AN I don't own Avengers or any of its characters! Don't like, don't read!
Государственный природный заповедник Чёрные земли (The state natural reservation of the Black Lands), Russia
...
"Hello, girls." They filed in and took their seats-they same order they always did, the way they had since day one-without instruction. The girls didn't need to be told and no one wanted the punishment of having to be reminded.
"You will call me Val. I am here to begin your training as female operatives. Today, you will only observe. Tomorrow, you will replicate." She didn't wait for agreement or any questions before turning to the observation window. The one-way glass was uncovered to reveal an office scene with a woman and a man inside.
"That man is Kruski, the insurgent. Now, as you have learned, our agent could merely eliminate the threat or she could capture and interrogation. However, today you learn that pain is not the only way to get what is asked of you. Pleasure, too, can be used to manipulate."
They turned to the window yet again to watch as the agent slipped off her jacket and approached. The girls paid rapt attention, especially Natasha, because they knew they would have to replicate it exactly tomorrow. Failure to do so would result in punishment.
Natasha noted the way the agent walked-swinging her hips lightly and putting extra emphasis in her step to make her breasts bounce. She observed the way the agent twirled her hair around one finger, the way she leaned down to whisper in the man's ear, and the way she positioned her chest directly in front of his face.
"You know I have to get back to Sachet with information..." she purred, her voice low and sultry. "But maybe we could reach an agreement?" The man's grin was eager and almost blindly full of emotion. How weak, Natasha thought.
"You can't leave yet. We haven't gotten time... alone." It was disgusting-how the man's voice trilled and fell with a prepubescent kind of excitement. Natasha didn't like it, but was careful to keep that out of her face. The agent, it seemed, didn't even notice it.
The girls watched as the agent smiled and assured him there would be time later, before letting him convince her to mix business with pleasure. Natasha could feel the girls around her soaking in every flirty undertone to the agent's words, every flick of her hair, and every touch she placed on the man's thigh. They watched as she undid his belt and lowered his slacks-noting the way she looked up at him through her lashes. They watched how eagerly he pushed her to her knees and pulled his penis out of his underwear to shove into her mouth.
It never occurred to them at this was wrong. Sex wasn't bad or private, it was just another tool-so why shouldn't they learn it? Natasha felt her stomach turn when she watched how easily the man forced his penis down the agent's throat. How easily he forced himself on her.
Until, in a flash, the agent had pulled back and, with a teasing grin, laughed at the man's anger.
"I should really be getting that information Sachet wanted..." The man glared at her and tried to force her mouth back onto him but she pulled back, pursing her lips. "Really, he'll kill me if I don't." With an exasperated sigh, he grabbed a pen and took her wrist in his hand.
"Fine. Here's the key for the info you need. Now suck." He shoved himself down her throat again until she choked but the agent merely let him and turned her wrist to the window. Twelve numbers were written on her forearm, which agents in the room quickly took down and verified. With the task finished, the girls expected the agent to quickly finish the target. But she continued to let him thrust into her mouth, letting him moan and swear and pull her hair, until he spilled white liquid all over her chest.
"Are you satisfied?" she asked slowly, her voice barely more than a whisper. Around them, instructors tensed. The man let off a goofy grin and nodded.
"Very, darling. That mouth of yours..." The agent gave him a weak little smile before standing. Natasha could tell that the agreement was some kind of signal. Now that the man was satisfied, the agent stroked his chest. As she let out her breath, she jabbed her knife between two of his ribs directly into his heart. He was dead instantly.
"Always satisfy the target," Val commanded, suddenly very loud in the silent observation room. "Don't tease and then kill, you're better weapons than that." Natasha didn't nod, but then again neither did any of the other girls. They were never supposed to actually respond, not if they weren't asked a direct question, but she felt herself taking in the information. She was a better weapon than that.
When she woke up, it was with a jump and a blinding headache. This was definitely not the room she'd been in before-no white walls, no surgical equipment, no chair to strap her too-but her vision was blurry and she couldn't be sure that she was seeing reality. It looked like a bed? A small bed like from a military barrack but a bed nevertheless. And was that a sink against the wall? She didn't like that she couldn't remember anything between falling asleep there and waking up here, but she took comfort in the fact that it wasn't the red room. Chianosky wasn't going to walk in any moment now and look down at her. As plausible as the abduction was, this room wasn't their style. Besides, there were no handcuffs attached to the bed frame.
"Morning, Sleeping Beauty." Again, that grating, obnoxious voice. Why was it always him that they sent in and not a trained interrogator? He, simply put, was very bad at getting information from her in any capacity.
"What, no chair? Just when the restraints were getting comfortable?" She heard him chuckle but her eyes hadn't adjusted enough to see where in the room he was hiding. Probably not hiding, she corrected, because he had enough cocky arrogance to just sit on the bed and talk to her like they were friends. But he was in the room with her, that much she knew. Which meant if worse came to worst she could use him as a shield or as a bargaining chip.
"No, no chair. I'm not surprised you don't remember, though, you took a pretty serious blow to the head. Don't glare at me though, sweetheart. As much as I would love to claim the honor, it was Brandt who clocked you with a three hole punch. Props to you, though, for getting out." She didn't ask, but left a hole in the conversation in the hope that he might fill it. "You got me to loosen the strap on your wrist, if you don't remember. Slipped out when the on call doc came to do a blood test and snapped his neck along with four guards before Brandt went at you. They're a little pissed about losing their employees, by the way. But I convinced them to give you this." She looked around the room, finally able to see enough of a blurry outline to things that it made it worth looking. There was a bed, which she was on. A sink against the far wall and a window that she doubted could open or be broken. Beside the door, there was a single chair which he was sitting in.
"They listened to you after the shit you pulled? Made it sound like you were already in some pretty big trouble just for bringing me in here with a pulse." He shrugged, though, not fazed in the least bit.
"What can I say? I make it a habit to flow in and out of different levels of probation. But they listened this time because I told them you wouldn't kill anymore of the staff if you were in here. Besides, I figured if all your energy wasn't being spent on finding a way to escape you might actually listen to me for once." Her eyebrow quirked up at him even though she couldn't quite see the smug little smirk on his face. She knew it was there. He didn't seem to ever leave home without it.
"Your bosses must not know very much about me if they listened to you." Again, his humor didn't falter, though. He just laughed and resituated himself in the chair like he planned to be there for a very long time.
"You doubt my persuasion skills?" Her silence apparently let the joke fall flat. "But no, they don't know much about you. You're a Red Room girl, obviously, and you can handle yourself but other than that? Not much. I know you, though." Interesting. She liked the way his voice went up a notch when he said the last sentence, like he was proud of it or trying to impress her. Maybe he wasn't hopeless after all?
"Do tell." He leaned forward in his chair. Even up close, his features were hard and weather like someone had beat them into place a long time ago. Even if he was an enemy, she could respect that. Didn't mean she wasn't going to kill him.
"You're Natasha Romanoff." She bit back the retort of no shit that flew to the tip of her tongue. "I know a lot about you. Mostly reputation, but… I don't know if you remember-I doubt it, actually-but we've met before." Was he bluffing? Usually she didn't forget faces of anyone she considered remotely useful or threatening and he seemed to be both but she met a lot of people.
"You're going to have to be more specific." It almost seemed to make him smile that she didn't remember him. Why, though? Was there some detail he was hoping she would have forgotten?
"I don't blame you. I'm sure with your line of work you met a lot of people. Tianjin, 1994. There was a ball in honor of a prominent businessman getting married-Khan, was the last name. You killed a man there and Gerard Huntson. He was in oil." Tianjin 1994? Vaguely she remembered the assignment but she couldn't remember anything about the target. The name sounded familiar… But honestly she only remembered it because it was her first time outside of Beijing without a translator and she'd been scared shitless.
"Was he someone you knew?" She wracked her brain, searching for a connection. If he'd always been in the shadow life then maybe she'd taken a target from him or interrupted a deal? Did he hold a grudge over it for something? That was a long time to hold onto a memory like that if it didn't have some kind of significance to him.
"He was my father." Oh. "Don't look so worried, I'm not angry. I wasn't angry then, either, actually I was grateful. He wasn't a great guy-drank too much, spent his money in all the wrong places, owed the wrong people, and got handsy when he was angry. I should thank you, really. For getting rid of him, and for getting me into this line of work." She suddenly felt very uneasy. He wasn't he first family member of a target she'd met or even the first agent who fit that description but he was the first to seem to have some kind of reverence for her. It didn't seem real.
"For getting you into this line of work?" It was a long conversation especially for an interrogation, which was what this still was supposed to be, but she didn't really mind. As strange as it felt, she didn't see a reason to stop it. She was gaining information-even if it wasn't true-and wasn't giving up any of her own. He wasn't even prodding her for a reaction, just sharing. He was a shitty interrogator.
"Mhmm. My father was the bane of my existence and I didn't see any way out until you put a bullet in his head. I started to see other problems that way. And now I'm here, putting bullets in other people's brains to solve other people's problems. Pays well, though. I'm not complaining by any means." Natasha honestly wasn't sure what to do with the man-was he a man? She couldn't tell how old she was from where she was sitting-talking in front of her. Was this some kind of strategy she wasn't used to?
"Ah, well, I thought I'd introduce myself at least. The door locks behind me but I'm sure you could figure a way around that if you wanted to. Feel free to use anything in here, it can all be replaced. I do hope you don't, though. Coulson said if you stuck around he would show me whatever he keeps in that superhero lunchbox in his desk. My bet is on love letters but with him it could be anything. If you do take off, though, there are Red Room agents in a motel seventeen miles south that I'm sure would be happy to pick you up and take you back with them. Your choice." He shrugged, knocking on the door for it to be opened from the outside. "See ya tomorrow, Sleeping Beauty."
Ugh! He was so cocky! What made him think she was going to stay? Especially now that she wasn't trapped-at least not well? When there was literally nothing holding her in that room except a flimsy lock and a security guard? She started for the door already and listened through it but heard nothing. How stupid could he get, really? Thinking she would stay in that room when freedom was just inches away…
Wait.
She stopped, sitting down on the floor in front of the door to stare at it. He'd made it too easy. He'd practically dared her to try to escape, even told her what was waiting for her when she did, but why? Because he was lying. If she broke down that door there would be a thousand armed soldiers filling her body with bullets. Was that what he wanted? He'd asked her to stay-technically-but he'd been so confident that she would escape. Or at least try.
He was counting on her to try and escape.
No, she wasn't going to make it that easy for them. She crossed her legs and lay back on the cement to close her eyes. Maybe she would walk into another one of his traps some other day but not this one, not when it had been handed to her on a silver platter. Instead, she focused on her breathing and began to meditate.
Coulson watched the screen with his jaw slack. She'd started for the door but stopped and had chosen to lay down in the middle of the floor? And, from the looks of it, take a nap?
"How, in the name of God, did you manage to do that?" Behind him, Clint laughed. But he couldn't tear his eyes from the screens. The window was plexiglass but not indestructible, she could have thrown the chair through it easily and used the sheets to climb down prison break style. The door was locked, like he'd told her, but it was just a basic pin code. She'd probably cracked worse locks when she was six!
And, outside the door, stood Bart. The security guard. Bart was alone, armed with only a taser probably wasn't even fully charged, and munching on a bag of mini donuts. She could have torn through him like he was made of air. But she stayed in the room, lying on the cement, taking a damn nap.
"Clint, what the hell? How did you do that?" He knew how, he'd heard the whole conversation and watched every word pop up on the transcript. All he'd done was tell her the truth. But she couldn't possibly be staying because she wanted to, that was out of the question.
"I told you I didn't need restraints to keep her from hurting people." He gaped, still stuck in shock and disbelief. One of the most dangerous assassins in the world was lying willingly in a poorly secured room taking a nap because of Clint.
"How did you know that would work?" Beside him now, Clint shrugged and grabbed one of the slices of pizza from the box on the desk.
"Because it would have worked on me."
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