"Sit, Natalia."
She folded herself quickly into her desk at the front of the small classroom, trying to look at the contents of a metal tray placed on her instructor's desk without making her curious intentions obvious. Though when she finally picked out the short row of syringes, she wished she hadn't.
"Today Natalia," he began, folding his hands on top of the wood and leaning towards her "we will be having a practical lesson."
Her own neatly folded hands tightened imperceptibly and she forced herself to relax her grip before he saw her whitened knuckles and chastised her for such a juvenile display of weakness.
"Tell me, what differentiates a poison from a toxin?" He asked.
"A poison is a substance which when administered in sufficient quantities can harm or kill an organism sir. A toxin is the term used for a poisonous substance produced within living cells, sir." She answered.
"An example of each"
"Cyanide is a poison sir, latrotoxin is a neurotoxin."
"A neurotoxin is?"
"A toxin destructive to nerve tissue sir." She did not hesitate to give her answer, though her eyes were flitting between her instructor's face and the two syringes he had removed from the tray and gently placed on the desk before him whilst they were talking.
"And a venom?" He asked, taking out a third syringe and placing it beside its partners after a brief inspection.
"A poison injected via a bite or sting sir."
"And finally, Natalia," two more syringes were laid out in front of her "the difference between an acute poison and a chronic poison."
Eight years she had been under their tuition. She knew what the coming lesson would entail and like every other lesson it demanded her obedience and concentration, and promised pain at every turn. Her only comfort was that, after those eight long years, there was nothing in those syringes which could cause anywhere the near the level of debilitating pain to run through her veins than could be delivered at the hands of the General should she give anything less than perfection.
"The time difference sir. An acute poison can cause death after a single exposure, or exposure for a short amount of time. Chronic poisons refer to long-term exposure, where symptoms may take time or multiple exposures to present." She responded, perfectly.
"Correct Natalia. Sleeves up. We will start with the neurotoxin."
"At last. The Black Widow. Tangled in her own web, eh boys." He laughed loudly, believing himself to be the first to make such a joke. His inferior associates behind him made a similar, though somewhat forced response. If anything they looked embarrassed for him. Natasha too was unimpressed at his attempt at wit, raising one eyebrow to indicate her disappointment. Had she not been ensnared in their bindings, she would have crossed one leg over the other and clasped her hands over her knee in the manner of a dissatisfied school teacher about to address her class.
"Is that the best you've got?" She intoned, bored.
With some satisfaction she watched as a slight twitch fluttered in his cheek. She wasn't sure when she had added goading to her list of interrogation tactics. It was a fairly recent development, certainly too human a response to have been encouraged by the KGB. The level of sarcasm behind her new attitude suggested it was a result of spending too much time with Barton.
"Fine. Boys." He called to the men behind. "Give it your best."
"Anything you wish to tell me now, or would you like me to leave you spinning in your web a little longer?" He asked, sauntering in over an hour later, standing close above her, legs pinned to either side of her knees.
She was sagged in her bonds, awkwardly arranged on the chair they had placed her in. Blood oozed lazily from a multitude of shallow cuts across her arms and thighs and the numerous bruises across the right side of her face had bloomed into a conglomeration of red and purple. There were black scorch marks beneath her collarbones too, along with a faint smell of burnt flesh which he attributed to the jump leads thrown untidily beside her. Licking her cracked lips she leant forwards, straining in her bonds.
"Please." She whispered hoarsely.
"What was that?" He smirked, leaning down to bring himself closer to her face. Her capitulation was easy, though the victory tasted just as sweet. Everyone bent to him in the end.
"I have something to tell you." She coughed harshly, wheezing as the rope cut across her chest.
"I thought you might." The smile didn't reach his eyes. Indulging her, he brought his ear closer to her mouth.
She groaned as she shuffled closer to be able to whisper in his ear. "Your spider jokes are terrible."
His anger ignited instantly and he straightened to swing a fist hard and up under her chin, knocking her head back with a sickly snap. Righting herself, she coughed up a mouthful of blood. After a moment, with a steady roll of her shoulders and crack of the neck she settled her true stoic self back into place – the defeated damsel in distress mask discarded, no longer needed.
"Eight-legged freak." He hissed, punching her across the face again, this time seeking relief for his dented ego.
Her reaction was less dramatic this time and she simply shifted back to stare at him, still unimpressed.
He laughed quietly, putting his hands in his pockets and taking a few strides in an attempt to restore his composure. She had rattled him. He didn't like being rattled.
"Very well. I can see that their best just isn't good enough. Perhaps we will have to try a different approach."
She kept silent, refraining from goading him so much he did something stupid and irreversible to her.
"Fortunately, I think I have just the thing which will give you the encouragement you need to talk. In fact, I have been saving it just for you. A very special gift. I think you'll like it." He exclaimed, almost giddily, pulling out a small vial from his pocket and holding it up in front of her.
"You'll like this one, little spider. We took it from your namesake." Ivan crooned, gripping her trembling arm tightly across his legs so she couldn't escape. "Latrodectus latrotoxin."
She flinched as he brought the needle closer to her skin, but he swiftly rebuked her with a firm smack.
"Behave, Natalia. You brought this on yourself. Had you not lashed out at your instructor I would not be having to correct you."
She let out a small whimper which angered him more. She had struck her instructor involuntarily whilst having a seizure brought on by the latest dose, but that was seen as an excuse, and excuses were not tolerated. Caught in her master's grasp she watched as the needle punctured the crook of her elbow and the toxin was released.
He pulled out the needle and stepped back to survey the results. He waited for it to take effect, wanting to see her face contorting in pain, her body breaking and writhing, sweating and stammering, begging for an antidote. She cleared her throat pointedly, looking between him and her arm.
"Are you done?" She asked sardonically.
His cheek twitched again.
"You should…"
She could see him sweating.
"Why aren't you…?" He was beginning to panic. "Those idiots." He rounded on his remaining men, who took a collective step back at his fury. "This was supposed to work!" He spat.
No-one answered.
There was a slight change in the air, a low vibration edging closer which she sensed more than heard. Help was on its way. Wanting to wrap up she cleared her throat again. "If I may," she cut in quietly, waiting until she had his attention, "that doesn't work on creatures like me." She waved a bound hand at the needle.
"What are you?"
"I'm just a distraction." She quirked her lips.
"You're-"
He went silent and they stared at each other for a few beats as she watched his face turn from ire to confusion to panic. Seething, he opened his mouth, but any response was cut off by the sound of a deep echoing boom originating from close by. The explosion sent a spray of breeze blocks over them and she closed her eyes against the debris.
By the time she opened her eyes again her partner was at her side and a red and gold suit was dragging away a captor in each hand.
"You okay? Sorry, we didn't know he had that stuff." Clint rushed out, loosening the ropes.
She shook out her limbs and dragged herself to her feet.
"I know. It's fine. I'll be okay."
He heard the slight stutter in her words, but her green eyes were hard and glinting gold and her stance was determined, so he knew better than to press.
"Good. Let's get to the jet."
She looked over to where Tony was collecting a pile of minor mob figures for SHIELD to deal with, the lead tormentor bundled on top, moaning.
"He kept making spider jokes." She eased a hand on to his shoulder, reluctantly giving in to her need for some support. Clint smiled, slipping a hand around her waist.
"They were even worse than yours."