This Story occurs before the events of Age of Ultron and features many characters from the greater Universe.
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The prisoner shuddered awake with a start: bolting upright only to rattle the chains holding her in place. Twisting in the wooden seat, the redhead groaned, head still spinning. Leaning forward she blinked hard as light slowly returned to her world. Attempting to ignore the ringing in her ears, Natasha Romanoff surveyed the dank surroundings with disdain; even as she began testing her bonds.
So the mission had gone sour, she was used to that. While Natasha hadn't intended to be knocked unconscious it was an operational hazard, and the redhead was more than equipped to deal with it.
Shifting her hips against the bottom of the wooden seat, Natasha felt the weight of the utility belt strapped around her waist. Nothing but empty p. No weapons, no communications, no back up. The ex-S.H.I.E.L.D agent released a frustrated breath, brushing a booted heel against the ground. In the old days there would have been a task force specifically to get her out of this; now she was alone.
The mission parameters had shifted, that was obvious, though the essential requirements had not changed: the redhead was here to survey the castle for potential threats; intelligence suggesting this Sokovian fortress was a HYDRA sub-base. Given the high security she had encountered, the ex-agent was now more inclined to believe them.
Natasha stayed calm: she had a team that backed her up in this kind of situation. They weren't exactly reliable, but they packed a big punch, and more than that, they were friends. Natasha closed her eyes. She could hardly blame Tony Stark for this one, she had chosen to survey the castle alone, believing it to be a minor stakeout: hardly worthy of the Avengers. She had been arrogant, but when your team consists of Gods and monsters it's hard not to have something to prove.
Hearing the metal door to her cell clunk menacingly, Natasha straightened up in her seat, ready to confront her captors. Choosing a more upright, dignified pose, the redhead felt her black combat suit tighten reassuringly against her curves: coiled and ready to strike.
The door swung open alarmingly quickly, the heavy metal slamming against the castle wall and reverberating in place, dust falling from the brickwork around her. Given the rust and weight of the vault-like entranceway, Natasha was surprised to find a small, waifish brunette standing opposite her, illuminated only by the light that could now spill into the cell.
Both women eyed each other carefully, neither greeting the other. Natasha guessed the girl was around 20: not a leader, so perhaps an underling? Hardly suited for intimidation. Yet the brunette had an otherworldly quality; the tilt of her head, the twist in her stance. Combined with an unusual dress sense her demeanour suggested something... unprecedented.
Stepping into the room, the brunette moved with purpose, boots echoing against stone. Taking in the girl's body, Natasha was again surprised, next to no muscle, no visible weapons. This child was to be her interrogator?
"You don't talk much," Natasha stated curiously, watching as the girl continued to take her in; passing behind her chair as she circled the tied-up redhead. Neglecting to respond, the brunette slunk soundlessly around her, bright eyes never leaving the Agent's face.
Natasha decided the girl was pretty, in-spite of her somewhat unkempt appearance. Her gypsy-like attire suggested a Sokovian origin; the clothing mismatched yet somewhat appealing:
The brunette's slight, distressed black dress was thin enough to reveal the pert body underneath. The garment was cut revealingly: the neck deep, the hem just reaching mid-thigh. Wrapped in a deep red shawl to keep out the cold, the tattered garment was indicative of the girl's streetwise nature.
Meeting the brunette's bizarre gaze, Natasha was absorbed by the girl's huge green eyes, seemingly transfixed by the redhead's very existence. Surrounded by excessive, blurred mascara, the Sarkovian's stare seemed to penetrate her soul, while ultimately betraying the youth and underlying lack of confidence of her interrogator.
"This your first time?" Natasha asked playfully, watching the brunette twitch in reaction:
"It's a good act, but do you really think you can torture me?" Natasha scoffed, smirking in-spite of her powerless position:
"I didn't know HYDRA had fallen so far they would use little girl's to do their dirty work."
Eliciting no response, the redhead began to wonder if this woman even spoke English. If she didn't then this wasn't an interrogation; meaning torture was now more likely. Since Natasha wasn't really in the mood for pain, she decided it was time for a daring escape.
Turning back toward the entrance, Natasha listened carefully: The redhead could register no sound coming from the hallway beyond. No armed escort? If she could break free of her restraints this would be the perfect time to break out-
-The brunette flicked her arm, hand contorting as it suddenly moved through the air. Natasha watched, astonished, as the heavy metal door swung back on its hinges without the girl even touching its surface: Slamming shut with an echoing clang, the sound reverberated around the tiny room, more dust dropping from the ceiling:
"No more thoughts of eh-scape Spy, you leave when I'm ready. Or in bag..."
Natasha opened and closed her mouth; had she telegraphed her intentions in some way? Looking back up at the mysterious girl, she noted the red smoke wafting up from her left hand, before meeting her eyes once more. Natasha watched as they faded from red to green. The ex-agent braced herself:
"So you're one of Strucker's enhanced? Telekinetic or psychic? S.H.I.E.L.D has done research into Neuro-electrical interfacing..."
The brunette frowned as she struggled to register the redhead's assertion. Realising her words had not translated, Natasha spoke more carefully:
"You," she nodded at the brunette, " You can move objects with your mind?" The redhead's nose crinkled:
"Did you know what I was going to do?"
Not responding immediately, the brunette stepped forward slowly, eyes moving across the other woman's face. Swiping a loose strand of dark wavy hair behind an ear, she spoke calmly; her strong Sokovian accent coming through in just a short statement:
"All you need to know? I am weird."
Shrugging of her shawl, the brunette hung the worn weave over the back of the dilapidated chair. Leaning over the prisoner, the girl raised a hand; flexing her long fingers in the air around the ex-agent's head. Natasha watched cautiously: If this girl was telepathic this interrogation could actually go pretty badly for her:
"So you're weird, I get that... But you don't want to go poking around in my mind, you might not like what's in there..."
The brunette ignored her, the girl's large eyes sliding over Natasha's face and back up to her gaze:
"I grow up in war-torn hell-hole, I am... experiment. I get off on fear..."
The redhead nodded: the girl had a point; if anyone could understand having a messed up background, it was Natasha Romanoff. Maybe then she could use their shared experience as leverage, reason with the foreign girl on mutual ground:
"I get it, I went through the same thing as a kid, till S.H.I.E.L.D took me in."
"You also get powers through Alien staff taken from Norse God?" The brunette responded, her broken English not disguising her amusement.
"Well no..." Natasha replied, taken aback. Deciding on a different approach that suited her own style, the redhead continued, asking questions herself since the girl apparently didn't need to:
"So they made you, using the staff? We tried to deep-six that research but I heard all of your kind died in HYDRA's experiments, or were at least horribly scarred..."
Natasha ran her eyes over the brunette's lithe curves appreciatively; making sure the other girl could see her inspection:
"But I guess you lucked out. You fit together pretty well."
The brunette's mouth became a thin line of irritation; she had given away information. Again. Who was interrogating whom? Meeting the redhead's eyes, it was her turn to be intimidated, green orbs amused but giving nothing away. The Sokovian chose to scowl back at the other woman's smirk. When she replied the girl was overly assertive:
"You think you will geht out of here? This is your... ultimatum? I see S.H.I.E.L.D's scars all over the inside of your head Romanoff. You are, muddled..."
"Getting lost in my head huh?" Natasha said, a small grin curving her lips. Maybe she could keep this girl out, provided she kept to the right thoughts:
"Why do I think you're winging this?" Natasha asked playfully.
Again the brunette stared back at her, hard eyes faltering slightly:
"Right, another American expression..." the redhead explained apologetically:
"I think you are making this up as you go along, preying on my vulnerability. What if I don't believe in your tricks huh?" Natasha asked, pausing to conjure a thought before asking her next question:
"Like, what am I thinking right now??"
Focusing on the spy's mind, the brunette felt imagination reverberate through the redhead's consciousness. Eyes flickering red, her mouth feel open:
