Nazarov

[2 - Electrifying]

kinky.

"Sergeant. Nazarov. Training room. Now." A voice comes from the other side of the steel door. Both Sarge and Morana jolt awake, stiff from their odd sleeping arrangements last night. They both got up and went to their respective closets pulling out their training gear. Sarge walks out wearing his usual black pants and a white tank top that showed his entire metal arm and the scars surrounding it. Morana walks out wearing green sports leggings and a black tank top tied in a knot at the front. Her dark hair was tied at the top of her head in an extremely messy ponytail. Sarge stood at the foot of his bed trying to tie his hair in a bun at the back of his head, keyword: trying. His metal fingers kept getting caught inside the hair tie pulling his hair out. He grunted in frustration. Morana laughed at him.
    "Here." She made him sit on the bed as she grabbed the hair tie. She began carefully twisting his dark locks into a braid. He sat patiently and quietly while she worked. She tied the braid off in a small bun. Sarge raised his hand and ran his fingers over his hair feeling the pretty knots.
    "Ready?" She asked. He nodded and they grabbed their training shoes before heading out the door and making their way down the corridor.
    "Training room." Morana said as she and Sarge entered the elevator.
    "Confirmed." It said in response, starting it's slow descent from the 79th floor to the 41st floor. As they exited the glass closet, the training room lit up, showcasing the boxing ring, punching bags, weights, exercise machines and showers spread across the floor. They threw on their shoes and headed into the boxing ring. They circled around one another, not making any sudden moves.
    "You ready to lose again?" Sarge asks her smugly. Morana scoffed.
    "Yeah, as if." And she ran at him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and began to punch him in the gut. She got in a few good hits before he caught her fist and spun her around by her hand, leaving her with her back hard up against his chest with one arm around her neck. She grabbed his arm and used all her weight to bend over, throwing him over her head into the ropes of the ring. He got back up and ran at her yelling. She used his momentum to flip over his shoulders and regain her composure behind him. He swung around to see her standing there smugly on the other side of the ring.
    "Seems as if you've lost your touch, 'ey Soldier." She laughed at Sarge, providing him the perfect opportunity to kick the legs out from underneath her, Morana landing square on her back and knocking the breath out of her. He climbed on top of her, putting a knee on each of her arms so she couldn't move them. His own hands rested on the floor next to her head. They both looked at each other, out of breath.
    "Kinky." Morana said. Sarge gave her a very confused and disturbed look and she smiled, kicked him in the groin and flipped them over so she was on the top, pinning his arms down. He groaned in pain and he hit the floor repeatedly.
    "Tap out, tap out." He whined. Morana laughed at him while she stood up, offering him a hand. He took it and she hauled his ass off the ground.
    "So it would seem that I'm better than you, hey." She said. Sarge waved his hand dismissively.
    "Yeah, yeah. Talk it up." They jumped out of the ring and sat down against the wall, grabbing a couple of water bottles on the way. They sat in silence, just drinking their water and staring off into space. The elevator door opened and the assassins attention snapped to it. Out stepped Brock Rumlow, a real douchenozzle, the head of SHIELD's Strike team and also HYDRA's lackey.
    "Awe would you look at that. History's two most deadly assassins cuddling up to one another. How sweet." Rumlow's tone oozed sarcasm. Morana moved with lightning speed to get up and attack him but with split second thinking, Sarge grabbed her arm, stopping her from going anywhere. Morana took a breath and leant back against the wall. Rumlow laughed.
    "Look at that. Even your boyfriend knows you won't beat me little girl." Morana glares daggers at him.
    "Actually, I think she would beat your ass into next week and I don't think Pierce wants to have to explain to SHIELD that their Strike team's leader was beat up by one of the world's most notorious assassins, because he couldn't keep his mouth shut." Rumlow's smug smile falters.
    "Was there a reason you came down here you greasy haired weasel?" Morana asked in a monotone voice. You could practically see the steam coming from Rumlow's ears.
    "Pierce wants you in the lab." He said begrudgingly.
    "We'll be up in a minute." Sarge said, taking another gulp of water.
    "He wants you now." Rumlow persisted. Morana glared at him.
    "Okay you nitwit we're coming." She ground out. Rumlow turned on his heel and stalked back to the elevator.
    "You know, one day, he's just gonna disappear. When that day comes, know that it was all me." Morana said. Sarge laughed and helped her up.
    "I'm counting on it." They entered the elevator where Rumlow was waiting for them. The doors slid shut and the elevator waited for a command.
    "Laboratory." Rumlow said.
    "Confirmed." Came the mechanical voice and the glass room started rising to the 56th floor. The three agents stood in complete and utter silence, Rumlow shifting his weight from one foot to the other constantly. Morana and Sarge looked at each other and smiled lightly, love]ing how they made him so uncomfortable. Finally, the elevator dinged and the door opened, revealing Alexander Pierce and a room full of doctors and scientists. Everyone looked up and stared at them as they entered the lab, as if this wasn't a regular occurrence. Men in white shirts and bow ties guide Sarge over to the table where they could look at his arm and upgrade the mechanics. Rumlow grabbed Morana by her forearm and dragged her to another room. She ripped her arm out of his grip, giving him a rather evil side eye, and continued to sit on her own table as the scientists and doctors all rushed in. Pierce stood in front of the closed door, watching. She stared at him, while manoeuvring herself to lay down on her stomach. Metal cuffs wrapped around her wrists, forearms, legs and her waist to stop her from moving and the men got to work. They moved her dark ponytail out of the way and removed her shirt, leaving her in her sports bra. A needle stuck into the side of her neck and she winced feeling the paralytic toxin wash over her limbs. The doctors knew it wouldn't last long with her enhanced metabolism and healing but it would reduce her thrashing for most part. She felt the cold metal of a scalpel on the back of her neck and she barely had time to brace herself before her stitches were cut open. She groaned in pain, squeezing her eyes shut. They dug around in her neck, and when they found what they were looking for, they pulled it out slowly. Beads of sweat covered Morana's face as they pulled out a mechanical disk, that connected to her spinal cord. They tinkered with it for what felt like forever for the struggling to stay conscious girl. Blood leaked from her neck and dripped onto the floor, pooling. Once the men had finished updating the disk, they stuck it back into her neck, connecting it back to her spinal cord, and as Morana let out painful groans, they stitched her neck back up, wiping away all the blood and taping the stitches. Morana shut her eyes for the next part, for the worst part. Each of the men took a step back and Pierce opened his phone, thumb hovering over the screen, ready for the updated device to be tested. Morana's breath was heavy and labored.
    "Just do it alrea-" She was cut of mid sentence as Pierce pressed down on the button sending 470 watts of electricity through her body. The assassin screamed bloody murder as she thrashed around screaming and writhing in pain. From outside, Sarge could her her screams and he squeezed his eyes closed, trying to shut out the terrifying sound that was Morana Nazarov's screams and cries. He felt a small tear run down his cheek as his only friend, and the only person he truly cared for, suffered in agonising pain. He had no idea what happened to her in there. She refused to talk about it, but she was different for days after, flinching at everything, twitching, waking in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, having ice cold showers, refusing to train with another person, keeping to herself, and at night, when she couldn't get back to sleep, she would climb into his bed and sleep against him. It felt like an eternity before the screaming stopped and Sarge could open his eyes. Minutes went by before the huge metal door unlocked and squeaked open, revealing a very weak Morana, leaning on one of the doctors for support. Sarge rushed up to meet her, taking her in his arms and carrying her to the elevator, not looking back at anyone.
    "79th floor." He said.
    "Confirmed." And the elevator was rising higher and higher. Sarge looked over at Morana, she was deathly pale, covered in sweat, her eyes were bloodshot, lips were cracked and she could barely walk. The elevator dinged and Sarge hauled her onto the bed. Her eyes fluttered and her body was rigid and trembling.
    "Morana?" Sarge said worriedly. She pulled all her weight onto her elbows and sat up, leaning against the bed's headboard.
    "I'm fine. Can we just watch a movie?" Sarge nodded and grabbed the remote from his bedside table. He walked up to the TV, selecting the first DVD he saw and chucked it in. The familiar sound of the 20th Century Fox funfair boomed from the speakers. Sarge went and took his spot next to Morana on the bed, careful not to disturb her aching body too much. As Back To The Future played, Sarge snuck glances over at Morana, who had her eyes glued to the screen, like she was trying to distract herself. Except the movement coming from Morana as her body twitched, the pair sat still, for hours, so long that Sarge thought she had fallen asleep when she moved very suddenly, startling Sarge.
"C'mon, lets go train." Morana jumped up from the bed and grabbed her shoes. Sarge just looked at her.
    "It's one o'clock in the morning Morana." He said, she didn't stop running around.
    "I don't care. Let's go." Sarge sighed and grabbed his shoes heading out the door after her. As the elevator arrived at the training floor one again. Morana swiftly made her way to the shooting range, grabbing a glock 19 on the way. Sarge came up behind her.
    "You know, maybe you should just take it easy." She whirled around to face him, a hard look in her eyes.
    "I'm a world renowned assassin. My name is feared everywhere and I'm more deadly the spider I was named for. So I think I can handle training." She snarled. She spun back around to face the target and eight shots rang out, each bullet meeting it's mark and hitting the same spot in the middle of the target each time.
    "Fine. If you want to train then let's go. Grab your sticks and we'll spar." Sarge started walking to the open floor, picking up his sticks from the shelf, waiting for her. Morana sighed and grabbed her own sticks, following him to the floor. They stared at each other for a moment before they lept into action, Morana lunging at him first. She swung at his head, narrowly missing as he ducks at the last second. As he comes back up and she elbows him in his nose, his head jerks back with the force and blood trickles down his face. He tries to wipe it off, but ends up smudging it everywhere. He ran at her, grabbing her by her waist and throwing her to the floor. He uses his sticks to make a cross over her throat, prohibiting her from getting up. Morana drops her sticks and uses her hands to grab his biceps pushing them up, allowing her to scramble to her feet. She picked up one stick and spun it in her fingers before hitting his ankles causing him to fall. She scrambled on top of him holding the stick over his throat as he put his hands up in surrender. She loosened up her grip on the stick and he grabbed it twisting it so the momentum threw her off him and he stood over her with his foot on her chest and the stick at her throat. A slow clapping could be heard from the door. The assassins turned to see none other than Brock Rumlow standing smugly in the doorway.
    "That was beautiful. So lovely to see the loving and pathetic fight between you two love birds." Sarge helped Morana of the floor and they glared at the double agent.
    "Truly inspiring to see two deadly assassins fall in love despite all the odds. What's that movie reference? Star crossed lovers?" Rumlow laughed. Morana picked up a stick and she threw it at Rumlow so fast he barely had time to blink before the metal pole hit him square in the head, knocking him to the wall. She strode over to him lifting him from the floor by his collar and raising him so he couldn't touch the ground.
    "Keep talking asshat, and you'll leave here with more than a concussion and a bruised ego." She threatened menacingly. She dropped him and he held the spot on his head he got hit, blood seeping through his fingers.
    "You have to go receive your next mission." He choked out before escaping to the elevator. She looked back at her partner. He had a ghost of a smile playing on his lips as he walked over to her.
    "Shall we then, Ms Nazarov?" He asked.
    "We shall, Mr Winter Soldier."