Yelena, I know it's one sided. I know realistically it wasn't that one sided... I tried to make it fair. I sort of feel bad for Yelena and all the other girls who died in the Red Room. None of them deserved that type of life.

But I like my interpretation on how Natasha and Clint met, how he didn't kill her. It's different than from what I've seen or read.

Also, DeadPool movie. It's rated R, like I just saw it in the commercial. It's like the first Marvel Movie that isn't PG-13. I can really only imagine what sort of intense stuff is going to happen.

Reviews:

RussianAssassin- Bucky or BuckyBear? I mean, a BuckyBear themed one shot would be cute, with like a little Steve Rogers. Or the child of Steve. All the adventures they would go on! It be like Winnie the Pooh and Christopher Robin.

independentalto- The love potion recipe unfortunately has been confiscated by Coulson. Too dangerous. Could be made a biological weapon. That's what Coulson told me. But I will try to get it for you, Callie, and Nicky. As for the revenge, your guess is as good as mine, Natasha wouldn't tell me what she did.