CHAPTER EIGHT
Oswin stood in front of a sink in a bleak motel room. She stood in her undergarments, her signature coat in a sink as she worked out the blood stains. Her helmet sat on the toilet seat behind her, blood smears coating every inch of it. Gaze catching the dirty mirror in front of her, she inspected her bare chest, littered with bruises which began to fade the longer she stared.
Pursing her lips, she pulled her coat from the sink, water pouring from it and meeting the brown-red solution in the basin. She folded it over her arm, exiting the bathroom and seeming not to notice the water dripping across the bedroom ground. She pulled open the door leading to the rundown balcony and draped the suit over the railing.
A breeze shot through her, biting her bare skin and curving over her muscle-carved body. She missed Natasha's funeral, she missed Tony's funeral. Part of her wanted to show her face but another part couldn't bear it. But she lied to herself and said she didn't care.
She should have spent her time with her family and her friends.
But she found herself in the place she promised Natasha she would never be.
With her sword and her helmet, killing.
At least this time, she was punishing the people who deserved it.
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DAYWALKER | n.romanoff ✔
Fanfictionthere's an invisible voice that is talkin' to me, and it's always tellin' me to kill i got a problem with separating what my head is creating from things that ar...
