And now we're grown up orphans
Who: Bruce Banner and Natalia Romanova Black Widow Natasha Romanov
When: 16 April, twilight
Where: Natasha's rooms
What: Memory is such a fickle thing
She had done this before. She knew what to do.
She was Komrade 01 as she secured the premises with the speed and precision of the top-ranked trainee.
She was Vasilia Katayeva, prima ballerina, as she broke the first mirror and covered the rest, unable to look upon the achingly familiar stranger staring back.
She was Natalia Romanova, orphaned and friendless, as she doused the lights, taking refuge in the darkness.
She was Anya Shostakovna, adoring wife, as she paced the room and wrung her hands.
She was dozens, hundreds of women, women fully formed and women pulled on for an evening, as she slammed herself against the rail on the balcony, summoning pain and blood from the cuts on her hand and the smell of her blood on the iron rail and her death staring back at her from so high up, summoning pain and blood and smell and death to bind herself back together into the woman she was now, the woman she had chosen to be.
She had done this before. She knew what to do.
So why wasn't it working?
When: 16 April, twilight
Where: Natasha's rooms
What: Memory is such a fickle thing
She had done this before. She knew what to do.
She was Komrade 01 as she secured the premises with the speed and precision of the top-ranked trainee.
She was Vasilia Katayeva, prima ballerina, as she broke the first mirror and covered the rest, unable to look upon the achingly familiar stranger staring back.
She was Natalia Romanova, orphaned and friendless, as she doused the lights, taking refuge in the darkness.
She was Anya Shostakovna, adoring wife, as she paced the room and wrung her hands.
She was dozens, hundreds of women, women fully formed and women pulled on for an evening, as she slammed herself against the rail on the balcony, summoning pain and blood from the cuts on her hand and the smell of her blood on the iron rail and her death staring back at her from so high up, summoning pain and blood and smell and death to bind herself back together into the woman she was now, the woman she had chosen to be.
She had done this before. She knew what to do.
So why wasn't it working?