❚❚❚❚❚ 1 / DAY 141 / POINT A / LADY, RUNNING DOWN TO THE RIPTIDE
[ As Natasha freefalls, she inhales a familiar rush. She has been dropped without warning many times, seemingly abandoned by her agencies and companions. She feels her bones rattle ( perhaps even break ) upon impact, as her consciousness fades. She has felt greater pain than this. When she reawakens, the water surrounds her, splaying her red hair like streamers about her head, bright in contrast to the blue and green hues. The salt prickles her skin. Sea water, she thinks.
She has held her breath before, too. Seen others do the same. Watched them drown. Drowned them herself.
James Bond makes it look simple. In actuality, neither survival nor combat in open water will be is easy, but, oh, it's so familiar that she nearly groans. I’m not a martini-guzzling, shark-punching, go-go-gadget super spy. I’m an ex-spy, sometimes Avenger, whoever others need me to be. She surfaces slowly, tying her hair in a knot to clear her vision. Water, water, every where, nor any drop to drink. Crates and bags dotting the surface. People. She draws on who she truly is, a highly capable and experienced field operative, while simultaneously subsuming the unsuited parts of herself ( the panic over unstable surroundings, the fear of the deep and unknown, the somewhat reserved girl who keeps to herself ) and replacing them with desirable attributes ( a commanding presence, for others to follow in crisis; a reassuring smile, to engender trust and minimize panic ). Be the hero they need, though that is not what you are. In her waterproof shirt and trousers, she recognizes that her privacy has been been violated ( but she temporarily dismisses that, as it works in her favor now ). The blue lines on her black Widow’s Bite gauntlet, resembling a round of bullets in bracelet form, glow faintly. Without hesitation, her eyes focus on the nearest person. Diving, she swims over in a relaxed breathstroke and surfaces shortly after, in front of her target. A soft exhale. She quirks the right corner of her mouth, almost a smile. Then, in a steady voice: ] Hey. [ She makes eye contact, confidant. ] I’ve done this before. [ a universally assuring phrase. I can survive and with me, so can you. She’ll tailor her approach depending on the response she receives. ] ❚❚❚❚❚ 2 / DAY 141 / POINT A / IT CAME FROM THE DEEP [ Once everyone nearby her immediate breaching location has been tended to and preferably partnered with a buddy for safety, she dives deep alone, swimming towards a crate. She can hold her breath while stationary for almost twenty minutes. While moving, her record drops considerably. Despite all of her training and experience, she feels danger before she sees it. Something bumps her leg and tugs, testing. In a flutter of her lashes, a brief hesitation, everything is gone that could preclude the success of this operation. In order to help others, you must help yourself. If …show more content…
Or, just witness violent thrashing, a flash of light below, and Natasha resurfacing, gasping at her first breath and calming herself again. ]
❚❚❚❚❚ 3 / DAY 144 / RENDEZVOUS POINT
[ As a freelance agent, selecting a job is an exercise in risk management. Minimize risk, maximize return. Load judgement, ethics, and luck in your chambers. Fire assuming that you will miss. Operate knowing that help is unattainable. Rely on yourself ( and remember, even you are fallible ).
Natasha survived partly due to her own skills, but largely due to her fellow crew members' aid. This is no freelance mission: it’s a team effort, which is simultaneously comforting and frustrating. Not everyone here is a rational player, which lessens predictability and heightens the danger of working with them. As she untangles her hair from its’s haphazard knot of an updo, she can’t help but think agreeing to this was a mistake.
Fortunately, she refuses to dwell on regrets. Instead, she settles on the floor in view of the TV screens, leaning back against a wall ( minimizing the risk of unforeseen attacks, maximizing the opportunity to rest her muscles ). While she appears focused on the screens and her hair, she
[ As Natasha freefalls, she inhales a familiar rush. She has been dropped without warning many times, seemingly abandoned by her agencies and companions. She feels her bones rattle ( perhaps even break ) upon impact, as her consciousness fades. She has felt greater pain than this. When she reawakens, the water surrounds her, splaying her red hair like streamers about her head, bright in contrast to the blue and green hues. The salt prickles her skin. Sea water, she thinks.
She has held her breath before, too. Seen others do the same. Watched them drown. Drowned them herself.
James Bond makes it look simple. In actuality, neither survival nor combat in open water will be is easy, but, oh, it's so familiar that she nearly groans. I’m not a martini-guzzling, shark-punching, go-go-gadget super spy. I’m an ex-spy, sometimes Avenger, whoever others need me to be. She surfaces slowly, tying her hair in a knot to clear her vision. Water, water, every where, nor any drop to drink. Crates and bags dotting the surface. People. She draws on who she truly is, a highly capable and experienced field operative, while simultaneously subsuming the unsuited parts of herself ( the panic over unstable surroundings, the fear of the deep and unknown, the somewhat reserved girl who keeps to herself ) and replacing them with desirable attributes ( a commanding presence, for others to follow in crisis; a reassuring smile, to engender trust and minimize panic ). Be the hero they need, though that is not what you are. In her waterproof shirt and trousers, she recognizes that her privacy has been been violated ( but she temporarily dismisses that, as it works in her favor now ). The blue lines on her black Widow’s Bite gauntlet, resembling a round of bullets in bracelet form, glow faintly. Without hesitation, her eyes focus on the nearest person. Diving, she swims over in a relaxed breathstroke and surfaces shortly after, in front of her target. A soft exhale. She quirks the right corner of her mouth, almost a smile. Then, in a steady voice: ] Hey. [ She makes eye contact, confidant. ] I’ve done this before. [ a universally assuring phrase. I can survive and with me, so can you. She’ll tailor her approach depending on the response she receives. ] ❚❚❚❚❚ 2 / DAY 141 / POINT A / IT CAME FROM THE DEEP [ Once everyone nearby her immediate breaching location has been tended to and preferably partnered with a buddy for safety, she dives deep alone, swimming towards a crate. She can hold her breath while stationary for almost twenty minutes. While moving, her record drops considerably. Despite all of her training and experience, she feels danger before she sees it. Something bumps her leg and tugs, testing. In a flutter of her lashes, a brief hesitation, everything is gone that could preclude the success of this operation. In order to help others, you must help yourself. If …show more content…
Or, just witness violent thrashing, a flash of light below, and Natasha resurfacing, gasping at her first breath and calming herself again. ]
❚❚❚❚❚ 3 / DAY 144 / RENDEZVOUS POINT
[ As a freelance agent, selecting a job is an exercise in risk management. Minimize risk, maximize return. Load judgement, ethics, and luck in your chambers. Fire assuming that you will miss. Operate knowing that help is unattainable. Rely on yourself ( and remember, even you are fallible ).
Natasha survived partly due to her own skills, but largely due to her fellow crew members' aid. This is no freelance mission: it’s a team effort, which is simultaneously comforting and frustrating. Not everyone here is a rational player, which lessens predictability and heightens the danger of working with them. As she untangles her hair from its’s haphazard knot of an updo, she can’t help but think agreeing to this was a mistake.
Fortunately, she refuses to dwell on regrets. Instead, she settles on the floor in view of the TV screens, leaning back against a wall ( minimizing the risk of unforeseen attacks, maximizing the opportunity to rest her muscles ). While she appears focused on the screens and her hair, she