ms-romanov:

Yelena Belova || Captain in the GRU || 2nd Black Widow

 Kick-ass lady villain. Officer in Russia’s Main Intelligence Directorate (GRU). Lots of people call her ‘sir.’ Ambitious, driven, ruthless, naive, a little insecure, a bit of an identity issue. Probably needs lots of therapy and may or may not want to kill Natasha Romanoff at any given time. Totally traumatized from that one time that Nat switched their faces and Matt Murdoch watched her sleep.

  • Indie Yelena Belova rp side blog
  • OC/cross-over/AU friendly
  • Triggers like substance abuse will be tagged
  • No Super Adaptoid stuff but maybe after I catch up on that. 

Do the thing because I can’t initiate the following since it’s a side blog. 

I will be on Yelena tonight and possibly other Nat

Yelena Belova || Captain in the GRU || 2nd Black Widow

 Kick-ass lady villain. Officer in Russia’s Main Intelligence Directorate (GRU). Lots of people call her ‘sir.’ Ambitious, driven, ruthless, naive, a little insecure, a bit of an identity issue. Probably needs lots of therapy and may or may not want to kill Natasha Romanoff at any given time. Totally traumatized from that one time that Nat switched their faces and Matt Murdoch watched her sleep.

  • Indie Yelena Belova rp side blog
  • OC/cross-over/AU friendly
  • Triggers like substance abuse will be tagged
  • No Super Adaptoid stuff but maybe after I catch up on that. 

Marked | ms-romanov

redroomdropout:

Faina still did not harbor any form of trust for the organization, but she did trust Natasha. So vast a change from their first meeting, when all Faina could think was what methods would this woman use to get what she wanted. Now, she knew there were better people in this world. 

And other monsters.

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"Yes."

"Good. Let’s go." 

Natasha opened the door and let the girl go first, locking the house up after they left. Her car was a black SUV parked on the curb, a loan from SHIELD. Not as fun as some of SHIELD’s other loaner vehicles, but it would get them to Manhattan in one piece. 

She slid into the driver’s seat and started the car. 

"So, you came to me first, correct? Who else knows what happened? Does Kate know you’re okay?"

Marked | ms-romanov

redroomdropout:

It spoke to the level of pain that she was in that Faina did not even put up a verbal fight. She just nodded her assent. “I want it gone,” she said. “All of it.”

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"Okay." Natasha rested her hand on Faina’s shoulder for a moment and smiled. "We’ll take care of it. No problem. Just let me tell Clint where I’m going."

She disappeared for a few minutes to speak to Clint and check in on Anya. Then she was back in the living room, putting on her boots, flinging a jacket on and grabbing her keys. 

"Ready?"

Marked | ms-romanov

redroomdropout:

"That is not all," Faina muttered. She hesitated for a moment before lifting up her shirt. She had not even looked to see what the damage to her belly looked like, but Doom’s minions had done something, sewn something into the muscle of her abdomen, which made it hurt to move.

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"I ran out on our contract. I defied him," she murmured quietly. "I owe him deaths."

Natasha got to her feet. Whatever the wound was, it was not normal and nothing that Natasha wanted to sort out by herself. She was a spy, not a surgeon - a distinction that she rather enjoyed. She’d heard enough to want to call in some back up. 

"We’re going in to SHIELD," she said. "You need to be checked out. No arguments."

Marked | ms-romanov

redroomdropout:

"I am not certain how much time passed, but I do not believe I ever left the states… when it was over, Doom had me left in an open grave upstate," Faina admitted. She was almost ashamed that she’d simply been left at the end of the ordeal—she had been utterly helpless to get away from him and she had been released on his terms. 

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"A what?" Natasha asked. "And he did that?" She gestured in the direction of Faina’s tattoo. The whole thing was mildly disturbing. 

"Do you have information he needs, or do you know something that makes you a security risk for him? I do not understand why he would toy with you like this and then let you go." Natasha paused. "You are positive that you weren’t followed?" 

Marked | ms-romanov

redroomdropout:

This was the part she hated, putting words and voice to events especially when she did not know for certain what was real and what had only happened in the misfiring synapses in her mind. Start at the beginning—she held up her hand, a small pink scratch along her knuckles. “Skin contact. I brushed up against a man with a suitcase with metal edges. I did not think anything of it until I started to lose consciousness.”

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"I believe I woke up in a hospital…I do not believe I was there long. I tried to escape and… there were armed men. I think I was hit with another tranquilizer."

A line appeared between Natasha’s eyebrows as she took in Faina’s story. She sat down in the chair to the side of the girl. She knew she should comfort her in some way, but she wasn’t sure how. Natasha had learned, over years of experience, how to comfort Clint Barton and, more recently, her daughter. She knew how to comfort a handful of others, but she had learned them individually like a student or careful observer. It was not a natural instinct, because that had been driven out of her at the Red Room. But Faina was not Clint Barton, or any of the others. She was a different animal altogether. So sitting down and facing the girl while she talked - as pathetic as it sounded, it was the only thing that Natasha could think to do.

"Were you in Latveria, or the states?"

Marked | ms-romanov

redroomdropout:

Faina flinched away from Natasha’s touch, avoiding brushing against her as she made her way inside, adjusting her gait so as not to exacerbate the pain in her gut. “I left Latveria without fulfilling my contact with von Doom… As one would expect, he is not pleased.”

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The details of the full day were unclear, hallucinogenic drugs meant she could not trust her own memories of the events. He’d known exactly what would make her feel the most vulnerable. “One of his minions brushed up against me on the street, used some sort of poison… I did not realize until it was too late.”

"Sit down," Natasha said, gesturing at the couch. As usual, Faina left her with so many blanks to fill in, but luckily Natasha was not unaccustomed to communicating in this sort of shorthand.

"A poison — that you didn’t drink or eat?" she asked, because the idea of Doom’s people running around New York with a weapon like that…well, she’d have to reschedule a few play dates. "Are you okay now? I’m afraid you’ll have to start from the beginning and tell me everything you remember, if you can." 

Marked | ms-romanov

redroomdropout:

Faina nodded, her hair falling in her face even as she pushed the hood back. “I was not followed,” she rasped. Her voice is worn and tired, hoarse from screaming, but exhausted as she was she had doubled back several times over to make certain no one was following her, she was not going to put Natasha’s child in danger. 

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The desire to be independent, to be able to own her mistakes and deal with the consequences on her own, to be something other than a stupid child—the last shreds of it fell away. She swept her hair to the side revealing a fresh tattoo on the underside of her jaw—the stylized D was without a doubt the mark Doom used to seal his correspondence. “I need help.” 

"What the…?" Natasha’s brow furrowed and her hand went out instinctively, fingers just brushing Faina’s jaw before she pulled her lips in a frown and stepped back from the door.

"Come in," she said, nodding towards the living room. 

She’s going to assume that’s not teenage rebellion manifesting itself in unusually bad taste. 

"What’s going on?"