ANTI-HERO [N. Romanoff × Female Reader]

Chapter One

Don't let it bother you that much.

Once in a while, I remind myself of that.
Once in a while, the universe does the reminder for me.
When I meet new people, they’re usually dead.

He'd found it, the body. Dreykov would walk in and see his daughter lying dead on the ground that very evening, staring down at it as if it would bring her back to life. But of course, it wouldn't. 

Antonia Dreykov, according to what I've heard about her, she's three months past her eighteenth birthday. It's a fair bet that she never liked me, but of course, it wouldn't give me much of a motive to end her life. Yet here she was, palms wide open to the six p.m sky. She wears a pink sleeveless T-shirt over short pants. There's visible blood under her body, flooding the floor with crimson red. At the far end of the basement lie hundreds of weapons. Some were packed neatly in a cardboard box, others were just scattered everywhere.

That's how I'd envision it, his reaction. Though he never really witnessed it, I couldn't stop but think about different scenarios, in which he could've killed me, tortured me to death, or rather he'd made me suffer for the rest of my life. But I guess I'm lucky enough that I only went to prison — or maybe I'm not that lucky at all.

Walking down an alleyway, I tried my best to hide my face under the small hood of my hoodie, hands shoved in its' pockets, staying low for now as I am currently wanted in every prison. I mean who wouldn't be looking for the General's daughter's murderer? So technically, they'd want me back inside that prison, surpassing the allotted years that I should be in that shithole. Because of that, it was a challenge to find somewhere to hide, especially in a country that is a stranger to me, not that big of a stranger but as years went by the place also change, probably the biggest disadvantage of being in a prison is not being able to watch how the world changes.

As I approach the so-called hiding place that was given to me by a private contractor, every instinct in my body told me that I shouldn't go in, and frankly, I've never felt like this for the last few months that I've stayed in this place, but I guess I can only be found anywhere nowadays.

To what I assumed, I haven't even gotten a clear look at my place, the door was suddenly being opened harshly it created a loud thud as it hit the concrete wall. I froze.

They found me. As if my head whispered and I just watched as the man yelled at me, body tensing up as he informed the others that were still inside that little place. Within thirty seconds, I once again found myself running to somewhere I had no idea of going, and like I said this country is a stranger to me, but that didn't mean that I did not know the ups and downs of this small town. What do you think I've been doing for a month? Of course, memorizing the place for escape routes.

The same store was located on Pushkins'ka Street. It stayed open 24/7 with four main entrances to take in the numerous downtown shoppers. I went there on occasion. Today happened to be different. Up ahead, the city's downtown store was closed. In a quick halt, I glanced over the transparent window, and I saw the store owner, Mr. Tansky, I believe to be his name. Mr. Tansky is an old grumpy man, who some say was crazy, and never got along with anyone, but I did. So I went in, simply smiling at him as I tried to hide my heaving chest.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Tansky," I greeted quietly, walking my way to the third aisle where a duffle bag was placed.

"That was nearly picked up by a man earlier," He stated, without even bothering to ask why I was there.

"Really? Did this man tell you his name?" I continued with the conversation as I go through the bag, looking for something suspicious before I picked up the stashed money and a pistol with enough mag.

"Not that I can remember," he was old, his memory isn't that sharp, but he tried.

For a quick few minutes I was able to grab a chocolate bar, paying for it at the counter after, and I didn't miss the look that Mr. Tansky gave me. "You're not going back to jail are you?" He questioned, looking through his eyeglasses.

"What? No of course not, I haven't done anything wrong now, did I?" It was true, I was staying low, well except for a few snatching here and there, but it was pretty harmless.

"Of course not, yes," He retorted with an innocent laugh which I just mirrored but awkwardly.

With that, I made my way through the exit door, but before I could even turn the doorknob he spoke again, "When will you be back?" He was hopeful that I'd come back, which I do every time, I'm just not sure that I still will, yet I answered, and said "Next week, maybe." Then he smiled, content with my answer.

I started running again away from the store. I hadn't had a car so there was no point in me driving away nor maybe a cab, but I can't risk them taking me to the police station.

"There she is," I heard them say behind me and I throb harder and faster. For a split second, I thought of using my gun, but if I would then I'd gather more attention to this already big commotion. Or maybe alarm every one of my whereabouts then I'd be dead in the next few hours, somewhere in a rigid place.

Pushing my arms back and forth, I jetted to my destination, jumping over small potholes, dodging insects that wanted to suck my blood clean, and pumping my legs as fast as they could go. Once I made it to the only train station located in the southern part of the old town, I zoomed over down the stairs, finding myself hidden behind a group of people. What now?

The silence at the train station is as usual, even quieter since fewer people are around anymore. Some with newspapers in their hands, while some are busy checking their phones. A small family is having a small chit-chat with one another. All of them are playing in their mind while waiting for the next train to come. How long will that be?

Three more minutes later, I could hear their heavy footsteps again, and I immediately closed my eyes. I knew I couldn't run for more, I was tired and I couldn't even breathe properly. They separated their ways, footsteps going quieter as they go, and finally, the train arrived. Without much thought, I pushed people to the side, to get in through first as I quickly positioned myself at the very end of the train. Not too long later my eyes glanced over to one of them, standing outside with their back to me, and I shuffled uncomfortably in my seat, practically praying that he wouldn't notice me.

"Newspaper?" The person next to me spoke up, slightly startling me since my eyes were closed and I was sensitive to sudden sounds. I stared at the young boy, selling newspapers who was sitting next to me and he just handed me one even though I didn't ask for any. "5 kopeks," he asked for the payment which I then gave as the train started moving.

There it is, sharp at 3 o'clock, I was going somewhere I didn't plan to.

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