𝑼𝒔, 𝑹𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 - 𝑩. 𝑩𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒔

1b

January 1st, 1967 - New York City

Marcella walked down the street towards her apartment. Her pointe shoes hung from the strap of her dance bag which was full of her dance wear and books. Her winter coat protected her from the harsh New York weather. She was thankful she brought it from Toronto when she moved to pursue her dream of becoming a ballerina.

She had the drive, the skills, the devotion.
She had immigrant parents, pushing her along.
She had faith she'd succeed.

Humming to The Beatles and daydreaming as she walked on the streets, wasn't necessarily safe but it was the first day of the new year and she was happy. Most people had been partying all night and there weren't many people around.

Her ballet company's yearly performance of the Nutcracker ended on Christmas, and now everything would go back to normal. She played the part of the Sugar-Plum fairy. The lead role of Clara, went to her competition, which she didn't fuss about. There were better roles, harder, more famous roles for Marcella. The part was only Clara. It wasn't like famously technical Aurora, Giselle or Odette. Besides, the director had already introduced her to his colleague, someone of high importance in the world of dance and knew many people. Mr. Karpov. Young Mr. Karpov could, 'take her to a Russian Ballet School, to help her reach new heights of skill and fame.'

He called her an asset. A 'true Firebird.' Her ego bloomed under his praise.

Marcella crossed the quiet, snowy street and walked towards the ballet studio. The sound of a car pulling beside her made her turn to look at it. It was a black limousine. The window rolled down, and a familiar young face perked through.

"Miss.Voland!" It was Mr. Karpov.

She smiled at walked towards the door. "Mr. Karpov! I thought you took you flight home to Russia already!"

"Change of plans. May I give you a ride?"

"Thank you for the offer but the ballet studio is only a few more blocks away. There's no need."

Mr. Karpov shook his head, "I insist, Marcella."
He opened the door and stuck his hand out, waving for her to enter the warm vehicle.

Marcella looked at the palm of his hand. For someone only a few years older than her, his hands looked worn and harsh. A large gold ring on his knuckle shined in the morning light.

She reach out and took his hand as she stepped into the dark limo. He sat her in the corner seat, before closed the door.

"Thank you," she smiled.

"No, thank you, Marcella." He grinned as the door shut and the gas was pressed.

Something about his smiled caught her off guard, and it wasn't until she really looked around the limo that she knew something was wrong. There were two other young men sitting to her left. One was dressed in a suit, he looked very handsome with his blonde hair and blue eyes. The other man, Marcella could barely see in the darkness of the limo although he sat beside her. He blended into the darkness, with his long hair and dark clothes. His blue eyes were fixed on her. Unmoving and sort of frightening.

She looked over at Karpov for an explanation. "Sir?"

"Oh. My apologies Marcella, this is a good American friend of mine, Alexander Pierce. And that is his employee."

Marcella looked between the three men. Hesitantly she leaned over the unnamed employee to offer her hand to Pierce. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Pierce."

Pierce reached over and pulled her hand up to his face to kiss the back of it. "A pleasure indeed. We watched your performance on Christmas. You're a talented ballerina, beautiful too."

She would've smiled if the deep stare of his friend beside her didn't make her so nervous. "Thank you."

She looked at the man and moved her hand to back in a little to offer it to him. "And it's a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr..."

There was a silence. He didn't answer immediately and he looked to Pierce instead. She watched the wordless interaction and as she pulled her hand away in embarrassment he caught it a bit more harshly than she thought he probably wanted to.

"Barnes," he answered monotone and quiet. His leather-covered hand shook hers very cautiously. His voice sounded like he never used it, like it was a book covered in dust, from the highest shelf.

"Good," Karpov hummed, his voice making Barnes draw his hand back fast. "You're acquainted, which is excellent because you will be seeing a lot of each other."

Marcella turned away from Barnes and to Karpov, after registering what he said. 

"Is Mr. Barnes joining the ballet school?"

Karpov and Pierce laughed at her confusion. In her embarrassment she noticed that Barnes didn't laugh. He turned away to bag that laid on the ground in-front of him.

Karpov brought her attention back to him.
"No, Marcella. You will be joining us, in Siberia."

Marcella's heart pounded in her chest, out of confusion and shock. "I'm sorry, Sir, but I don't recall agreeing to leave my ballet school so soon."

"I know, but we need you. We want you now so that we can prepare you. You're perfect."

She saw the ballet school pass by out the limo window and panic struck though her veins. "Mr. Karpov!"

"It's alright, Marcella," he ignored her and motioned to the men behind her back.

"Please! Let me go!" Marcella tried to jump towards the door but Karpov was in the way.

Two hands wrapped around her. One grabbed her waist and hauled her back into his chest. The other held her arms down as she struggled.

Tears ran down her face as Mr. Barnes adjusted so that he could hold her with one arm only. He nudged her head to the side with his cheek to extend her neck for him, then with his right hand he pressed a needle containing a sleeping agent into her soft skin.

The pinch made Marcella cry out and dig her sharp nails into the muscle of his thighs. He didn't feel it much though. He didn't feel much of anything.

When Marcella stopped fighting, that's when Barnes pulled her into his lap. She was dead weight, but still felt like nothing to him. He rested her head in the crook of his arm and pulled her into his other side.

"Good." Pierce nodded at him. "When we arrive on the tarmac, stay close to her and don't let her wake up."

Karpov looked down at the sleeping Marcella. "I'll call Dreykov and inform him I've found the Red Room a new ballet teacher."

"How long do you think she'll take?" Pierce asked him.

"I chose her specifically for the abilities she already has and ones she is genetically eligible for." Karpov looked down at Marcella with a smile. "She's got a photographic memory and it'll only make it more interesting with our new methods."

When his handlers eyes moved off him, Barnes's eyes looked back at the Ballet school then back down to Marcella. Little wisps if her hair from her ballet bun laid just over her pretty face. A weird feeling pulsed through him like a tug on his heart and he longed to remember what it meant.