(first person POV)
I put away my toothbrush and leave the bathroom, looking around for some wearable sweatpants. The search is not made any easier by the randomly thrown clothes, the loose sketches, the empty bottles or the 2 year old black cat that keeps asking for my attention.
Yes, I kidnapped the cat from the animalhospital. Nah, I'm just kidding. After being checked up by the best vet in Washington, Natasha adopted him and let him stay with me. Well, I had to convince Fury first and ask for a room on the ground floor.
And now I'm here, putting on a pair of sneakers while my hairy roommate is playing with one of my black socks, or well, killing it.
"It's been fun, now give that back." I throw myself on the bed, trying to get my sock back. Ofcourse, Souchi thinks it's a game and starts running around the room like crazy, meowing and bumping onto everything that can be bumped onto.
"Oh, come on, Mama's getting a little older everyday," I lie as I keep chasing the black cat around the entire room, panting. I clearly need to work on my cardio.
After another long minute I manage to grab the running cat around his torso. I fall back on my bed with the cat in my arms and yell in victory.
"Ha!" As I try and take the sock, Souchi gives a defeated hiss and bumps his head aggressively against my chin.
"I love you too, little man." I put the cat on one of the pillows of my bed that he claimed as his own the first night he stayed with me. I hear him attack another pillow while closing the door of my room.
I enter an empty gym and decide to tape my hands before Natasha arrives. This all feels so normal, as if I never knew a different life before this.
I've been coming back in my sleep for a couple of weeks or I now have been living in this reality for around two years.
This life became my favorite one.
But it's also the most dangerous one, dangerous on many levels.
I walk across the room and take one of the punching bags. Ugh, I always forget how heavy these things are, but I manage to hang it to a hook on the ceiling.
I get in the position Natasha taught me.
Stand up straight.
Feet shoulder width apart, one of your feet shifted slightly in front of the other.
Dig into the ground with the big toe of your right foot.
Bring both hands up just above chin height.
Make fists.
Keep your thumbs outside.
Your knuckles should be facing the sky.
Elbows tucked in to your side.
Drive the punch with your torso, not your fists.
Strike.
BAM
My fist crashes into the bag a first time.
BAM
BAM
My punches are not as quick or as smooth as Natasha's, but every time I hit the bag, it slightly moves.
BAM
Although I've been practising this for two years now, my knuckles still feel sore and bruise everytime I hit the bag.
"Your stance is shabby," a voice behind me says.
"Mierda!" I jump back in shock and look to the source of the sound.
'Shit'
"I thought Romanoff trained you," Agent Rumlow says, leaning on the doorway.
"She does," I snap back, really not wanting to start a conversation.
"Well, your stance is still shabby,"
"You're shabby,"
Well done Ellie, that was your best comeback ever.
I turn back to the punching bag, although I'd rather punch the other person in the room.
"This has been going on for two years now, what the hell is your problem?" He says as I hear him take a couple of steps into the room.
Natasha noticed I didn't particulary like agents such as Rumlow. She'd told me I should give them a chance. People like them don't deserve a chance, the only thing they deserve is a slow, painful death.
I turn back around with a loud sigh.
If you say what you wanna say, you're gonna get yourself in some big trouble.
I look straight into his eyes but I am still able to see that his right hand hovers dangerously close to the gun in the holster around his thigh.
But I'm gonna say it anyway.
"You," I say as an answer to his question. "You are very much my problem."
He takes another step closer and this time, I don't flinch away. Two pairs of brown eyes keep staring into each other, trying to figure out the other person's next move.
The tense silence is broken by Natasha entering the room. I don't even have to look to know it's her. Out of the corner of my eye I immediatly recognise the strong red hair. She quickly realizes something is going on. Yet she manages to put a warm smile on her face and closes the door behind her.
"Hey, Andie," she says, still smiling.
"Brock, I assume you're here for me?"
"I was, I won't be here much longer," he answers. By the way he says it, I know that with 'here' he means: around the weird kid who seems to know my deepest, darkest secret.
"The mission has been approved," he continues. Natasha seems to instantly know what he's talking about, and her expression turns a bit more serious.
"About damn time," she says. It's funny how she can sound relieved and 'I knew it' at the same time.
"I'll be with you in a minute."
With a simple nod, Rumlow leaves the room.
After watching him walk out of the door she turned to me with a half smile, half judgy look on her face.
"You we're arguing again?"
"He started it," I answer. She smiles at the childish comment.
"You're free today. As you heard, I got a new mission," She takes my hands and starts untaping them.
"Is it the mission in Russia?" I ask looking at her busy hands.
"Yep. Took Fury long enough to put his autograph on the missionpapers."
"Can I go with you?" I ask. I've been wanting to ask that for a very long time. But I feared her answer.
She answers so quickly that I'm pretty sure she knew I was going to ask it.
"No."
"Oh, Pozhaluysta. Let me come with you."
'Please'
She tilts her head slightly to the side hearing me say some of the Russian she taught me.
"Have you ever been to Russia before?" She puts the tape in a sportsbag and starts walking towards the hallway.
"Yes, actually. With my father, when I was a kid."
"You fought an evil Russian general whilst there?" She stops and turns to look back at me.
"Konechno, tysyachi,"
'Of course, thousands,'
She gives a light chuckle and continues walking away.
"Oh, come on. I've been training with you for two years now. You said it yourself, I'm not even that bad, you said I was good with knives, hand-to-hand and guns ..." I keep babbling and running behind her like a toddler with a sugar rush.
"I never said you were good with guns," she says, looking back with a smirk on her lips, "you suck with guns."
She opens the door to a room and I hear a couple of voices talk to each other. "I've trained for this since I was a child and I'm not even sure if I'm ready for it."
"Now be good, feed Souchi, take a shower, I'll meet you back in the cafetaria, da?"
'yes?'
"Mkay."
With a final pat on my cheek she enters the room and closes the door, leaving me alone in the wide hallway.
"Pf, I'll just sneak into one of your traveling bags."