PAY IN BLOOD. black widow

001. FEAR'S FANTASY

CONTENT WARNING:
guns, violence, death

LOCATION: LONDON
DATE: OCTOBER 13, 2014

     Taking the train at half-past five in the morning was an experience Natasha Romanoff didn't know if she wanted to experience again or not.

     It was under past experience and anxiousness that made her leave her hotel so early in the morning, the light strung by dawn ringing its way into her mind being her alarm clock. That had been her time to leave, slipping away under the cover of early morning, settling herself onto the platform, which only bore a few other travellers.

     It wasn't the early rising that bothered Natasha much, not really, but rather it had been the train ride itself which allowed fear to seep into her bones. This was the most alone she'd felt it some time—and the most exposed too, despite her hair being covered, and her face being mostly concealed.

     This was her, stood waveringly on King's Cross St. Pancras platform, anxiousness and fear ebbing to and fro in her chest.

     Everything felt so terribly, horrifyingly real as she stood there, pretending to not look out of place, but not quite knowing how to blend in either. That wasn't something Natasha Romanoff should be struggling with, but here she was.

     Perhaps the Avengers made me soft, she thought bittersweetly to herself as the telltale humming of force ran down the train track, signalling the train's eventual arrival. The bittersweetness of her thought ran across her tongue, leaving a sour, bitter taste.

When the train eventually pulled into the station, Natasha boarded quietly and quickly, without even thinking about it, as though there was this world-defying thread tugging her closer and closer to the supposed sanctuary the train would provide her with. She searched for calm in the storm that was swirling around her. She felt more drained than usual as she peered around the train, and something tugged in Natasha's chest as she felt the doors slid shut behind her, encasing her. Locking her in. She willed herself to breathe.

The air felt oddly heavy around her as she made her way down the train, searching for seats as far away from others as possible.

There weren't a huge amount of people about, but Natasha almost wished there were, so that she wouldn't stand out as much.

Even at the daunting time showing on her watch, there were huddles of regular people scattered all along the train. Men and women in smart blazers, carrying tidy briefcases, looking like that was all their personalities revolved around. Natasha passed an old lady, huddled into a seat wearing a jacket that was vastly too big on her. She smelt strongly of alcohol, and Natasha continued walking.

There was a mother who was battling the struggle of keeping three young kids entertained. She looked exhausted, eye bags cradling her empty eyes, stress lines carved into her skin like battle wounds. Out of what may have been subconscious sympathy, Natasha sent her a polite, tight smile as they passed. She didn't return it.

Eventually she reached a part of the train that seemed deserted. There were only a few people dotted here and there in the carriage, looking half-asleep in their seats.

Despite this, however, Natasha still felt wholeheartedly on edge. She was wrestling the urge to bring the gun out of the holster she wore around her waist, where she could use it quickly if someone aimed at her. It felt like paranoia, but at the same time, all she could hear were bullets from her past, or Steve Roger's concerned whispers he made to himself, when he thought she couldn't hear.