Natasha's Entries

Australia, 1987

Midnight winds blew through the red silk like curtains, a chilled breeze falling upon pale skin, the redness of her hair dancing a peaceful dance. Green hues fell towards the spy's journal once more, another memory seeming to corrupt her mind, false truths - a world filled with despair, lies and revenge. A sigh escaped from Natasha's chapped lips, the time reading 12:35am. Another sleepless night it seemed.

— Australia, 1987

Two years had passed since the life changing experience, the world she once knew turned upside down as the assassin was on the run. It hadn't taken the woman long to cut all ties to the KGB, to her homeland in all but there was a part of Nat that knew it was a mistake to become the most wanted in their agendas. A black hat covered her face, lips tinted crimson red as her locks had grown rather long. It was very in satisfying for it made it much more difficult for hand to hand combat, but also practical for no one would expect such a thing - so she thought.

Warmth from the Australian sun hit her skin, a reflection beaming off as the fugitive walked the beachline, her heels clicking against the cement, red dress hugging her body. It wasn't often the red headed woman would dress accordingly, but something about feeling like a normal person in ways she did not even understand - it excited her, caused a thrill down to her very bones. Yet it only exhilarated more upon catching a glimpse of a man in the corner of her eye, the devils smirk forming along her lips. Remembering the feeling it gave the widow, the goosebumps forming on her arms as the pistol she carried in her purse came to play.
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The spy made a promise to herself after that day, any man or woman who was sent after her given directions to bring her back; they would never see the light of day again, no they would be six feet beneath the ground. So far it's been successful, every person who came ultimately wasn't seen again - it was survival, a sense of power that fell into her own hands being able to demonstrate that she was not to be messed with. But how long could this streak of luck keep up? If one would call such a monstrosity luck, perhaps the better term would of been killer. A kill streak in Natasha's mind, but wasn't that what she was meant to do with this life?
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This mysterious man stopped in his tracks, capturing a glimpse at the weapon the woman was carrying. Clearly he had underestimated the redhead, but this man had one mission and she was the target. Nat could remember the sweat forming in his brow, the footsteps quieting with a click of a gun; her hand rested on her own, finger ready to pull the trigger as daylight began to fade behind storm like clouds, greys taking over the once vibrant blue skies. Silence was key factor, both analyzing the current situation but no moves were made - all that echoed was the sound of waves crashing over the rocks, using what force the carried to make such a distinctive sound one Nat would never forget.
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Minutes had passed and the two simply stood there, a mutual understanding of what was to be done and what neither of them wished to do. It was a quick draw, but the widow's bullet landed right in the centre of the man's heart. It didn't faze her then, but the memory sometimes became to much. Watching as his lifeless body fell, blood socking into the ground below him yet there wasn't a soul who saw or heard. The shot was silent just as they had been, distant like Natasha's eyes. "смерть"
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⠀⠀⠀⠀— Present Day
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Time flew by faster than Natasha  could imagine, the clock reading at 6 in the morning, sun creeping through with the sound of birds chirping. Nat had been sitting on the edge of her bed, head in the palm of her hand as words kept repeating in her mind, the very ones she said that day. "You've been caught in the spiders web" it's meaning meant more than most would like, it had became a trademark at the time one people recognized her with amongst the many names she had received throughout her years.