Part of this was kinda inspired by an episode of Star Trek TOS.

I really need to start writing more whump, don't I? It'll get more intense as the calendar ticks by... ;)

Dark room? Check. No feeling in your fingers and toes? Check. A cloudy feeling inside your already messed up head? Check. Something restraining your throat, hands, and ankles that you can't see? Check.

Natasha's day was going badly, just like they usually did. She'd woken up and pulled on one of Steve's hoodies and a pair of blue jeans, enjoyed breakfast with Clint while he chided Sam about something completely stupid (no surprise there), then made her way into Wanda's room to take the kid shopping. Hell, Steve had even tagged along after saying he wanted to stop by an art store since he'd filled up his sketchbook.

How that lead to being kidnapped — Natasha didn't know. Scratch that actually, she'd been in plenty of strange situations before, both during her time working for the KGB and then S.H.I.E.L.D. with Barton as a partner.

Natasha muttered some colorful Russian. There was no light in the room and nothing was visible amidst the dark shadows. Her eyes darted towards the edges of the room she was in, searching for the blinking red dot of a camera. Not spotting one, Natasha took a deep breath but kept her guard up for anything. She didn't know where Steve and Wanda were, so all she could do was hope their training was holding up.

Her throat felt like it was closing. Natasha would've reached up, as it was a natural instinct, but already knew that her efforts wouldn't do much while wearing handcuffs. Luckily, enough air was able to pass her windpipe and allow the assassin to breathe decently. Well, it wasn't that much... But enough to put up a fight and get the hell out of dodge.

Natasha sat up from where she'd been lying on her side. She quickly realized that the restraint on her left wrist was loose, coming to the same conclusion with the other. Her eyes rolled back and fluttered shut. Natasha's body fell with a thud onto the cement floor, offering no mercy with the hard fall. Ow.

It wasn't a good plan, but Natasha wanted to get a head start on her captors just in case they had planted a camera (most likely night vision, including that weird unsettling green luminescence).

She lie there for a awhile, faking unconsciousness. Natasha knew only one person who could tell when she was faking, but Clint wasn't here right now and definitely not working against them. Laura and Steve were close seconds on that scale too.

A door opened and someone crossed the room loudly. Natasha let the person touch her forearm before springing into action and swiftly flipping them over her head. The guard fell down after knocking his head into the wall, and Natasha noted how easy that seemed to be even without the use of her restrained ankles. The shackles from her wrists now sat on the floor. Natasha used a bobby pin from her hair (she always kept one just in case) and fumbled with her ankle restraints before hearing the telltale click of them being unlocked.

She let them drop onto the ground with a soft echo. The door still lie open ajar, so Natasha tiptoed over and peered around the corner, only stopping to collect a small paring knife off the guard and put restraints on him.

Creeping through the hall and stalking the shadows, overhead florescent lights occasionally flickered overhead. The smell of mildew hung thick in the air. Bruises on her wrists ached, but Natasha knew she had to find her friends before something happened to them.

A muffled scream caught her attention.

Before she could further investigate the sound, Natasha sensed someone behind her. A man dressed much like the guard from before pulled a knife out and yelled something into a walkie-talkie. Natasha charged and knocked the knife out of his hand. She would've grabbed it, but the handle at the end slipped from her grasp and skidded across the floor with a harsh noise.

He glared at her and dodged Natasha's incoming kick. She'd predicted that, however, and used his momentum against him by grabbing and twisting his arm back. The guard yelled again and fell to the ground after getting in one more hit on the Russian. More men arrived at the scene, and Natasha made sure they ended up like the first guy.

Wiping a trickle of blood from her nose away, she listened for any more footsteps. Natasha heard one last pair and retrieved the paring knife.

She hid behind a corner and let the man run past. Then she jumped at him and was about to hit him with the butt of her knife — before realizing that it was Steve.

"Yay, family reunion," Natasha said in a monotone voice. "Do you know where she is?"

Steve shook his head, already knowing the assassin was referring to Wanda. "I came over here because I heard the fight going on."

"There was a scream earlier—"

"Actually, that was probably just the guard I knocked out earlier."

Natasha beckoned him along the rest of the hallway, eventually coming across a staircase and a door to their left.

Steve stopped her and pointed. "We should check in there. The door is too similar to our cell's to be a coincidence."

"Ah," Natasha replied, smirking a little. To be honest, she hadn't noticed. "I'll look for an exit route down the stairs. On your left."

"Sam was annoying enough, Romanoff. I don't need you doing this to me, too." Steve groaned the I'm-so-done-with-your-shit groan.

Natasha scouted out the stairs and noticed how they lead to a shorter hall at the bottom. The railing was extremely flimsy, so she didn't take the risk of flipping herself over. Every creak of movement seemed to pound in her ears. Sudden shouts of anger and pounding reached her ears, and the assassin urged her legs to hurry up the stairs.

She arrived just as a guard flew into a wall painfully. He'd been surrounded by a red aura, and Natasha was relieved to see Wanda fighting side by side with Steve. They held up pretty good — Wanda's eyes moving frantically to keep up with the incoming hostiles and her magic while Steve took down the small army by force. Natasha threw her knife with deadly aim and stopped someone approaching Wanda.

But that was when Natasha realized why her throat felt trapped. Oh, fuck. They were electric shocking collars that were somehow invisible. Where was Stark when you needed him (first time for everything)?

All three of the Avengers' collars were suddenly activated. Natasha collapsed to the ground, writhing in pain despite her usual high pain tolerance. Someone screamed — probably Wanda — but she couldn't tell with the red spots now clouding her vision. Her veins felt like they were bulging and ready to explode into a mass of crimson liquid; her heart rate quickened as the electricity ran around wildly on Natasha's skin.

Steve saw both his friends go down. His serum was fighting off the collar's powers better than them, but that didn't mean it wasn't excruciating. He didn't even register falling until his knees slammed into the concrete. Someone cackled a stereotypical villain laugh and pressed a button on a remote control panel.

Steve gasped for breath. The current strain of energy slowly left his body, leaving only a tingling sensation in his fingers and toes. Looking besides him, the soldier noticed Natasha and Wanda having similar reactions.

"Captain Rogers," a feminine voice spoke from a speaker embedded in the wall. "I've been looking forwards to us meeting and... Playing a game."

Despite the bad situation, Steve couldn't help but think about what Natasha had once told him: "Shall we play a game?"

"Pick who dies." And with that, the man holding the remote control motioned towards Natasha and Wanda.

✢

If there was anyone who could speak a million words with one glare, it was Natasha Romanoff.

The message was very clear: Rogers, I can  take this and want to do it. I don't care if it kills me, as long as you and Wanda are okay. Fucking let me do it.

Wanda's eyes were too filled with panic to get a good read, but Steve recognized something very similar to Natasha's. He didn't want to choose anyone.

Steve decided to go for the unspoken third option. "How about you kill Captain America instead?"

"You'd like that, yes?" The woman chuckled. "Death is such a simple way of fixing your problems — by not dealing with them. Sure, it's a cowardly move—"

"Says the moron sitting behind a microphone!" Natasha announced loudly.

The guy holding her must've received orders along with remote-control-man, and gave her a jolt of electricity. Natasha flinched violently and felt her whole body start shaking like she was in the middle of a seizure (she'd been a witness to a girl having one in the Red Room). Steve resisted the urge to cry out.

"—but you get the wrong impression, Captain. I don't want to kill you... I want to break you; see all hope drain and dwindle down from your eyes until you—"

Steve snorted. "How depressing. You should try therapy."

"Time is all but an illusion. It's constantly moving no matter the consequences. Who will it be, Captain? The Russian or the Sokovian?"

Seconds passed by and the room was dead silent. You could've heard a pin drop. Everyone — guards, Natasha, Steve, and Wanda didn't dare move a muscle. Sweat ran down Natasha's neck as she tried to start counting to one hundred, a method she'd learned in the Red Room for withstanding torture at its finest.

Speaker-woman finally broke it. "Very well then. Since you won't choose a valid option... I was never fond of that one."

Steve blinked and a dozen things seemed to happen at once. A bloodcurdling scream came from Natasha as she once again tumbled to the ground, trembling horribly. Every inch of her body seemed to be in pain as the electricity stung and burned every part of her circulatory system. She felt her thoughts dissolve and got the impression that she was also melting into nothing but a useless puddle of liquid.

Wanda was shoved out of a man's grasp and she lunged at the other guy with the remote. He yelped in shock and allowed his men to charge past him and into battle as he — ironically — ran like a coward. Moving her hands in a circular motion, Wanda managed to pull the remote out of the coward's grasp and into her possession.

She clicked a button and felt a weight on her neck lift off immediately. Air flooded her lungs and Wanda couldn't remember ever feeling so grateful for oxygen, even though she had grown up in Sokovia, a country of constant war and destruction. Wanda saw a hundred small and orange triangles flicker to life in a ring shape. It remained holographic before turning solid and a boring storm-grey color, much like how you'd typically imagine a shock collar.

Knowing that Wanda had things covered, Steve ran over to the limp form of Natasha.

"Nat?" He swallowed thickly. "Nat, please..."

Steve was greeted with nothing but a groan from a pale (more than usual) and unconscious assassin. He checked for a pulse and let out a breath he didn't know he was holding when a slow and weak beat drummed lightly against his fingers. Scooping her up into his arms, Steve jogged past the fallen guards and started towards an exit with Wanda thankfully trailing behind him.

Wanda looked into Natasha's head to get a better look at where she was hurt. "She has several second-degree burns and bruises. Chest and neck area."

She coughed right on cue, head lolling back into the crook of Steve's arm.

The soldier quickened his pace and tried not to think about the worst thing that can happen. What if...

Fortunately, the familiar sound of a quinjet and the Iron Man suit rang through the air outside. Steve and Wanda exited through the doors and came face to face with Tony Stark.

"Barton, I got them." He turned to Steve and grinned, "Anyone call for a rescue?"