❝ how many more jobs... how long will it take... i don't know if i can do it. even if i could forgive myself, this is what I am now. and you'll never know who i was before. my past is my own. ❞
- n.r.
COVERS CAPTAIN AMERICA : CIVIL WAR & BLACK WIDOW...
Here we are, ladies and gents. The moment you have been waiting for! Without further ado, here is Natasha Romanoff's dream scene... COMMENT THROUGHOUT!
"There is a place in the heart that will never be filled. A space and even during the best moments and the greatest times, we will know it. We will know it more than ever. There is a place in the heart that will never be filled and we will wait and wait in that space."
South African Coast, 2015
Red tendrils stretch and carve through the dark air that surrounds the fighters that make up the world-renowned Avengers. The witch's tendrils force themselves into the fighters' minds, sparking a red slithering glow within the irises of the men and women.
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And it takes over them.
And it consumes them.
The only one left, the only one free from the spell, speaks.
Clint Barton's voice ripples through the blurry haze, "Who's ever standing, we got to move!"
An eerie, sickening silence stretches out the line as suddenly heavy, sluggish feet scrape along the metal grating that is the floor.
The archer sounds a little more worried as he asks in a voice that grows quieter and quieter to those that can hardly receive it, "Guys?"
The red-haired woman's eyes feel like small burning embers as they dance around the interior of the ship that is slowly fading away. Her body feels heavy and yet still so very unreal as she slowly turns from her place on the platform. A staircase stretches out below her and a soft symphony plays in the distance, beckoning her, calling her, lulling her deeper into this void. She follows the call, drinking in the bitter white light that shines from beneath her. Her feet unsteadily bounce down the metal staircase leading her deeper into the white that builds up and in front of her. Her gloved hand slowly stretches out to the metal railing, only to clasp around a terrifyingly familiar wooden one.
Her eyes flicker with recognition as she peers over the railing, distance settling itself onto her face. Her head slowly lolls to the side as tall wooden walls line up all around her, yellow lanterns are fuzzy in the hazy light, and names of all of the child assassins before her decorate the wood with intricate, cut curves. The world is foggy and the air still feels bitter, making it feel as if the woman is breathing in knives instead of oxygen.
This place... it's all too much familiar.
It's all too much like home.
A cold feeling wells up in her chest and the memories of the place wrap its even colder fingers around her heart, pulling her down deeper into the Red Room. Two ballerinas move in smooth and synchronized steps up the staircase past her. Natasha feels her feet trip and scuff against the wooden steps before she slowly looks over at the second girl that passes. The world is still slow and uncertain as blue eyes meet her green ones. Both redheads look away from each other in sharp motions, one moving up and one moving down.
