The Ritual
Natalia Romanova knew this sort of op like the back of her hand by now- she was the bait, the prize, to get the real target out of the shadows and show their own hand. Why this organization needed her alive was a mystery to her, a fact of the matter apparently unimportant to the mission at hand. But while the TVA needed her alive, they would also need a significant... push, to step into the light.
It was a classic scene, restraints keeping her wrists and ankles to the chair she was on, her stage set with dingy fluorescent lights and a cracked basement foundation. The Winter Soldier cast a solid, familiar shadow over her. They both knew his mission. It hung in the air, a silent promise.
Natasha let her eyes drag up to the masked face above, allowing some of the fatigue and anticipation she felt leak into her breath and into her shaky movement. She savored the last few precious seconds of silence where neither of their missions could touch them, where it didn't matter what was about to happen, just this held breath before the storm.
And then the performance began.
The pain was real, of course, lending credit to Natasha's cries as she was put through the paces, as her chest heaved and her body fought to resist the torture, to keep her alive through the pain. She didn't know how they were watching- hell, maybe the Red Room didn't even know how- so there could be no room for doubt in this dance. It was a dance Natasha could keep up with, at least at first. That was part of the dance eventually, too. Eventually something would start to blur the lines. Would it be blood loss, shock, or something else that truly claimed her mind in the end? How close would the TVA, would the Soldier before her, let her get to the edge?
Time seemed to stretch impossibly long- or was it short? Blood- probably her own- streamed down her face and front as she took blow after blow. She heard a voice- was it hers?- pleading for the torture to stop, please, I'll do anything you want-
The next step cracked across her face in a metal flash, leaving her head lolling back and a ringing in her ears. There were shouted words, too, but Natalia had long since learned how to disregard her scene partner's lines, even as the ringing faded. What was more surprising to the dazed widow as her eyes groggily blinked open was the bright, thin line that turned into a sheet of orange light before her face. A shadow-clad figure stepped through.
Now, it was time for the next act.
Nat vaguely registered a suppressed shot from the Winter Soldier still towering over her, watched the first body drop as two more live ones came through the curtain of light. Another shot, another body, and if Natasha could just- fiddle with, the spot on her wrist-
A third shot, gone wide as the third combatant continued advancing into the room and a fourth appeared, and a shadow looming over her. She was almost free, she could join the fight-
"Nat-" a low growl above her, a gloved hand on her shoulder firmly pressing her to the chair right as she found the release switch hidden beneath her restraints-
Despite whatever protest he might have had, the Soldier's grasp acted as an anchor point for her to spin across the dance floor, delivering devastating kicks the widow trusted had shattered the bones of the hostile now unfortunately first in line. As the resulting surprised cry of pain rang through the room and his body thudded to the wall, then the ground, the orange doorway shrank back into a glowing line and vanished.
The Winter Soldier disposed of the fourth assailant quickly as Natasha focused her double vision to the agent desperately trying for something on their wrist. They only got an input or two in before the widow cracked a blow to their temple, knocking them out and preventing whatever message or command they were attempting from going through.
Silence filled the room once more, muffled only by Natasha's still-heaving breath as she surveyed the scene before them.
"[Only four?]" she mused aloud. There was no response from the Soldier as he took a few heavy steps towards his latest victim, wordlessly retrieving an identical device from their wrist. Natalia followed suit.
"[Mission accomplished,]" she relayed to her own comms device. Then, standing up slowly as to not cause her head to spin more, she turned to her partner.
"[Take me home, Soldier.]"
The Prize
How long the variant had been locked in this room was a mystery to her at this point- had it been hours? Days? No windows meant it was hard to tell, and for an organization called the Time Variance Authority, there was a distinct lack of time pieces around. Except for that annoying Miss Minutes, the stubbornly unhelpful (to her) AI that she had given up on getting anything useful out of. Yelling, screaming, and banging on the doors hadn't produced any results, either, and after a while, the variant conceded herself to slouching down the wall to a seat on the floor.
In the silence, tears came, welling up and spilling down the variant's face. That's all she was, after all. The tan jumpsuit that had been thrown at her after her fine clothes had been vaporized to nothing said as much in bright, orange letters across her back: VARIANT. No longer a princess, and not even able to make use of what little magic she had managed to master thus far, not that a minor illusion would do her much good here, anyway. Her head of fiery orange hair sank to her knees as she curled up against the wall, the despair sinking deeper into her chest as she awaited whatever came next for her.
Eventually, the double doors to her cell were opened, and a brown-suited individual stepped through, carrying a file folder close to their chest. They looked to be a man, with grey hair and a mustache that suggested upper-middle age. The variant vaguely recalled seeing him in the courtroom she had been dragged to earlier, something about having a soft spot for variants like her.
"There you are, spitfire," the suit said once he laid eyes on the orange and tan huddle in the corner. He motioned to a desk with two chairs and what the variant guessed was some sort of computer in the middle of the room. "C'mon, I've got some stuff to tell you."
The variant raised her gaze just slightly, icy, dark eyes following the suit as he sauntered to the desk and sat down opposite her. He placed the file on the desk and settled himself in, then looked over expectantly to the variant.
"Not gonna join me, huh?" he said, a knowing twinkle in his eye and a slight smirk at the corner of his mouth. The variant's gaze hardened with spite. "Have it your way, I guess." With that, he opened the file before him and began leafing through it.
"Boy, they got you early, didn't they?" he said, glancing over whatever the file held for him. "What was it, the Valkyrie aspirations? That's always a big one. How old are you, now... one hundred? Two? I can never remember how fast you guys age..."
There was a thud outside the door. The variant glanced to the man at the table, still flipping through what she assumed was her file, apparently unaware of the disturbance. She raised her head to look over just as the doors burst open and four figures with guns and tactical gear advanced into the room. The man, startled now, stood up to face them.
"Hold on, I expressly said I wasn't to be disturbed-"
The first figure strode easily across the room and slammed the suit's head to the desk, pinning him there with an arm behind his back.
"OW- Hey, hey, hey!"
The variant pushed herself up against the wall to her feet once more as the second figure walked to the desk, and the last two trained their weapons in her direction. She slowly raised her hands to head level as the second figure spoke.
"Where are the stones, Mobius?" came a woman's voice, strong, demanding. The man, apparently named Mobius, just laughed.
"You're after *those things*? What are you, Earth military?" His question trailed into a cry as the first figure- dark and masked- shoved him harder into the desk twisted his arm further.
"OwowOW-! They're here! They're here-" he squeaked out, breath heavy with the pain of his twisted shoulder and smashed face. "But- but they're useless, you won't even be able to find them. The Timekeepers-" a blow from the woman in front of him cracked across his face.
"Where. Are. The. Stones?"
Mobius took a breath or two before continuing, "The Timekeepers keep them locked up, you'll never get through the security-"
"He's lying."
All four of the newcomers turned to look at the variant who had spoken up. Her gaze switched nervously between them.
"I-I saw them, when they were bringing me in here. Some of the people in the offices had them."
The woman turned back to Mobius, who was trying his best not to look visibly deflated by the truth. There was a moment of calculation, then another blow that rendered the man unconscious. The woman then turned to the variant.
"You. Show us where they are."
The variant gave a quick, enthusiastic nod as she desperately wracked her brain for where she had managed to glimpse the gems she assumed this group was after. They were her ticket out of this room, at any rate, and maybe if she wandered around enough she'd be able to find an exit, and if this team had managed to get into her cell, they could surely get her out of the TVA proper.
The variant carefully made her way to the cleared double doors, flanked by her new fireteam. She stepped over the incapacitated guards and faced the long hallway that stretched as far as she could see on either side. Right or left, right or left? Her hesitation was just long enough that she felt the cold metal of a weapon between her shoulder blades. Left it was.
The variant knew she had little room for any more slip-ups, doing her best to exude confidence as she began to walk at a brisk pace down the gently curving hall, picking up speed a little as it stretched on and on. Were those boots she heard running up behind them? Where was the damn door out?
She was jogging now, the four dark figures easily keeping pace behind her as she desperately looked for a door that didn't look like it went into another holding room. Finally, after countless doors passed on her left, she found one to the right. Just in time, too, as she could hear more boots echoing down the hall in front of them. She dashed into the alcove that led to the new door, praying to whoever was listening that it was the right one. She took the handle in one hand and slammed into it with her shoulder to no use- it was locked.
"I-I swear, it's this one!" she exclaimed, pleading with her escorts to believe her. The woman from before nodded to one of the other figures, who immediately crouched down and began working at the door with some sort of device the variant didn't recognize. More silent commands were issued to the two others left standing, and they posted themselves up against the corners, weapons trained either way to keep the alcove, and hopefully their exit, secure.
The variant's curiosity got the best of her as she took a hesitant step back into the hallway to peer out at their pursuers, just to get yanked back by the scruff of her jumpsuit as the dark agents opened fire.
"Belova!" barked the woman over the gunfire. "[What's the status on that door?!]"
"[I'm trying, but it's not working!]" came the response. The first woman cursed under her breath.
"I can help!" the variant piped up, desperate to be heard over the deafening shots.
"Stay back," was all she got in response.
"If you get me out of here, I can help!" she tried again. The woman considered her out of the corner of her eye. Despite the considerable number of agents they had already dropped, time was running out.
"[Soldier, try the door,]" the woman said to the masked figure, who silently turned to it, holstering his weapon and giving his left arm a warm-up swing. He took the handle in his hand and strained at it- the variant could hear metallic whirring and screeching as he tried to open the door with force. When that didn't work, he, too, slammed his shoulder into it to little effect. The woman, the apparent leader of the team, sighed in frustration. It was time to call it.
"[Time to retreat. Take us home, Soldier,]" she said finally, her gaze settling on the variant in front of her. "[At least we won't be going back empty handed.]"
Before the variant had time to wonder what she meant, the butt of one of their guns struck her in the temple and she crumpled to the ground.
The last thing she gathered before it all faded to black was a bright orange light, and the faint sensation of being carried into it.