"Natalia Romanova was not brainwashed into being a killer. She might swear it to be true but deep down she knows the truth. Oh we brainwash our girls to be sure, at least, that's what you would call it. We prefer… redirecting their thought process. Natalia needed no such treatment. She was born to be a killer. In the first year of her training she proved that. She was six years old."

Steve blinked slowly, feeling sluggish as more blood drained through the tube in his arm. Anka had been talking incessantly, painting a picture of early childhood training in the Red Room that sent shivers of revulsion down his spine. Or maybe it was the loss of blood.

"We were training her in basic headlocks, she was still training with other girls her age. Natalia was smaller than the others, and hand to hand was difficult for her at first. She lost her first three fights and spent many hours in the infirmary for it." Anka had a faraway look in her eye, as if nostalgic. "After a particularly brutal loss, and the beating that always comes after, something seemed to click for her. She paired up with one of the other girls, I don't remember her name now…" Anka looked to Darya, but she shrugged. "In any case, I was certain Natalia would lose. She was too small and didn't seem to be picking up the lessons. The objective was simply to get the other girl to pass out. If you do the headlock right it isn't that hard. But Natalia…" She grinned, "It was beautiful. She was so quick, suddenly seeming to grasp the basics. She swung herself onto the back of the other girl and got her right into the headlock. She never moved from that position, though her face turned bright red with the effort. I can see it all so clearly. The other girl flailed and struggled but couldn't dislodge her."

"Stop." Steve pressed his lips into a thin line, scrunching his eyes closed for a moment. "Stop, I don't want to hear anymore."

Anka ignored him. "Finally the other girl fell to her knees, which allowed Natalia to apply even more pressure, since she could stand up again. Natalia's eyes never left mine. I looked at her and I saw all the humiliation of her previous losses, her desperation and desire to belong. I gave her a nod, meaning that she could release, but Natalia took it differently. With a viciousness that surprised me Natalia swiftly twisted and broke the neck of the girl. She died instantly." Anka shook her head with a smile. "We were so surprised! We knew then she was something special."

Darya smiled, "She was surprised too I think. She just kept looking at the girl as if expecting her to get up. We took her into private training after that. Never had any trouble with her until she was a teenager and started questioning methods. She grew out of it." She looked over at Steve, his eyes were shut, his brow furrowed.

Anka gave him an innocent look, "Perhaps it's your turn then. Tell me, where is Nicholas Fury?"

Steve ignored her, slowly looking at her in disbelief, "You're a monster. She was a child."

"Now Steve," Anka purred at him, sealing off a completed pint of blood, "I thought we agreed to be honest with each other?" A scream from down the hallway made Steve jerk against his bonds. "He's dead I swear! His tombstone is in New York! Go see for yourselves."

Anka regarded Steve for a moment, then turned and handed the blood to Darya. "Run your tests." Darya smiled grimly and took the bag, and Anka repositioned the needle in Steve's arm to take more. Darya looked at Steve and noted his pallor, "Anka, give him some time to recover. I want more than just this sample." Anka sneered, and the two women began heatedly discussing Steve's treatment. Steve pulled carefully on his wrist strap, the sweat on his skin making the bonds slide slightly over his wrist. He pulled, and the strap began to slide over his thumb.

Anka turned to Steve again, her eyes flickering up his arms but Steve spoke, "Natasha is a good person. For all that you did to her, or are doing, you can't ever take that away." Anka looked at his face, distracted. "You think you know her so well," she leaned in over Steve, smiling grimly down at him, "Well we raised her. You don't know anything. We don't ask our girls to kill until they are fifteen. She did it on her own. She was a born killer."

A shot rang out. Anka cried out, clutching her right shoulder. As if by magic, Natasha appeared in the doorway, Clint close behind her. Darya made a motion towards her gun but not fast enough, Natasha sent another round into Darya's thigh.

"You have no idea." Natasha's voice was flat, her face stoic with cold fury. She looked to Clint, and he stepped into the room, his bow drawn on Darya, his eye on Anka.

The two women stared at her in shock, "You're dead," Anka gasped, the pain in her shoulder making her grimace. "Not dead enough," Natasha replied without looking at her. She looked at Steve, barely meeting his eyes. She took in his pale and bloodied face, the sweat covering his skin, the needle in his arm, and it enraged her.

"Natasha! You're ok!"

She gave him a stiff smile and a nod, then knelt and shoved a recording device in Darya's face. Pressing a button, a scream filled the room. Natasha didn't even blink. "You are sick for keeping these, for recording me in the first place." Natasha was unnaturally calm. Her face was pale but her voice was even. Darya saw murder in her eyes.

Steve looked bewildered, then angry. They hadn't had Natasha here at all, only a recording of her. He strained against his chains.

Darya met Natasha's gaze calmly with a smile, her hands pressed into her wound in an attempt to keep the bleeding down. "I'm glad you survived. I wasn't wrong about you. You really are the greatest student I ever trained." Quick as lightening, Natasha punched her and broke her nose. Leaning down she whispered, her voice deadly quiet, "I'm going to kill you in all the ways I know you fear. You should have left me in peace."

"Natasha," Clint's voice held a warning, but she ignored him. Steve struggled, "Let me out of here Clint. Clint's eyes shifted momentarily to Steve, and Anka seized the opportunity, her nimble hands drawing a blade out of her boot and pitching it at high speed into Clint's side. He staggered backward, clutching the wound, and Anka drew her pistol, pointing it not at Natasha, but at Steve. "Natalia my dear, I think you might need a reminder of who is in charge here." The muzzle of the pistol pressed into the skin of Steve's throat. Steve's temper flared, he was sick of this power struggle, of enemies playing Natasha and him against each other.

Natasha spoke, her voice choked with fury, "I will kill you for this." Anka sneered, "You've come a long way since six years old." Steve snapped. With a final yank his wrists were free of their bonds and he wrenched the gun out of Anka's hand, wrapping one arm around her throat, the other pointing the gun at her temple. He whispered fiercely in her ear as she struggled to breathe, "Should I shoot you like you shot Natasha? Or suffocate you like you made her do to that girl? Or break your neck? There are just so many options." He squeezed harder, causing Anka to flail and struggle as her face turned red, then purple.

Darya screamed in rage and threw herself, despite her wounds, at Natasha's back, managing to get her arms around her and pull her to the floor. Natasha nimbly sent her fist into Darya's wound, making her scream in pain and release her. Natasha pinned her to the floor with her knee, raining punches down onto her face.

As soon as Anka hung limp in his grasp, Steve dropped her unceremoniously, looked over to Clint who waved him off, "Get Natasha!" She was in a frenzy of blind rage. "Natasha stop!" he grabbed her arms from behind and pulled her up and off of the other woman. "Let me go!" Natasha screamed at him, wriggling free and heading back to Darya, who grinned despite her blood covered face. Steve put himself between the two women, his hands on Natasha's shoulders, "Nat look at me. LOOK AT ME!" Natasha glanced up at him, startled.

He spoke calmly, "You did it. You won. You don't need to do more."

Natasha shook her her angrily, "No, I'll kill her." She looked at Anka unconscious on the floor and then back to Steve accusingly. "I'll kill both of them." She made a move towards Darya again but Steve stopped her.

"Natasha LOOK at her! She laughing, she's happy. This is what she wants!"

Natasha jerked backwards away from Steve, yanking her shirt off her shoulder to reveal the tattoo, "They treat me like PROPERTY Steve! They will NEVER stop! They brainwashed me and almost made me KILL you!" Tears of rage started to roll down her cheeks.

"I know, believe me, I know. But Nat, if you kill them, they die happy in the knowledge that it worked, that you are who they made you to be."

"Well maybe I AM Steve. I have always been a Black Widow, and that's what I'll always be. The Russian wonder killer, born to be an assassin." Her voice was shrill and hysterical, "I did warn you when you got involved with me. I warned you."

Steve softened, dropping his hands, "You did. You're right." He stepped aside and motioned towards Darya, "God knows she deserves it."

Natasha leapt forward, kneeling once again on Darya's chest, her knife now drawn. Natasha saw her eyes flicker to the blade with just a suggestion of fear, but Natasha knew. "You never did like knives did you? Horrible way to die really." She drew the blade slowly across Darya's collarbone, a crimson ribbon following in her wake. Darya blanched, meeting Natasha's eyes. In them, she saw her own death. Darya smiled.

In that moment Natasha saw herself as Darya did. A killer, the greatest of all Black Widows, worthy of the symbol they had inked into her skin. For a moment all she could do was stare in revulsion. She abruptly got up and turned to Steve, handing him the knife. "Do what you will then." She went quickly to Clint, who was pressing his hand into his side to slow the bleeding. Without looking at him Natasha knelt and began dressing his wound. "You did the right thing," he said softly to her. She nodded once.

Seeing that Natasha was done with her Darya became incensed. "You weakling! Finish it! Finish what you started!"

Steve stood over her, a syringe in hand, his voice deep and threatening, "That's enough. Let's see how you like a dose of Widows Venom..."