Budapest

Chapter 19

Natasha Romanoff
(Natalia Romanov)
A roaring pain racks through my body, as I feel something rip through my patellar tendon. I look down and see the arrow that is sticking through my leg, the tip coming out the other side. Blood starts to colour my leg in scarlet drops. My eyes open wide as I suppress tears. I never cry, but vulnerability has gotten ahold of me now. I hear rustling in the tree ahead of me and see a black blur jump down and land in front of me. I grit my teeth. The American. So this is where he had gotten to.
"I thought you were a better shot." I spit the words out like venom. I can feel my legs shaking, willing me to sink to the ground but I stand even taller. If this is when I die, I will not be groveling on the ground.
"I am a great shot. An excellent one really, I mean who else can get a shot right through the tendon they were aiming for with one arrow?" I stay silent, as I process his words.
"Come on, name one person. Bets are that you can't."
My eyes narrow, he has a smug look on his face.
"I knew it, you couldn't name even one person."
"What do you want?" I speak through my teeth as my shoulders slouch slightly. I can feel a sticky and warm liquid running down my back. More blood.
"You don't look so good. Maybe you should sit down." The American twists an arrow in his hand, letting me know he's the one with the weapon.
"What do you want?" I raise my voice, and this makes him raise an eyebrow. He says nothing so I go on.
"If you have nothing to say, just finish your mission. It will put us both out of our misery." I sink to the ground, turning my leg so I have a clear grasp at the end of the arrow.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you. If you pull it out without having something to staunch the flow of blood, you'll die in about twenty minutes from blood loss." I hear him notch an arrow.
"Then save me the wait and kill me now."
"Why are you so intent on dying?" He asks.
"Why are you so intent on talking?" I spit back.
When I look up at him, I notice the slight smile on his face.
"I will ask you one last time. What do you want? You could have sent an arrow through my heart but instead you sent it through my leg. Why?" I ask
"Where did you learn English?" He asks.
"Bloody American, just answer the question."
His eyebrow raised.
"Obviously from a tv show then."
My glare fades as the arrow shifts slightly. I let out a gasp and grasp at it, snapping the end of it. The wood splinters over the grass. I drop the free end on the grass and grab at the other end of the arrow.
"Don't pull it out yourself. You'll damage the tendon more. And remember, blood loss."
"I've had worse." I pull at the arrow and hear the slur of the blood, skin and muscle being pulled with it. I pull out about 2cm of the arrow before I have to stop. My breath is short and ragged. I can feel the gaze of the American.
"You're stronger than I thought." He says.
I look up at him. His bow is no longer being held as tightly. If I could just get a swing at his legs I may be able to get the bow around his neck and choke him. I'm about to try my luck when he talks again.
"I'm here to offer you a job."
I forget about the pain in my leg and back. His words hang in the air, rattling their way through my brain.
"What?" I sound out of breath.
"I'm here to tell you that you don't have to run anymore. You can change your name, your identity. You can work for the good guys, the ones who aren't brainwashing creeps. And best of all, you can wipe out all the red. All the bad things you've done, they won't matter anymore. You have red in your ledger, and you can wipe it out. "
"And I'm here to give you the chance. Come with me and I'll take you to SHIELD. Don't come with me and I'll put you out of your misery. Which would you rather? Death with the red ledger or life with a chance to redeem yourself?" He finishes, staring down at me.
"If I go with you, they'll kill me anyway. I have too much red, I can't wipe it out."
"But that's the thing, I will protect you. You have someone who has your back now. You don't have to continue looking over your shoulder. And as for the red, I've got some pretty good scrubbing brushes. It's your choice." He says.
I look down at the grass and watch as the ants try to avoid the splintered wood and the drops of blood.
"No one can run forever Romanov."
"Romanoff" I whisper.
"Huh?"
"It's Romanoff now. Natasha Romanoff." I say louder.
I look up at him and see his up-curled lips and notice the way the moonlight reflects off of his blue eyes.
The pain comes back in a wave. His eyes are the last things I see before the ground comes to meet me. The darkness makes me feel cold but then I see the colour blue, and remember that someone out there is protecting me.