NIGHTMARE ▹ Natasha Romanoff

eight.

The agents were definitely not hospitable. After clamping her into cuffs, they paraded her down the multiple hallways, flanked by what looked like and entire SWAT team. A SWAT team that, it turns out, did not appeal to small talk.

The man on her left, with a thick mustache and a crew cut, seemed to be especially annoyed by her. "Wow, not much of a talker, are you, Jerry. Can I call you Jerry? I'm going to call you Jerry. You married, Jerry? I don't see no ring. Then again, you're wearing gloves. But what is a glove to get in the way of true love?" She tipped her head and spun round, walking backwards. Jerry grabbed her arm and turned her back.

"You should really wear a name tag Jerry, or people won't know what to call you. I mean, as your prisoner, I think I have the right to know your name. But I guess Jerry works too," she smiled at him brightly, " you get me, Jerry?"

Jerry, it appeared, did not.

In the corner of her vision, however, she saw Romanoff, a small smile on her lips. Very nice lips, she might add. Very nice everything, to be honest. Her hair was red and wavy, framing a cute face with green eyes and thick lashes. She looked rather stern and foreboding, but when she smiled her face changed, looking lighter and younger.

Romanoff's sharp features were very different from Svetlana's, with her thick eyebrows, blonde locks and chestnut brown eyes.

"We're here." Romanoff said, snapping her out of her thoughts. They had stopped with a cell that looked almost identical to her previous one, except for the grey bed and the toilet seat in two corners.

Svetlana narrowed her eyes "Really? You've got to be kidding me." She turned to Romanoff, who seemed to find her annoyance amusing.

"You are still a prisoner, you know." She smirked.

Svetlana, it appeared, did not.