𝐵𝐿𝐴𝐶𝐾 𝑊𝐼𝐷𝑂𝑊

𝑁𝑂 𝑅𝐸𝑆𝑇 𝐹𝑂𝑅 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑊𝐸𝐴𝑅𝑌

YELENA KEPT HER BREATHING STEADY, HER BODY TENSED IN ANTICIPATION OF AN ATTACK. Her mind raced, several strategies running through her head. If someone came on her from her right, she would focus on their pressure points and take them out quickly. However, if they came from the left, where they could see her if they caught a glimpse of her, she would take out the target with a single shot to the head. If they came out from anywhere else, for example, a ceiling vent (or a tree as she was outside), she would swerve out of the way, taking their legs out from them before they could stand up.

If the mission required her to be merciful, she would simply knock them out. If she needed to kill the target, she would kill them with a single shot. Finger twitching on her gun, the girl listened closely for any sound. However, the click of the safety coming off from someone's gun alerted her that someone was there. Pulling out her gun, she turned around calmly and met the amused gaze of Natasha.

"This feels like a stand-off in a western movie — all we need is tumbleweed to really set the mood." The blonde commented, her lips quirking up in a smirk. Natasha chuckled, moving forward slowly. "If only we were southern." Without warning, Natasha struck.

Shoving her leg forward, Natasha struck the young girl's side. Mentally, Yelena knew that older girl was holding back, but damn — that kick to the ribs really hurt. Grunting in pain, the blonde hit the girl's knee, throwing Natasha's leg over her shoulder, knocking out the girl's left leg.

Using her free leg, Natasha swung her foot forward and hit the young in the face, quickly using her momentum to swing her other leg out and throw Yelena onto the ground. Flipping up into her signature pose, Yelena teased Natasha, "Poser..." before cartwheeling out the way of a knife to the calf.

The Sisters seemed to have the same thought, grabbing their retractable batons and hitting them open. Letting out a yell, Yelena used the baton as a way to kick herself off the ground. Wrapping her thighs around the older girl, she used all of her upper body's strength and hit the girl's head. Grunting, Natasha flipped her body back, flinging the body off and into a pile of leaves. Coughing, Yelena rolled onto her side. Natasha stalked over to the blonde, her gun pointed out. Fickling safety back on, Natasha tucked the gun back into the elastic of her pants. Holding a hand out, Yelena huffed and moaned as she pulled her bruised body up.

"You did pretty well, although you're very reckless with your moves, which resulted in you getting flung everywhere. You're not gonna have weapons on you all the time, so I would've liked to see you improvise a bit. But all in all, you did well." Natasha complimented, her hands tucked in the pockets of her yoga pants.

Yelena flushed, her chest puffed in pride. She knew that she was reckless with her fighting, but... back when she was in the red room, that's what they said was what made her so unique. Madame Red often said, "her ruthlessness will mold her into the perfect widow — the new face of the Black Widows."