A Spider's Web ll Natasha Romanoff

I'm Sorry

Tick. Tick. Tick.

I let out another sigh, brushing my fingers through my long black hair in an attempt to rid myself of the boredom I was feeling.

I was an extremely patient person, but not when it came to getting my iced coffee, which seemed to take the barista forever to make. It was unusually busy in the small cafe I usually came to.

"Large french vanilla iced coffee with five pumps of caramel for Claire" Finally, it was about time.

"Sorry for the wait, Claire, we are short staffed again today." Emily, my usual barista, said. Poor girl worked two jobs just to pay her rent and she was always stuck picking up her coworkers' shifts when they didn't feel like coming in.

"No worries, Em, I'll see you tomorrow for my usual." I said, taking the cup delicately from her hands. Coffee was one of the only things that gave me joy nowadays.

I put the straw in my cup of sunshine and threw the trash out, before proceeding to the door and out into the busy New York streets.

My name isn't really Claire, but it's the alias I've been using to cover my tracks. It's a hard life for a hitwoman for hire. It's been like this for so long.

My given name is Margot. Margot Selina Desantos or, to my creators, experiment 26. I don't remember much before my procedure. Everything was hazy. All I remember was that I had undergone a procedure crafted to make me into the ultimate weapon. A super soldier with dangerous abilities.

I was a failure.

To their eyes at least. I didn't get any special abilities, but I got super strength, better endurance, and heightened senses. Not to mention I was an excellent marksman when it came to guns. I was biologically enhanced, but it wasn't enough.

My hair blew in the wind that was created by the pedestrians and cars passing me. I didn't have a destination in mind. I was letting my legs carry me wherever they wanted. My sunglasses made their way from the top of my head to the bridge of my nose, with the help of my hand, and I drew my hood over my mane I called hair.

You could never be too careful.

Steam was blowing around me, coming up from the ground as I came up to an intersection and crossing the street once I was sure I wouldn't get hit by a car. Not that it would harm me. Physically at least.

I was a prideful woman. My hubris.

I crossed the street again and walked on the walkway through a park. It was crowded with people and children. Some people were running, sitting on the benches, yelling on their cell phones. What would they do if they knew there was a wanted mercenary less than six feet from them? Ignorance was a gift. A gift I wish I had.

My thoughts were cut off by a distinct ding coming from my pocket. My phone. With one hand, I grabbed my phone out of the pocket of my dark leather jacket and went to bring it to my face when something ran into my knees.

A young kid, not looking where he was going, ran into me. He couldn't have been more than six with straight blond hair resting on the top of his head and piercing green eyes. Innocent eyes that looked up at me in wonder.

"I'm sorry miss. I wasn't looking where I was going." He said with a childlike pout.

A man in an expensive looking suit came up to us in a haste, grabbing the child by his arm and tugging him away from me. He gave me a look of disgust before turning to the child who must have been his son.

"Let's go, son. We don't talk to trash." And with that he was gone, dragging the boy behind him.

The only trash that I could see was his so called haircut. But hey, who was I to judge.

Trying this again, I brought my phone to my face and opened the unread text message from an unknown number.

Another job. No witnesses. Payment after completion.

An address was below the message as well as a name. Robert Saunders.

A name that held no meaning to me other than my target.

I threw my now empty coffee cup into a nearby trashcan and made my way through the rest of the park and trudged my way back to my apartment to get ready for tonight's job.

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Standing on a random rooftop waiting for the right moment to strike my target down is nothing new to me. In fact, it's what I do with the majority of my nights.

Robert Saunders was an underground dealer of drugs and weapons who pissed off the wrong person. Unfortunately, that pissed off person hired me to end that.

It was around midnight when I scaled the side of the building my target occupied. My target was on the third floor of a big manor and that was where I currently ended up right next to a window. With one hand on a gutter tube, I dug through my shoe to pull out a small blade and suction cup to place against the window.

With the suction cup in place, I dug the blade in the glass with a circular motion right above the lock. Once the glass came apart, I stuck my gloved hand through the hole and unlocked it.

Sliding the window open, I ducked into the dark room and made my way to the door. For such a prestigious man, I put in little to no effort breaking in, which honestly, annoyed me because I love a challenge. It was what made my job fun.

I opened the wooden door to the hallway and glanced out, making sure to keep hidden from any possible guards. To my left, I could hear loud talking and laughs, but no guards. I left the comfort of the doorway and made my way towards the noise and came to a corner where my target was behind a door guarded by three guards.

'This is going to be easy' I thought to myself as I pulled out my trustworthy weapons. Two sleek black colt pythons with a silencer on the end. One for each hand.

Cracking my neck to the side, I positioned myself with the two guns pointed to the ceiling near the bottom of my jawline before I stepped out.

Two of the guards didn't get the chance to realize what was happening before bullets left my guns and their bodies dropped to the ground. The third was pulling out their pistol, when I unleashed one last bullet.

They fell when a thump as I made my way towards the door and kicked it in, riddling the room with bullets. The room of people quickly drew the weapons, but not before they were on the ground.

This was boring. They were all on the ground dead and the only one left was my target. I wanted this job to be over so I could go home and sleep.

I walked up to him and pressed the barrel to his head when a spark of familiarity washed over me. I don't know why, but it didn't stop me from pulling the trigger and watching red paint the wall behind him.

My job was completed and I was wrapping up when I heard movement from behind me and I whipped around with my gun drawn.

It was a boy. A young boy with straight blond hair and piercing green eyes who was no older than six. He was the same boy who ran into me at the park. This time he was looking up at me with fear written across his face.

No witnesses.

A feeling of guilt wracked through my body.

No witnesses.

I wanted to leave this boy alive to grow up.

No witnesses.

If only he didn't walk in this room.

"I'm sorry" I whispered genuinely. But that didn't stop me from completing my mission.

It didn't stop me from pulling the trigger.