A/n just would like to clear up a few things XD first off we would like to make it known that we are not in fact a singular person referring to themselves in a third, there is actually two of us writing

Second I (personally) would like to address the comment made about the formatting. There is a reason I can not fulfill the request for double space etc. I post the chapters off my tablet and don't have a sufficient word processor XD sorry bout that. E

ENJOYYY (hopefully) we were a little unsure about this and I know its pretty short, I just wanted to get something up :) COMMENTS ARE FANGIRL CRACK, AND WE NEED OUR FIX. XD

Natasha finally stalked up to the door. She had checked the perimeter, no one was around. There was, however, someone inside. Whoever it was had been sloppy and untrained, leaving plenty of marks that they had been at the worn down safe house. Natasha smirked. She decided it would be best to enter silently, even if it just meant a slight edge of surprise. Drawing her gun, she treaded, making absolutely no sound, into the main room. There was a girl, no more then nineteen sifting through the boxes Natasha kept under the living room couch. The girl didn't notice her, so Natasha watched as she ripped out old pictures of her and Alexi, multiple pairs of ballet shoes, and plenty of other useless objects Natasha had kept over the years. Not out of sentiment but lack of motive to get rid of them, they were there just because.
The Widow coughed loudly and the girl spun around, fumbling for a weapon. By the time the gun was drawn Natasha was half a second from kicking it out of her hands. However, girl did seem to have some measure of skill because she, however messily, managed to avoid the swipe. Natasha smiled, remembering her younger years. At that age, she had already surpassed the skills of nearly every other girl at the Red Room, including the experts and trainers. This girl, however, was at the average level. The fight continued for only a moment more when Natasha grabbed the girl's wrist, spinning it around her back and forcing her to drop the gun. Picking it up, Natasha circled the girl critically. The young woman scowled. Natasha couldn't help but smile at the angry gesture.
"By now you should know your English, I'll test you on it a bit, eh?" The girl faltered a moment, then replied coldly.
"Of course," Natasha stopped behind the girl. "I didn't expect them to send someone so.. Young," she said smoothly. In reply, she lifted her chin arrogantly. "I am the best." She snapped, her voice filling with pride. Natasha chuckled. The girl was almost half as arrogant as she had been. "Is that what they tell you?"
A short pause. "It is true." The girl responded.
Very arrogant.
She was also obviously not very intelligent, because she thought it was an opportune moment to attack.

Yes, not very intelligent at all.

She spun around, fist ready to swing, but Natasha was quicker, far faster then the young girl. She held her gun to the girl's forehead and Clint's light knife to her throat. The girl stopped, eyes wide in shock. "Hmm, " Natasha mused as though nothing of true interest just happened. "It would seem Ivan's standards are slipping.." She traced small lines across the girl's neck. It wasn't necessarily a threat, but more of a simple warning to her that the simplest mistake could kill. "Tell me, child, how many missions have you completed by yourself?" Natasha asked in false gentility "Twenty seven since I was allowed to go alone." she was growing cocky again, but the Widow had dealt with worse. Natasha nodded. Fifty three. She smiled, remembering the number. The men at the Red Room had been so proud of her, or so they seemed. "Twenty seven. And how old are you?" "Seventeen." The girl was one year away from eighteen. Natasha knew what happened at that age.
It was nothing good.
"Child," she began, her voice commanding but gentle at the same time. "If you do not leave the place you were raised now, you will regret it later, as I have." There was another short moment of silence. The girl was hesitating, considering. "I will regret nothing" She finally spat. "Ты предатель." Whatever sympathy Natasha had nearly diminished with that one phrase. She held the sharp end of the knife closer to the girl's neck, a small bead of blood appearing. Seeing the red, Natasha immediately forced herself to back down.
'No,' she chided herself. 'No more Natalia. This girl doesn't know what she is saying.'
Natasha stared coldly "Нет, девочка, ты предатель."
The teen struggled viciously, but for nothing. Natasha was simply trying to decide what should be done with the young assassin. She pondered for no more then a moment. Natasha took the knife and gun away from her head and neck. "If you do not run, as I highly suggest if you wish to keep your pride, go back and tell them that they will not kill me so easily." Natasha then punched the girl's stunned face. She stumbled to the floor, temporarily blinded. The Widow took advantage and slipped out of the door before the child could see her, once again into the shadows.

She wondered if he was looking for her.