Edelweiss || Bucky x Reader

Chapter Thirty

Ukraine, 2001

She hides in the cover of the trees, overlooking a secluded dirt road that winds through the dense forest. The trees boast bright shades of red and orange. Their fallen leaves coat the road in its entirety. It's October of 2001, but she doesn't know that. Being elevated the seven feet gives her an immediate advantage, but her eyes never leave the scope on her rifle as she waits for her shot.

The target? A engineer of sorts.

She doesn't know details.

She doesn't need details. She's got her orders.

His bodyguard stands directly behind him, obstructing her view. The woman is dressed in a professional black suit, standing perfectly straight, ready for a threat to present itself. Her scarlet hair just reaches her shoulders. They're waiting for their escort. With every second that passes the assassin's window of opportunity get smaller. Her brows furrow in frustration and her grip on her trigger tightens. She'd just shoot the target through woman; she'll have to kill her eventually anyways, but her bullet wouldn't pass through both their bullet proof vests. Something rustles in the in the trees a few yards to her left, catching the bodyguard's attention. Her head swivels, searching for the source of the sound, exposing the back of the target's head for just a second. That's all she needs. With perfect grace she pulls her trigger, her target collapsing where he stands. The bodyguard whips around, her guns drawn. Her eyes dart through the trees for the shooter, eventually landing on the woman directly behind her. Her position now compromised, the assassin emerges from the shadows, clad in a full black bodysuit, various knives and firearms strapped to her legs and torso. A mask covers her nose and mouth. Dirty unkempt hair hangs around her face. Her piercing eyes are visible only for a moment before she covers them again with tinted goggles. The body guard charges, guns blazing. It's now I think she's owed a proper introduction.

Natalia Romanova, also known as Natasha Romanoff, also known as the Black Widow. Nothing short of infamous. Spy, assassin, expert in hand to hand combat— simply the best. Though she may have met her match in the masked assassin before her.

She's supposed to be a myth. So lethal she's never had to fire twice. Gone before the target's body even hits the ground. Each kill is so seamless that only the Black Widow herself has found a way to connect them. Though the sniper would disappear as soon as her job was done, she would unknowingly leave behind one or maybe two long white petals. An easy thing to miss. But Romanoff has always paid close attention to detail. And so she gave the killer her name.

They call her the Edelweiss, a flower long valued for it's medicinal properties. Rather distasteful irony, it would seem, as she is one of the most prolific assassins to ever exist. It's not who she used to be. But she doesn't know that either.

The elevation has proved to be very helpful. It's given her enough time to draw her own gun, shooting Romanoff in the shoulder and then the leg. The Black Widow is strong, but she is not a god. She falls bleeding into the dirt. The assassin makes her escape.

No hesitations. No regrets. Only her orders. Only the mission.

A motorcycle missing it's license plates had been hidden about a mile up the road and two miles into the woods a week before. Her ride out.

As she runs, she bleeds. Romanoff left a chunk of lead in her upper thigh as a parting gift. Fighters this skilled, neither one was going to make it out unscathed. And neither is going to stay on the ground to very long. Romanoff would be sprinting after her soon enough. She maintains her pace through her limp, but with the amount of evidence she's leaving behind, they're not going to be pleased with her when she returns.

Her strong legs are painted crimson as she straddles the bike's seat. Through heavy breaths, she tears through the dirt and towards what she knows as home.

She knows more than she thinks, if she can really think at all. She knows she is afraid of them. She knows she hates them. She knows they'll never stop hurting her. But she doesn't feel like a person should. No accident at all. It's much easier to use someone when you've turned them into something. It's the reason she never runs. Somewhere, she knows she can, and she knows she should, but she doesn't feel the pain that supports this knowledge. And so she's so caught up in the contradiction that before she can decide which voice is right, she's already in that chair, her mind being wiped clean.

Then they give her her next mission, and it starts all over again.