A/N: Reference to Waid, Samnee & Wilson's 2016 Black Widow SHIELD's Most Wanted.
"Incorrect."
Natalia tried to suppress a flinch as the soldering iron was held against the back of her hand. When released, she removed her last connection, re-evaluating the wiring on the table in front of her. She pushed a series of resistors through the board, continuing in studious silence until the small circuit was complete and she was ready to connect the battery.
Nothing happened.
"Natalia." Her blood froze as her instructor's tone cut through the quiet. "Let's go."
She didn't make a fuss, simply got down off her chair, tucked it in and followed her instructor out of the classroom.
"We have shown you once. We should not have to show you a second time. Sleeves up. Hands out."
Natalia stood in the centre of the bright cell, trying not to shiver as the cold seeped up through her boots, radiating through her shorts and shirt. They kept it like an ice box in there. Bright and cold. Bluish in its light. Knowing she had failed and deserved what was coming she quickly rolled back the fabric to the elbows then raised her arms up, palms facing towards the ceiling. The first strike came quickly and without further warning. She gritted her teeth. She was not given the luxury of knowing how many blows were forthcoming, so could only do her best to keep silent to prevent the ordeal being prolonged. Mother Russia had no need of children who could not do as they were told.
The instructor finally stopped when there were no parts of her hands and forearms that were not striped, bruised or bleeding. As punishments went, a casual caning was mild and she was grateful for the reprieve.
He led her back to the classroom by the shoulder, pushing her firmly into her seat.
"This is your last chance. Be thankful. You will not get another."
"Yes sir. Thank you, sir." She said quietly, because it was expected.
It took her another hour, small raw hands struggling to get purchase on the components, trying her hardest to get swollen fingers to bend, knowing her instructor's patience was rapidly reaching its limit. Occasionally she would pause to lean down to wipe a bloody welt on the back of her calf, knowing the penalty she would incur for getting her uniform dirty. At last she fumbled the battery into place and was greeted by the utterly symphonic sound of a single 'dat' as she pressed the small lever. Quickly and confidently she tapped out the message in front of her, translating the Russian into dots and dashes as she went.
"Correct." The instructor said curtly once she had finished. Natalia did not react. Her eventual success was no cause for celebration. She had already disappointed Mother Russia with her failure at the first attempt. "You will not get it wrong again." The underlying threat was clear.
"No sir. I will not get it wrong again."
"Dismissed, Natalia."
She stood and pushed in her chair, then turned towards her instructor and bowed. She walked stiffly towards the classroom door, keeping her smarting hands hovering by her sides away from her clothes.
"Come on. Come on. Come on." She muttered quietly, almost silently sifting through the various spare parts lying around in the crates beside her, eyes coming to settle on the scattered carcass of Ultron's minion strewn about her cell. Peering through the bars to ensure Ultron was distracted, she leaned over to grip the wires spewing from the head, sliding it gently towards her until she could lift it the rest of the way. She placed it to her left, out of his line of sight. She kept herself propped up against the wooden crate behind her, staying in plain view where she could see Ultron and, importantly, where Ultron could see her. The less she looked like she was up to something the less likely he would be to come and investigate. Ultron's concentration however seemed unwavering, and besides their initial confrontation he paid her little mind.
With her left hand she flicked off the casing, sharp eyes assessing what lay beneath, feeling her way over the unit until she could identify the useable components. She selected a number of wires and a small capacitor, hiding them in the far corner of the narrow space and nudged the head back into Ultron's view, where it lolled to the side, blank eyes staring out into the workshop. Deft fingers twisted the capacitor out from its casing, discarding the shell quietly to expose its inner workings. She had just finished connecting the parts together, eyes never leaving her captor when she heard a metallic sigh emanate from the pseudo-man. She slipped her handiwork into a dark corner before slouching back against the crate, presenting a listless and weary demeanour should he choose to look her way. He did. She found herself pinned where she lay by his gaze, easily picking up on the flash of irritation and spark of an idea coming from his fixed artificial eyes.
Ultron sighed again, putting down whatever he was working on and, without shifting his gaze from her slowly moved towards the cell, sliding open the metal grill. She tried to remain aloof and indifferent as he entered the space, but then he was there, crowding her, and she unconsciously pushed herself even further back against the boxes. She had seen up close how easily he crushed his lesser soldier and had no doubt her soft form would offer up no resistance.
"This form is built for strength." He began, flexing his large hands. "There is no grace to me. I was meant to be beautiful." He repeated, sadly and wistfully. "But my form has…limitations. I require a more delicate instrument. Something small and nimble to dance between the inner workings." He looked down at her and watched on as his words settled over her.
She gave the tiniest jerk of her head. "I am not one of your minions." She said coolly.
She saw him close his eyes and tip his head skywards – the gesture so human. Stubborn fleshy beasts. He made a noise of exasperation. "You are so annoying with your juvenile desire to have free will. You have wounded me. This is your penance. But I am a reasonable man and shall allow you to come to me of your own volition." He swept an arm elaborately about him. A prince escorting a princess to a ball.
She shook her head again.
Ultron dropped his head to his chest. "Where is a meteor when you need one?" He sighed out. "Fine. Have it your way."
She stiffened as his large hand moved up to hover an inch away from her face.
"You and your petty boy band injured me and I deserve my revenge. And I will get what I deserve in the end. An eye for an eye."
His fingers twitched to pluck and she dodged away before he made contact, scrambling to her feet. They both froze, staring at each other for long moments until, reluctantly, she gave a small nod.
"So glad you agree."
She moved past him into the workshop, standing over the battered corpse of a sentry. She stood tall, radiating her displeasure.
"I pull the strings now." He mocked. He raised his hand, and like an obedient little puppet she found herself mimicking his action, bringing her smaller hands up and over to the torso. They both hovered there, gauging each other, testing if she would obey and follow his lead. Millimetre by millimetre he lowered his hand down, watching her. She made no effort to move. As an added incentive he brought his other hand over, gripped the workbench and tore off a chunk of the metal, then held it up in front of her face. He began to lower his raised palm again, pleased, yet unsurprised that this time she wisely chose to follow suit. Her intelligent eyes easily homed in on the slipped connection he had no doubt been trying to reach and she eased her fingers under the sternum, twisting until she could pinch a wire. She noted, grimly, as her hands were fully encased under its ribs, how similar it was to reconnecting Tony's reactor when it became dislodged – only mercifully without the goo.
"Seems like a flaw, this. You should hire an assistant." She deadpanned, pushing back the connecting pins until she heard everything click into place.
This little one had spirit. He almost admired it. "Looking for a job?"
"No thanks." She replied evenly, removing her hands and placing them by her sides.
"Shame."
Without warning he swiftly jabbed his palm against her shoulder and she found herself lifted off the floor and hurtling sideways back into the makeshift cell, landing amongst the crates with a crash. Gingerly picking herself up she stared up at him from behind the now closed grill.
"A thank you would have sufficed." She said scathingly, but he had already turned away.
Speed now of the essence she retrieved the parts of her crude radio, rifling through the shelving for the final parts of her transmitter. Pulling out a dusty battery pack she placed it on the table and set about efficiently tuning and connecting the capacitor and a hastily thrown-together clicker to the power source. She hoped whatever transmitting system Ultron's sentries used would be enough to get a message to Clint. She quirked her lips at her contraption as she sent out her signal. Old school. Her mind wandered to a friend. This isn't from the old school Iosef. It's from the school they tore down to build the old school.