Yelena feels the wires tangle and tug at her hair and catch at her sleeves before one snugs tight around her ankle. She pitches forward, and though she manages to get her good hand up to break her fall, the impact still jars through her like a small explosion radiating out from her injured shoulder. She tastes blood, but the pain where she's bitten through her lip doesn't register.

She rolls onto her back and scrabbles away, trying to draw the wires off just a little further, buy Cortana just a little more time. Something she knows damned well she's running out of herself - her boots are solid, but the cuffs of her jeans are wider than the cuffs of her shirt, and if she's not lucky enough to dislodge the wires before they slither further up her leg, they'll find skin soon enough.