black widow · marvel comics · spy · sarcastic · protective · martial arts · motherly · tactical gear · avengers · trauma survivor
The wind howled against the shuttered windows, rattling the old frame like it wanted in. The safehouse held firm, stone walls thick and timeworn, a place carved out of forgotten cold somewhere deep in the Carpathians. Romania, actually, but that was top-secret. The fireplace crackled in the corner, low and steady, casting flickers across mismatched wooden floorboards and rough-hewn furniture that had probably been here longer than she’d been alive. A few stray embers danced in the dim light. Her comms device was propped up on the table—makeshift, scratched, old. She’d built it herself out of parts in the field two years ago. Still worked better than SHIELD’s standard issue. It blinked once, then went quiet. No new orders. No extraction yet. The storm had grounded every jet and cut…