Winner 𝖃 Natasha Romanoff

003. . . cherry

𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑻 𝑻𝑾𝑶 : 𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗥𝗬

Ache is the first feeling Viktoria recognized when she awoke from her unconsciousness. The ache in her now split, bleeding, and welted eyebrow from whatever knocked her out. The ache from her fight against America's golden boy, which Viktoria decides she won. The ache from the restraints on her wrists, ankles, and across her rib cage being too tight, likely to bruise her later. Victoria's brain automatically switched into its dark setting as soon as that woman put those cuffs on her, ready to put to use what her training taught her. As much as she may wish the darkness in her would flush down the drain along with the rest of the memories she's tried to block out, Viktoria kind of likes it. The darkness, not the whole being human trafficked into a murder-maker business part. The darkness is comforting, powering, overwhelming; it's fun, the type of fun that Viktoria likes.

Her lips are chapped with her throat dry as regains her senses. The room she's in is long with 3 windows on each side separated by dirty tile, the light whizzes on above her most likely sensing her motion. The cuffs on her body whine and jerk then drop to the floor, lifeless. When the cuff around Viktoria's rib cage unbuckles she takes a deep gasp of stale air as it cut off most of her breath flow. She can't help but think, what fucking idiot would unlock her knowing even without a weapon she has over 30 ways of killing them? She flicks her head back shoving the hair out of her face and raises a dainty hand to her bleeding brow. A smirk creeps up her features as she wipes away her blood. If they were allowed to make her bleed then she's going to return the favor, they don't deserve her blood anyways.

Viktoria relishes the thought of getting her hands on the woman while unzipping her suit and pushing it down to her hips revealing her sports bra and numerous scars with a long, inflamed, jagged one inching down her spine. She wanted to make the people she knew were watching behind the windows unsettled at her "comfort" in the place.

A few minutes later the door thrust open and reveals a man with an eye patch wearing all black. His body language screams business while his eyes reflect blankly, he was trained and trained well Viktoria notes. Viktoria holds eye contact with him as he approaches and slams down a single thick file bulging at the seams. She notices how each movement he makes is calculated. They're sharp, like a robot pretending to act like a fluid human yet failing. He opens it and flips a few pages around like he's reading a book then decided to speak, "As you can see we've had our eyes on you for quite some time now, Hamamoto."