𝒑𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒕 || s. rogers & b. barnes

11||; 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒓

⤷ march 28, 2014
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"You know me," she says, catching sight of Natasha hiding behind a van, looking over at her with eyes filled with fear.

Fear of the man in front of her.

The Winter Soldier.

"...Предатель," he says, voice low and muffled.

"Да. Как твои дела? Вы меня пропустили?" She asks, jutting her chin out. Her hands clench, barely contained deep blue, near purple energy simmering beneath her fingers, peaking out in arcs of energy.

The Soldier says nothing, instead raising his gun and pointing it at her. He sets it off, a small explosive shooting towards her.

She rolls to the side, dodging it.

Behind her, she hears a car explode, but focuses ahead.

Throwing out her hands, Irina launches tendrils of dark indigo. They latch onto the gun, but the Soldier knows her. Her attack patterns. He tugs his gun back harshly, pulling her forwards with it.

With a grunt, she rolls to the ground, but twists and makes a steady recovery, back on her feet in seconds.

The Soldier runs at her and Irina can't help the way her body momentarily freezes, stuck in the lights of her approaching demise.

A gunshot.

The Soldier barely dodges it, and Irina looks past him, meeting Natasha's eye as she holds her gun out, pointing it in their general direction. Their assailant turns around quickly, shooting an explosive that has Natasha ducking and hiding away as quickly as she'd appeared.

Taking her chance, Irina leaps forwards, connecting a string of energy between her two hands and, grabbing tight, she wraps it around the Soldier's throat.

They dance for a bit, stumbling backwards and forwards as the Soldier claws at her. Finally, he's able to grab the hood of Steve's jacket and use it to throw her overhead, slamming her into the ground. She lets out a cry of pain at the harsh impact, her eyes squinting open just enough to see a metal hand coming right for her.

She rolls to the side, and the fist connects with the road with a loud noise. The Soldier looks at her, eyes as stony and cold and unfeeling as ever as he removes his fist from the road, a small crater of impact where her head had once been.

This was no training session between them now.

Just like last time, she was his target.

And she didn't know what it would cost her this time to escape.

They both stumble up, and before she knows it, Irina is under an array of punches she can hardly keep up with. She pushes them aside, never able to take one head on. She's never been strong enough for that, even in all her years of training.

One manages to slip past her defenses, seeing a hole in them, and she's hit hard in the gut. Irina flies into the side of a truck, coughing harshly from the impact.

She sees the Soldier take out a knife from his hip and twirl it between his fingers, before holding it with expertise and bringing it down on her.

Irina's hands fly out, grabbing the metal wrist and stopping it in its path. Her eyes are wide, pupils shaking with terror as they dart from the sharp blade to the Soldier, who stares impassively at her.

"Пойдем," she pleads, cursing her small voice, cracking under the fear she felt. She could feel her heart beating erratically in her chest, threatening to burst out. "Please. Just let us go."