dark red. | winterwidow

01. fallen.

CHAPTER ONE.
—

To fall only meant failure.

The moment you had lost your grip upon your opponent, finding yourself swept down to the ground, that moment meant you failed.

From then on, everything you did had to be done to correct your failure.

Natalia Romanova was a prized possession of the Red Room since childhood. Everything she ever did was done to survive.

She considered herself extra careful. Deadly, even. A compliment from her superiors, yet a disgusting reminder to herself of just how despicable she had become.

But it didn't matter. After everything, the need for survival outweighed it all.

So she could not fall. She couldn't fail. Not now.

Each swing of her legs into the air hardly did any damage. It did even less to catch him by surprise. She was becoming aggravated but she couldn't let that steer her unfocused.

She lifted her knee up high, causing no damage as he held her back with a single hand. Sliding out of his hold just in time, she barely missed the punch that would have surely landed her with bruises along her side.

Her breathing was shallow and heavy as she stood a few feet away from her training target. A careful glance towards him only aggravated her further. How was it he still didn't show an ounce of exhaustion?

A deep breath in, then she was diving right back into action. Dodging, kicking, swinging her fists left and right. Twisting and turning, delicately light on her feet as her lips curled into a snarl.

He nearly knocked her off her feet. Before she could have hit the ground, she gracefully rolled onto her feet, stabilizing herself with legs far apart, crouched low, palm upon the floor.

She flicked her hair out of view as she lifted her chin, eyes narrowing as she met that antagonizing pair of steel blue.

This was her greatest match yet. Not once had she been able to catch him off guard or vice versa. They were practically eye to eye in every single move they made.

With her jaw clenched, she hopped up onto her feet, rushing forward. Arms wrapped around his shoulders, she flung herself upon him, gripping his neck between her thighs. A small smirk curved the edge of her mouth, finally having received the upper hand.

Seconds later, she found herself swung through the air, hands gripping her waist as she was tossed forward. The breath left her body in a single exhale as her back hit the ground.

Wincing, she groaned quietly.

"Dostatochno! Zimniy Soldat, otoydi."
« Enough! Winter Soldier, stand down. »

She peeked her eyes open, just in time to watch her trainer step away at the orders given. Although the motions were perfectly practiced, she noticed it was nowhere near as robotic as she had seen before.

There was no power over his mind right then. She was a bit proud that she managed to notice the difference. None of the other widows she currently trained with had managed to understand when the Winter Soldier was being controlled. Somehow, it made her feel better about this loss.

Her prideful moment was short lived as she remembered where she stood— or rather, where she lay. A harsh sigh slipped past her lips as she pushed herself onto her knees, slouched as she caught her breath.

If she couldn't take down the Winter Soldier without him brainwashed, then she couldn't handle him in his robotic killer ways. She wasn't as strong as her superiors thought.