Long author's note: I have recently become aware of the fact that there are parts of my story missing in some of my earlier chapters...Very important parts...so if at any point in this story you became confused because the story seemed to skip scenes...it was because the rest of that chapter wasn't published for some reason. You can ignore this part of the messgae if you are new, and started the story after I made the changes. But for those of you who have been reading for a while and were confused, do not cry, lovlies! Instead, go back to the ends of chapter five and six and there will be much more for you to read! I strongly advise you to do this before you read this chapter. Also, I apologize for all the spelling errors you have to put up with, I write on a computer with Notepad *shudders* and therefore I have no spellcheck, and though I try my hardest to try and catch all the errors, I do a reallllllllllllyyyyyy shitty job. So in conclusion, go back and re-read the ends of chapters five and six, and don't hate me because I am a terrible self spellchecker. Okay! Rant over! Enjoy ^.^

At first, I'm just in another dream

But then

I'm running from a monster

I feel its breath on my neck

I smell death in the air

I hear its mighty roar.

I see the ground below me,

Paved with the bones of those before me

I can taste the fear rising in my throat.

I turn and look at the moster

Its mask falls off.

And it's me.

To her dissapoinment, Natasha woke up. She was back in her tiny cell, surrounded by guards, and her head had gone back to throbbing again. She had been relying on Razin to "do away with her" promptly after he had preformed the sugery, although it seemed now that she would hvae no such luck. She twisted around in her cell, the moist stones beneath her barefeet emitted a certain chilliness that went straight into her bones. Her thoughts drifted from being chilly to Barton, and her stomach lurched. She clung to the tiniest bit of hope that he somehow survived, but she knew that really couldn't be true. She knew he was gone. But somehow, instead of feeling angry or depressed or vengeful or numb, she just felt...empty. She head the distinct click of desginer shoes on the floors, unlike the heavy clunk of the boots the guards wore. Razin appeared, flanked only by two soldiers. He peered at Natasha between the bars of her cell and she stared back blankly. Razin reached into his jaket pocket and pulled out a pack of cigaretes, stuck one between his large lips, and lit it. He took a long drag, filling the room with smoke and silence. "Good morning Natasha. The procedure...it did not go as planned. The Black Widow Serum rejected the operation. However, I have come to the conclusion that although your brain is useless to me, your body is not. While I cannot directly control your mind because the serum has formed a protective layer around it, I have previously developed a technique that disupts and redirects the synapses in your cerebellum. In other words, I can now control your entire body. Much like what I did with your friend...that one with the pretty face that you put a bullet through...tsk tsk. So, you will do my bidding, and suffer internlly. This makes this entire situation that much more enjoyable, for me. It's excrutiatingly painful for you. It is a pity, about your partner, Natasha. He was not a wise man." A small man with beads of sweat on his brow ran up to Razin before he walked away, and thrust a metal box into his hands.

"It's the portable controller you wanted, for her. I have the main control panels up and running, we'll be ready to do some primary tests in a few hours, at most."

"This," Razin held up the controller, "is fully operational?" The lab tech nodded vigorously while using his sleeve to wipe away the copious amounts of sweat on his forehead.

Natasha ignored them, bored by their discussion of her, and idly stared at the ground beneath her. The only thing she could think about was that she desperately wanted a pair of socks.

Barton was waiting on the tarmac alone. It was usually packed with agents, but with the storm raging above, and the furious Clint Barton below, the tarmac had been empty since midnight. Barton wiped the rain from his eyes and peered up into the sky, searching. Normal people probably couldn't see three feet in front of them. But when had Barton ever been normal? He saw the plane before he heard it and hoisted his bag onto his shoulder. The plane landed, and a few minutes later two exhausted pilots tumbled out. Both of them looked young, they were probably new recruits returning from their first mission. One addressed Barton pratically half asleep.

"We just returned from a mission in Perth. Deliviring supplies. That's a 21 hour flight, sir. The plane needs to refuel and then she'll be ready to leave. We'll send the replacemt pilots out."

Barton nodded in response, and the two ran off, sheilding their eyes from the rain that was coming down in torrents. Less than an hour later Barton found himself thousands of feet in the air, heading towards what he sincerly hoped wasn't his doom. He had memorized the layout of the compound already, leaving him with a nine hour flight to think about all the ways he could possibly die.

His adrnaline was pumping. His fate, along with Natasha's, relied on what happend in the next ten minutes. He stared into the blank eyes of his life model decoy and shivered. It had on his uniform, his boots, a fake bow, a full quiver of fake arrows, every detail of its face was identical to Barton's, down to the smallest of scars. The only part that wasn't human-like were the eyes. They were black, glassy, and unblinking. Apart from the eyes, the LMD was so lifelike it was almost a shame to think that this million dollar piece of technology would be detroyed in just a few minutes. Barton placed the fiberglass control panel on his lap, scanned in his fingerprint, and the screen glowed a soft blue. The television screen in front of him also flicked to life and the cabin of the plane appeared on the screen. He glanced at the control panel which had several blinking buttons. With a single tap, the LMD stood up from its slumped postion on the floor and the view on the TV screen shifted. Barton glanced at his watch, tapped a few more buttons, and then stood. The air lock opposite of his comfortable leather chair was freezing cold, tiny ice crystals had even formed on the handle. He flicked his com on and re-arranged the ear piece.

"Air lock open" he said as he slid the door back.

"Copy that. Standing by for deployment" replied the pilot.

"Life Model Decoy of Clint Barton, number 7A, deploying"

The storm seemed to have followed them from New York, the roar of the wind, thunder, and the engines filled the cabin with a cacuphony of thunderous noise . The LMD jumped out into the raging storm and Barton hauled the air lock door back into place and sat back in his seat. Six minutes. The decoy landed in a dark field, got up, and ran a short distnace to a muddy road. There, hidden by the scraggly trees, was a glossy, sleek, ebony and chrome, Cadillac. Barton had to call in a favor for that one, which he hated doing, but it was necessary. Driving was surprisingly easy. While it may have looked classic on the outside, the technology on the inside of the car was far more advanced. Once the decoy sat down, the doors locked, the car started (the engine was eerily quiet) and it started off on its own.

"Life Model Decoy safely deployed. Successful landing."

"Copy that. The storm is getting worse, sir. I may not be a able to hold her much longer."

Barton sighed, rubbed his eyes, and checked on the status of the LMD. The car was approaching a tall gate. It accelerated and crashed through the gates before coming to a sudden halt. Two minutes. The moment the decoy stepped out of the car, it was surround by guards. They were shouting at one another in Russian, but became silent when a man in a taylored suit strutted outside.

"Who are you? What do you want?" The man who spoke to the decoy had a thick, harsh, Russian accent.

"I am here for Natalia Romanova"

The man frowned and returned inside. Barton started intensely at his watch. Thirteen seconds. A few moments later a guard nodded sharply and the sound of twenty guns going off at the same time rose above the noise. The TV screen went to black. Barton lept up from his chair, slung his quiver onto his back, assembled his bow, and was reaching for his parachute pack when the plane lurched to one side. Barton fell into the cabin wall, tried to stand, and was thrown to the other side when the plane lurched again. He landed on the air lock, and briefly remembered some S.H.I.E.L.D. "geniuses" talking about how they had designed the air lock doors to open if enough force was thrown on them. Barton managed a "Shit." before he was falling through the air. He had never enjoyed the free falling segment in training, and he didn't like it any better falling from a tremendous height in the middle of a thunder strom. The dark outlines of trees were rapidly approaching and he still didnt have a plan. He couldn't recall this part of the forest from the map, and hoped it wasn't the one with hybrid monsters. He nocked an arrow, aimed, and heard the thunk of metal embedding itself in wood; a thin, but incredibly strong piece of wire connected the arrow to his bow. He swung around the truck of a tree several time before he landed lithely onto a sturdy looking branch, steadied himself, and looked around. He was near the edge of the forest, and was looking out at the entire compound sprawled out before him. Guards were still milling around, unorganization would be their downfall. He watched them for a few minutes before drawing another arrow. It was one of his favorites, it had the power of four landmines, a delayed combustion time, made up of materials that turned into deadly pieces of shrapnel when the arrow exploded. It was fifteen inches of pure terror. He studied the roof for a moment, selecting his target carefully. Far enough away from the cells so that Natasha wouldn't get the full blast, but it would be far more than enough to cause a distraction. He relased the arrow and watched it make a deadly arc across the sky. He now had two full minutes to get the hell out of the forest. He gingerly climbed down the tree and landed softly on the forest floor. He ran in a full out sprint towards the building and made it out without seeing some horrofic science experiment gone wrong, although he heard some suspicious growling behind him as he ran. He was creeping in the darkness and was halfway to the building when it ripped apart. The shouts and screams of the wounded filled the air. Smoke rose, fires sparked, only to be put out by the rain. He stayed in the shadows as he watched agents run from the building. He picked them off, one or two at a time, and so the body count rose in the rubble. He waited until the last stragglers piled into trucks and drove away. No one alive besides the prisioners would be left in the building. He sprinted into the smoldering wreakage, his heart pounding. Up until this point he had avoided thinking about what state of mind Natasha might be in, but now the horrific thoughts came crashing down. Natasha dead...hurt...brain washed...His stomach felt like it was still back in the plane, flip flopping miles in the air. The cell block was definitley the least damaged, and he became more and more worried as he passed row after row of empty cells.

The last row of cells were tiny, and it was in this row that he found her. Or what was left of her, anyway.

Hope you liked it lovelies! I'll really try to get the next couple of chapters up soon, I'm finally on summer break so my uploading schdule is going to be more regular than what it was...more like a schedule instead of the usual: "I'll upload it when I have time" And as usual, please review!