Are you Real?

Escape

Finally, you found Natasha, injured and barely conscious. Without hesitation, you scooped her up into your arms, her weight pressed against you. Adrenaline surged through your body as you carried her, your muscles burning with exertion.

As you made your way through the facility, each step became more treacherous. Bullets whizzed past you, the sounds of explosions and gunfire filling the air. The acrid smell of smoke hung in the atmosphere, stinging your nostrils. Your heart pounded in your chest, the weight of Natasha's unconscious body causes your senses to focus.

With every ounce of strength, you pushed forward, determination etched on your face. Each footfall echoed through the corridors, the sound muffled by the chaos around you. The taste of adrenaline lingered in your mouth, a bitter reminder of the intensity of the situation.

You stumbled upon an abandoned room tucked away in a remote corner of the facility. The walls were covered in peeling paint, and dust danced in the shafts of light that filtered through the cracked windows. It provided a temporary sanctuary amidst the chaos that surrounded you. Gently, you laid Natasha down on the cold floor, your breath ragged with exhaustion.

Time seemed to blur as you tended to Natasha's wounds. The adrenaline that had fueled you moments ago now waned, and the pain from your own injuries became apparent. But you pushed the discomfort aside, your sole focus on ensuring Natasha's well being.

With trembling hands, you cleaned and bandaged Natasha's wounds, your touch gentle yet urgent. The sight of her pained face and the sound of her shallow breaths only fueled your determination. The room seemed to fade away as you worked, the minutes ticking by, oblivious to the chaos outside.

Once you finished dressing Natasha's wounds as best as you could. She lay before you, still unconscious but stable. Relief washed over you, mingled with a sense of pride for what you had accomplished.

But there was no time to rest. You had to find a way out of the facility. With a renewed sense of purpose, you carefully place your backpack over your shoulder and lift her into your arms once more, your muscles protesting the strain.

Through the maze like corridors, you moved with a newfound determination. Each step echoed with urgency, the sound of gunfire and explosions growing distant. The pain in your side intensified with every movement, but you refused to let it slow you down.

Finally, you reached the outskirts of the facility, the sounds of gunfire and chaos fading into the distance. You emerged into the night, the cool air hitting your face like a balm. The scent of damp earth and pine filled your nostrils, a stark contrast to the sterile environment you had just left behind.

With every ounce of strength left in you, you carried Natasha as you stumbled upon an abandoned cabin nestled deep within the surrounding woods. The cabin stood as a solitary figure in the darkness, its windows cracked and weathered. It offered temporary refuge from the chaos that surrounded you. Gently, you laid Natasha down on a makeshift bed, your breath ragged with exhaustion.

As you tended to her, Natasha began to stir, her eyes fluttering open. Panic flickered in her gaze as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. You immediately leaned in, your voice soft and filled with love, reassuring her that she was safe.

"Natasha, it's okay," you whisper, your voice a balm to her disoriented mind. "You're safe now. I'm right here with you."

But as Natasha's panic grew, she tried to move, her injured body protesting the movement. You quickly placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, your touch firm yet loving.

"Baby, please don't move," you said, your voice filled with urgency. "You're injured and you need to keep still. Trust me, I'll take care of you."

Her eyes search yours, a mix of fear and concern reflected in them. Her eyes roam your body, widening when she saw blood seeping through your clothes. She reached out a trembling hand, her voice filled with worry. "You're hurt too," she whispers, her voice barely above a whisper.