Functional

4. Where Is the Line?

Natalia is, as usual, the first to the training area in the morning.  She stretches and warms up, rehashing the other details she needs to know for her cover.  It is unlikely that they will be tested on this information so soon, but she wants to be ready.  They have until the end of the week, but she certainly doesn’t plan to wait that long.  The other Widows join her in pairs, warming up and quizzing each other quietly on their cover information.  No one asks her, but she doesn’t mind.

Dmitri comes in at last and sets them dancing.  They will be practicing familiar ballets for now, he explains, to keep them ready but not interfere with learning a great deal of new things during the afternoon and evening trainings.  Natalia laments not learning a new dance, but reminds herself that she may be learning a different kind of dance, and it may be no less lovely.  To her surprise, they finish earlier than usual, and are instructed to hurry back from lunch.

The clock is just chiming noon when they return to the training rooms.  Dmitri ushers them into a briefing room, and they settle into their usual places.  Natalia notes that he seems more on edge than she has seen him before.  He glances repeatedly toward the door.  More surprising, the other trainers order their soldiers to vacate the area, so it is only the eight of them in the huge space.  This is unprecedented, Natalia thinks.  She has never been in here without the sounds of others working in the background.

“Now, comrades,” Dmitri begins, pulling at his collar nervously.  “You have taken English lessons before.  Today, we are going to work on your accents.”

Natalia frowns.  Language lessons are boring.  Necessary, of course, but she can’t imagine why he would be as uncomfortable as he seems for something as commonplace as learning pronunciation.  They usually have English lessons once a week; most of the Widows speak the language somewhat fluently, and they work on more specialized terms that their line of work may require.

“We have a special guest here to instruct you.  You will meet with him at this time every day, since we do not know how long we will have the benefit of his services,” Dmitri continues.

“Who is he?” Yelena wants to know.

Dmitri frowns.  Curiosity is not generally valued here, despite it being a good quality in a spy.  “He is an assassin known as the Winter Soldier, formerly with strong ties to America.  You will not speak to him unless spoken to, and you will not ask foolish questions about him, is that clear?”  The Widows all nod in unison.  “He will also train you to spar.  Pay close attention to what he says; no one has ever beaten him.”

Their eyes widen as the door to the training rooms opens and shuts loudly, echoing across the emptiness.  Natalia supposes it is empty so that no one else can know or recognize this assassin.  It is flattering that they are permitted, and to be trained by such a person is an honor.  Still, it gives her an unpleasant feeling in her belly, to be taken into someone’s confidence in this manner.  In her experience, it is impossible to escape once you’re in it.

The Widows carefully do not move as the heavy tread of boots approaches them.  When the man enters, Natalia assesses him quickly.  He is five foot eleven, around two hundred pounds, and perhaps in his mid to late twenties.  Something about his face makes his age difficult to identify.  More striking is the blank look he wears, as though nothing exists outside of what is happening right now.  Faces are important to consider, of course, since expressions can tell you much about what to expect from a person.  This man gives them absolutely nothing, so she continues her inspection.  He is well-built, with longish hair and a metal arm.  At first, she thinks it is just his sleeve, but she sees his fingers are metal, too, and the arm whirs softly when he moves it.  It is astonishing, and she cannot resist staring.