Red Rooms Black Canary (ON HOLD)

Chapter One: Number 122822

She woke up before the sun did. The cot was low to the ground and squeaked with each move she made. She moved so that she could sit upright, her feet on the cold concrete. She stretched, her bone crackling and popping before moving to do several rounds of push-ups, her muscles flexing and contracting as sweat began to whisper out of her skin. She stood when her door creaked. She reached hurdling a knife towards the intruder the knife shaving a baby hair off the woman's face before sticking in the wall behind her. The woman showed no sign of wavering despite having a blade mere millimeters from her face 

"They are ready for you Mistress."

"Are they terrified?" she asked unbothered to add any sort of wave of influx to her voice.

"Yes." the woman confirmed with a quick nod

"Good." She said firmly

She slipped on her boots making strong powerful steps to the room that held other women dressed in black. None of them stopped the sequence of moves when she walked in. She walked through the rows and rows of women before letting her hand reach down to her thigh holster drawing her gun at one of them. The woman quickly reacted reaching for the veteran gun however #122822 was far too fast and before long she had possession of both weapons. She shook her head before giving the woman her gun back. She stood behind the woman repositioning her before reaching again for the gun. The woman readjusted, taking control of both guns. The mysterious older Widow leaned in taking her gun back whispering "I spare your life today." The woman nodded. "We will have perfection! Anything less and your life ends here. Am I clear?" The woman's words traveled through your ear into your brain before snaking down your spine leaving a cold chill behind.

"Yes, Mistress," she said firmly, a tremor behind her words. Still slightly shaken from the Mistress' harsh words.

"AGAIN!" She shouted. The women all sprung into action. "Bring the tablet here." she held out her hand as a woman came out of the shadows placing a tablet in her long slender fingers. The woman looked down her fingers dancing across the glass, the sound of boots moving sounding ever-present in her ears. "No more free will." She moved her finger hard to the left and all the women straightened up the rows crisp and clean until all women's breath was in sync.

The large steel door opened and a woman stepped in. #122822 snapped her head up ready to assassinate the woman who dared interrupt her. The woman aware of her looming fate calmly said, "He wishes to speak to you." She nodded passing the tablet to the woman beside her before following the woman through the winding halls of the compound.

•••

The man paced in front of his desk his blood boiling after each step as he watched news clip after news clip, fiery red hair illuminating the office. "My own child, the very brightest, has betrayed us for far too long." he barked.

"Would you like to send in the Task Master?

"No, much worse send in number 122822."

"I will go get Mistress."

It took several minutes but soon a woman walked through the door head high. She stood at attention her hands behind her back. "Sir." her voice was captivating, a thick Russian accent rolled off her tongue in the best and worst of ways. A harsh accent made soft by her lips but yet you felt as though you were in danger with each trap her words left behind. A captivating woman indeed.

"How are my newest pets?"

"Useless."

"You will fix that?"

"Don't I always?" she challenged with that oh so familiar smirk

He walked over kissing her head "You, my child. Are my greatest creation. Look at the screen."

She turned her eyes, reflecting the bright colors of the screen. Images of each member played across the screen. She observed them, the way they moved, how they chose to fight. Taskmaster can mimic but Mistress she can learn and adapt to exploit each of their weaknesses.

"One of ours betrayed us. She took everything I gave her and threw it away." He yelled, throwing a glass across the room, Mistress not flinching. "Take the men and kill the avengers."

"Yes sir." she nodded quick and concise

"122822?"

"Sir?" she turned

"Dripping Red."

She nodded, turning around to leave the men falling in line behind her as the heavy door slammed shut. She was his most powerful asset far surpassing his former muse the now Avenger who dared to wear his symbol on her hips.

•••

The sound of boots could be heard through the compound as she marched to where the weapons were stored. Hallway after hallway she marched down, men marched in sync behind her side by side going fifteen rows back. She grew up here. She didn't have to think about where stuff was. She simply pulled gun after gun off of the rack and threw them into the arms of soldier after soldier before grabbing her guns out of a separate cabinet with two Glocks on her thighs and two batons onto her back. They walked back through the long halls of floor-to-ceiling concrete with harsh lights. People moved to her left and right whenever she approached whether you were a newcomer or a veteran you knew to fear #122822 a woman with no name, no face, she moved like a ghost. In many parts of the compound, she was a ghost or a legend, something mythical from the most creative of novelists. They approached a plane before stepping in the propellers already spinning. As they rose higher and higher in the air. "Mistress?"

"Speak."

"Who are we going after?"

"Need to know." she didn't bother looking at the man consumed by the task at hand.
"Do you want me to lead the charge?"

"If I want you to lead I will tell you to do so."

"I was just thin-"

Her head snapped up the man palling instantaneously "Think again and I will snap your neck."

You could see the man's visibility swallow. She is a woman you don't cross and if you do you never lived to tell the tale. After all, she was just doing what she was created to do. Be a weapon of mass destruction.