#stevenrogers

With Steve Rogers appearence like this :

Bend and extend.

Rise and jump.

Turn.

Turn.

Turn.

Bow.

“очередной раз!“ She instructed

Again

And so we did. Again and again. it was always the same thing. I began to lose track of the time, had it been minutes? hours? days?

I didn’t know anymore.

If you made a single mistake, it would earn you a swift hit from her cane to the leg, causing you to crumple to the ground. In order to avoid torture and possible death, you had to get back up and complete the rest of the routine without falling back down. Only I have been able to fulfill her requirements when it came to getting back up and completing the steps. Me and a certain redhead.

There was a strict schedule she had us follow.

Everyday, wake up at precisely 4 am.

Eat breakfast.

Dance.

Dance.

Dance.

Dance.

Combat.

Sparring.

One Death.

Studies.

Bed.

Repeat.

I lived for four years on one meal a day, being a Stark, I questioned it.

But I quickly learned to never question Madame B.

~ Flashback ~

2006

“There will be one meal a day, every day. For those of you with luxurious lives, this will be a drastic transition for you. It will be hard. You will struggle. You will fight for your lives, and some of you will lose. Unfortunately, only three of you will graduate and be selected for the KGB program. I will not tolerate any disrespect. Remember, it is a great honor to be here. We have hand selected you for the Red Room, and one day three of you will become soldiers of the KGB. After you complete your training, you will know how to lure foolish men and women into your webs. You will be able to use your skills of deception to steal priceless artifacts from even the most encrypted safes. You will be able to kill without so much as a flinch, it will become a second nature for you. You will be Hustlers. Assassins. Thieves. But most importantly, you will be Widows. Black Widows.” She instructed us in her near perfect English.

“Madame, why do we only get one meal a day? How are our bodies getting the nutrients and vitamins they need to function, much less train for twelve hours a day?” I asked her once she had finished.

The moment her dark pitch black eyes locked with mine, I felt a chill run down my spine and I somehow knew that I had already done something wrong.

“Let Miss Stark be an example to you all; never question your superiors in the Red Room, KGB, or HYDRA. Ever.

As soon as she’d finished speaking, I felt two pairs of cold arms encircle around mine and drag me out of the room and down into a dark, cold, cellar.

“NO! PLEASE DON’T HURT ME I’M BEGGING YOU! PLEASE, LET ME GO! HELP! I’M SORRY, PLEASE DON’T- ” I was soon cut off by my body being thrown down the dark stairs.

As soon as my back hit the floor, the dark figures grabbed me once again and pushed my face into a metal pole. They cuffed my hands in front of me, and I could make out the faint red nail polish chipping off. I decided to focus on that instead of the pain that I was sure to endure.

“мы должны ждать мадам б?”

“береженого Бог бережет,”

Should we wait for Madame B.?

Better safe than sorry.

This proceeded with them ripping the back of my shirt open, with my back facing them. I could hear them opening a case or crate, but I didn’t know what. 

Then I felt it.

The cold, barbed teeth of a whip sliding gently (so far) across the skin on my back.

I began to whimper and plead once more, which lead to a smack to the back of my head, causing it to harshly bang against the pole.

I could soon hear the clicks of a woman’s heels as she walked slowly down the steps. I could make out her speaking Russian to her henchmen through my heavy and loud sobs. 

“Please, please don’t- ” I started.

“Here’s what’s going to happen Octavia dear, you’re going to count the number of lashes out loud. If you lose track or do not satisfy me with your performance, then you will start from the beginning. Do you understand.

“No, please I beg you! I won’t do it again I promise, please just don’t hurt me!” I pleaded, tears streaming down my face.

“сосчитать.” 

Count.

And so I did. I counted. I never once stopped or stalled, I just did it. That’s when I first got a taste of real pain. Physical pain, and trust me, being whipped on your bare back is not fun. At. All.

After my first (and only) whipping, I passed out and woke up chained to a metal bed post inside a cold, damp room with no windows and one thin blanket to cover myself with at night. I first discovered I was chained when I tried to get up and lay on my stomach instead of my wounded and bloody back. I moaned in pain and struggled in vain to sit up and turn over. Unfortunately, my current predicament with the chain was not helping at all. That’s when I noticed that there were other girls in the room as well, all with one wrist chained to the bed. 

All but one.

She was staring straight at me, with piercing emerald green eyes; scrutinizing my every move. She had her chain laying on the bed next to her, along with a tiny bobby pin she must’ve snuck past the Red Room’s security. 

“Hi,” I grinned, masking my pain.

“Hello.” She faintly said back with a slight accent. 

“I’m Octavia, but you can call me ‘O’.

“I’m Natasha. You can call me Nat.” She smiled back with those ruby red lips.

~ Flashback Over ~

2014

678 confirmed kills.

87 successful cons.

14 flawless heists.

12 years.

She was arguably the best agent the KGB had, some might say she’s even more prominent than the Black Widow herself. After all, she certainly could take the Widow down. She was equipped to handle any “situation” the KGB had in any way possible.

To the rest of the world, she was known as no more than a shadow; a ghost.

Her face had never been seen by someone who had lived to tell the tale, the story goes. She was something like a femme fatale; no one knew of her affiliation with HYDRA. Or Abraham Erskine. Or even the Red Room and KGB.  And especially not her father, Tony Stark.

Ever since her infamous Kremlin Heist of 2010, she became somewhat of a hot topic with the rest of the world. This heist where all of the Kremlin’s billions upon billions of dollars mysteriously disappeared and numerous organizations focused towards helping youths lead a healthy and full life as well as many hospitals were donated a generous 500 grand the next day gained a lot of publicity on Social Media. Somehow, #Rogue became a trend on Instagram, Twitter, and FaceBook.

Unfortunately with fame comes paparazzi, and paparazzi for her just so happened to be the Agents of S.H.E.I.L.D.

Of course, being the expert ex-KGB agent she is, Rogue was able to avoid most S.H.E.I.L.D. agents, with the exception of her ex “classmate”, the Black Widow.

This is why she was currently in a standoff with Natasha Romanov on the rooftop of an orphanage in Washington D.C.

~ Rogue’s POV ~

“Rogue.”

“Widow.”

We stared blankly at each other for a moment before I finally broke the silence.

“So what brings you here, Widow?” I asked in an icy tone.

“Rogue, we need your help. Something’s happened. We need you. I need you.” She persisted.

“Natasha, I needed you four years ago. Why should I help you now?”

“Please, Octavia. I need you, Fury- Fury’s dead.

“Oh Natasha...” I trailed off, noticing her wipe away a stray tear from her eye.

“Please, I- I don’t know what to do anymore! Someone killed him, and he was like a mentor to me, he was like a father to me,” I visibly winced at the word father. She looked up. “We found a flash drive, and we can’t hack into it. You’re the best hacker I know, and this file could tell us why they killed Fury.” Natasha presses.

“I don’t know Natasha, I can’t just forget about what S.H.E.I.L.D’s done to me, to my mother. I’m sorry.” I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“Octavia, this isn’t just about me and you, or even you and your mother. This is about the rest of the world! We can’t do this without you, now are you going to be selfish and let the rest of the world suffer because of your stubbornness!

“I’m going to regret this.”

“Octavia, please- ”

“Where’s the fire?”