fortress | kate bishop

the red room.

2011-2016
The Red Room

Anya Nikolaeva's life started at the age of ten.

It started long before that, not that Anya can remember. The truth is that her life didn't really begin until she turned ten, because that was when she met Yelena. Yelena had been twelve years older than her, and in the absence of Natalia Romanova, Yelena had become the widow that all young girls aspired to be after graduation.

Anya was no different. Except that she was different. She was weaker than every girl in the Red Room. She lost nearly every fight, ending up with a broken nose or leg or arm more times than she can recall. Anya's saving grace was that she was unbreakable. No matter how many times she lost, she would step on the mat with the thought that she could defeat her opponent. Even with a broken leg or arm.

She never gave up. Going out of her way to use the training room in an attempt to save her life. She'd work on her footing and form as best as she could.

"You are going to die."

Anya looks up to see Yelena standing there, arms crossed over her chest. Anya looks away from Yelena and goes back to hitting the punching bag, "I know."

"Does that not scare you?" Yelena asks as she enters the training room, "You little ones are always so terrified. Of failure. Of death."

"They're scared," Anya says as she hits the bag, "I'm not. I fail all the time. They haven't killed me for a reason."

Yelena tilts her head curiously, "And what do you think is keeping you alive, Anya?"

Anya stops hitting the bag and looks over at Yelena surprised that she knew her name. Most people knew who she was, but simply because she was the laughingstock of the Red Room. The weak widow, they'd call her.

"I'm smart," Anya answers quirking an eyebrow, "Smarter than you."

Yelena laughs, "Are you?"

"Are you aware that there are at least twenty escape routes in this room?" Anya asks.

"Twenty?" Yelena asks as she looks around herself for the points of exit. There were the obvious doors and windows. The room didn't have any vents so that wasn't an option. At most Yelena saw ten exits. Maybe eleven.

"They told us that there aren't any vents in the training room," Anya states, "They lied. If you stand in the left corner of the room, every thirty-seven minutes, there is a brief gust of cool air. Same for the back room where practice weapons are kept. Those vents have several different passageways that spread across the entire facility. I know this because on Thursdays sometimes the room smells like lavender, which is the scent of soap they supply us with. It's delivered on Thursdays."

Yelena quirks an eyebrow at her.

"If someone was foolish enough they could try to escape. Go through the vents, follow the scent of lavender to the truck. They'd escape through that vent and would be gunned down because there are thirty – no -thirty-five guards that are there when supplies are different. This is known by the distinct difference of their boots when they walk on the metal-"

"I get it," Yelena interrupts, "You get beat up enough that you have become extremely aware of your surroundings. Too aware if you ask me."

Anya's lips quirk in a small smile and Yelena returns the gesture, "I'm Yelena."

"I know," Anya says softly.

Yelena walks toward her, "Your feet are too spaced apart and you're smaller than most girls, but that makes you quicker. You can't take the hits, but you can dodge them. That will keep you alive, Anya."