Even In This Lifetime

1 | without a place in the world

There was something hauntingly beautiful about the New York skyline. The setting sun painted the sky in an array of colors, casting shadows down below on the bustling city that never really seemed to sleep. It represented the American dream well, the dream Natasha Romanoff had been brainwashed out of as a child in the Red Room. America was a place for new beginnings and New York was a place for the dreamers, the hustlers. Despite the setting sun, traffic was still crowding the streets, restaurants were full and filled with loud conversation, and people walked through the streets with sour grimaces or bright smiles. There was really no in-between, just like there was no in-between New York and Natasha's homeland: Moscow, Russia.

America and Russia differed significantly, but there were things she liked in both places. She liked the beauty of Russia, the snowy mountain peaks and vast tundras. She liked the food (and alcohol) that she had grown up on, the taste she'd come to savor. However, she liked the people in the United States. She liked how unnervingly trusting they were, how easygoing Americans could be. She liked people-watching in New York City, observing some of the most eccentric characters she had ever seen. She liked how easily she could blend in, that no one questioned the slight accent in her voice she just couldn't seem to get rid of no matter how hard she tried. It was a fault, a tick that made her less valuable to her handlers in the Red Room because she wasn't sleek perfection like marble. However, it was one of the only faults she had, making her one of the best assets and the perfect assassin to operate in America.

It was a simple mission on paper, an undercover operation to terminate the so-called 'Avengers' and more importantly, Captain America. America's golden boy. The leader of the Avengers that threatened the very existence of the Red Room... the existence of Natasha herself. The Red Room had directed her to get to know the vile man and milk all the secrets from his fangs before killing him in her usual style. He was someone who was supposed to represent all the good in the world, but he was quite frankly a fraud. He had just as much goodness in her as she did, a cold-blooded assassin with blood-stained hands. It was going to be an easy mission to put a bullet between his eyes and disband the Avengers team. She had done plenty of missions like this in the past, and this one was no different. In no time, she would be flying back to Moscow with a suitcase of money she planned to steal from Tony Stark and maybe Captain America's shield just for the kick of it.

The Red Room had already handled the difficult part, and it would be smooth sailing from there. Natasha had a new identity as a dance teacher living in a rundown apartment in Manhattan only a few blocks away from the Avengers Tower. It would be easy for her to plant the seed for her 'relationship' with Steve Rogers, watch it blossom in the palm of her hand, and then rip it out from the roots with her signature, sinister smirk before she went in for the kill.

She would certainly relish in bringing down the man who had made her life a living hell these past few years. He was the reason for her failures, her punishments after multiple Hydra bases were brought down by the Avengers. Captain-fucking-America was the reason for another scar on her body, another reminder of her downfall. It wasn't even her fault that the Avengers were able to demolish another Hydra site. It's not like she was given specific directions to take on the Avengers - which she could do effortlessly, mind you - nor was she even directed to protect the bases. However, the KGB had to blame their own failures on someone else, and punishment usually fell upon Red Room agents. It was too bad the Red Room's brainwashing hadn't worked that well when their goal was to make Natasha hate Steve Rogers more than she already did. She hated the man the moment she learned about him because of who he was, how he pretended to be a good, righteous man when he was the complete opposite.