Natasha's Entries

Russia, 1985

The snow had just began to fall, the difference in each snowflake reflection off the glass walls, freezing the surface as the population walked by. The memory was distinctive, from the target that had changed her life, to the very colour of eyes citizens had, every little detail counted and Natasha remembered. A page from a journal the assassin kept with her opened, haze, green eyes scanning over the pages; flashbacks came and went, hints of the past one would ultimately love to forget, however sometimes it wasn't that easy.

— Russia, 1985

"Mission is simple, locate and kill on site. Don't get caught" These were the words that started it all, little hidden meanings finding there way from the shadows into the dimmed light of the temporary apartment. The winter had been rather harsh this time around, power outages plaguing the cities as most were snowed in, only relying upon candle light and preserved foods to make it through. The salvic shadow remembered, most didn't make it through the months laying frozen, huddled together for warmth. Nothing worked, but that was a time in Natasha's life that she didn't care much - or believed that she didn't.

Dawn had came and the red headed woman was already positioned upon a rooftop, sniper ready and loaded. The building had many memorable features, from the redness of the outside architecture to the false plants the resided in the halls; glass was slightly tinted and not many people were seen throughout the day. Intel however proved that myth to be nothing more then higher up people trying to cover there tracks, to simply disappear from the rest of the population, therefore the spy's mission, target would be cowering away behind the walls they believed to be safe.

Hours had passed and not even a single sighting of this mystery person, the woman had grown tiresome and decided to take matters into her own hands. What Natasha didn't expect though that by doing so, her biggest regret would be the cause of all these nightmares, the red that tainted her name. It hadn't been long until the front doors of the building became more clear, the dark oak wood more vibrant than what she was accustomed to. Although it was the lack of security that had the widow more alerted, green hues staying sharp as this building was far to quiet for her likings. 'Best take the stairs'
⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀
Images of the infamous redroom began to come back to the assassin, mind becoming blurred as she neared the top. There was something all to familiar about these halls, the markings upon the stained walls; with such images coming back to the woman, Natasha only knew that what she had gotten herself into, it was no good. With a push of the last door she paused, a scene unfolding before her, a woman she remembered oh too well. "гадость" was the one thing said to the widow, these woman's eyes colder then winter itself, distant and stained with sin. However Nat pushed through this sudden knot forming in the depths of her stomach, pistol lining up right between the older woman's eyes.
⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀
"Target deceased" Natasha spoke before pulling the trigger, the warm smoke dancing off the end of her gun, the deceased body falling onto the ground staining the wood with her blood. This moment was off, too easy and this upmost concerned the fiery redhead; her ears perked up with the sudden sound of singing, small voices heard in the nearby room. It could of been a trap, but nonetheless it lured her in. It was trance like, reloading of the pistol with the green of the Russians eyes turning duller, there vibrance lost as the door opened. There sat a group of girls, no older than she was when they had taken her, beaten her and made her the blood spilling assassin she was today.
⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀
The singing went on and one by one Natasha fired a round until there was only one girl left, she was frightened watching as the others fell. No words came from either of them, not even a single emotion was shown upon Natasha's face, it was like stone. A final shot was made and as the last girl fell, the woman snapped out of it. Her eyes widened seeing the damage that was done, and it was at this moment a wave of realization came over her, striking down harder then waves would of the edges of rocks. She had killed innocents.
⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀— Present day
⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀
A steaming cup of coffee was placed upon the table, a man sliding into the chair that sat only inches away. The fresh scent brought Natasha back to the real world, closing the book, journal that laid before her and gave a small smile. "And I assume you must of ordered this?" She mentioned, chuckling softly hues focused upon the other. "It seemed like you needed it, I know that look of yours. Never good" Barnes teased. "Care to share?" - "Maybe one day"