Chapter 4

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Black Widow's/ Natasha Romanof's P.O.V

Just as my boot was about to meet flesh, the girl's hands latched onto my ankle and yanked, sending me to the floor. She scrambled away, launching herself behind one of the cement pillars. 

I hurriedly made it to my feet and pulled one of the guns out, almost sending a shot through her skull when she peeked out from behind her temporary barrier. 

"I need back up!" I roared into my earpiece and was met with the sound of chairs clattering to the floor and the ragged breathing of my fellow avengers as they readied themselves.

"You still in the training room?" Clint asked, and I could hear him snapping an arrow into place. 

"Yeah," I said, before the transmission cut off. 

I worked my finger onto the trigger and began to make my way to the opposite side of the room, making sure to leave a wide berth between myself and the escapee. But as soon as I had her in my sights, she had me in her own. She bolted, and I sprinted after her, trying to see if she had any weapons on her person. 

When I saw she didn't, I picked up my pace, closed the distance between us, and tackled her to the cement floor. 

"Oomph!" she wheezed, as she hit the ground, her forehead connecting solidly with the the edge of a training dummy. 

For a minute I thought she'd passed out, but all of the sudden I was...flying. A gust of air had blown me right from atop her, sending me up a good five feet and into the water cooler. I groaned as I righted myself, my eyes scouring the ground for my gun. With a jolt of fear I realized I'd lost it sometime during the flight.

I slowly lifted my head to see both fully loaded pistols sitting at the feet of the girl. She had lost the scarf covering her face and this was first time I'd been able to get a good look at her. 

She looked to be in her late teens, her skin a slight tan color as if she'd spent the year in the desert. Her hair was long and a bit poofy with frizz, ending in small curls. The aqua eyes were a stark contrast to everything else.

She stared at my horror-struck expression, then slowly her eyes drifted down to the two guns. She seemed to realize why I was worried about and hastily scooted away from the weapons, shaking her head. 

"I don't want to hurt you," she mouthed, moving farther away.

She abruptly stopped a few feet later, and dragged in a shaky breath as she reached for her side. I could faintly see a blotch of red against the dirtied fabric, quickly identifying it as a bullet wound.

She was shot?

I knew none of my bullets had connected, so I surmised that this had happened when she was fighting the man in black. 

I stared at her in shock for a few moments, before rising to my feet. She mimicked my actions but still retreated, wiping a bit of blood from the gash along her forehead. 

A twinge of guilt hit me.

She'd just spared my life. That had only happened once in my career and it was not something I'd easily overlook. 

I opened my mouth to speak when the frenzied footsteps of the rest of the team were heard, followed by the barking of orders from some lower ranking agents. The girls eyes widened in panic, and without another glance in my direction she was gone, the door on the opposite side of the training facility swinging shut behind her. 


Main Character's P.O.V

I tried to keep up my pace. I really did.

But between the bullet hole in my side, the possibility of a punctured spleen, and the splendid cut that was draining my skull of essential substances, I faltered a bit. 

Somehow, I managed to stumble out of a back entrance, though I don't recall how I got to the door. Cool night air enveloped me, and freedom was so, so close. I expected this to make me feel better, but I continually got worse. 

I could see that the compound was surrounded by a twenty foot high, electrical fence. I could go over it, but I would risk passing out in mid hover and turning myself into a piece of fried human. Or I could go under it, bending out a tunnel of stone, but risk passing out under ground and having no one be able to find me. Decisions, decisions. 

Turns out I wouldn't have to make one as soon as I'd thought. The door banged open and on instinct I flung myself into a nearby row of bushes, placing my back against the brick wall they sat in front of. 

A man in a red, white and blue suit scanned the horizon, holding a shield of some sort against his chest. I held my breath, hoping he'd move on, but of course he stayed right where he was. The walkie talkie he held with his free hand crackled, and he raised it to his ear, the words being recieved inaudible from where I sat. 

I narrowed my eyes as he stiffened, before slowing turning towards where I sat. I looked to see what he could be looking at, and to my dismay I spotted a security camera pointed right towards me. 

I swiveled back around to see that the man was looking right at me. 

He took one step, then another, then another until he was right in front of my hiding place. He squatted down, his eyes never seeming to leave mine, and placed his shield onto the ground.

My heart hammered in chest, sending a none to pleasant throbbing sensation to my newly acquired injuries. 

Cautiously, his hands reached out and pried apart the leaves, the branches breaking beneath his grip. I pushed myself further against the wall, so much so that I knew I'd have a bruise there in the morning. 

I'd been found. 

The man removed his mask once he was done creating a hole in the once impeccable model of landscaping, and rocked back on his haunches, probably waiting for the others.

Nothing was said for a few moments, and I had to grudgingly admit that my chances of escape were right around zero. 

So, with a sigh, I slumped down, being sure to apply pressure to my bullet wound that would not stop with the freaking bleeding!

I felt myself beginning to black out, and whether in a moment of delusion or sheer exhaustion, I spoke for the first time in months.

"Hi," I said, waving halfheartedly at the star spangled man. He arched one eyebrow in confusion, before fading into a black haze as I lost consciousness. 

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