"Young woman, won't you tell us your name? You are safe here." Vision spoke softly in Russian to the dark haired widow chained to the table in front of him. As the calmest and most distant from the Widow Program, Vision had been chosen by the team to interrogate the girl. He had been at it for hours with no result. The girl looked bored to tears.
"At least look at me so I know you can hear me," Vision said in frustration.
The girls eyes flickered up to Visions, "You know what I see? A weak wannabe who doesn't have the balls to do what's necessary to get information." She smirked at his shocked expression.
"You speak English? Why didn't you say so?"
The girl shrugged and leaned back in her chair, "Nobody asked."
Vision glanced back at the dark paned window, behind which he knew the team was watching, anxious for any information he could give.
"Would you excuse me?" The girl spat at the back of his head as he left.
Stepping into the other room Vision was met with a barrage of questions.
"What the hell?! She speaks English?!" Bucky paced in frustration.
"We are getting nothing here! We don't have time for this!" Steve exclaimed, "Rough her up a little!"
"Steve! She's just a child!" Wanda looked shocked.
"She isn't. She's a black widow, and she KNOWS where Natasha is she just refuses to say!"
A quiet voice at the back of the room made them all pause, "Let me go in."
Clint leaned in the shadows of the back wall, his arms crossed over his body, "I talked Natasha down when we brought her in. I can get this girl to talk."
"I don't know Clint, you're awfully close to this…" Vision looked Clint over critically. Clint walked forward, "You don't have a choice. You need answers and I can get them. Let me in that room."
Tony looked at Vision and nodded, "Let him try." Vision stepped aside, watching Clint warily. Taking a deep breath, Clint stepped into the room.
The girl looked up as he walked in, her eyes taking in everything about him instantly. She smiled, "They send you in here to be the muscle? Scare me a little?" She held up her chained hands, "You know if you like hitting girls now's your chance."
Clint shook his head, "I'm not going to hit you."
She sniffed, "I figured as much. You're no fun."
"Where did he chain you?" Clint's face was soft, compassionate.
"What?"
"Ivan. Where did he chain you when he beat you? When he 'trained' you as an assassin."
The girl's eyes went wide, then shut down, her expression stoic. She sat staring at him silently. He sat down on the edge of the table. "Natasha Romanoff is my friend. My best friend. I helped her escape the Red Room years ago, and she has told me stories about that place that haunt my nightmares. I'm betting you have your own stories. So tell me."
The girl sneered, "You want a story? Let me tell you one. Once upon a time there was a girl who was ripped from her family and raised to be a killer. It was hard but at least she had a community around her. Then one day SHIELD flew by on a plane and torched it all. The girl had nothing left but the lessons she was taught in the Red Room. Trust no one, belong nowhere, and do not expect kindness. The end."
Clint frowned, "There were no SHIELD operatives for destroying the Widow Program."
The girl rolled her eyes, "You'll forgive me if I consider your words a huge sack of bull shit won't you? Thanks you're a doll."
"I don't know what you have been through and I won't pretend to, but I know what Natasha suffered, and she pulled through it. Natasha changed, she became a woman I consider my family. There is hope for you."
The girl laughed, a short, painful sound, "There was never any hope for me."
Clint looked at her intently, "There is now. All you have to do is take it. Tell us what we need to know. Where is Natasha?"
Clint waited but the girl remained silent, her expression full of distrust and hatred. He stood, "Fine. Don't talk, but know this; You may hate SHIELD, but the Widows will never take you back now. You're a traitor. You better hope they never find you, because I know what they do to failed agents. So do you. This is your last chance at life girl. You don't talk, we won't kill you, but we'll put you right back where we found you, and they will do what Widows do."
He started to walk away, "Say hi to Ivan for me."
"The sink."
Clint turned to look at her, the girl's face had gone pale, "What?"
"The piping of the sink in the bathroom. He would chain me there." She noted his stricken expression and lifted her chin pridefully, "Better acoustics you know. So the other girls could hear me scream."
Clint swallowed hard and nodded, sitting back down on the table. "It was the radiator for Natasha. She was Natalia back then though. She had burns on her wrists for a long time after she came to us."
The girl stared at him, processing. He met her gaze, "What's your name?"
She peered up at him in distrust from underneath dark eyelashes, "If I tell you, will you help me?"
Clint's mind flashed back to a time when Natasha had asked him that same question in a similar circumstance. He told the girl what he had told Natasha back then, "I will. You answer my questions truthfully, and I'll defend you with my life."
She looked at him with suspicion, seeming to be judging his honesty. Finding no hint of a lie she sighed, "My name is Valeria, and I know where they are keeping Natalia."