Annika grew up in the mysterious Red Room, the place where the all so famous Natasha Romanoff got trained. Except, back in Russia, she is known by a different name. Natalia Alianovna, one of the most successful assassins the Red Room ever had. One o...
I woke up to the alarm sounding, and quickly opened my eyes.
Watching the city below, I smiled, interested in it all.
I could have a life here.
Standing, I stretched before going for a shower.
I glanced at my injuries in the mirror.
The bullet wound was finally starting to heal, and the cuts on my back were healing quickly.
The serum was very strange.
I turned the water as cold as it would go, and stepped inside.
It didn't take long for me to shower, and I was soon stepping back into my room, a towel around my hair, and another around my body.
"Oh, uh I'll just come back," Peter stuttered, averting his eyes from me quickly.
"Why would you do that?" I asked, looking at him strangely.
"Well, because you aren't dressed," he said, his back to me as he stood by the door.
"Is that bad?" I asked, still confused.
"Well, it is a decency thing. Most people are uncomfortable not being fully clothed." He explained, and I pulled my hair towel down.
"Oh. We never had that growing up. There were inspections once a month, and our showers were simply just one room with shower heads," I replied, running a brush through my hair.
"That sounds... invasive," he added, still not looking at me.
"The towel is very secure if you wish to turn around," I told him, and he carefully peaked around.
"Your bullet wound seems to be healing well," he said softly, looking at my shoulder.
I nodded, and he walked over to sit on my bed.
Turning towards my closet, he gasped softly.
"I see what you mean about your back," he said, stepping up quickly.
"It has healed a lot since yesterday. And I see that Tony has already replaced the mirror," I added, and his fingers gently brushed the cuts.
It sent chills through me, something I couldn't quite understand.
"I should get dressed," I said softly, and Peter stepped back.
"Do you want me to leave?"
"I will just close the closet door," I replied, stepping inside to get dressed.
Looking around, I glanced at the leather jacket once again, and picked out an outfit from it again.
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Grabbing a pair of black ripped jeans, I pulled on a cropped tank, it fitting under the leather jacket well.
Slipping on a pair of combat boots, I stepped out of the closet, my hair still damp.
