❝these were the women who knitted pain into glory❞
[COMPLETED]
[marvel cinematic universe]
[alternate universe]
[natasha romanoff]
[SO MANY WORDING ERRORS BUT I CBA TO FIX THEM RN]
BAD BITCH ❝these were the women who knitted pain into glory❞
05. Avenging the Past
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January 2017
The world had a funny way of pulling Natalia Romanova and Svetlana Smirnov together. Neither expected to meet again, at least not for an extended period of time, after their meeting merely three months previous yet here they stood: surrounded by Natalia's group of friends and on a mission that needed both parties' full co operation.
Svetlana was for hire. After she left Hydra with the help of a certain woman, she began to realise that survival was a lot harder on your own. Without money, refusing to take the elder woman's money, she had to earn herself a whole new reputation within the Black Market. As a young female, facially younger than she actually was, it had been incredibly hard for her to be taken seriously within the darker corners of the world. To begin with, men had underestimated her power and given her simple chores to keep her busy - they didn't take her seriously for a long time but after slaughtering enough people without a second look, the older men learned to fear her. It had been hard work, though. No matter how easy she claimed it had been: not being taken seriously for the first time in her life had been a large learning curb and it had taken her even longer to realise that to win, she had to play all her cards correctly. She had to play the game to win otherwise she'd be taken out of it before it even began. So she'd played nicely. She'd refrained from using her red acrylics to gouge out all of their eyes and she wound up on top.
People from all around the globe contacted Svetlana when they were in desperate need. Only the very desperate went to a woman like her. Only the very desperate didn't fear her enough to talk to her. Very few people knew of her existence, in the grand scheme of things, but when people actually looked, she was quite easy to contact. She had a work phone, a disposable one which got changed once a week, and had taken residence in a local abandoned hospital which had been evacuated over a decade before hand. Her phone was being rung quite often. She was in high demand to those who found her and she only took on very selective cases. Sometimes she'd take cases out of pity. It wasn't humility; merely work for the bored. She'd taken on a case merely a day ago, in fact, for the same reason. The facts were simple. A woman had gotten out of a dangerously abusive relationship and wanted the man gone. The man had been sending death threats and had held the woman hostage a month previous in her own home. Svetlana enjoyed killing abusers. Perhaps it was due to her own internalised anguish but the feeling of men's knuckles shattering, the same knuckles that had beaten their wives and children before, was enough to take on the case. Of course, if it were a female abuser, Svetlana's answer would be the same. It wasn't heroic. She simply kept her sadistic tendencies to those who truly deserved them.
Her phone was being rung quite often. This being said, Svetlana wasn't surprised at all when the ringtone blared from beside her position on the top of an apartment building. The wind was still, perfect conditions, and she had a clear shot of her target. The sniper rifle carefully placed on the edge of the building was in place, one eye looking through the scope with her fingers wrapped around the trigger, and perfectly positioned on her victim. Svetlana's fingers itched to take the shot, to watch his life splatter onto the wall behind him, but she counted through her breaths - aiming for a shot through her target's left eye and through his prefrontal cortex.
