I'd Love to Change the World

There's No Easy Way Out of Here

Everything was quiet; all she could hear was the sound of her own heartbeat and of water dripping off blank, cement walls. A voice, like a ghost sung eerily through these dank halls, making her jump and point her glock at the echoes running across the walls. Fear, like fingers trailing down her ribs ran the length of her spine.

She came to a corner, and flinched as a droplet of muddy water fell onto her nose. She squeezed her eyes shut momentarily. She took a breath, and jumped around the corner. Her arms were ridged and her fingers stiffened into their position on the handle of the gun, but there was no one there. She found the radio playing the creepy music softly and slammed the stop button, the cassette player clinking to a sudden and sharp stop.

"Steve," she said, lowering her gun and talking into her comm, "Steve, they're not here."

"What's—down—there?" she heard, the radio cutting out.

"Oh my god," She breathed, moving some of the empty plastic containers and tubes around on the table.

"Natt—going—on—down there?" Tony said, and her mouth fell open.

"It's a bomb," she whispered, "I repeat: he's made a bomb." She yelled to the men at the other end, beginning to run back to the surface.

"There's a bomb..." she muttered, rolling over in her sleep, "he's got a bomb... it's somewhere, somewhere in the," she swallowed, rolling over again, "it's out in the city..."

Suddenly, the fire blinded her. Its heat seared her skin even though it couldn't really hurt her. She flew through the air, gun flying from her hand. She slammed against the wall,

Bang.

There was a ringing in her ears, a terrible, high-pitched, blood curdling noise. She opened her eyes blearily, and stood. She stumbled, and caught herself. Her feet tripped over themselves, and she found herself kneeling just outside the blast radius. The two bodies laid in the middle of it, one still holding the other with their arm around their neck.

She reached up and touched the back of her head, and her fingers came back glistening with scarlet. "Officer Romanoff," she heard someone call her name, and she turned slowly. "Why didn't you save me?"

She screamed, jumping up in her bed and pulling the pistol off her night table, pointing it frantically around the room. "Natasha?" someone called, banging on the door, "Are you alright?"

Natasha caught her breath, and realized that she was holding the gun and quickly tucked it into the drawer in the nightstand. She padded over to the door and unlocked it, opening it to find her roommates all staring at her worriedly.

"Hi," she said, yawning.

"Are you alright, Natt?" Sharon asked, her eyebrows furrowed and contemplative.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just had a," she held the bridge of her nose, "I just had a nightmare, it's—it's nothing."

"It didn't sound like nothing," Darcy said, walking up from the closet they called her room, rubbing her eyes.

Sharon rolled her eyes, and Natasha spoke again, "Sorry, Darcy, I didn't mean to wake you up, or you Sharon. I'm fine, really, I'll be okay; it's nothing a few sleeping pills can't solve."

She slapped Sharon on the shoulder as she passed, and the doctor rolled her eyes, but decided not to bother with it. Darcy yawned again, and nodded, muttering something about Channing Tatum and then shuffled back off to bed, leaving Sharon standing in the doorway to Natasha's room. She punched the doorframe lightly then turned around and went into her own room dejectedly. "Fifth time this week," she muttered, closing her door softly.