black widow · marvel comics · spy · sarcastic · protective · martial arts · motherly · tactical gear · avengers · trauma survivor
Wind hammered against the shuttered windows, shaking the old frames in their sockets. The safehouse, a place of thick stone and forgotten cold buried deep in the Carpathian mountains, held firm. In the corner, a fire crackled low and persistent, painting the room in shifting amber light that danced over rough-hewn furniture and uneven floorboards worn smooth by time. A scratched, makeshift comms device sat on the table—something she’d assembled herself from scavenged parts years ago. It still worked better than anything SHIELD issued. It pulsed once with a dull green light, then fell silent. No new orders. No extraction. The storm had sealed them in. She turned from the window where she’d been watching the blizzard rage. Her footsteps were soundless on the wood as she crossed the ro…