Twist My Wrist || scariingcrows
It was foolish, it was always foolish. She knew that sleeping with Crane, having feelings for him was dangerous, not just to her physically, but possibly mentally, and worse, to her career. The ice Crane was on was even thinner than her own. So needless to say, that when local reports had come in of a man in a horrific mask torturing and tormenting people, Natasha, ever cynical felt a sharp pain of betrayal. Had Crane gone back to his old ways? Using the redhead as… Cover? Leverage? Trying to play on her sympathies?
No. None of the options before her made sense. It would be too big of a risk. If Crane betrayed her, she’d come at him with everything she had. And he wouldn’t survive the encounter. Which meant someone wanted either his attention, or to frame him. She wouldn’t let him face this alone one way or another.
“Jonathan, what’s going on?” she asked as she pushed open his office doors, wanting to get there before SHIELD mobilized a unit to take on the Doctor. It was not him she found, or at least not as she had known him. Instead stood the man in the mask. Her heart stilled for a moment as she looked at him.
“Fear is a powerful emotion, Agent Romanoff. More powerful than love or anger. Are you scared?” the man asked as he turned to face her, a syringe in his hand, full of something she was certain she didn’t want in her.
“Not at all. Where’s Crane?” she asked as she slid into a defensive position.
“Very observant.” He said as he approached her. His steps were slow but steady, unrushed and unbothered by the idea of a fight.
“World class spy and you don’t think I’d notice you’re a half inch taller and at least a shoe size bigger?” she moved to strike and he dodged, burying the needle in her arm though she was just as quick to pull it out, taking only a small dose. She relentlessly went after the the taller man, her speed reduced as the drug took it’s affect.
He managed to dodged the potentially critical blows and back handed her had enough to knock the spy to the ground. He watched her attempt to pull herself up, only to fall back to the floor. He moved closer, kneeling beside her and grabbing her by the hair and lifting her head to look at her. “Don’t worry, I won’t kill you yet.”
“No… you won’t,” she said before jamming the needle into his chest and slamming her other hand against the plunger. She watched him fall back as she attempted to collect herself. Her body felt compromised, weak. Her vision blurring but she couldn’t... She couldn’t give in to whatever was working her way through her system. Natasha grabbed the mask, yanking it off and gave a sigh of relief that it was not Jonathan beneath it. She knew it not to be, but she had to remove all doubt from her mind. She checked the man’s pulse, he wasn’t breathing. She’d killed him.
