Breaking free from HYDRA
Laurel stood motionless in the dimly lit room, her chest rising and falling slowly, each breath shallow as she surveyed the carnage around her. The dim light cast harsh shadows on the blood-splattered walls, flickering off the cracked tiles beneath her feet. The scent of blood hung thick in the air, metallic and nauseating, mingling with the acrid stench of gunpowder and burnt fabric. It clung to her skin, to her clothes.
Bodies lay strewn across the cold concrete floor, limbs twisted unnaturally, their lifeless faces frozen in shock and terror. Blood pooled beneath them, some of it still warm, others already beginning to congeal. They had underestimated her Laurel could see it in their expressions, the disbelief, the confusion. They had assumed the restraints, the drugs, the pain would keep her subdued, break her down.
They had been wrong.
Her hands, still trembling from the surge of raw power that had ripped through her, tightened into fists. The restraints they had bound her with now lay shattered beside her feet, mere metal shards that had failed to hold her. Her eyes, usually soft with warmth, were cold now. Hard as steel as she looked at the chaos she had unleashed. There was no more room for mercy. Not after what they had done.
The room was silent save for the faint dripping of blood hitting the floor, echoing through the space like the slow tick of a clock. Her heartbeat still thundered in her ears, but it was slowing. The adrenaline ebbing away, leaving her with the hollow ache of exhaustion.
She hadn’t wanted this.
Not the violence.
Not the death.
But there had been no other choice. It was her or them, and she had chosen to live.
She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, feeling the sticky residue of blood there – not her own, but she didn’t care. Her vision swam slightly, the drugs not entirely out of her system but her mind remained sharp, painfully aware of the silence pressing down around her.
The door at the far end of the room was slightly ajar, faint light spilling through the crack. She could hear footsteps now. Slow, deliberate, growing closer.
Reinforcements?
Her body tensed, ready to move again, to fight, even though her muscles screamed in protest. She wouldn’t go down easily. Not after everything.
But she wasn’t in the mood to deal with any more of these monsters in a head-on fight so with a swift motion Laurel melted into the shadows, disappearing from sight.
The door creaked open, and two figures entered, guns drawn. They moved with precision, sweeping the room, their faces tense but professional. The woman had short, fiery red hair, her eyes scanning every corner with an intensity that told Laurel she wasn’t here by accident. The man beside her, blonde and carrying a bow, looked just as dangerous.
“You’re too late,” Laurel’s voice echoed form the shadows, a low, disembodied whisper that made the two agent’s tense in surprise.
Natasha Romanoff turned, her gun aimed toward the sound, her brow furrowing as she tried to locate her.
“What happened here?” Romanoff demanded her voice even but laced with caution.
Laurel chuckled darkly from her hidden position, her tone cold and devoid of any warmth.
“Your friends got complacent and cocky in their ability to keep me contained. They won’t be making that mistake again.”
“We aren’t with them,” Barton, the archer, said as he kept his bow at the ready, his voice calm but firm. He kept his eyes moving around the room, muscles coiled for action.
“So you say,” Laurel responded, her voice bouncing off the walls, “But what evidence do I have that that is true?”
Clint sighed, clearly not enjoying the back and forth but willing to play along for the moment, “You’ll just have to trust us.”
A bitter laugh came from the darkness, cold and dismissive, “I don’t see that happening anytime soon.”
Romanoff narrowed her eyes, “We’re not your enemies, and we’re not here to hurt you.”
She motioned for Clint to lower his bow as she holstered her gun, “Director Fury sent us to being everyone back to SHIELD headquarters. That includes you.”
“Fury,” Laurel repeated the name, tasting it on her tongue, “You’re part of a government organization. And after my last stay in one of your facilities I can’t say I’m interested in submitting myself to another one.”
“We just need to talk,” Romanoff countered, “You were held here by HYRDRA, not SHIELD. We just want to understand what happened here…what they did to you.”
Laurel’s eyes narrowed beneath her hood as she shifted into the shadows, “And what makes you think I’m going to let you drag me to some facility to be poked and prodded? I’ve had enough of that, thanks.”
Client readjusted his grip on his bow and Laurel noted the brief, unspoken glance between the two agents. They were getting ready to make a move. She could almost feel the tension rising in the air, the way their stances subtly shifted. They were going to try and take her by force.
In a heartbeat, Harry reappeared at the far end of the room, wand raised, glowing faintly.
“If you’re going to try and take me by force,” she said, her voice low and dangerous, “it won’t end well for you.”
The sudden shift of her position startled them, though they didn’t let it show. Romanoff’s hand had drifted back to her gun and Clint had raised his bow once more, but they hesitated to move. If they were surprised by her bloody appearance, they didn’t let it show.
“If your director is so set on talking with me, we can meet – somewhere neutral,” Laurel continued, “middle of Time Square. Four days from now. No tricks. No backup.”
“And if we refuse?” Romanoff asked.
“I’ll disappear, and you’ll never find me again,” Laurel replied, “And if I get even a hint of agents on my tail between now and then…I’ll kill them.”
The room fell into heavy silence, and even the air seemed to grow still. Romanoff and Barton exchanged a glance. This wasn’t an ordinary hostage they were dealing with. Client lowered his bow again, his muscles still taut but his expression resigned.
“Four days,” Romanoff said at last, “Time Square. No tricks.”
“See you then,” Laurel said curtly before her form vanished completely before their eyes. The two agents stood still for a moment, as if waiting for her to reappear.
But she didn’t.
She was gone.
Back at SHIELD headquarters, Romanoff and Barton stood before Fury’s desk, recounting the encounter.
“She set the terms. Time Square, four days,” Romanoff said, arms crossed over her chest, “She’s dangerous. Powerful. Not someone we can strong-arm into compliance.”
“The documents we recovered…” Clint trailed off.
Fury leaned back in his chair, eyeing them both, “And if she doesn’t show?”
Clint shook his head, “She will. She’s cautious but if she wanted to run, she could have.”
Fury rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then nodded, “We’ll play her game for now. But keep your eyes on her when the time comes.”