Russian Roulette- a Bishova fic

Prologue: C1-8, F1-8

There was nothing more satisfying than when Drekov was paid to have sent a young girl to the red room. He was paid money- good money- to raise her. But it was not a standard Widow training program- no, this one was different. That much he knew.

The moment that child stepped through the door, he knew she would be perfect. Ocean blue eyes, chocolate brown hair. She was still young, so she'd be easy to train. Easy to mold into perfection.

He sighed. Thousands of dollars to raise a girl to kill, and the only thing he wasn't doing was giving her a hysterectomy. While he wasn't complaining, he didn't want to be a glorified babysitter.

The man who brought the girl in stood there nervously, eyeing the walls of the room with suspicion in his eyes. The entirety of the red room could be considered dangerous, so it was no wonder Drekov's men (and widows) were always on edge. Today, however, he was in a good mood.

The child stood there nervously, and he finally stood up slowly. "What is your name, child?"

"Kate Bishop," the girl said nervously, backing away from him. Ah yes, Bishop Security. A company of which he was quite familiar with the inner workings of. Drekov held up his hand and the man next to Kate tightened his grip on the poor girl's shoulder. Kate whimpered in fear. "My mommy said I should come here to train. Are you here to train me?"

The poor child was putting on a brave face. Commendable, Drekov had to admit. Instead, he simply smiled. "No, child, I am here to make sure you can withstand the training of which others will give to you."

He already had a plan. The perfect widow. Not a black widow, but something completely new. He would use technology to train this girl. This girl would get to choose. This time, he was going to create something of true beauty and perfection.

Sadly, he was interrupted by two girls being dragged into the room. Kate flinched when she saw them. She was clearly scared out of her mind. Drekov frowned. He couldn't have his perfect specimen terrified to death before the job began. One girl was fighting against the strains and the other was just glaring quietly, as if waiting to strike.

Kate noticed that girl and withdrew, hiding her face in the man who had dragged her to Drekov's room, and the girl's green eyes softened. "You're like me," she said quietly. The girl's face lit up. "Natasha! Сестра, я нашел друга!" Sister, I have found a friend. The one named Natasha smiled weakly, and then finally relaxed. Kate looked skeptical, but was slowly calming.

"What do you want?" Drekov asked the widow who had dragged them in. He was now looking at Kate, who seemed less scared.

"They were resisting being trained, sir," the widow replied, her gaze dark. She did not meet his eyes. "Forced discipline did not work."

Kate stepped away from the man and walked over to the blonde girl. The one named Natasha, the widow, and Drekov all tensed at once. But she simply held out her hand. "Hi, I'm Kate Bishop!"

"I am Yelena Belova," the blonde replied proudly. "That's my sister, Natasha Romanoff."

As the two interacted, Drekov realized something: if Kate had a friend, she wouldn't be hard to train at all. He smiled wickedly. He turned to the widow, not even bothering to remember her name. "Please, get these three private quarters somewhere on the compound. I want to see where things go from here."

Just before they left, Kate paused at the door and looked back. "Thank you, Mr. Drekov."

Oh, you're very welcome, he thought darkly. You will be fun to work with, malen'kaya kiber-vdova.