I WANTED TO CRY, A STRANGE WISH OF MINE CONSIDERING IT ALL - however, in that moment, it seemed like the easiest thing to do in order to remove the hurt and anger and confusion and guilt and regret that bit at my heart like a thousand thorns of pain. The tears of moments past stained my cheeks still, but no more went to join them in their misery; all I was left with was a sinking emptiness that gripped every part of me and refused to let it go.

At the Red Room, things weren't like this. I was a rock, a pillar of pure, undeniable strength that shot a bullet into someone's brains without a blink of an eye and would easily kill another girl without feeling any remorse. The blood that would forever stain my hands always faded out of conscience, and I could easily punch and kick and throw my way out of anything. When I killed, there were no repercussions; one movement, and it was over and I moved on to the next victim. No second thoughts, no wavering before a choice, and no remorse that haunted me right into the early hours of the morning.

However, in the strange world where people had friends and laughed and lived without wondering when death would step out of the shadows, it was as if a wall had been lifted, and I was exposed to the reality of my sins. The things I had done years before now resurfaced and haunted my every thought and movement and the ghosts of the past sat on my shoulder and taunted me at any moment possible. Back there, I was a spy, a fighter, a warrior. In America, I was a shell of a human being, if that.

I wondered if everyone who left the Red Room felt that way. Natasha Romanova, the woman I had idolised for so long, had left the Academy and done her best to forget it all - had she been successful in doing so? Had she suffered through the demons and dark thoughts, her dreams plagued with the screams of agony from friend and foe alike? Or had she been strong and gotten over it, ignoring the fear and pain and blood like most do? Was it just me who suffered in silence? I supposed my questions would never find answers, for the infamous Romanova had no care or knowledge as to who I was, and probably never would, and didn't have what I was looking for, no matter how long I searched.

"What the hell are you doing?"

I didn't turn to her, for fear of revealing my tear stained face; instead, my eyes stayed glued to the wall and away from Inga. "Nothing."

"I asked you to be working."

"Guess it slipped my mind."

Her heels clicked on the wood and then in an instant, she was behind me, whirling me around to face her in all my distress. Her devilish face contorted into a sneer, poking jeering fun at the pain. "You're pathetic."

"And you are a bitch."

Her hand stung at my wet, then smarting cheek, and I fought the urge to react to the pain, waiting until the woman had whirled away before I gave in. My hands, still trembling in my lap, curled into slight fists. "What do you want from me?"

"We need to go somewhere."

Cryptic, as always. "Where?"

Inga didn't speak, but I could hear her clicking out of the room and rustling elsewhere, presumably preparing to leave the cluttered apartment. I debated staying where I was, refusing her unspoken command to follow her, as I wasn't eager for another round of 'training'. However, I also didn't want her to get angry at me again, and a mixture of fear and curiosity got the best of me. My long legs draped off the bed and touched the cold floor and I carried myself out to discover where she had gone.

Wiping the remainder of the tears off of my cheeks, I folded my arms in the large yet still paper thin sweater enveloping my body, watching the woman throw random objects in a bag and prepare for something - a thing I still knew nothing about. "Where are we going?"

She glanced up, but for only a minute, and just threw me a small package - soft, squishy, presumably clothing of sorts. I pulled at the package slightly and frowned. The fabric was rough, and a stained grey, nothing like the clothes she made me wear here. "Put those on, and hurry for once in your life. We don't have much time until they get here."

"What...what if I say no?"

Inga didn't answer for several seconds, and I almost thought she had forgotten. Just as I opened my lips again, however, a click echoed through the room. We met eyes, and then I glanced down, gulping as smooth grey metal hovered just below my sightline. Inga held a gun right against my chest, unwavering fingers resting on the trigger. She glared down at me as she flicked off the safety, and I knew too well that she would not hesitate to pull the trigger.

"You change, or you die."

...

The gun tickled my temple the entire ride. Inga, evidently, did not want to take any chances that day. The first second I dared to say a word, she had pulled the gun out and warned me to keep my thoughts to myself. I obliged, and let her silent warning kiss my face as she drove, knowing not to press my luck.

I had never seen her so worried around me. Usually, she relied on her sharp tongue and nails to rip the truth into me, but not that time. And even though the logical part of my brain questioned whether or not she could pull the trigger, I did not budge. I knew she would find a way, and while I could function without a working limb, its hindrance could end up being my doom. So I kept my mouth shut and focused on counting every single second that flowed into a minute as we drove. At least if I did not know where we were going, I could keep track of how long it took to get there.

The drive was deadly silent, with the front of the car blocked off by a partition and the windows tinted from the inside so I could see or know anything. Inga's arm didn't move an inch from my temple, and she used the other to tap out a steady rhythm against her leg; ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum. For some reason, it seemed familiar, though I couldn't place my finger on where I had heard it. Either way, it didn't act as any sort of calming device, and the chills running down my spine never seemed to stop.

It took us exactly two hours and seventeen minutes to reach our destination - at least, that's how many seconds I had counted between us leaving, arriving, and the number of times the gun tapped against my head. Once we did, we were ushered out of the car and I was given a blindfold, escorted into a building with no instructions or clues as to where we were.

The wind whipped my hair around my face, but I ignored it, spending all my energy on trying to figure out whatever I could about wherever I was. My feet sounded firm against the ground with each step, meaning it was some sort of concrete or stone, but no one reprimanded me and the presence of the gun had vanished, leaving me to assume that I was standing alone somewhere. This would mean I was in a larger building than they thought, yet not alone judging by the wind; they wouldn't be so foolish as to leave me out in the open to stand, it was just some test. 

A test that, at that moment in time, I was failing.

I shuffled forward cautiously, reaching out with my hands to ensure I didn't trip or bump into anything and latched onto a cold strip of metal, gripping it tightly and running cautious fingers against it to see just what it was. However, as I learned seconds later, there were no clues or unique parts to the metal; all I could figure out was that it was a part of a large thing of some vast proportions.

"Ah, so she's more clever than you said."

At the sound of a foreign voice that I had not heard before, my outstretched hands froze and retracted back to my sides. I spun around, listening closely to the shuffles of feet and whistles of wind as it rushed past moving bodies. I considered stepping closer to the group - four or five people, by the sounds of it - but that wasn't necessary, as they drew closer and closer until they stood not three feet away from me.

"You do not know anything; she is an imbecile, believe me." That, of course, was Inga, her sharp tongue and harsh comments far from a strange concept to me. "She has done nothing."

"She moved."

My tongue darted out, running against cracking lips but proving no relief. "Where am I?"

A low chuckle sounded from the man from before - at least, whom I assumed was a man - and he spoke again, this time with a thicker accent. From the sounds of his voice and how it echoed, he was shorter than her, though not by much, and yet he held himself just as well as she did. "You did not tell her anything?"

"Like I said, she is an idiot; she would somehow manage to tell the world even before we left."

I wanted to launch myself at the woman and fought the urge to make a rebuttal against her point. Instead, I raised my hands, gesturing to the strip of cloth covering my eyes. "Will I ever get this removed?"

There was no answer, but mere seconds later, two arms encircled mine and began to escort-drag me with them, long strides to my clumsy, fearful shuffles. We were all walking, as thuds and stomps and murmurs of conversation echoed around me, but I, along with the arms that held me tight, walked several feet in front, leading the party. We stepped up many stairs and walked down many hallways, so many that soon I lost track of where we actually came from. I fought the urge to scream.

Finally, the people holding me stopped and turned my practically limp body right, pausing for a loud beep that seemingly was some sort of signal to let him continue. From there, he left me to stand in a much cooler room, muscled arms leaving me to stand alone while the others continued in. I almost spoke to ask again where I was and why, but chose not to; my life still meant something to me, if only just a little, and not worth asking a simple question.

"How long will they wait?" Inga spoke - presumably to the man with the accent. "This one seems to enjoy taking her time."

He sighed and tapped a foot against the ground, a soft but quick movement that alluded to irritation in him. "The deadline still stands, but patience has never been the virtue strived for. I am still working on...things, so there is still much time."

"Are you not done?"

"I'm working out the kinks."

"They can not be happy about that."

The man sighed again and moved, crossing the room to slam something down against a metal table. "They can wait; without me, this plan is nothing. We will get everything needed and it will be fine. I have faith, and so should you - besides, we've come this far. Why should we doubt now?"

I stood in silence, though I itched to speak or at least ask one of the questions blowing up in my head. This man, assumably originating from a country in Latin America judging from his accent, was needed to make something, something that coincided with the thing Inga needed to get - or rather someone if my hypothesis was correct. They were unknowns, people I couldn't work out; the lider would not do something like this, and if anyone associated with him did, I would have known more. Inga wasn't working with them, this was something far different, which meant that my mission wasn't truly what she had told me about.

"Are you sure that this will be fine?" Inga seemed more pleading this time when she spoke, an air of fear in her voice. She, too, stepped forward, but still stood far away from the man. "I can only do so much; I would get him myself, but it would be too suspicious. Unfortunately, she's got a mind of her own."

Before I could stop myself, I spoke, "she is right here."

For a moment, there was silence, before a light, bitter chuckle blew it away. "She's got a sense of humour."

"Unfortunately," Inga snarled, and fear mixed with a douse boiled beneath my skin. "Come on; we don't have much time for this. Let's get this going, Rojas - we can't take too long."

All at once the arms were back, but this time they were forcing me down, pinning me down and strapping heavy leather on my arms and legs. I kicked and flailed and screamed bloody murder, but it was no use; I wasn't going anywhere. However, surprisingly, the cloth that took away my vision was peeled away, giving me the view of a blindingly white ceiling covered in lights that made my eyes water and leak. It told me nothing about my whereabouts but gave me a chance to look around and observe what little I could see before shadows interrupted my gaze and threatened me with darkness once more.

"Hi, my name is Tomas Rojas, and you are in safe hands. Do not worry," the same voice muttered, and a new face came into view; a weedy man with glasses too small for his face and a beard too scruffy to be considered attractive put his hands on my face, turning it to and fro. His expression was blank, but his eyes showed a surprising kindness along with a remorse that seemed to allude to pain and tears shed much earlier in his life, a grief he had carried for a long time. Still, that meant nothing; he was still my captor, and he was still to be the bearer of more pain that was done to him. "Hold still, please."

"What are you...doing to me?" My eyes sought answers but found only lies in the strange man's eyes. "Please don't...hurt me."

In response, he held up a needle, glistening in the light, and tapped the side to free the liquid bubbling at the top. His eyes screamed regret and sympathy to me as his gloved hands drew closer. "Hold still."

The pain on my neck was the last thing I felt before the lights warped and faded, leaving me to fall into a pit of darkness, enveloping me and urging me to give in - which, in the end, I did.

Sorry for the lack of updates, yikes - this took a while to write out and edit several times, and I'm still not exactly proud of it, but we're going with it because hell knows it's been too long. Also, sorry for the break off from the cutesy Peter/Freya moments [ha not really], we had to establish this - it's going to be very important, and while a lot of things aren't going to be confirmed or said in this or other chapters about what happened, it's gonna be hella important so keep this in mind, loves. The character of Tomas Rojas would have been a tiny bit more effective if I still had my Wanda Maximoff fic still up, but as it is, it's not a big deal; he's not a big character anyways. However, gee like the other thousand times I've said this [I annoy myself sometimes] this is a very important chapter that will also allude to previous ones so make sure you didn't miss those or anything.

Thank you for reading!