[ of all the debts she owes, this is her greatest. a duty to the women like her who she didn't kill in the tundra as a child or free from dreykov as a double agent. natasha remains on the run, but her purpose is clear for the first time since the avengers fractured beneath her.
they awaken max outside paris, but only after she cracks one of natasha’s ribs — which, pretty impressive, for a widow her age. please, you’re rusty, natasha, after playing with heroes for so long, yelena tells her. nat rolls her eyes as they haul her to a safe house in the city, in a close off a bustling street, up a harrowing spiral staircase. privately, she wonders if yelena has the truth of it. after years of fighting like an avenger, has she forgotten what it means to be an assassin?
no, she decides. there are some things you can’t shake.
max isn’t allowed to leave the small, rustic and minimally furnished apartment for days. not until they have her new identity finished, and they’re sure they haven’t been followed by the others in her unit (the ones they’ve failed, at least for now). natasha returns on day five of isolation, gold aviators perched atop her head, hair pulled back into a high ponytail, and shopping bags hooked at her elbows. ]
Happy birthday, kid. [ nat fishes a clear bag out the interior pocket of her brown, leather jacket and throws it to max. inside, she’ll find her new identity and all the documents required to assume it, along with a burner phone. ] Not to spoil the surprise, but I snagged some clothes and accessories for you, too.
[ clothes meaning clothes and accessories meaning weapons, naturally. she sets the other bags on a nearby bistro table before walking to the chipped sideboard, flush against the wall, and turning the dial on an old-fashioned radio. a classic defense against eavesdroppers. ]
I really think it’s gonna be your year.
Edited 2021-07-10 15:01 (UTC)
time means nothing aka i don't know when this takes place year wise
[ being engineered with an eidetic memory means that max remembers escaping one prison and being picked up by another, in spite of how many experiments and brain washing techniques she's been subjected to in the years since. when natasha and yelena free her it's like resurfacing from underneath the ice, a cold shock running though her veins and everything coming to the forefront. for the first time in years she can process her actions and feel what it means to have committed them, and she wants to run from it.
they don't let her. they drag her to a tucked away apartment, one of them staying with her to make sure she doesn't escape through the window or one of the secret doors. what they don't know is she's not planning to. she uses her downtime trying to figure out where the other manticore escapees might have gone, how many made it out and how many could be left. she doesn't have enough details on them to be specific, but the two who freed her don't remember any other young girls being brought in wearing hospital gowns and crew cuts.
by the fifth day, she's tired of searching. yelena's made coffee and something to eat that she hasn't touched and she's staring at a crack in the wall when natasha waltzes in, arms loaded with shopping bags that she sets on the table. max pulls free of her reverie in time to catch the bag of credentials, which she opens and thumbs through for a moment. melissa gomez, 21, here on a student visa, complete with the university ID. she shuts the bag and tosses it onto the table, pulling one of the shopping bags to her and peering into it curiously. ]
You shouldn't have. [ it's dry and a little tired, and she watches as natasha turns up the radio, loud enough for those who might have trailed them to have a harder time hearing them. ] I don't suppose I get to pick out a cake later?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
no subject
black widow spoilers / lmk if you want any edits!
they awaken max outside paris, but only after she cracks one of natasha’s ribs — which, pretty impressive, for a widow her age. please, you’re rusty, natasha, after playing with heroes for so long, yelena tells her. nat rolls her eyes as they haul her to a safe house in the city, in a close off a bustling street, up a harrowing spiral staircase. privately, she wonders if yelena has the truth of it. after years of fighting like an avenger, has she forgotten what it means to be an assassin?
no, she decides. there are some things you can’t shake.
max isn’t allowed to leave the small, rustic and minimally furnished apartment for days. not until they have her new identity finished, and they’re sure they haven’t been followed by the others in her unit (the ones they’ve failed, at least for now). natasha returns on day five of isolation, gold aviators perched atop her head, hair pulled back into a high ponytail, and shopping bags hooked at her elbows. ]
Happy birthday, kid. [ nat fishes a clear bag out the interior pocket of her brown, leather jacket and throws it to max. inside, she’ll find her new identity and all the documents required to assume it, along with a burner phone. ] Not to spoil the surprise, but I snagged some clothes and accessories for you, too.
[ clothes meaning clothes and accessories meaning weapons, naturally. she sets the other bags on a nearby bistro table before walking to the chipped sideboard, flush against the wall, and turning the dial on an old-fashioned radio. a classic defense against eavesdroppers. ]
I really think it’s gonna be your year.
time means nothing aka i don't know when this takes place year wise
they don't let her. they drag her to a tucked away apartment, one of them staying with her to make sure she doesn't escape through the window or one of the secret doors. what they don't know is she's not planning to. she uses her downtime trying to figure out where the other manticore escapees might have gone, how many made it out and how many could be left. she doesn't have enough details on them to be specific, but the two who freed her don't remember any other young girls being brought in wearing hospital gowns and crew cuts.
by the fifth day, she's tired of searching. yelena's made coffee and something to eat that she hasn't touched and she's staring at a crack in the wall when natasha waltzes in, arms loaded with shopping bags that she sets on the table. max pulls free of her reverie in time to catch the bag of credentials, which she opens and thumbs through for a moment. melissa gomez, 21, here on a student visa, complete with the university ID. she shuts the bag and tosses it onto the table, pulling one of the shopping bags to her and peering into it curiously. ]
You shouldn't have. [ it's dry and a little tired, and she watches as natasha turns up the radio, loud enough for those who might have trailed them to have a harder time hearing them. ] I don't suppose I get to pick out a cake later?