-?Caught in her Web?- (black widow)

Cleo's POV

I want her to help me. I really do. But I can't. Not when the chip in my head could kill me at any moment. But maybe... maybe she can help. She's standing in front of me, speaking softly, like she actually cares. It's a strange feeling—no one's ever spoken to me like that before. Usually, it's just shouting or commands.

I keep my stare cold, trying to hide the fact that I'm terrified. I don't want her to know how scared I really am. I watch as she turns away, ready to leave. Oh no, no, no, say something, Cleo. Anything. You need her help!

"Cleo," I blurt out.

She turns, her face a mixture of confusion and surprise.

"My name... Cleo. That's my name," I say, my voice shaky but steady enough. I see her eyes light up—like I've given her something important. She actually wants to help me, but I still don't know how much I can tell her. I don't know where the Red Room is; they make sure of that. We're always sedated on the way out, so even if I wanted to help them, I barely know anything.

But I want to try. Maybe... maybe they can get this chip out of my head before Dreykov decides I'm expendable.

"I'll answer your questions... or at least, I'll try," I manage to say. She nods.

"Okay, I'm going to uncuff you, alright? But no games, understood?" she says firmly, but not unkindly.

I nod again, watching as she steps closer, pulling keys out of her back pocket. She unlocks the cuffs slowly, giving me a moment to process. My wrists throb from the tightness of the restraints, and I rub them instinctively.

"Thank you," I murmur, unsure why I'm thanking her. Maybe because no one's ever given me a chance before.

"No problem, kid. But we need all the information you have. And by the way, my name's Natasha. You can call me Nat," she says softly, offering me a small smile. I can't help but return it, even if just a little.

She leads me into a larger room, probably the kitchen. I immediately spot the blonde woman sitting at the table—the one who knocked me out. My eyes narrow into a glare, and she shoots one right back.

Nat clears her throat, cutting through the tension. "Alright, stop looking at each other like that. Now, Cleo, tell us everything you know so we can take down the Red Room."

I take a deep breath. "Okay. I don't know much—"

"See?" the blonde—Yelena—interrupts with a smirk. "She doesn't know anything. We can kill her now."

Natasha whips around, glaring at her. "Yelena, stop it! Let her talk. And stop trying to scare her, you idiot."

Yelena just rolls her eyes, sitting back in her chair. I swallow hard and continue.

"As I was saying, I don't know much. We never leave the building except for missions. On the way out, we're always sedated, so we don't know where the base is located. But... I think it's in the sky. We never drive to missions. It's always by jet."

Natasha nods slowly, absorbing my words. "Do you know anything about the layout of the base?"

"I know it inside and out. I've been in every room, at least once. Some of them... aren't exactly pretty," I say, my voice dropping as memories of the Red Room's darker corners surface. "But..."

I hesitate, feeling the knot in my chest tighten. "Dreykov... he put something in my head. A chip. If he decides he doesn't need me anymore, he just has to push a button, and... my brain will explode. I don't know if you can get it out."

The words tumble out faster than I intend, but I know they heard me. The gravity of the situation hangs in the air between us. Natasha and Yelena exchange a look, both of their faces tense. Before either of them can say anything, the ceiling above us explodes