His eyes were so blue. The skin beside them were crinkled as he smiled, lips parted to show his teeth. He was speaking with the hotel's receptionist, completely unaware of the woman watching silently. His hair was covered by a hat, a suit adorning his body perfectly. His hand was wrapped tightly around a briefcase, and what she saw that others didn't, was the cuff attaching it to his wrist.
Wrapping up his conversation, he accepted his hotel key, and she watched him walk through the hall. She got to her feet, collecting her own baggage. She nodded to the woman behind the desk, meeting her eyes only briefly.
Her feet carried her through the halls, watching her target enter the stairwell. She was a few feet behind him when he stopped at his door, and she placed her case down, straightening her spine.
"Excuse me." She said softly, brushing her braided hair over her shoulder, widening her eyes to appear innocent. "I seem to have locked myself from my room."
"Might be worth headin' down to reception, miss." He drawled, his thick American accent tainting each word. She sent him a small smile and watched as his eyes dragged down over her body. A coat tightened around her waist to accentuate her features.
"If you could lend me a hand with my bags," she murmured, placing a gloved hand on his bicep, the man looking down at it before raising his eyes, a smirk gracing his lips. "It sure would be appreciated."
"Your accent..." He murmured, looking interested. "Are you European?" She nodded, pouting her lips slightly. Licking his own lips, he glanced away before returning his gaze to her. "Let me place my belongings inside, and I will help you carry them down."
"Thank you." She smiled, watching him enter his key and push the door open.
Not giving him a chance to step in, she kicked his back, sending him flying into the room. She slammed the door behind her, unwrapping her coat from her body to reveal the tactile suit beneath, two pistols sitting at her hips.
He grunted as he hit the floor, already turning to defend himself. He swung his wrist at her, using his connection with the case to try and gain the advantage. The widow grabbed hold of the case as it came at her, jumping over his body until she heard a satisfying crack and a cry of horror.
"Open it." She demanded, glaring at the sobbing man beneath her as he hung from his very broken wrist.
"Never." He snapped, and she raised an eyebrow. "You'll need to drag my body with you if you want to take that case."
She had basked in the sounds of his muffled screams, the thrashing of his body only mildly subdued by the pillow she was kneeling on, covering his entire face. Blood was spouting everywhere as she sawed through his flesh, not even flinching when his body went slack and his hand dropped to the ground, the cuff slipping over his mangled wrist easily.
She tied the coat back around her body, her gloves slipping back over her bloody hands. She collected the case and walked from the room, carefully shutting the door behind her. She exited the stairwell gracefully, nodding goodbye to the receptionist.
"See you next time, Miss. Kira."
Kat was standing against a wall, her spine as straight as a needle when Natasha roused. It took a moment to realise that they weren't alone in the room, an older man seated directly across from her. Immediately recognising him, Natasha flew upright, straining against the bounds on her wrist. She could already feel the effects of his pheromones in her system, her body slowly slacking.
"Dreykov." She grounded out, trying hard to remain about her wits.
"Natalia," he murmured, his tone condescending. "Thank you for joining me." Natasha glanced over to Kat, hoping to somehow snap her back the same way she had at the safehouse. "Oh, consider her useless," Dreykov remarked. "She's currently in a first row seat to her worst nightmares... her history."
Natasha could see Kat's eyes flicking around, and tears had started to roll down her cheeks. "What do you want?"
"When your bomb exploded all those years ago," he started, getting to his feet. "You thought you'd defeated me." Natasha's jaw tensed, already knowing where he was going with the topic of conversation. "It nearly killed my Antonia. I had to put a chip in the back of her neck. It took a long time for me to regain control of her, but in the end, it was useless."
"She's dead." Natasha clarified, her brow creasing.
"I had no way of bringing myself back... I was following an endless trail of failure... Until I saw my Kira... my perfect Widow." Dreykov looked over to Kat as if he was staring at a priceless artifact. "There she was, young and fit and alive. I couldn't believe my eyes. It was if the universe was bringing her back to me."
"She doesn't belong to you." Natasha spat in disgust. "Kira was free."
"Black Widows are never free." Dreykov shouted, his hand slapping across Natasha's cheek. "They will always belong to the Red Room, and they will always answer to me." He cleared his throat, stepping back a foot or so from the woman. "Now, with my Kira back in my hands, and you, an Avenger under my control, I can finally come out of the shadows using the only natural resource that the world has too much of. Girls." Natasha's nose screwed up at the statement, her stomach curling in rage.
As Dreykov leant down into her face, Natasha reared back and spat onto him, making the older man glare at her. He gripped the back of her head, his fingers pulling harshly at the strands. Her eyes watered as he did so, but she remained blank.
She knew she was unable to really hurt him, as her muscles were pretty much locked into place from the pheromones he was protruding, her brain buzzing from its scent. She felt sick to her stomach at the lack of control she had, she didn't even want to imagine what Kat was feeling.
Finally, the man started to lay punch after punch into Natasha's face, and along with it came an idea. Natasha struggled to remain conscious and became frustrated with the man's weak attack. He stumbled back, rage simmering behind his framed eyes.
She inhaled through her nose, disappointed that her plan hadn't worked. "Weak." She spat, before rearing her head back, slamming her face down onto the desk before her, immediately breaking her nose.
Blood pooled into the back of her throat, and dripped down her face, both from her mouth and nose. Her eyes watered steadily, and Dreykov watched her, eyes wide. Having no time to dwell, her newly in control body soon leapt from her seat. Her hands were untied in an instant, and she was sprinting toward Dreykov who was backing up.
She had him on the ground in seconds, but what she didn't notice was Kat's moving body. They both fell to the floor, allowing Drekov to slither away. Natasha looked up into Kat's eyes, her cheeks still damp with tears.
"Kat-" Kat's fist hit Natasha's already tender face, but the red-head quickly swung her lungs, curling them around the dark-haired Widow's neck. Kat grunted as she slipped away from Natasha, quickly getting to her feet.
Natasha glanced at the other woman's hands, noticing them shaking by her side. She met her green eyes, practically swallowed by her pupil. "I'm sorry." Kat grounded out, as if she was forcing her jaw to move so she could speak. Natasha's eyes widened, but she wasn't able to say anything because Kat was moving once more. However, before she could reach Natasha, her knees buckled and she released a horrifying cry. Her eyes squeezed shut and Natasha moved to get closer to her but stopped at Kat's voice. "No." She cried, falling onto her hands.
"Ekaterina-"
"You need to go." Kat sobbed, gripping at her hair. "I don't..." Another cry left her throat. "You need to go and find James, tell him I'm sorry."
"What?"
"Tell him... tell him I love him and I'm sorry." Natasha's mouth opened to refuse, but Kat was quick to lift a gun and point it at Natasha's face. "Go. Now."
Natasha nodded solemnly, stepping backward until her back hit the door. She quickly fumbled for the door, glancing back as she caught view of Kat turning the gun back on herself.
*The next few chapters are going to be sooooo slow burn ahhahahah sorry
