𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄. ¹ | wanda maximoff

17 | 𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔?

AFTER RECIEVING no answer from the woman stood in front of him, Carson let out a huff and began walking towards her which made her begin to take a few steps back. The backs of her legs hit the edge of one of the tables and she came to a sudden stop, taking a deep breath before speaking.

"Carson I... why don't you..." She said quietly. "It's me..."

As Carson moved closer, the woman's hand slipped down to rest on top of her gun that was holstered. She instantly knew it was a bad move when she saw his eyes flick down to her hand, but she couldn't help it. It was like an automatic reaction. And Carson's reaction seemed to be automatic too.

He grabbed the woman by the throat and slammed her down against the table. Her hands instantly flew up to his wrist and she kicked her legs against his stomach in an attempt to push him away. But there was no way that she could overpower him.

"You c-could at least..." She choked out. "Recognize m-me."

Carson shook his head. "I don't even know who you are."

"Why are you d-doing this." The woman writhed in his grip. "It's me! It's m-me!"

"That doesn't mean anything."

"Carson stop It's me!"

"Stop saying that!"

Carson watched as the woman's face flushed a bright red the more he tightened his grip around her throat, the veins on her head starting to become visible. She let out heavy yet stifled breaths through her nose as she tried to keep herself awake, her nostrils flaring in the process.

The woman opened her mouth to say something but was cut off as she let out a cough. "Carson please..."

"Stop talking."

Carson looked over his shoulder when he heard another set of footsteps, watching as a blonde woman came to a stop in the doorway and looked over at the two, nothing but pure fear in her eyes.

"Natasha!" The blonde gasped.

Carson's brows came together at the name and he looked back down at the redhead beneath him, his head tilting to the side as he stared down at her.

"Natasha?"

Carson walked into the training room with a sigh, placing down his towel and water bottle on the bench. He turned around after hearing shuffling coming from behind him, noticing a redheaded woman throwing punches at one of the training dummies.

She stopped once she noticed his presence and turned to look at him, raising a brow in curiosity. Carson cleared his throat before speaking up.

"Sorry, I didn't know this room was taken. The old man just told me to meet him in here."

"Don't worry about it." The woman gave him a light smile and picked up her hoodie before walking over to him. "I was just finishing up anyway. Rooms all yours."

"Oh, right." Carson returned the smile. "Thanks."

"No problem." She picked up her gym bag. "And it's Carson, right?"

"Yeah, that's me." He nodded. "And you must be... Sorry I, uh, I didn't really get a chance to remember everyone's names because y'know I was... tied up in a cell when we first met, so..."

The woman chuckled. "Natasha. Natasha Romanoff."

"Come on!" Natasha shouted from the top of the hill. "Any time before Christmas would be nice!"

"I think I'm dying." Carson put his hands on his hips as he panted, taking a moment to catch his breath. "Oh yeah, I'm definitely dying."

Natasha laughed. "You're so dramatic, you know that? You're supposed to run idiot, that's like, the whole definition of the activity running."