Driven Mad (Book 1 in the MAD Series)(An Avengers Fan Fiction)

Natasha Romanoff

When the days are cold…

Young Natasha Romanoff stood above her father’s casket, staring at his lifeless body. His skin was pale and sickly, his eyes closed with this sense of peace that Natasha longed to feel. She didn’t mourn for him and everyone around her thought it was odd that she felt such numbness. She’d never realized that she was different until then, until everyone around her was crying. She was the only person who wasn’t sobbing for him, despite the fact that she’d been closer to him than anyone there. She just stared down at her father’s lifeless body, studying over his wounds, the wounds that couldn’t be covered. It was a shame that he’d died that way, died when Natasha got to live. But it wasn’t something Natasha was going to weep over, no matter how badly she wanted to.

And the cards all fold.

Natasha was only sixteen and she’d already seen things that most people didn’t see in a lifetime. She’d already tasted the bittersweet kiss of death and then had been brought back from it. She’d killed people, countless numbers of people dead because of her, most of the people being relatively innocent. They were just people following orders. And she’d killed them. Natasha was running through the streets, chased by people that she didn’t know but she knew that she was supposed to kill them. She turned and fired her guns with expert precision, hitting the men right through the eye. They collapsed in front of her as she dropped her weapons. She felt a heavy hand rest gently on her shoulder and she looked behind her, finding the man who had been taking care of her in return for the deaths of all of these people. He whispered praises in her ears, but she couldn’t hear him over the ringing as she shook. She was tired.

And the saints we see…

Natasha could see him coming from a mile away. He was quiet, but she had an ear for the silent killers. He was something, that was certain. He was really something. He had these big eyes that she could see clearly through the darkened night sky and gorgeous, sandy hair. He was toned, really toned. Natasha couldn’t stop staring at his arms though. They were so muscular. It made sense, since he had a bow at his hip and she was pretty sure that he could pull an arrow out and hit her at any second. But she doubted he would. If it was his intent to kill her then he would’ve done it already. She decided that, though she wasn’t going to be fully cooperative with him, considering the fact that he was more than likely out to kill her, she wasn’t going to hurt him. She wasn’t going to kill him. She probably couldn’t if she wanted to.

Are all made of gold.

The Black Widow felt her hair being jerked back, her neck bending backwards along with it. There was a loud crack as her neck cracked, the bones cracking as she groaned in pain. She let out a muttered Russian swear, staring up at some man that she’d never seen before. He had a round, bald head and an ugly black eye patch. She recognized him after a moment as the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. It was Nick Fury, the man who wanted her dead. Why didn’t he just kill her already?

When your dreams all fail…

Natasha stood over the bodies of her enemies, all of them swimming in a pool of their own blood, dead. The skies were dark, flooded with clouds as the rain poured down on her head, drenching her. The rain was freezing, every inch of her body cold and wet, her suit ripped and revealing. She warmed her hands with her breath, but that didn’t do much good. She decided that she needed to get going before S.H.I.E.L.D got there for cleanup, or worse. She needed to disappear before someone discovered the bloody massacre. This had been her test to get her into S.H.I.E.L.D. She’d needed to take down a flood of HYDRA agents to get her into the program, to get her off of their radar. And she’d succeeded.