Whatever It Takes

1.2

17 Years Earlier

"Romanoff, this is your new roommate. Sidorov. Play nice, show her the ropes."

The keeper stood with me in my new cell, marking off checks on his clipboard. It was my first day as a Class A, and glancing at his paper and the write-up on my new cellmate, the girl was two years older than me. She stared me down from under red bangs, her face hard but there was a softness in those green eyes.

The keeper clicked his pen, then left the room. "Mess will be open in ten," he said over his shoulder.

We stood together, not moving until the girl gave me a nod and then sat on her cot.

"Happy birthday," she said.

A small smile appeared on my face as I sat on the cot across from her. "Thank you, zolotse."

She returned the smile at the word. "What is your name?"

"Sonechka. But I prefer Sloane."

"Why Sloane?"

"Because I like it more," I said bluntly, making her smile widen just a tad. "What's yours?"

"Natalia. But I prefer Natasha."

And the light bulb went off in my head.

"Natasha. You have a sister. Yelena."

She cocked her head at me, eyes narrowing slightly. "More or less. How do you know that?"

"She was my cellmate. I grew up with her. She's practically my own sestra."

Natasha hummed, taking in the information.

"I know everything about you. At least, from when you were younger," I remarked.

"And I know nothing about you." She stood. "Come. We'll get to know each over slop."

I smiled, standing with her. "You call it that, too?"

"What else would you call it?"

And that was how our relationship began. We learned more about each other with each dining, each night we were cuffed to our cots, every sparring session. Constantly being around the redhead allowed me to learn more, and she made sure I was performing to her level.

I was far ahead of the other Class A's, and my close proximity to Natasha brought the eyes of Dreykov to the both of us instead of just her.

We were the star pupils.

And we would be rewarded for it.

Three years later, it was the middle of the night, Natasha and I were sleeping as comfortably as we could. The cell door opened and awoke us both, two keepers storming in and haphazardly unlocking our cuffs.

"What are you doing?" Natasha mumbled, sleep drenching her words.

Her keeper didn't answer, instead pushed her up and out of bed as the other did the same to me.

We shuffled through the hallways of the Room, rubbing our eyes in the dim lights. We snuck a glance at one another, a silent question if the other knew where we were going. We didn't have an answer.

We were led to a lab, metal examination tables and sterile equipment in plastic sheaths. Before we could even think about reacting, the keepers held us by the arms and threw us onto the tables, leather straps coming over our bodies and securing us tightly. Our drowsy haze hindered us from fighting with full force. Still, both of us thrashed, legs kicking until they were suppressed with a thick band.

Natasha looked over at me, eyes wide. I stared back at her, shaking my head in confusion.

What were they going to do with us?