*Bangs head on wall* Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. So, its been awhile.. hasn't it...couple of months at least. This is the part where I could say why I didnt update sooner, such as: my dog died, or I was in a musical, or I had exams...but that's not really why you're here, is it? No, of course not. So I'm back baby! With better writing skills than ever before! So enjoy lovelies, I promise that I won't stay away for that long ever again.

There is something beautiful

About fear

About chaos

About pain

About destruction

That is almost

Poetic

The metal wall Natasha had been pinned to for the last ten hours had become increasingly cold, causing goose bumps to rise on her bare arms. She was back though. The effects of the drug had lasted only long enough for it to be an inconvenience. The had underestimated what she was capable of doing. And that would be the root of their demise. For one should never underestimate the power a small spider has, mess with the wrong one, and you'll be six feet under before you know it. So during her time under the drug's control, she had time to hatch a plan. And hatch a plan she did. She felt the plane begin its descent, the boxes that were stacked around her began to slide slowly towards the front of the plane. She flexed her muscles, arching her back and curling her toes, waking up her body, preparing for whatever was about to happen. The plane landed roughly, and the wooden cargo boxes tossed and tumbled about the hold. All was eerily quiet for a few moments until the cargo hold door was thrown open and a blast of icy cold air hit her face. A burly, sullen looking agent tossed a large jacket and a pair of standard Russian military trousers at her feet.

"Mister Razin welcomes you back to Russia, and he hopes you will enjoy your stay." The man spoke in harsh Russian. Natasha rolled her eyes and looked pointedly at the chains that bound her like an animal to the shell of the plane. The man lumbered over and undid her chains and immediately grabbed her by the hair, causing her to grit her teeth.

"It would be best if you did not attempt to escape." She shrugged amiably and tugged on the jacket and pants, her muscled complaining and protesting the entire time. They had provided her with a pair of thin boots, which she was barely able to lace up with her stiff fingers. The agent then gripped her hair and dragged her forward. A second agent pulled out his standard-issue pistol, and aimed it at the back of Natasha's skull and prompted her forward. It was going to be a long walk to the Red Room's interrogation headquarters. The building loomed out of the gloom of the forest, the very sight of scared many of its visitors to death on the spot, the fear of what they would encounter inside too much to bear. The headquarters itself was made out of black stone. The building was made up of four central areas; the holding cells, the interrogation rooms, several different experiment labs, and of course, the famous torture rooms. In its center, there was an open, grassy area. Where any of Razin's demonic creations were forced to fight to the death, to weed out the defective ones. It was an impenetrable fortress, set far back from the road and hustle and bustle of Moscow. So that no one could hear the screams. In the surrounding woods, genetically mutated wolves, dogs, and other wildlife lurked, mad with a thirst for blood, ready to pounce on an unsuspecting intruder. Snipers were positioned every one and a half meters apart on the roof tops, and 100 guards stood almost shoulder to shoulder around the entire base. There were cameras everywhere, there was not a spot inside or out that Security couldn't see. There were landmines and infrared lasers laid out over almost every square inch of the grounds. Even the grass itself was laced with a poison, lethal to anyone that touched it. You would either have to very stupid to try and get in, or you would have to be Clint Barton. In this case, it was both.

It had been fifteen minutes since the building went on lock down. Fifteen minutes since he lost a partner. Fifteen minutes since he decided to go after her. Helicopter crews had taken to the skies, but the reports came back negative. Agent Romanoff's signal had gone dark. There was no suspicious activity in the area. She had simply vanished into thin air. An autopsy was currently being conducted on the body of the sniper from the roof, but the results were inconclusive. He had too many questions, and no answers. He strided down the main hall, a scowl etched on his face. Crowds of people shuffled out of his way, whispering amongst themselves. He returned to the place where he had fiund Nat's gun, he scanned it, examining every square inch carefully with his sharp eyes. Nothing. No bullets shells, no fragments. Not a scarlet lock of hair. He swept the area for what seemed like hours. He came up emtpy handed, again. The files he had found on her secret laptop proved informational, but not very helpful. He returned to her room, feeling less guilty than he had before. This time, he turned to the standard S.H.I.E.L.D. laptop. It was already on, the faint humming of the fan interrupting the silence. He pressed a random button the the screen glowed blue. Instead of asking him for any login information, it went straight to her desktop. It was as if she had been expecting him to break into her room and go through her things. On the desktop a single icon sat staring at him. He opened up the document hesitantly.

Barton-

If you are reading this, then I am gone, and you have broken into my room, congratualations. You've already found the latop I keep in my bottom drawer, I assume. Unfortunately, that information won't help you much. I will have been taken by a highly trained team of agents from the Red Rooms. There was a very small chance that I could avoid them forever. The Rooms don't like to keep rogue agents around and in comission for long. I'm actually surprised I've avoided them for this long. As for where they'll take me, I can't be sure. They like to be unpredictable. I'll be nice and give you a list of places where I might be headed, Whever they take me, they'll keep me alive long enough to get information. And when I won't give it, they'll retrieve it by force, which is where Razin comes in. I can hold out for a couple of weeks, after that, Razin will take over and start picking my brain. It'll be better for the both of us if you can get me out before then. This is one situation where I can't get myself out, so get your ass moving Barton. And don't touch my stuff.

He slumped against the chair and ran a hand through his hair. Real helpful, Romanoff. He thought bitterly to himself. Real helpful. The list was composed of five places and the details encompassing them, each one sounding more dangerous than the next. He memorized the list and left her room. He was headed to Coulson's office to report his latest findings when his com crackled to life.

"Barton?" The air caught in his throat and he stopped in his tracks.

"Don't say anything. It's Razin. Track the coordinates...they should be coming in through now. I'll be fine for the next couple of hours." Then the line fell silent. His phone vibrated, and a set of numbers appeared on the screen. He recognized the cordinates from the list of interrogation sites where Natasha might have ended up and swore. Of course she had to have been taken to the most dangerous, deadly, inpenetrable headquaters he had ever heard of. And of course it had to be in Russia. He had no find memories of that country. Every mission there had left him injured, on the run, and cold. But Nat was a damn good partner, hell, she was probably the best he had ever had, and if he had to go to Russia to bring her back, he would go to Russia. He reached Coulson's office door and knocked on it.

"Come in" responded a tired voice.

"Agent Romanoff made contact three minutes ago. I sent her coordinates to you." Coulson rubbed his face and sighed, he looked older than Barton had ever seen him. Run down. Tired.

"You're sure you want to go after her right away?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"She was a risk to begin with, how do we know she didn't plan this whole thing? Think about it logically Barton. Wait a week. If she makes contact again, I'll set up a mission for you. If she doesn't, we'll assume she defected again back to Russia. I don't like that idea, and I know you don't either, but this entire thing seems too perfect. You can't deny it seems planned out."

Barton scowled and bit back a short reply. He nodded his head, and slipped out of the door, resisting the the strong urge to slam the door behind him. He marched from Coulson's door, down the hall, to Fury's office. Barton didn't bother to knock, and instead walzed in and glared at the back of Fury's head.

"We're waiting a week. I want her with S.H.I.E.L.D. more than you do, but we have to be sure this is where she wants to be. She's been trained by the best, she can hold out for more than a week. Then I'll send you over there." Fury rumbled, still facing away from Barton.

"Yes...sir." Barton replied curtly, before turning around a returning to the hallway. There was nothing left for him to do, but wait. And waiting was always the worst part.

"I see you have survived the journey Natalia. Unfortunately, I will not be able to spend the time I would have liked to take picking your pretty little brain. And unfortunately, your stay here will be less than pleasant. You will be taken to your cell now. The beggining of the end of the Black Widow starts tomorrow."

Hope you liked it! Let me know that you don't hate me by reviewing! Or let me know that you hate by reviewing...either way, I'll be back...soon...very soon.