Gemini (BEING REWRITTEN)

Until We Meet Again

June 17th, 1992

"Вверх."

After almost eight years in this building, day in and day out, I learned to hold in my complaints, thus avoiding repercussions. While being a Boldyreva brought fear to those who heard it, being an eight year old taught to fight to the death or to die myself, my name gave me nothing. When the instructor made his rounds, unlocking our handcuffs that were firmly attached to our bedposts, we all seemed to jump up at once. Some slower than others, which would no doubt be taken into account later in the day. One person in particular seemed to move robotically, almost like the rest of the minority in the room.

Natalia Romanova

The younger girl showed no emotions, just grabbed her pointe shoes from underneath her small twin size bed and followed our instructor out of the room. Rushing to catch up and not bring my own mother down on my head, I hurried behind the two towards the small room we were forced to call a cafeteria. Each made to sit alone at a one-person desk, we were each handed a tray of what I've come to call slop and a fruit. Restricted from speaking, the only sounds for the next ten minutes were the scraping of spoons against trays and the occasional squeak of an old plastic chair while we all ate.

"Вверх."

The same routine, everyday, ever since I was old enough to walk. First we are woken up at sunrise, forced to eat our slop for ten minutes, then told to proceed to another room. One pair of pointe shoes until told different, most of us growing out of them already, but forced to wear them anyway. Ballet was something I grew to detest quickly, but my mother was personally overseeing our training, giving myself no say in the matter. As I would have had any otherwise.

"Начать."

Hours, it almost felt like days, we practiced our ballet. Never to fall, never to trip, to be perfect in all we do or to face the consequences. After what felt like forever, the ballet lessons began to lessen, switching to combat training. Training in hand-to-hand combat at the age of eight was something we grew up with and with it being my birthday, I thought that was a reward. No more ballet, just learning how to use my own hands to defend myself, until my own mother stopped our session fifteen minutes before we were to be sent to sleep.

"Останавливаться."

Immediately the twenty-eight of us stopped what we were doing to listen to Madame B. She looked at all of us individually, some of us (Natalia and I) shorter than others. When she felt as though she had gotten what she needed, she turned to walk into the middle of the lain out mats. The twenty-eight of us followed, lining up so we could all equally pay attention to the statement we all knew she was about to make.

"ты будешь драться."

I could sense I was not the only one who was confused, even checking that the teacher's pet was as well. Not having much time to figure out what my mother meant, two names came from her mouth with no room for questions.

"Аня. Арина."

Listening to my mother, I hurry onto one side of the mat as the other girl proceeds to the other. While I grasped very quickly what the instructors were trying to teach, the other girl seemed to not have a rough bone in her body. As the instructor told us to begin, we circled each other looking for an opening. My hands were raised, looking for the perfect place to strike, while Anya seemed scared, hardly protecting anything. Being tired of walking laps around the mat, I lunged, immediately flipping the girl over my hip and onto the mat. She tried to fight and get up, but I dropped behind her, holding her neck in a chokehold waiting for her to tap out. Until two words came from my mother,

"закончи это."

Confused, I looked up to the woman, making sure I heard her words correctly. The glare she was giving me in front of the entire group mixed with the sure nod sent my direction was confirmation enough. Subtly taking in a deep breath, I looked down at Anya, who was desperately trying to breathe and tapping out on my arm. Refusing to defy direct orders, I clenched my jaw and did what was asked.

I finished it.

~...~

Two weeks later, there seemed to be a commotion throughout the building. Words of two children being needed for something important. With half of the original group being killed, the instructors only had fourteen of us to pick from and being one of the top students I knew one of them was me. There were less beds in our barracks ever since the lesson two weeks ago, most being removed to be put somewhere else, so we each had new bed neighbors. Luckily enough, mine was Romanova, my only other competition.

We were never allowed to speak to each other, when we even tried we were hit and made sure the mistake wasn't made a second time. I never did understand how to follow rules, which was painstakingly obvious one night after I caught Natalia staring at the rotting ceiling instead of sleeping. Making sure my voice could only be heard by her, I made it a personal goal to get a rise out of her one way or another.

"интересно.Я не знала, что тебе нравятся потолки."

All she did was turn her attention from the ceiling to the side of the bed that faced me. Realizing this was the first time in eight years we actually looked at each other, it took longer than my tiny self would like to admit to say something else. She did not seem to have the same problem.

"ты на самом деле идиот.кто мог догадаться."

I knew she was being serious, the tone of her voice and the way her mouth was set in stone showed me that. It did not however explain why all I wanted to do was laugh, something I have never done in my life. Finding myself letting a corner of my mouth curve up at the response, it seemed to not only catch myself off guard but her as well. As we both turned to stare at the ceiling, I found myself letting out one more soft sentence that would start something dangerous, but lovely at the same time.

"Ты мне нравишься наталья."

~...~

Two days later the instructors came to question both Natalia and myself. Immediately thinking it was about the small conversation, I bit my tongue until my mother herself came to question me. Informing me that I was not up to her standard to be chosen for a mission in the States, she told me I was chosen for something else entirely. She hoped it would make me stronger, something I would be away on for three years and come back better for her.

"хватай свои вещи арина."

I was escorted back to the room, seeing Natalia also packing up what little she had to go on her first mission. Following her lead, I packed what few items I've been given since being born here and got ready for my own adventure. We both looked up at the same time, locking eyes for the last time for three years. She was about to have her own family and life in the States, while I was being sent somewhere else entirely by my own mothers instructions.

Meeting my mother in the hallway outside of the room, I was blindfolded and escorted to what I could only assume was outside. The cold creeped up my ankles first, before spreading its hands across my legs and the rest of my body. I was stopped in front of something that was loud and when the blindfold was pulled off I realized it was a jet of some kind. There were two men standing in front of it, one with glasses and another with what seemed to be a metal arm.

"Она вся твоя."

With those parting words from my mother, I was dragged onto the jet and pushed into a seat. As the hangar door began to close, I looked back at my mother who wore a smirk I would continue to see until my eighteenth birthday. Speaking two words that would haunt me for the rest of my life.

"Приветствую Гидру."