Natasha Romanoff, a Red Room assassin, is hired to kill the glorious Captain America before he changes the world in all his star, spangled glory. However, as she gets closer and closer to her target, she begins to fall harder and harder for the man...
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The rain poured outside, thunder rumbling loudly and lightning flashing vividly across the dark sky. Storms had always been unsettling to Natasha Romanoff, a deep-seated and unacknowledged fear that she couldn't explain; something that most likely stemmed from her training in the Red Room. The clock on her nightstand blinked some ungodly hour in the morning, but she couldn't seem to fall back asleep as she lay on her back with Liho tucked between her head and the pillow. The cat was her own slice of companionship, a beacon of light glowing in the shadows, like the white fur on her chest. She resembled all the good in the world that Natasha never got to experience, a kind of love that would never falter. She reached out and ran her fingers through Liho's soft fur, a fond smile gracing her lips as the cat purred contently and shifted closer to her.
There was another streak of lightning across the sky, and Natasha tensed as there was a loud crack that shook the apartment walls. She was envious of her cat who slept soundly through it all. She was supposed to be unbreakable. She was supposed to be unshakable. She was the best of the best, Madame B. and Dreykov's pride and joy; their most faithful weapon.
At least, that's who she was supposed to be.
She was supposed to be so brainwashed that she would do anything to fulfill her assignments, that she would serve the Red Room without question. She was supposed to be so brainwashed and detached that the brutal training she experienced in the Red Room never got the best of her, that she would forget it all ever happened and all that would be left were the lessons learned. However, no amount of brainwashing would ever erase years of torment, years of mental and physical scars, of pain that never really seemed to fade.
No.
It was always there, and her assignment to kill Captain America had brought the wretched memories to the forefront. The long days in the training room flashed through her mind, a man wearing a mask that morphed his features to look like Steve Rogers as he shoved her to the ground, yanked her pants down, and told her exactly how to pleasure him while she tried not to cry. The sound of a whip that sounded eerily like lightning cracking on her heels when she didn't point her toes enough as she danced, cracking on her back as the man dressed like Steve told her that if she killed him, the pain would cease. She remembered the graduation ceremony, the pinch of a needle before everything went black, and she woke up with an unbearable ache between her legs. She remembered watching another Widow, Inessa, whom she had worked with many times, take a drink of her water before suddenly collapsing to the ground. Blood came from her mouth as she screamed in pain before she went still and death stole the light from her eyes. "This is what happens when you fail. This is what happens when you disobey. You can't run nor can you hide. We will find you before you even realize we were looking." Dreykov had shouted, kicking Inessa's body as he walked past her and demanding them to clean up the mess.
Oh, how she remembered it all.
Time couldn't heal all wounds, especially ones cut deep into flesh and carved into the mind.
