VENUS VADYAEVA. RED Room trained assassin, graduate of the Black Widow program. She'd nearly always been at the top of the class. Cold; smart; ruthless. The qualities that they were looking for. It'd taken a little while, but eventually, she'd gotte...
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∆ {1⁹} {DEVIL TOWN} ∆
EVERYONE IN THE room froze. Both Fury and Barton looked shocked, staring at Venus with wide eyes and slightly parted lips. In the month she'd been here, she hadn't reacted to what anyone had said, let alone said anything herself. Even Natasha seemed surprised to actually gain a response from the woman, a flicker of surprise ghosting over her eyes for longer than she would ever care to admit. But then, Natasha's face broke out into a relieved smile and she leaned forwards on the table, reaching her hand out to try and take Venus', though her expression faltered when Venus shakily jerked her hands away, as if on complete instinct. She didn't however, take her gaze away from Natasha's. She wasn't shy, or nervous; she simply didn't want Natasha to touch her. The redhead felt a certain pain begin to brew in the bottom of her stomach, and apparently she hadn't hidden it well enough, because a tiny amount of guilt flashed through the gold of Venus' eyes.
Neither Clint or Fury had seen Natasha so emotional while she was working, and it worried both of them. She normally stuck to the rule that emotions were for outside work, because they made you vulnerable. But here she was, more vulnerable than either of them had ever seen her, simply because this woman, this nameless, blank woman, had uttered a single word in Russian.
"Alright, that's enough," Fury snapped, upon seeing the state that Natasha was in, setting his glare on the dark-haired woman, his protective side taking over as the surprise faded. He was back to being fed up with her and the way she had said nothing, and only glared at whoever walked into the room.
"Romanoff, with me. Barton, take her back to her 'room'." His orders were sharp and clear; he didn't want to be messed with right now. He also wanted to make sure Natasha was okay, with any complications as far away as he could get them.
"Yes, sir." Both Agents replied with the same thing, though their tones were very different. Clint's was similar to Fury's, annoyed and worried, eager to get this over with, while Natasha sounded resigned, a hint of exhaustion resting on her words. So while Clint, thankfully still wearing leather training gloves, grabbed the woman by her arm and practically marched her out of the place, leaving Fury to turn to Natasha.
"What did you say to her?" It seemed to disrupt Natasha's train of thought, because a fleeting look of confusion flicked over her face before she refocused on Fury and answered.
"Звездa."Fury's confused face showed Natasha that her admittance hadn't helped at all.
"It uh, means 'star'," she admitted, her mind spinning faster than a crashing plane as she tried to piece together the information she knew, trying to put it together like a puzzle, even though the pieces didn't fit.
"Why did that mean something to get?" Fury was curious about the woman in his holding cell, but more importantly, he needed to know how dangerous she was. There was no question that she was a lethal fighter, but was there anything else going on? He needed to know, and it seemed like Natasha might hold some of the answers he so desperately searched for. Instead of responding immediately, Natasha paused, trying to figure out how to phrase her response. How did she explain this, and her display of emotions that had suddenly come up when the other woman had spoken.
"Have you seen the scars on her wrists?" Natasha's voice was low, as if she was telling Fury a secret. One she was afraid of. But she couldn't be scared. She had to hold her ground, for her own good, as well as for the cold woman currently being escorted back to her cell by Clint.
"Yeah, I think so, what had that got to do with it?" Fury couldn't figure it out, and it was beginning to annoy him. He was the Director of SHIELD. He was supposed to have all the answers, know all the secrets. Yet, here he was, with virtually no clue about the blank woman he had contained, almost asking for one of his agent's help. Granted, Natasha wasn't just any agent, but it still got on Fury's nerves, though he wasn't expecting the answer she gave him. She held her own hands out, rolling up the cuffs of the leather jacket she was wearing to reveal the two bands of whitish, irritated looking scars, almost identical to the ones on the wrists of the other woman.
"They're the same as mine." Fury froze, trying to think through all the possibilities logically. He was a very systematic thinker. Try one thing, if it doesn't work, try the next, and if that doesn't work, try the one after that, etc. But none of the scenarios he ran seemed to make sense, though there was a chance he'd missed something. So, yet again, he had to ask for help from the agent standing in front of him.
"What does that mean?" His voice held the same tone as Natasha's, dropping lower than it did normally as he realised quite how closely related to this that the redhead could be. He was worried for her. She hadn't had an easy life, and now it was only getting harder, and though he would never admit it, he had grown quite close to Natasha in the past 2 years she'd been working for SHIELD.
"It means," She paused, sucking in a breath before she continued, "That she's like me. She trained like me, she fights like me and... She knew me." Fury stared at the agent in front of him, trying to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do now. The woman in his holding cell, the infuriatingly quiet, calm, one, had 'personally' known one of his best agents, and there was a very good chance that he wouldn't be able to get much information out of her while still being careful around her.
"Do you want to carry on with the mission?" Fury knew as well as Natasha did that history with the subject of a mission could cause a great amount of trouble if you weren't careful. But the woman in that cell probably knew that too.
"Yes." Natasha hadn't wasted a second wondering about her answer, and it had been firmer than anything that Fury had heard her say the entire day.
"Alright then, Agent Romanoff. Good luck," he nodded, however reluctantly, straightening his posture from where he had relaxed it when he had been fully concentrating on Natasha. He knew he would have to monitor this mission incredibly carefully, however much he trusted Natasha. Personal missions were always dangerous. He also knew that Natasha had to be careful, as he met her eyes, relieved that he was looking into her green ones rather than having to face the unnervingly unreactive woman with those odd, golden eyes.
{A/N:} Idk I guess I kinda like it? The only reason you got this update today was because I had a monster earlier and now can't sleep so I wrote this instead. I also wrote it quite quickly for once. Like I said, idk. Next update's Monday, and a bit of an interesting Trapdoor update tomorrow.
Please vote, comment, let me know what you think, etc.
1250 Words
Written: 15 / 01 / 2021
Published: 15 / 01 / 2021
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