Salvage the Wreckage

First though, it was time to salvage the wreckage. If pulling that wire did manage to knock out the security system, maybe her tablet could be her ticket to snagging her prize. She made her way over to where she’d been sitting. The bundle of wires hung limply from the ceiling. Sparks hissed from them still. She looked up at them and spat out a defiant curse. Below them on the ground of the shaft lay her tablet. She picked it up gingerly.

She ran her hand across the screen and it flickered to life. A deep crack ran across the screen, other than that, the interface functioned fine. She accessed its hacking functions, her intense stare lit up vibrantly in the blue glow of the screen. Her heart leapt with excitement as she discovered that she had complete access to the facility’s security systems, just as intel had suggested. At least that damned idiot Stark was good for something.

With a few flicks of her fingers, the alarm was disabled, replaced with a message describing a malfunction in circuitry. That should buy her a little time while they go through a system diagnosis. She moved on to the building’s motion sensors and tracking ordinances. In a few short seconds, they were frozen on their last readings. Now it was time to find her target. She accessed the building’s array of cameras.

She thumbed through various scenes of the area surrounding the embassy: thick snow falling onto barricaded roadways, soldiers smoking and speaking benignly, empty conference rooms and hallways. She gripped the tablet tighter and scrolled voraciously. She stopped on an image she couldn’t quite make out. She was looking down what liked like some sort of dark tube. She switched the feed to night vision and saw nothing but black. She squinted her eyes curiously and adjusted the feed to detect heat. She saw a tiny pink blob appear at the center of the screen. She zoomed in on the pink spot and switched the camera to its regular feed.

She saw a naked woman hunched over in the middle of an air duct. Natasha sucked in a breath. She raised a hand and waved it in the air timidly and saw it mimicked by the tiny nudist on her tablet. Natasha let out a gasp in realization and pressed the tablet up against her chest, drenching herself in the security of darkness. She didn’t expect having to get a bird’s eye view of her unclothed predicament. These Sokovian bastards were more precautious of infiltration than she thought.

She brought the tablet display back up. The camera was recoding her from behind. She adjusted herself to face it and crawled forward. She watched herself growing larger in the camera feet, her head down with her hair dangling, her breasts jiggling freely, her rump high in the air. She took in a deep repressive breath to lull the humiliation of having to watch herself recorded in this compromising position. She reached a bend in the air duct and she looked up. She sat back on her thighs and studied the steel panel until she came across a puny black lens the size of the face of a wrist watch located at the center of the panel. Natasha looked down to her panel and ruffled her brow. She was treated to a perfect portrait of her undressed torso. Her bell-shaped breasts rose and fell with each breath taken between her full-bodied lips. Her plump, disarming cheeks burned bright red. Her hair hung-Her hair!

The shock she sustained earlier turned her flaming, flowing locks into a matted mess of splitting curls that writhed around the top of her head. Holding the tablet up with one extended arm, Natasha tried frantically to fix the damage by combing her hair with her hand. All in vain. Her fingers were immediately snagged in knots that refused to budge. Her hair was part of her identity! Hours and hours, she spent ensuring that it was just so. After this it may never be the same!

Just as she was about to sail the tablet down the shaft, she realized something. There was no way this was the only security camera installed in the vents. She brought up a feed of all of the vent feeds and watched their playback of the last few minutes. Her eyes went wide as she saw one broadcasting her episode of electric horror. She saw herself flailing around helplessly, covered in coils of sporadic bolts. Her face twisted into a cringe as the woman on the screen peeled away her suit with a weak, panic-stricken look on her face. She tore her gaze away from the display. She sent a balled fist into the tiny lens on the panel, shattering it.

With a few flicks of her finger, she deleted all of data displaying her as a scared, wounded girl. She lowered herself and sat cross-legged. Bringing back up the current camera feeds, she continued her search. Hungry before, she was now famished, evermore determined to prove herself the predator she was. Scrolling ravenously with the tablet rested in her lap. She bared the teeth of her lower jaw. Her eyes darted madly as she hunted. Her fingers went stiff. An evil grin crept across her face.

She stared at a shot of a lavishly furnished bedroom lit by a dull light. In it was a canopy bed and large luxurious Chesterfield sofa. Decorative cabinets adorned every corner. In front of the bed walked a slim, creeping figure of a woman. Dressed in a robe, she walked lightly on her toes, lithe as a cat. The thin material that covered her showed off a deceptively slender body, a killer’s frame. Lean, long legs slipped in and out from the robe with each step. She walked with her delicate arms raised in a stretch. When she brought them to her sides, the robe fell to hug her petite but shapely bosom. Natasha zoomed in on the figure. Her blood boiled. She was looking into the cold, smug eyes of Veronica Lisk.

Zooming out of the image, Natasha’s heart went black with delicious hatred. She finally had her. Before deciding anything else, she savored the indescribable sensation of holding the shot of that bitch between her legs. While she strolled around her room, safe in her fortress all night, Natasha had been put through an electric, naked nightmare.

“Enjoy your last few moments, darling.”

She rubbed her thumb across the screen. The muscles in her naked, deadly thighs pulsed, aching to do some damage. Fueled completely by instinct, Natasha…