You’re in a room with Natasha after having run away for five years. She is a crime boss, of course she caught you. You’re sweating bullets, clammy and pale. The door is locked and a guard is outside of it. The familiar collar is warped around your neck just like five years ago. You’re older, but you still act and look the same. Natasha seems the same, though more cocky because she had caught you. Now, you have a debt to pay off. She approaches, fingers brushing against your jawline before gripping your chin. She’s harsh with her touch, but her words are a low coo,

“Did you really think you could run forever? Poor baby. Whoever put those nasty thoughts in your poor, dumb head didn’t know how naive my baby is.”