|
|
Post by Deleted on Apr 28, 2014 15:32:31 GMT -5
Priority 1 target was proving difficult to locate but there were rumors that he was out there. Priority 2 target had been spotted earlier that evening and now the Winter Soldier was tracking her. Through the streets and alleys, using rooftops when available, he followed her movements and wasn't surprised to discover her ultimate destination. It was an area of the city that he knew had one of her safehouses. How he knew this, he didn't know. Had he learned about it from a previous mission? Could be from the information his handlers had provided him. The Asset was given all necessary information to carry out his mission successfully and so that was a distinct possibility. There were many thing that he knew but didn't exactly know why he knew. He didn't dwell on it since it made no difference either way.
The truth was, although the Winter Soldier didn't know, he had been to NYC before on missions, one of them being with the Black Widow, and he knew the location of this particular safehouse because it was one they had used several times given that it was hidden extremely well and had yet to be compromised. However, that information was simply an echo in his mind now, something that had stayed behind even after they had re-programmed him. HYDRA's technology wasn't as good as the KGB - he was having more echoes and remembering things that confused him, but he tried not to focus on it. He would beat her to the safe house. He knew the way to it like he knew his way back to base, instinctively, and so he made his way to the location, taking a short cut in order to ensure he arrived first. He wasn't expecting to catch her by surprise - that would have been a fault of her training if he did, but he didn't see failure in his future. He had taken down much more difficult targets. Although to be fair, he had been the only one who had ever been able to track her down and follow her movements. She was one of the best and he did love a good challenge.
One of the entrances to the safe house was hidden behind a dumpster in one of the back alleys, an area that looked deceptively boring, but he knew there was a door there. He ran his hand across the bricks until he felt the slight notch and then lifted a panel to reveal a keypad. He punched in the code and was rewarded when the door swung open. The Winter Soldier slipped inside, closing the door behind him. There was a single dark, dust-filled hall led to a room that was fully stocked with whatever could be needed in order to stay hidden or have a place to rest during a mission . He paused to let his eyes adjust to the darkness of the room and then walked over to a table that sat off to one side. Taking a seat, he placed one of his hand guns on the table within reach and rested his metal arm next to it, and waited. The lower half of his face was still concealed by his mask, but he no longer wore the goggles. His gaze was eerily calm as he sat there, barely moving a muscle. His target would be here shortly, and then he would end this.
|
|
ANTI-HERO
"Regimes fall every day, I tend not to weep over that. I'm Russian....Or I was."
|
Post by Natasha Romanoff on Apr 30, 2014 0:44:05 GMT -5
****************************************
The night wind picked up fallen debris of discarded papers and the like as they swept past Natasha's feet. To most, this area would be considered a strange place for a safe house; it wasn't a particularly safe neighborhood. In the middle of one of the most dangerous parts of New York some might question the sanity of it. But it was the perfect place. Not many people were foolish enough to come around this part of town and the people that didn't belong stood out. If you didn't understand this world, if you haven't been immersed in it, it would eat you alive.
A young woman down the street dressed in a plaid mini; white thigh highs and ankle breaking heels could be seen waving at every passing car. Down here there wasn't much these wretched souls could hang on to, once they've parcelled out flesh, honor and innocence the rest of their virtues just went out the window; there's nothing else. When faced with limited options to survive there becomes a very fine line on what a person is willing to do to stay alive.
Natasha watched helplessly as the young girl entered the passenger side of a darkly tinted sedan. She wanted to run over there, drag the girl out of the car by her hair and explain to her the rules. You NEVER get in their car, not in this part of town, but the door slams shut; black glossy paint shivering from the force as the car rounded the bend.
~Too late.~
Natasha placed her hands into her pockets and watched the street kids, adult predators and the vagabond lot weave their way through the backstreets on their wasteful quests to self-destruction. The particular area Natasha passed belonged to the criminal, the destitute, the dangerous or the wanted; all of these a dangerous combination because these were the people with little to nothing left to lose and that made them unpredictable. Some would just as much kill her for her for her jacket while others just for looking at them; or well they tried. The last group that tried to drag her into an alley found themselves at the receiving end of well placed kicks and strikes that fractured bones and for their trouble she relieved them of their money.
Stepping out of the alley Natasha thought she saw something up on the rooftops, but in looking up she saw nothing but the darkened sky. Darkness still covered it and the only light across the indigo heavens was a fat partial moon belly up shedding pale silver light; the stars drowned out by the incessant glow of the city's halogen lights and neon coloured allure. It had been 48 hours since arriving in this place and she was still getting her bearings. Her shoulder ached but it was healing, Natasha had managed to re-establish her underground network of the homeless to feed her intel; her eyes and ears of the city as she liked to call them. She paid for pertinent information, paid others to keep a look out and on this night it paid off.
As she approached the safe house she moved to a drunk seemingly passed out near the alley way. Kneeling down as if to check if he was alright, the man gave his report just as she set in his hand some cash. It seemed someone was spotted going into the alley and has yet to come out. The alleyway was a dead end and so anyone going in had to come back through this way again, however according to her informant the man hadn't come through again. Alarm bells started to ring within Natasha's mind. No one could have known about this safe house, being a product of the Cold War era let alone find the door to let them in and yet as Natasha warily entered the alley she found nothing there save the littered refuse that was normally scattered in the alley. One of the entrances to the safe house was hidden behind a dumpster there; an area that looked deceptively unassuming, but there was a door there. Inspecting the bricking Natasha saw the track marks of large fingers running across the bricks, the light tracking ending at the place Natasha knew meant the keypad was found. Staring at the door for a few moments Natasha backed away. Whoever it was entered here, so she moved come in from another way.
KGB safe houses always had at least three exits and one of them was always a secret one; it was standard protocol. There was a battered old red door that was wedged between a pawn shop and a lingerie store where the window mannequin wore a garter belt and a pair of fishnet stockings. There were two other floors above the street level with the upper windows either shuttered or tinted a grey haze making it difficult to see in. The third way into her safe house through the lingerie shop, up the connecting rafters of the ceiling. Three ways in or out, one secret, one direct and the third, indirect. Disabling the crude security system of the shop allowed Natasha to gain entry into the building and using her abilities she climbed up into the rafters and quietly moved herself into position.
The safe house was dimly lit and she paused a moment to allow her eyes to settle before she moved further into the room noiselessly. It was one of the things she was extremely good at; being near undetectable when she wanted to be. Hell an Asgardian god even commented on the fact that she was able to do what most couldn't; sneak up on him. Blue green eyes surveyed the place and noted the silhouetted form of her intruder.
At the table, off to one side he sat, hand gun on the table within reach and as her eyes followed and came to rest upon the familiar metallic arm next to the gun her throat constricted and her heart rate increased.
~Winter Soldier.~ Natasha thought with half dread and half surprise. Her shoulder throbbed at the remembrance of being shot. ~ Her fingers gripped the edges of the ceiling beams she was crouched and perched on.
The lower half of the man's face was concealed by his mask, though he no longer wore the tactical goggles. He sat poised with an eerie calm as he seemed to be awaiting her arrival judging from the direction of his gaze and the position of his seat and gun. Hoping to drop down and catch the man by surprise Natasha lowered herself onto the ground silently and only when she dropped in quietly behind him did the the pull of a zip line sound as she attempted to wrap her Widow's line around his neck and hopefully with a little luck get it around him enough to strangle him with it.
In the movies there would have been some wise crack or one liner to her entrance before she acted; some flirty or witty repartee meant to please the audience. But this wasn't the movies, this wasn't some staged and choreographed scene. This was real life, gritty and raw. And when some assassin comes waltzing into your home thinking to cap you when you walked through that door well the last thing you did was announce yourself so Natasha had opted for the silent approach and hoped to god that her stealth attack would catch him by surprise.
It was just like it was back in the causeway before he shot her, she'd managed then to also come up from behind to leap onto his shoulders and wrap her Widow's line around his neck, only this time Natasha hoped it worked better than the last.
<It seems we've danced this dance before Comrade.> Natasha said in Russian when finally her presence was known to him.
****************************************
NOTES: Ghah! First replies always the most stressful, but hope this worked for you, PM me if something needs editing. WORD COUNT: 1,318 |
|
|
|
Post by Deleted on May 10, 2014 8:41:25 GMT -5
The last time he had locked eyes on the target, she had been running away in the street and he had shot her clean through the shoulder. It should have been a kill shot but there had been too many vehicles in the way and the angle hadn't been ideal. He had been going after her to finish the job when all of this had happened and he had suddenly found himself in a completely different place than he had been only moments before. She had cracked one of the lenses on his goggles with a shot he should have been able to anticipate, and it had infuriated him. No one got the upper hand on him and he had gone after her with a vengeance. Now it was time to finish the job because no one got away from the Winter Soldier. Failure was not an option and not something he even considered. Failure would mean that he was faulty, and faulty weapons had to be fixed. He didn't want to be put back in that room, forced into that chair and put through indescribable pain as they wiped everything from his mind. Although his gaze was fixated on the doorway, he had already assessed other alternative means of entrance and exit within the room. So when he heard the faint sound of a zipline, he knew she had come in through one of the other entrances. He didn't move, allowing her to make her move and think she had the upper hand, but he was already calculating exactly what he needed to do. She had betrayed the KGB, defecting from the Red Room, from what his programming told him, and she had also been causing grief for HYDRA which was why Pierce wanted her eliminated. He didn't need to know any other details, he only needed his target. As soon as he saw her bringing the line around, he was moving. He felt her legs press against his shoulders and his hands flew up to prevent the cord from choking him. The Soldier bent forward quickly, gripping the line tightly, and send her flying off of his back towards a pile of wooden crates. Without even giving her a chance to recover, he had his gun in his hand and had fired off two shots towards her. Whether or not they hit didn't matter because he was already leaping forward, holstering his gun and withdrawing a knife that would be best in close quarters. "Vremya umirat'"(Time to die) He reached to grab hold of her hair and yank her head back so that he could end this with a quick slice of his blade. There was no hesitation, no flicker of anything in his eyes as they regarded her with cold, calm clarity. They had both served under Department X until her betrayal. He vaguely remembered training her and that she had been part of their Black Widow program, but other than that, it was a blur. Another echo from his past, one that hadn't been completely erased when they had done their most recent wipe. HYDRA's technology wasn't as good as the Red Room's and was not nearly as efficient when it came to re-programming him, but of course, he personally didn't know that. He just knew that he had been having more echoes lately, having been out of cryo for so long. He was used to being given orders, completing his mission, and then being put back into cryo until he was needed. This was a new experience for him, especially now that he seemed to be alone in this universe. Still, he had orders, and he would still complete his mission. Nothing would stop him. tag Nat
word count [/quote][/b] 667 notes[/b] They need to make up <3 lyrics Dance with the Devil by Breaking Benjamin credit Rae of Sunshine! of Caution 2.0 made this temp! |
|
ANTI-HERO
"Regimes fall every day, I tend not to weep over that. I'm Russian....Or I was."
|
Post by Natasha Romanoff on May 12, 2014 6:05:03 GMT -5
****************************************
In retrospect a bullet to the back of his head would have been better, but it got personal; 'He' made it personal the moment he killed that scientist by shooting through her and the moment he killed Fury. She didn't want to see him die she wanted to feel it with her bare hands and a damn bullet to the skull would have robbed her of that.
Sentimentality.
It was one of the first things in Red Room they tried to kill in her; had managed to wipe it from her for decades. Don't feel, just think. Cold detachment was not only a comfort but a survival skill. It was what made you weigh the odds, with precise and calculated actions that all lead to the success of a mission; nothing to cloud judgement and everything to bring you to success. There was no vendetta, no anger, no rage, there was just the mission, the target, the kill.
In some ways things were easier back then but somewhere along the lines things got complicated and she became compromised. It wasn't just the mission anymore; there was now a reason, a purpose, and people...dare she even admit it? Care about. There was consequence and conscience now but most of all there grew that emotional tie. They had always said from the beginning that was her greatest weakness; attachments. While it was also her greatest strength; being able to make these attachments with others easily, to gain their trust, it was also her own demise in Red Room. Too close. She always got too close to people, but maybe it was because she needed to in order to gain their trust but in doing that she got to know who they were and sometimes just sometimes she'd find something she respected or admired and wanted to hold on to that; those sentimentalities compromised the mission and there wasn't any more Red Room to wipe out those emotions but then again Natasha wouldn't have wanted it any other way.
She was done having her mind messed with and wiped, done with being some mindless doll for them to control. Yes she was flawed now, compromised with the guilt, the attachments and sentimentalities but she was at least free to choose. No one ever told her how to feel anymore; what to do, who to do it with or what to think. In all her flaws and frailties now, she was at least free to feel and at this point it was rage and hatred for the one that shot and killed one of the few people on this God damn earth she gave a damn about and for that she wanted to feel him die in her hands; to choke the life out of him because he deserved a slow agonizing death.
Sentimentality...that was her demise. Well that and the fact that the zip sound of her Widow's Line alerted him of her intent and he'd managed to place a hand before his neck just as she looped the cord around to choke him. Still Natasha pulled back with all her might; knees pressed against his back for leverage as the rest of her strained to cinch that noose. But she was still injured, that gunshot wound to the shoulder still healing so strength wasn't at 100%, still she held on and tried to pull tighter. He had been ready for her though and so Natasha was slammed against the wall. Her grip involuntarily loosened when her injured shoulder spasm with pain. That made it easier for the Winter Soldier to bend forward quickly, grip the line about his neck tightly, and send her flying off of his back towards a pile of wooden crates.
Pain erupted and flared with a humbling reminder of her mortality as wood broke against her back and her head caught the corner piece of the crate before the wood shattered and her head proceeded to strike the wall. She was seeing flares and stars now, spotting her vision amongst the myriad of pain then the flashes of images started from her mind; distended and disjunctive they were unexpected, images of memories buried by Red Room. They were surfacing. There was blood on her hand where she'd touched her head which told her she was bleeding and the world for a moment seemed to fog and haze.
THE PAST
~A Red star in and amongst the haze.
A Silver metal arm extended.
Blood and the metallic taste of it in her mouth.
A voice muffled by explosions and gunfire sounded, calling out her name...'Natalia!'~
THE PRESENT
Natasha winced and tried to push away the nonsensical, distended images and emotions; she needed to focus. She couldn't afford to pay credence to the visions and figure out what it was she was seeing; remembering none of it made sense and none of it mattered right now. She couldn't risk the break in concentration, not now, not when she needed to live and to kill.
The sound of a gun being drawn alerted her to the present and the Winter Soldier's next move and instinct heightened by adrenaline and a basic desire to survive pulled her immediately out of her unwanted reverie and to the brutal present as two shots were fired towards her. The first grazed her side as she just moved in time to avoid being actually shot though it was small consolation as the graze from the bullet still broke flesh to cut and bleed her. The second barely missed as Natasha found her stride dodging out of the way with a fluidity and grace that belied the pain her body felt.
Natasha landed on the ground deftly and turned to face the Winter Soldier and fire a Widow's bite his way, but she never got the chance to fire as he had leaped forward after taking the two shots, holstered his gun and withdrawing a knife best suited for the close quarters they were in. As they fought Natasha couldn't help but feel an almost familiarity in his movements as she blocked, attacked and counter attacked with her own series of blows and punches keeping his knife away from making contact. Even the way he switched from one hand to the other with the blade was hauntingly familiar though she didn't know why. Her fist was deflected as he reached to grab hold of her hair and yank her head back so that he could end her with a quick slice of his blade.
The movement on his part elicited another flash of images and memories; uncontrolled and unwanted once more.
THE PAST
~Prone, with the silver glint of a knife above her.
Hair pulled back hard to lift and exposed her neck, when the eerily calm of his voice sounded with the slightest edge of playful danger in the tone.
<Have you already forgotten what I taught you Talia?>
He called her 'Talia' the simple slip in formality made her lips twitch into a small knowing smile as she proceeded to show her 'instructor' how she hadn't forgotten and when his back hit the mats she was on him in a heartbeat, knife to throat; his throat.
<I haven't forgotten.>she smiled triumphantly over him knife lowered though her features softened slightly when she met his eyes and she smiled that private smile reserved for only him when others weren't around.
<I'd never forget you.> It was a stupid thing to say and didn't make sense considering what she was, still, she meant it. If she could help it she wouldn't forget. But it was a stupid thing to say so she she lowered her head, he always managed to get her flustered.
A silver metallic hand moved up to touch her face and hook an unruly lock of red hair behind her ear before he pulled her to him.~
THE PRESENT Pain brought her back to the present away from the confusing images and emotions as her enemy's hand tightened his grip on her hair and pulled her head back.
Prone, with the silver glint of a knife above her. His silver arm brandishing the weapon as he pulled back hard to lift and exposed her neck, and this time the eerie voice to speak wasn't one with playful danger but a different kind of danger; a different voice, cold and deadly and muffled by a mask. Natasha hadn't put it together yet, only because she was purposefully pushing away the distracting memories not wanting to think about it. It wasn't yet registering fully because of her will and desire to survive the moment was more pressing.
"Vremya umirat'"(Time to die) The Winter Soldier had said.
"Ne Segodnya"(Not today.) She replied slapping one of her Widow's discs onto his metallic arm letting which let out a small EMP like charge in an attempt to knock out his cybernetic arm temporarily. It wouldn't last; it didn't the last time she used it on him but she only needed a moment.
Without waiting and moving half on instinct and training and half triggered by the flashback memory earlier she moved in a similar manner, drawing in to the man as she moved to slam her knee into his groin and once he doubled over either from the pain or just to dodge the blow she would flip over the arm that had once held her hair landing right next to his bent form with arm twisted and attempt to throw him into another set of crates.
This time she wasn't going to miss her chance. She wasn't going to bother with having him dying in her hands, she was just going to settle for watching the look on his face. So Natasha pulled out her Glock and prepared to shoot him in the head.
****************************************
NOTES: I couldn't stop writing sorry :/ WORD COUNT: 1,565 [/div] |
|
|
|
Post by Deleted on May 17, 2014 8:43:58 GMT -5
  As they fought, there was an eerie sense of familiarity every movement, as if they had done this dance plenty of times before. Although he knew he was much faster than she was, she still seemed to anticipate some of his movements, just as he was able to counter her strikes. Flashes of memories were fighting to press themselves to the forefront of his memory as they battled each other in an all too familiar series of moves. A large cement room with a fighting ring in the center. The ground was covered in a very thin, black mat that offered little in the way of cushioning should one fall, but it was there nevertheless. He stood only a few feet away from her, both of them clothed in simple blacks used for training. He was showing her a move on another man, a grappling move that would allow him to throw the other onto his back and press his advantage, using his arm to begin crushing the man’s windpipe as he straddled him until his opponent slapped the ground as a sign of surrender. He stood, helping the other man up, and then he was motioning for her to attempt the same move on him but before he saw what happened next, he was jolted back to the present as she suddenly kneed him and he grunted from the impact. She had the advantage in that moment and suddenly he was flying backwards, crashing into a stack of crates, the wood splintering around him. Momentarily stunned as he lay there in the smashed debris, images enveloped his mind, withdrawing him from the present into the past...
They had him by the arms as they led him through a room to a tall, rectangular chamber that stood in the back, the door already propped open. The interior was dark but he could still see the outline within that he knew would fit his body perfectly. Like a bed made to fit around him, only it was standing vertically and was made from a cold, hard material that was nothing like a bed. As they guided him inside and closed the door, he knew what was coming. It was just like it always was and even with the re-programming and wiping, he always knew. But this time it was different. This time it wasn't because he had completed a mission, it was because he had become compromised. He had grown too close to her and this was their way of solving the issue. He felt the first tingles that alerted him to the pressure changing within the chamber and he pressed his hands to the window, catching his reflection briefly in the glass. He saw acceptance at what needed to be done but he also saw pain, the pain of knowing what he was about to lose for when they revived him, they would remove everything. Natalia.... was his only thought before the cold hit him, his eyes closed, and everything was black..........
"Bylo tak kholodno , Taliya .... oni zastavili menya zabyt' tebya ... prosti menya" (It was so cold, Talia...they made me forget you...forgive me") he murmured, placing a hand up to his forehead, fingers tangled in his hair as his eyes remained shut tight, still halfway caught within the vision and the present. He slowly stood, blinking away the remnants of whatever it was he had just seen and refocused only to see that she had her gun pointed at him, ready to shoot.
The Soldier was a tool of the government he believed he belonged to, a dangerous and lethal tool that would not hesitate to do whatever was necessary to carry out a mission. But he hadn't always been like that...no, there had been times when the person he truly was had begun to show through. That had been the man who knew the woman he was fighting not simply as his target, but as Natalia, and the sort of person who had sat down with her for hours, teaching her patiently and slowly but surely beginning to regain the humanity that he had never realized he had lost. They had truly done a number on him, wiping away everything that had made him that man, or at least they had attempted to. Yet Natalia had managed to find that kink in his armor, giving him more than he had thought possible, and it had been enough that even years later when he had been sent on a mission to kill her, he had failed. History loved to repeat itself and here they stood, at a standstill once again.
All it would take would be a twitch of her finger, and she could easily end his life with a single shot. Another series of images passed through his mind, one of him with a sniper rifle held firmly in his grasp as he watched her pull the scientist, his target, from a vehicle right before it was flipped over the edge into the ravine below. There was no hesitation as he pulled the trigger, sending a bullet ripping through her and into the chest of his target, completing his mission.
Target. Mission. Yes. That's what he needed to focus on. The Soldier's instincts kicked in. From concealment, he sent a knife flying at her hand, not intending to impale her, but only serving to knock the gun off course so even if she was able to fire, it wouldn't hit its target. Not even a moment after, he sent a spinning kick in her direction to knock the gun completely from her hand and a metal hand flashed forward to grasp her around the neck and shove her against the wall, his gaze cold and unforgiving.
An image flashed to the forefront of his mind, of him sitting next to her in a room, a book lying across their laps as he drilled her on her English, making sure she was ready for the aptitude test that she would have to take. The KGB did not accept failure and he would do anything to ensure she didn't fail. Another image of him reaching up to brush a stray strand of her hair, of locking his gaze with hers as the language lessons were completely forgotten, and he pulled her close....
There was a flash of pain in his eyes as he struggled internally with this knowledge that was just out of his reach. His metal fingers loosened around her throat and he took a step back, still staring wide-eyed at her. Who was she really. Why did he know her? It wasn't just that she was his target, there was something else... "YA znayu tebya, ot litsa, pochemu ya tebya znayu? Ty i ya , my byli - net, net," He shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts and visions that swarmed his mind, threatening to cause his determination to carry out his mission to falter, "Ty moya missiya. Ty dolzhen byt' ustranen. Net al'ternativy ne yavlyayetsya priyemlemym." (I know you, from before, why do I know you? You and I, we were - no, no, you're my mission. You're to be eliminated. No alternative is acceptable.)
The Soldier withdrew one of his handguns, aiming it at her. He went to pull the trigger except for some reason, his finger refused to cooperate. The cold, hard conviction in his gaze wavered ever so slightly as he stood there, frozen. For just a moment, however brief it was, there was a vulnerability in his gaze, one that betrayed the confusion and war that he was fighting within his own mind, and a plea for help. Then it was gone as he scowled, his gaze re-hardening and he took aim. Pierce's voice echoed in his mind as the names of his next targets were given. He needed to end this, now, before he was compromised further. It was for the good of mankind, what he was doing. Wasn't it? tag Natasha
word count 1418 notes FEEEELS  lyrics Dance with the Devil by Breaking Benjamin credit Rae of Sunshine! of Caution 2.0 made this temp! |
|
ANTI-HERO
"Regimes fall every day, I tend not to weep over that. I'm Russian....Or I was."
|
Post by Natasha Romanoff on May 22, 2014 0:49:42 GMT -5
****************************************"Vstat!... Posmotri na menya ." (Stand up!...Look at me). Natasha ordered, her voice cold and dispassionate. The simple click of her gun sounded; the warning of its readiness. She wanted him to look at her before she shot him. She wanted him to know his death was in her hands; she wanted him to see vengeance in her eyes, only his words stopped that emotion cold and filled it instead with confusion. "Bylo tak kholodno , Taliya .... oni zastavili menya zabyt' tebya ... prosti menya" (It was so cold, Talia...they made me forget you...forgive me") the Winter Soldier murmured, as he rose slowly placing a hand up to his forehead, fingers tangled in his hair as his eyes remained shut tight but he wasn't talking to her or was he? The name wasn't something she'd heard herself called until a few minutes ago when the visions flashed earlier and that voice calm, cool with that playful dangerous tone spoke. ~<Have you already forgotten what I taught you Talia?>~The flash memory replayed again. ~A flurry of movements and his back hit the mats she was on him in a heartbeat, knife to throat; his throat.
<I haven't forgotten...I'd never forget you.>
A silver metallic hand moved up to touch her face and hook an unruly lock of red hair behind her ear before he pulled her to him.
A silver metallic hand...left arm, red star.~Natasha's blue green eyes moved to the Winter Soldier's left arm, silver and metallic with a Red star... ~A Red star in and amongst the haze.
A Silver metal arm extended.
Blood and the metallic taste of it in her mouth.
A voice muffled by explosions and gunfire sounded, a voice called out her name...Natalia!A silver metallic hand extended, to prevent her fall; left hand, metal arm, red star. ~ Natasha's throat constricted involuntarily, her heart jackhammered as she stared at the man before her now rising slowly to his feet; silver metallic arm, left side ... Red star... "Chto vy skazali?(what did you say?)..." Natasha asked gun still pointed squarely at him and although her voice did not waiver, it still sounded with a coldness; a detached tone but internally Natasha buckled. There was the slightest tug, a hint of familiarity at his cadence and tone. That name he called her elicited a strange response in her, an involuntary one that momentarily had her halting. It was just at the cusp of remembrance but yet fleeting as she couldn't hold on. Like water in her hands, it just slipped through the fingers. To Natasha, her life was a series of images; memories built up on events. They passed her by like towns on the highway, flashes and glimpses but that was all. But sometimes a moment stuns her and surprises with its significance, knowing that the memory was more than a fleeting image. Sometimes that moment, every part of it, she's forced to live with forever and it was usually lined with guilt; Sao Paulo, Drakov's daughter, the hospital fire. Always lined with guilt; so much red on her hands. ~Bylo tak kholodno , Taliya .... Bylo tak kholodno...~ (It was so cold, Talia...It was so cold... ). Natasha's mind replayed his earlier words triggering yet another set of confusing images. Blue green eyes look coldly upon the soldier before her gun still drawn and held though she saw through him even if to anyone else looking at her, it was a hard lined stare, Natasha was actually staring through the present and into a flashback of memory. ~Darkness and a single solitary glow that guided her.
Hollow and silent without a sound other than the steady thrum of the machinery. Heart pounds like a jackhammer, breath comes in shuddered takes.
She wasn't supposed to be here, wasn't supposed to go looking for him; a sense of foreboding fills her in the cold darkness.
Trembling hands move to wipe away the fog that blurred the image silhouetting a figure behind the frosted glass. And then it was she saw him, eyes closed, brows bent and frozen into twists and furrows an expression she could only read as pain before the coldness took him; one hand outstretched to the glass; a final act before the cold.
Silver arm, left hand, red star...
Breath caught in horror as she lost her ability to breathe at the sight...~And just like that vision, just like that memory, right here right now, she couldn't breathe; revelation and reality colliding. Horror at what she remembered they had done to him. Revelation that he was a fragment of her missing past and Reality that he was now choking the life out of her. Violently thrown back into the present by the sting of a knife had sliced her forearm waking her back to the here and now but it was too little too late. Her gun lost its trajectory and had been kicked out of her hand as she had been lost in a memory; distracted. And then reality and revelation collided and a metal arm extended...Silver arm, left hand...red star. Her gloved hands clawed reflexively at first at the cybernetic arm that now strangled her preventing her ability to breathe, shoved her against the wall, his gaze cold and unforgiving. Natasha winced and held back the urge to make a sound from the pain elicited from his action not that she really could have made a noise; she was choking. Her head hitting the wall caused another flash of pain and an influx of memories. ~<It's a cupcake, not an IED (Improvised Explosive Device).> she chuckled noting the expression on his face as he stared at the it warily. It wasn't much and barely actually looked like a cupcake but she scrounged to make it work with what they had in the safe house but it was obvious he wasn't accustomed to random acts of kindness. <Why?> he asked <You saved my life.> she answered matter of factly <So you made cupcakes?> <Correction, 'A' cupcake. There was only enough for one.> she smiled. <What? You would prefer I had made Borscht to say thanks?> she made him a face but he still looked at her concoction skeptically. They were holed up in the safe house with orders to remain until further instructions on their extraction and as such being cooped up in the space Natasha had tried to make the best of their predicament taking the opportunity to show the stoic soldier that he wasn't just a tool, he was a allowed to loosen up a bit too. It was almost like in reassuring him she was reassuring herself as well of their humanity, however he was a harder sell. <It's not going to *kill* you, you know> <It might...> he poked at it. <Ok fine then! I'll eat it if you don't want it.> she snagged the cupcake from his hand in annoyance and a bit of hurt pride, only for it to become an impromptu sparring match in close quarters vying for the sole cupcake. Natasha did her best to keep him away and at bay as she struggled to take a bite but he pinned her to the wall his arm extended and his hand around her neck with just enough pressure not to choke but stop her from lifting her head to take the bite. His other hand held her wrist firmly as he leaned in and bit into the cupcake smirking triumphantly. She swore under breath, defeated beneath the weight of his cybernetic arm...metallic hand, left side, red star..~
Back to the present. The Winter Soldier's grip around her neck tightened pulling her back out of the remembrance her eyes flared with an urgency that met his gaze and she caught the struggle in his. His metal fingers loosened around her throat and he took a step back staring wide-eyed at her. Natasha reflexively struck out with a defensive kick only her strike did not injure but simply knocked his half-mask off. Staggering back with the release she involuntarily clutched at her own neck and coughed to breathe, her own eyes staring back at him with shocked confusion at the revelation.
<I know you. from before> he had said
<Yes.> Natasha answered simply. ~I know you too...I just don't remember your name.~ that thought pained her. The flashback of emotions from before told her he was significant; knew he mattered to her on some level but God damn it she couldn't remember his name. Did she even know it?
<...why do I know you? You and I, we were - no, no...> The Winter Soldier shook his head, as if trying to deny something.
Within his eyes for a moment Natasha thought she saw recollection and a sliver of that soldier in her recently resurfaced memories and for a fraction of a second that deadly cold assassin she met earlier was gone and in its place was someone just as confused as she was. She had started to take a step forward towards him when that cold deadly edge resurfaced.
<...you're my mission. You're to be eliminated. No alternative is acceptable>
The Winter Soldier withdrew one of his handguns, aiming it at her. He went to pull the trigger except for some reason he didn't. He could have, but he didn't; there was a wavering in his conviction that Natasha sensed and for a moment like him she stood frozen simply staring back at him. Even as instinct told her to act, grab for his gun and take him out, she didn't; held in place by his gaze. And suddenly time slowed down at that precipice as everything hung on a balance, like a roller coaster just cresting its first fall. But that moment of calm didn't last. She took a shuddering breath as his guns clicked and aimed at the ready. And just like that time collapsed and sped right back up like that raging first drop of a roller coaster.
Natasha held his gaze though, didn't falter despite his menacing glare. She kept her voice even as she talked but kept her eyes on him; the slightest sign of him pulling that trigger would have her moving to dodge it's trajectory. It was a gamble, this was a gamble, but she needed to try in the least.
<It hurts doesn't it?> she asked speaking Russian to him. <Hurts when the memories all come rolling in. A jumbled form of images and emotions, tastes and sounds...hard to tell sometimes reality from memory when it all comes flooding back...>
She wasn't even sure she was reaching him, wasn't even sure he would care enough to listen but she needed to try. For whatever reason, whatever compulsion she had within her it wanted desperately to pull him out of this even as she looked at those dead eyes that glared her attempt was pointless, that she probably wasn't even getting through something deep within her wouldn't give up on him but for the life of her she didn't know why.
<I know what it's like, to be unmade...To have them rip your mind apart, take everything that you were out and put something else back in.> there was a pain of recollection in her eyes at just the general mention of the procedure. <But I am no longer anyone's weapon, my mind is my own. It can be that way for you too.>
She wasn't sure she was reaching him. Probably wasn't, but she needed to try.
<You say there is no alternative, but I am telling you, there is...I am living proof of it.>
****************************************
NOTES: Sadly this one doesn't measure up to your amazing post above sorry. I did try ... Also stuff written between the '~' are either internal thoughts or flashback memories. And text between the '<' '>' are spoken in Russian (I just got lazy with the translator in the end lol! WORD COUNT: 1,565 [/div] |
|
|
|
Post by Deleted on May 23, 2014 9:25:02 GMT -5
It wasn't supposed to happen like this. He didn't understand why these images kept appearing in his mind, why he kept having these feelings, ones that he knew drew close to that fine line that would make him compromised. If that happened, he knew what Pierce would do...just like the KGB had done. They would take him down to that room, the one with the bars on the doors and all the armed guards because they feared what he could do if they lost control. Oh, he knew how nervous they were around him. He was dangerous and volatile if provoked but it was the risk they had to take if they wanted the best. They would strap him to that machine, the cold metal clamps keeping him pinned to the chair, and then the pain would come....and then it would all be gone, whatever it was that had made him start questioning things. No, he couldn't say for certain that was exactly how it happened because it was more echoes than anything, but deep down there was a part of him that would never truly forget.
He had been compromised once before, he knew this, just as he knew how to fire a weapon without knowing exactly why he knew. An echo of the past, something that hadn't been completely wiped...
They were sitting on a bench in what might have been a garden, or maybe it was just a little patch of greenery outside the facility. They trusted him to be out there, not worried that he would try to leave. He would keep them thinking that, even though a part of him wanted to leave, to leave with -her-. She sat there next to him, the sunlight making her red hair light up as if it was on fire. She was practicing her English and not doing too poorly, but she would say the wrong thing and he couldn't help but laugh. It was a strange sound, a foreign sound, but one that he was starting to get used to. He reached over, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, and then he was pulling her close, smiling just for the moment before his lips met hers...
The Soldier shook his head to try and clear away the images, his concentration momentarily flickering, and it was in that short time span that she managed to land a kick to his chest. Staggering back, feeling the mask fall to the floor, he didn't try to grab it. It could be replaced. Then she started talking and his grip on the gun loosened until the gun fell to the floor. His hands went up to his head, fingers tangling in the long locks. "Shut up!" he yelled, the English spilling forth without him even aware of it. "Lozh' ! Ty lzhesh'!" (Lies! You're lying!) He grabbed for another gun, pointing it at her, a scowl on his features as he tried to push past the confusion, to try and make sense of everything.
But was she really?
Another vision surfaced despite his desperation to lock it out and try and ignore it...
He was climbing in through a window and she was there, lying in her bed. She sat up when she saw him and smiled, although there was hesitation in her gaze. "James, you shouldn't be here. I'm promised to another..." but it was said without much conviction. He knew that she was supposed to be married off but he didn't care. It didn't really matter anyways, he knew where her heart truly lay. It was something they had both realized, something that had awakened in them both. He crossed the room to her quickly, and she rose to meet him. Smiling, he wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her close. "I don't care," he said quietly and then kissed her deeply...
"James... Vy nazvali menya James..." (You called me James) he murmured, still trapped in the remnants of the vision. "YA vas lyubil ... YA byl skomprometirovan . Oni dolzhny byli ostanovit' yego." (I loved you..I was compromised, they had to stop it...) Love. Such a simple word. It didn't really describe what they had. There was a bond there that had been created, forged through everything they had had to endure together. Deep down he knew this, a part of him did, but he fought against it. If he believed it...it would only make things real, make all of these lies real, and he couldn't handle it. Shaking his head, he tried to refocus on her but his hand was shaking. He lowered the gun, looking at it in confusion, as if seeing it for the first time, and then finally looked up at her. "I know you..." he whispered, an almost pained expression in his eyes as he spoke those words again, but this time with more conviction. He did, he knew he did, but why - why couldn't he remember everything? He didn't want to believe her words. She had to be lying, she was trying to stop him, distract him...but then why couldn't he shake the images that her words spawned? "Ty spas menya ..." (You saved me) He remembered those nights, the ones where the nightmares had come, but she had always been there to help him, and show him that there was more than just soldering on...but why - why was this all coming back now? It had started with that exhibit, the one where he had heard things, seen things...the blonde man, the star spangled man...and now her...  of Caution 2.0 made this temp! |
|
ANTI-HERO
"Regimes fall every day, I tend not to weep over that. I'm Russian....Or I was."
|
Post by Natasha Romanoff on May 25, 2014 15:11:24 GMT -5
****************************************
His face...
The mask fell, clattered to the floor harmlessly as the two combatants stepped back to recoup from distracting visions and memories that assaulted them both. It was the face she saw in that cryo unit, the soldier that taught her to fight, the one that saved her from a fatal fall and the one she playfully wrestled for a cupcake when holed up in a safehouse. It was him and she knew him and he was all of that and more or at least if felt that way. Natasha tried to hold on to the thin strands and pull it all together but the stabbing pain of reality was that she couldn't. She couldn't even remember his name.
~But I know him...~ she thought as she looked upon the man across from her, his gun pointed at the ready.
It was a strange twist of fate to have these two broken assassins squaring off. He'd shot right through her in Odessa to get to kill his target leaving her with a nasty scar and a bitter taste for his death that had her trying to hunt him for months to return the favor but like the intelligence community had said; he was a ghost. He was a ghost in her fragmented past, a ghost of emotions she couldn't explain; a feeling that seemed to have transcended programming and somehow latched itself in the recesses of her mind even when it was Red Room had tried to obliterate it. It was still there, only she didn't exactly know what 'It' was. The feeling was strong, confusing and foreign but it was something compelled by the simple sight of him and the sound of his voice at the beginning calling her by a name she had not heard in decades. Chaotic memories fall like a landslide.
~One hand, his, outstretched to the glass; a final act before the cold freeze. Her fingers splayed over the frosted glass to overlap his before it was wrenched away. Her voice broke into a scream, the only time she could recollect that she ever lost control of her emotions. Another image flashed and she was being violently dragged away, the visage of the multitude of guards strewn on the ground before her as they managed to subdue her was little solace. There wasn't enough of their bodies to go down for what they did to him and even as they took her down painfully, moved to restrain her she still kept fighting until it was she was strapped to the machines once more and the world went black before her.~
It stayed black for decades and memories dormant lay far out of the reach of recollection until she met that soldier again here in New York in an old KGB safe house and it all came crashing back with blood and tears.
~<Did I fall asleep?> she remembered asking innocently then when she awoke from her 'treatments'.
<Only for a little while...> was the gentle response she received as Natasha smiled up at her handler; total obedience and trust~.
~Only for a little while...~ her mind echoed the words then she tried to reach out to him now in that moment of standoff to tell him she knew exactly what he was going through; gun pointed at her dangerously in response. But then his resolve to kill her seemed to waiver slightly as she seemed to have touched a nerve.
His gun dropped to ground.
"Shut up!" His hands went up to his head, fingers tangling in his long locks as he shouted at her in English and despite the urgent compulsion to move towards him, Natasha remained stoically rooted to her position and simply spoke in tones softer than his angry ones though it wasn't a timid softness but a controlled gentle tone as she spoke about understanding his 'condition'.
"Lozh' ! Ty lzhesh'!" (Lies! You're lying!) He grabbed for another gun, pointing it at her again, a scowl on his features though it was clearly visible to Natasha that he was trying to push past the confusion, to try and make sense of everything and she understood most what he was going through.
" Zhal', chto ya byl."(I wish I was) she replied with a sadness that covered not just her tone and inflection but it was written within her eyes as well.
Another vision seemed to have taken him as his turmoil and conflict was easily etched in his face. Instinct told her to act, move in, take out the gun and neutralize the threat. He killed Fury, tried to kill her at the causeway in DC. His confused memories would only buy her time for so long, and the longer Natasha let this go on the greater the risk his initial programming would resurface and at any moment that trigger could be pulled and it would end her. So she resolved to disarm him, was about to move when his tortured voice held her in place; stopped her movement.
"James... Vy nazvali menya James..." (You called me James) he murmured, still trapped in the remnants of the vision.
"James..." Natasha repeated; the name spurring on a flashback of her own
~ <James!...Lozhis'! (Get down)> she called out flipping over head as she fired off a few rounds with her twin handguns to land deftly behind him, back pressed against his, her arms outstretched on either side to cover the points. She looked back over her shoulder briefly to cast him a small smile reserved only for him. She was sent to break him out. She was sent to extract him from a deep cover mission that had turned into a hot zone.
<Zdes' (Here)> she handed him a handgun with a sly smile. <Privlecheny svoy lyubimyy. (Brought your favorite).> she gave him a playful wink as she placed the handgun in his hand and then swung an arm over his shoulder and fired another shot at a guard that thought to get the drop on them. At that moment James pulled her closer to him as his other hand came out and around her to fire a shot at guard coming in behind her; they were each in essence covering the other's backs. The press of his body against hers wasn't lost on Natasha and filled her with an exhilarating surge that always occurred when in his arms.
<Bog ya deystvitel'no skuchal po tebe. (God I really missed you).> he confessed and Natasha couldn't help but smile at the knowledge he seemed to feel the same way she did
"Ditto." she said breaking away from speaking Russian and throwing in some English slang that he had taught her. ~
The memory faded and Natasha found herself rooted and still staring at the Winter Soldier before her with glossed eyes that held back unshed emotions.
"YA vas lyubil ... YA byl skomprometirovan . Oni dolzhny byli ostanovit' yego." (I loved you..I was compromised, they had to stop it...)
Her brows contorted in pain at the remembrance of that cryo unit she found him in. His hand outstretched pressed on the glass and hers splayed over his above the glass. Her hands closed into fists now clenching white knuckle tight. They robbed him of his life, his freedom, his mind and left him like this; broken.
"YA sozhaleyu."(I'm sorry.) she said softly ~sorry I wasn't strong enough to get us both out; wasn't strong enough to fight off their programming...I wasn't even strong enough to remember you.~ Natasha was sorry on so many levels.
"I know you..." he whispered and there was an almost pained expression in his eyes as he spoke those words again, but this time with more conviction.
"Yes." was all Natasha could muster answering him in English. Funny for a woman who was known never to be at a loss for words; known as someone never rattled, the man before her had her on all those things. She could have gone further, told him what she remembered of them, used his confusion and confession of what she once was to him; used it to her advantage to get in closer and take him out. So many times, so many opportunities and she was stunted from acting. God damn him she couldn't bring herself to even lie to him.
"Ty spas menya ..." (You saved me) he had said and guilt stabbed at her with his words.
~No, I failed you.~ she thought with a stabbing pain of guilt though the words were never uttered.
Regret came in all shapes and sizes. There were small regrets for when one does a bad thing for a good reason. There are bigger regrets for failures. Some people escape the pain of regret by making the right choices. Others have little time for regret at all. Some fight to come to terms with the past, and sometimes bury the regret by promising to change their ways. But the biggest regret, the one that trumps them all aren't of actions committed but of things not done.
~But I won't fail you again.~ Natasha thought to herself resolutely before she looked up at him stepped up close and put her hand on his gun hand as she searched his eyes for recognition and see if he'd release it to her. It was a gamble a very large and deadly one as she was vulnerable to attack in several different ways now, but she took that chance. She had to, to know just how deep this programming of HYDRA's was but she prepped herself for the onslaught that just might strike her down.
"Togda pozvol'te mne sdelat' eto snova." (Then let me do it again...) she offered genuinely her hand moving up to push back the hair from his face this time; if he allowed the action. "James...pozvol' mne pomoch' tebe. (let me help you)."
|
|
|
|
Post by Deleted on May 30, 2014 7:07:05 GMT -5
Her confirmation of his statement almost made it worse because that meant some of these things he was seeing were not just random images, faces, or places, they were memories, ones from before their recent re-programming. Whatever HYDRA's technology was, it was nowhere near what the KGB had used on him because back then there hadn't been so many echoes. Except for that time he had been with her, when he had been out of cryo for a longer period of time, and the last shred of humanity that had been hidden away within him had started to push forward. She had drawn it out of him, causing him to no longer be the completely stoic, emotionless Soldier that he had been trained as from before he could remember. Her own humanity had followed, and together they were very dangerous indeed. It had been why their handlers had ultimately separated them. They couldn't afford their top operatives being compromised. Anger bubbled up within him as he struggled internally with what was becoming more and more apparent, that somehow, he knew more than he should, and that they had taken that from him. They had taken that from her, without either of their permissions. But then again, they were just tools. Weapons. He was the Asset. The one Pierce relied upon to do the dirty jobs that needed to be done when he didn't want anything traced back to him. He was the Soldier. He wasn't supposed to have feelings or have emotions - there was no room for that, but here he was, nearly frozen in place because of them. They were weaknesses and he scowled, trying to push them back and focus on the task at hand, but then he felt her hand touch his and his gaze snapped to hers with a ferocity that should have made her step back, but she didn't. He drew his hand away from hers, his finger twitching as debated on whether or not to shoot her right then and there. At close range, she wouldn't be able to avoid it and it wouldn't end well for her. But as his gaze met hers and she spoke once more, his features drained of emotion as he simply stared at her. Almost as if on its own accord, he re-holstered his gun, letting his arms hang limply at his sides. When she reached her hand towards his face, he tensed, every muscle in his body ready to spring into action should she try anything. He didn't understand what she was doing but her body language had become non-threatening. She brushed the strand of hair from his face and still he didn't move, watching her warily. True to his training, his heart rate remained steady and calm, even if inwardly his mind was raging and he felt like his head was going to explode from the onslaught of names and faces and images that continued to come forth. Slowly, he reached up with his human hand, taking her hand and drawing it away from his face, but he didn't let go as they stood there. His once emotionless features twisted slightly into a faint pained expression as his eyes searched hers, trying to see if the answers to his questions were there. "YA znayu tebya ..." (I know you) he said quietly again, more confirming it for himself than to her. Then he reached up with his metal hand, doing the same motion she had done to him only a few moments ago as he tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear, his fingers moving to rest at the back of her neck. He could so easily grip her neck at that point and every instinct within him was screaming for him to wrap his fingers around her throat and squeeze. Before this, the Soldier would have done it without hesitation, but now, now he simply rested his hand there, his eyes never leaving her. It was almost a challenge to see if she truly trusted him not to kill her. He should. He needed to. It was his mission. Pierce's voice rang in his head, instructing him on what he was to do next , that he had two targets that must be eliminated within ten hours, but now - part of him questioned why he was still trying to complete the mission when there was no one left to report to. A flicker of images ran through his mind again, of another time they had stood in a similar position, but that had been right after one of his night terrors when he had woken, shaken. She had spent the night with him, even though it had been dangerous to do so, but at that point they didn't care. He had stood by the window, needing the cool breeze on his skin to help wash away the remnants of the dream, and she had come to stand beside him. And now... Now he found himself leaning in as if to kiss her but at the last moment he paused, mere centimeters away, and then drew back, releasing his hold on her neck and hand. He turned slightly away from her, casting his gaze into the darkness of the safehouse. "You and the other...Rogers...Captain America...you both want to save me... Chto delat', yesli ya ne khochu , chtoby spastis'? Chto delat', yesli eto ne vozmozhno ?" (What if I don't want to be saved? What if it's not possible?) he said almost bitterly, his eyes closing briefly as his hands clenched into fists. How was he even to trust her when she could easily be playing a game to try and make him lower his defenses so that she could take him out before he could kill her. Yet that look in her eyes, the inflection in her voice, it had been genuine, and maybe he was one of the few people who actually could tell when she was being completely honest and w hen she was making a play. He should use her caring against her, making her think that she had the upper hand, but he hadn't and he wasn't sure if he would now. "Yesli ya poterplyu neudachu, on voz'met vse eto proch'. On zastavit menya zabyt' snova." (If I fail, he will take this all away. He'll make me forget again) he said in a slightly pained whisper. Though there was one thought that crossed his mind and the fact that Pierce still hadn't contacted him in the weeks since he had been here made him wonder if the man was even there in this world, if maybe - just maybe, he no longer had a handler he had to report to. But that meant he was on his own, and he didn't have the slightest inkling what to do if that was the case. He had never been on his own (missions didn't count). This meant he would have to do things for himself, with no other reason than to survive...but how? credit Rae of Sunshine! of Caution 2.0 made this temp! |
|
ANTI-HERO
"Regimes fall every day, I tend not to weep over that. I'm Russian....Or I was."
|
Post by Natasha Romanoff on Jun 9, 2014 3:01:23 GMT -5
****************************************
It took everything in Natasha not to flinch or look away when those angry, fierce eyes of his narrowed and glared at her. His scowl cast at any other person would have caused them to back away, cower or flinch but Natasha had more control of her body than most and she stood her ground and remained that calm neutral repose of hers. The Soldier drew his hand away from hers and Natasha didn't press it and instead simply lowered hers even as his finger twitched as if debating on whether or not to shoot her right then and there Natasha remained still. It was certainly a risk, a huge gamble, but something deep down told her to hold her ground and not to move. At close range, she wouldn't be able to avoid the bullet so she was taking a monumental risk but some part of her, deep down didn't think he'd pull the trigger or maybe that was just wishful thinking on her part. Sure enough her instincts seemed to be right for as his gaze met hers and she spoke once more, his features drained of emotion as he simply stared at her and almost as if on its own accord, the Winter Soldier re-holstered his gun, letting his arms hang limply at his sides.
It was then she had reached out her hand towards his face, to gently brush back a stray strand of hair in that caring sort of manner. She didn't actually know why she did that other then part of her felt compelled to, the other half of her rationalized that she was testing him; testing their boundaries. He had tensed though, she could tell; like every muscle in his body was ready to spring into action so she moved her fingers to brush against skin and around his ear carefully. Even after she'd done it for some reason Natasha hadn't drawn her hand away yet, caught trying to read his expression. He was wary of her and for some reason that realization stung. She wasn't sure why it would hurt her but it did. She was about to pull away and lower her hand when he moved his right hand reached up slowly -his human hand- and closed over her hand and drew it away from his face, but he didn't let go as they stood there at close proximity and Natasha didn't pull away either; held by the look in his eyes.
His once emotionless features twisted slightly into a faint pained expression as his eyes searched hers, trying to see if the answers to his questions were there. "YA znayu tebya ..." (I know you) he said quietly again, more confirming it for himself than to her. Natasha opened her mouth about to speak when his hand, the metallic one reached up and tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear taking the words and breath away from her. It was exactly the same action, the same gentleness and the same feel as in those images that flashed in her head earlier and Natasha couldn't help but lean into the palm of his hand as he moved it past her face, her lips lightly brushing against the leather of his glove as it moved passed her cheek. Natasha closed her eyes and allowed a memory to take hold melding it with the present; it was exactly the same. The supple feel of the worn leather, the smell of gun oil and powder mixed with the cool gentle brush of metal fingers. It was all so familiar. She knew him in a way that was intimately real and not implanted memories. She could feel it was stronger than the emotions implanted memories left behind. It was real, what they once had whatever it was back then, it was real.
His fingers then moved to rest at the back of her neck. He could so easily at that point wrap his fingers around her throat and squeeze. And while there was a slight sense of dread at the vulnerability of her now, much like when he had the gun pointed at her she trusted in her instinct and did not show fear or anything, she simply stared back up at him. At their close proximity, the intimacy of his touch and hold, with her fingers intertwined in his with the one hand that he held of hers at their side, her mind screamed to pull away, but something compelled her to remain but it wasn't until he started to lean into her as if to kiss her that her free hand found its way onto his chest; a weak barrier between them. However it proved unnecessary as James had stopped mere centimeters away, with Natasha's eyes drawn wide James withdrew and stepped back, releasing his hold on her neck and hand.
There was a soft audible sigh of relief that escaped Natasha's lips when he drew away and turned slightly away from her, casting his gaze into the darkness of the safehouse. Natasha as well drew a step away, not fully trusting herself near him she had almost fallen into the same spell but she needed to be careful, he could just as much be playing her as he was reliving a memory. Her arms wrapped around herself as if suddenly chilled but in reality she was giving her hand something to hold onto for the ghost of his touch in her grip was still there, so she crossed her arms and stared out at the same darkness at his side. She said nothing though allowing silence between them to settle until it was he chose to speak.
"You and the other...Rogers...Captain America...you both want to save me... Chto delat', yesli ya ne khochu , chtoby spastis'? " (What if I don't want to be saved? he said and Natasha detected a hint of bitterness there, his eyes closing briefly as his hands clenched into fists.
She continued to look out the window into the darkness, their reflection against the glass pane side by side though his frame towered over hers. "Steve is always out to save everyone." she replied in English until it was he switched to Russian, Natasha noticing the subtle transition guessing his programming was losing it's grip a little; a good sign in her eyes.
To his question in Russian about maybe not wanting to be saved Natasha's brow furrowed slightly and her tone was laced with slight annoyance. "Tak vy khotite byt' ch'im-to sobachka ?( So you desire to be someone's lap dog?)" she made a soft sound that seemed almost a 'pfft' of disgust or maybe it was disagreement, either way she spoke again.
"Yesli vy sobirayetes' ubit' , po krayney mere, sdelat' eto budet vash vybor zakazy ne kto-to drugoy , chtoby povinovat'sya." (If you are going to kill, at least make it be your choice not someone else's orders to obey.) It probably sounded harsh, her tone, but the idea of being mentally forced into an act and for him to state that maybe he wanted it that way...it infuriated her. it was like saying it was ok to do what they did to him what they did to her.
"Nikto ne imeyet na eto pravo otnyat' svoyu volyu , svoy um , chtoby vybrat' , i vy ne dolzhny byt' nastol'ko gotovy, chtoby ikh" (No one has that right to take away your will, your mind to choose and you should not be so willing to let them.) Natasha turned her head away from him so that he could not see her annoyance. Why would anyone not want to be saved from a life of servitude.
" Vy mozhete byt' takim idiotom inogda vy znayete, chto ?" (You can be such an idiot sometimes you know that?) Natasha said in frustration at his admission.
" Chto delat', yesli eto ne vozmozhno ?" (What if it's not possible?)
"It's possible...There are ways, methods to do it." Natasha said speaking English this time rather than replying back in Russian. She turned to look up at him. "I am living proof that you can step away from your programming. You are more than just a Weapon James."
"Yesli ya poterplyu neudachu, on voz'met vse eto proch'. On zastavit menya zabyt' snova." (If I fail, he will take this all away. He'll make me forget again) he said in a slightly pained whisper.
And that last small admission broke down her annoyance with him and softened to a pained understanding as the image of that cryo unit took hold of her again, the look on his face frozen in time, the cold metallic canister he was encased in was inhumane and unforgivable.
" YA ne pozvolyu im sdelat' eto k vam snova ... YA ne pozvolyu im ... YA. .. (I won't let them do that to you again...I won't let them...I...) ...I -I won't." Natasha said with absolute conviction going from Russian to English fluidly. ~And I swear I won't leave you behind again.~ she thought though the latter remained resigned to stay unspoken but the look in her eyes was resolute.
Natasha blinked the look on her face was clearly of unexpected surprise at her outburst. She never lost control of her emotions, never faltered in her ability to hide her feelings until now when washed over by a tide of emotions. Her lips quickly pursed together disapprovingly at her slip and looked away from him. Her head throbbed with pain not just from the memories resurfacing but from their skirmish as well when she'd hit her head hard. The pain had to have been the reason for her emotional outburst. Natasha reasoned. What other reason could their be?
|
|
