The men’s lives were extinguished before her eyes with little effort on Yelena’s part. A weaker person would have blanched at the sight. They stood no chance against the pair of them. The Strike Team’s training was thorough, and by all meanings of the word, good, but hers and Yelena’s was exceptional. The Black Widow program brutally ensured that, and their indoctrination ensured that they never hesitated to weed out life like a virus. If she were stronger, she would have used Yelena’s distraction to her advantage. She would have delivered one swift blow to her head, ending the fight before it began, and then interrogated her using whatever means necessary.
But she was in no state for that, and the moment passed as quickly as it came. Her protege from lifetimes ago was too wise to leave her with a window longer than a second. She hadn’t grown cocky, hadn’t been filled with assurances that she was unbeatable like Stark had. No, she was still brilliant, still lethal, and this would end only one way: with Natasha’s demise. She’d used up all of her lives and all of her luck.
Their guns levelled at each other in the same breath of a second. Natasha’s was pointed at her head, although she’d struggle to take the shot. Despite how vehemently she’d deny it, even to herself, a part of her still cared about Yelena. She wished that things could have ended differently, that she could have fled the Red Room with her in tow. But the past, unfortunately, was irreversible. “Alone?” She questioned, arching a brow. It was unlikely that she would be granted an answer, the Red Room would desire their presence to be a secret. If it were someone else, Natasha wouldn’t hesitate to point out that she made her location fairly easy to track. She’d prefer that they find her than an innocent hero. Yelena would only see it as weakness. Instead, she said, “Would you like to find out?” It was reckless, antagonistic, but it’d be a cold day in hell before she grovelled. “I’m surprised, Rooskaya, that it took you such a long time to be sent after me.”
There was a certain pain that Yelena felt in standing here, saving Natalia’s ass from these Americans. It took strength on her part to not just pull the trigger and end the woman’s life already, it took reminding herself about how sweet it will taste to end her fair and square. She didn’t want Natasha to know about that part of her plan, she didn’t want her to let her guard down just yet, because she was curious to see what her plan was to get out of this situation.
Maybe she’d let Natasha get away, make it look like for a split second she had gotten the upper-hand. Yelena could use that to her own advantage somehow, maybe Natasha would think that she was slipping up, or maybe she would think that she still had the advantage after all these years. She’d be wrong of course. Yelena was still training with rigor, while Natasha was hanging out with the likes of Tony Stark and that one that still fights with prehistoric weapons.
“I’m as alone as you are.” She retorted, not fully aware of how alone she was. For all Yelena knew Natasha could’ve called in for help before she got there and one of her super friends was on the way. If that was the case, she wanted her to think that she had back up as well. A devilish smirk wiped across Yelena’s face. She missed the antagonizing, the battle of wit that was always at play with them in addition to the battle of skill. “You know I’d love to, but from the looks of it - you don’t seem like you’ll have much to show.” The next statement stung her a bit, but she made sure not to let that show in her body language. She had to beg for this assignment, but time and time again they kept saying that Natasha wasn’t top priority anymore. Natasha would always be top priority as far as Yelena was concerned. “All part of the plan, darahi. But I don’t expect you to understand that.”
