The force of the word slams into her as she runs by, ripping the pistol from her hands as though she were a child and not a trained and capable assassin holding it. She whirls around, grabbing for the gun but doesn't waste time chasing after it.

She still has one hand gun and several other items in her arsenal much more securely attached to her person than her guns are. Still, she's not even able to get one of the shots fired before a crackle and particularly unpleasant zzzap! forces Natasha to drop down again. Her other handgun clatters uselessly to the ground as she struggles to regain control of her spasming muscles.

By the time she gets to her feet again, she knows there's no time to go for her guns. Either of them. Time to change up tactics.