ANTONIA / TASKMASTER.

"I do not fight people unless I have to anymore.” It’s part of her declaring her freedom. “You will find no threat from me.”

"That is what people approach me for.” Antonia explains. “To test their skills.” It’s not anything that she wants.

"I was trained to be a winner.” Her father had properly equipped her to make sure that was always true. “Winning is self-preservation.” 

“Do you think that you are better than me?” She glances over at him. He’s not. John Waker is a sniveling rag of a man. “Yes. How do you not realize that? Your mouth is always moving.” Not as bad as Red Guardian, but still. It’s more than Antonia. 

There’s a long moment of silence. For most of her life, no one asked Antonia if she was okay. She simply existed; the Taskmaster would complete hit after hit with no complaints or failures permitted. Those years of silence have left her ill equipped when it comes to answering questions such as these. “I am...” Angry? Sad? Both. “Accustomed to being disappointed.” She finally says, surprising herself. Most of her life hasn’t been her own. Maybe she’s a fool for beginning to believe it could be otherwise.

“Sit here.” She remains stationary in her chair. “I just want to sit here.”

“Who are you?” She also needs to know what he is. Other than annoying, that is.

Antonia nods once. She doesn’t want to talk to Valentina either. It’s strange to be gearing up to fight but out of her suit. For a long time, she had almost lived in it exclusively. Without it, she feels naked and unequipped. “Shield or no shield?” Her chin juts towards the orange and blue disc that sits with her gloves and weapons. Both are trained in how to use it, so it won’t tilt the fight very much.

Antonia knows what burning flesh smells like. After that, she doesn’t think she’ll ever smell anything worse. Whatever he’s going on about is not as bad as her own singed skin. The assassin blinks once, face blank under her helmet. “You are not wise.”

“Fighting you would be as useful to me as fighting Yelena or Natasha.” The words are stilted. Her English isn’t great after spending so many years not speaking. Even in Russian she falters. “Your fighting style has already been indexed in the Taskmaster Protocols. I can do what you do but better.”

“We have the same clearance.” The words are quiet and accented. Antonia and Walker have been paired up on assignment, unfortunately. The Russian killing machine and the disgraced star spangled man. There’s surely supposed to be irony here on Valentina’s part, but Antonia isn’t amused. “Also, you talk too much.”

The burns have returned to her face now that Pleasant Hill has been erased from her physical form. There’s a tightness to her skin that she’s long gotten used to but had forgotten about. It had been years before that she had asked Nat is he gone? in regards to her father. She feels as if she’s back at that moment, only it’s not Dreykov whose hurt her. It’s Maria Hill. Antonia makes a noise in the back of her throat, head nodding slightly. “I am glad to hear.”

“I do not often lose.” Antonia does end up in stalemates quite often, though. She can use what she has for each individual fighter but then combines it with the others who are indexed. It’s supposed to make her a superior combatant. That’s all physical. If he’s a mutant with powers, she’s screwed. “In this case, I would not like to find out.”

“...I’m not going to fight you.”