Insane in my Russian Brain - P. Parker

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Red Room - 2008

Ekaterina was now seven. Having grown up in the Red Room her entire life without a mother or father figure, you could say her judgment of wrong and right was a bit off. Her fighting skills weren't, though.

While other kids her age were being pushed down slides, she was off learning how to be a killer and a spy. By the time she was three, she was already learning her second language, English, and was able to complete difficult multiplication problems with ease.

Her hair was a bright red bob at her shoulders, too short to style, but just long enough to pull back from time to time. It generally sat uncombed, being there were limited supplies.

Currently, she stood in one of the ballet studios. The floors had cracks, and the walls were missing paint in chunks, but to her didn't matter. It was ballet, after all.

"еще раз. Again." The girls stood in a line together, perfect and graceful as they made sharp turns. They worked in a unit, but not as a team: the Red Room didn't do teamwork.

Little Ekaterina watched as the girls, most much older than her, moved. She followed their actions, hoping this would save her from getting in trouble.

It didn't.

Madame B was there in an instant. She had caught Ekaterina stumbling in the corner of her eye, and she would not settle for disgracefulness in her presence. "Up."

The pair of blue eyes shot up, being dragged by the hem of her shirt out the door. "What is the matter with you? You can not be improvising. You know better."

A tear pricked at the edge of Ekaterina's eye as she endured the Madame's sharp words. Before she could respond, a cell guard walked forward and spoke into the Madame's ear.

Nodding along, she pulled back and turned to the scared little girl. "Go back inside. Tell the other girls they've been dismissed for the day and to go back to their cells."

She walked off in a haste, but Ekaterina couldn't help but follow. She trailed behind a close enough distance to hear Madame B's breathe, but not close enough to get caught.

Slowing down, she listened to a conversation the Madame was having with a security guard.

"Dreykov's dead? No, this is a travesty. We will fall." Ekaterina had heard all about this Dreykov man. Though she had never seen him, she knew he owned the Red Room, therefore controlling her life. If he was dead, what would that mean for her?

"He may not be. S.H.I.E.L.D sent out some of their best agents to kill him, and though the building was set off by many, many bombs, we can not lose hope."

"What do you suppose we do?"

"Just try to keep everyone calm while we sort this out. It shouldn't be long before we hear confirmation on his status."

As Madame B. turned around, Ekaterina dashed behind a nearby wall, holding her breath as the older woman moved past. She couldn't believe what she had just heard. What would this mean for everyone? What would this mean for their organization if it crashed and burned?

What would it mean if he was still alive?

⧗ ⧗ ⧗

While Ekaterina worried about the what-ifs, Natasha was doing her work. And this time, for the greater good.

After escaping the Red Room not long after the birth of her first and only child, Natasha had no choice but to run. She needed to escape Russia, so she hid away from the government.

Yet, with all she tried, she could never get away from S.H.I.E.L.D. They had found her so easily, so quickly, and had sent one of their agents to kill her. Their agent's name was Clinton Barton, though he preferred to go by Clint.

With his arrow and skills, he could have easily killed the twenty-four-year-old. But he didn't- he decided to spare her life, and in return, she work for S.H.I.E.L.D.

So, ladies and gentlemen, that is where she was now. On her final mission to gain full clearance and to finally become a true agent.

"His car is pulling up now." Natasha's accent was thick, her hair twisted to the sides in two pigtails.

A little girl, maybe nine, stepped out of the car. She was dressed in a school uniform and had a skip in her step as she walked up towards her father's building.

"Natasha, we clear?"

Swallowing a lump in her throat, she responded. "All clear."

Within seconds, the bombs in the building were set off, sending it into flames. Natasha couldn't help but wonder if S.H.I.E.L.D. was actually better than the Red Room. Sure, Dreykov's daughter had been collateral damage, but she was still so young.

All of that for one man. It was truly impeccable what people do for such small things.