Complications [Training]

Widow sat in her room starting at the outfit that laid across the bed infront of her. It was a simple vest and mask, but it meant alot more than it put on. It was the outfit given to her from her creators. Though she had killed her creators, she was not free from their programming. It was embedded in her. It was basically a part of her life now. She continued on and attacked mutants on a whim. Killing those she had the chance to kill, and crushing all those that got in the way of her mission. Her creators got what they wanted from her, even after death. Widow didn't exactly know if it was her programming or not, but she seemed to enjoy the violence. She enjoyed killing mutants. She had so much power, yet no way to utilize it unless it involved violence, and she loved it. Grabbing the vest and mask, Black Widow would change into her new wardrobe. After a few minutes, she would leave her room wearing dark pants and shoes. Her top was the silver vest and her face was covered in the black mask. However, her red hair stretched out from behind the back of her head, through the slit in her mask. Widow would head directly to the training room without speaking to anyone. There were a few things she needed to work on, but she didn't want to risk the competition learning about her abilities. The element of surprise was the best she could ever have on her side. She had plenty of battle experience, so she wasn't worried when it came down to pure skill.

Finding a clear spot in the training room, Widow would grab two weights from the side of the wall before facing forward. Taking a deep breath, she would begin to do a few jabs forward with each arm. Her hands held the weights in a stern grip as she continued to do a few hooks and jabs forward. She would continue this for the next ten minutes without any stop. Surprisingly, her mind wasn't stressed or worried. She wasn't anxious at all. Infact, the small ticking in the back of her skull made her almost drool. Surely she'd run into some mutants here. Hopefully she would catch them within the first few rounds and rip them limb from limb. Oh the thought made her turn and punch into a wall, leaving a large dent in the place of her fist. "I'm so ready..I'll complete the mission." The girl dropped the weights and turned towards the punching bag against the far wall. Taking off in a sprint, she'd close the distance within a few seconds and would kick the punching back off its hook and into the wall. Continuing forward, she would send a series of punches into the punching bag, as it was embedded into the side of the wall.

The constant pounding on the punching bag would continue for a few minutes without any sign of stopping. Black Widow's mind was on something else at the current moment. It could have been teen age angst or over all anger, but her mind wasn't on the actual tournament on the moment. The last time she felt this way was when she was in the labs before the genocide of her creators. When she was first developing her abilities and learning the origin of who she was, and what her mission was to be. Learning you're a clone and your mission was to keep your original in check, all at once, would drive anyone insane. For someone artificially created and programmed to kill, such as Black Widow, it sent her over the edge. When she finally came too, the next thing she recalled was the blood on her hands. Literally. From this moment on she knew she would become entangled in the lives of others after being locked away for so long. What she knew about the world was implanted. She didn't know if she was shown how it really was, or if she was given an image that her creators created. An image that made it easier for her to follower their every order. Widow knew her original probably had answers. He probably had a life that was nothing like hers. A loving family. Friends. A life that didn't involve murder. was he able to have this life because he was the original? She was just as good as him, if better! The moment she found out who he was exactly, she would be sure to make him disappear and take his life. Maybe that would get rid of the programming embedded in her skull. Attempting to have a normal life could perhaps sway her debt to the men who created her. The masked girl fell down to her backside and placed a hand on her head. She needed to get her head in the game if she wanted to win this tournament. Punching the ground one last time, she'd sit back up and let out a long annoyed sigh.

"Stupid thoughts are clouding my mind. Gotta keep my head in the game if I plan on wiping out every mutant who joined this dumb tournament. I can't risk them getting their hands on that alien tech and making my job five times harder than it needs to be." And that was very true, to say the least. If mutants got their hands on tech more advanced than Earth's own, then things could become a huge problem for her mission. How could she possibly wipe them all out, if she had to face not only their abilities but the technology of a superior alien race. For one, she could get the same technology. Or she could destroy any chances they would have of getting the said technology. "Win or lose, I'll be sure to take the advanced equipment or destroy it. Heh, hopefully I get to destroy it!" She slammed her fist into the palm of her hand before flipping to her feet with her usual cocky grin. Too bad no one could see that beneath the mask currently covering her face. "There's a storm coming..I'll be sure to tear them all a new one. One at a time."

After a few hours, Black Widow made her way back to her room. Sitting down on the bed, she placed a hand on her head and removed her mask. Looking at it for a few seconds, she'd toss it aside with a sigh. Soon she would grab her old goggles and put them back upon her head. She preferred her old look for this tournament. It would probably be the last time she wore her old attire before becoming even more of a murderer than before. The thought of death did make her smile even wider though. She was crazy, even if she admitted it or not. She was crazy and loved it. Looking at her hands, she imagined the blood that once bathed them. The thought made her lick her lips in pleasure. "Soon these hands will be covered in more blood..so delicious, I can hardly wait."

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