The rise of the White Widow

Russia.

During an intense training session one morning, I'm suddenly summoned to Dreykov's office. It feels strange and uncomfortable to call it my father's office, since he now insists I call him 'father'. Reluctantly, I make my way there and take a seat in front of his large, imposing desk.

As I sit there, a mix of anticipation and anxiety fills the air. I nervously tap my foot on the ground and let out a small sigh. A few minutes drag by slowly, finally, Dreykov enters the room, fixing his cufflinks. My heart races as I bite the inside of my cheek to keep calm.

I observe him closely, trying to anticipate his next move. Dreykov is known for his unpredictable behaviour, and I can't afford to let my guard down. He approaches the desk with an air of arrogance, leans against it with folded arms, and looks straight into my eyes.

"So, Aleksandra, how is your training progressing?" he asks in a cold voice.

I can't help but cringe at the sound of my full name. It is something only Dreykov calls me by, despite my clear disdain for it. Annoyed by his provocation, I chose to ignore his question and look away.

Seeing no response from me seems to infuriate Dreykov further. Swiftly raising his hand and striking me across the face with it, his rings leave a stinging sensation on my skin. My head snaps to the side from the force of his slap, but I remain stoic.

"I said," he repeats harshly, "how is your training going?"

Through gritted teeth and a forced smile to hide the pain that threatens to surface from his slap, I finally reply, "Fine."

"You have become my most skilled widow, and I simply cannot afford to lose you," he explains. "The Avengers are getting closer to finding our base, so I've decided to move you back to Russia for your safety."

My heart races, and I realize that this might be my only chance to break free from Dreykov's control.

"When are we going?" I ask, attempting to sound calm and composed.

"Tomorrow morning," he says without hesitating.

I nod slowly, using this moment to mentally finalise the details of my escape plan.

As I turn to leave, Dreykov reaches out and cups my cheek with his hand. His touch is cold, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine that I struggle to suppress.

"You're destined for greatness," he says proudly, not realizing the irony of his words. "You're going to destroy worlds."

Little does he know that soon, it will be his world that starts crumbling down around him.

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As night falls, I patiently wait for the perfect moment to pretend to fall asleep in my cold, cramped cell. The dim light from outside casts eerie shadows on the concrete walls, leaving the cell in near darkness. When I feel certain the guard has turned away and believes I've succumbed to slumber, I carefully slip out of my thin mattress.

Moving with the stealth of a shadow, I creep my way towards the unsuspecting guard, my bare feet making no noise on the cold floor. Just as he turns his back to me, I seize my opportunity and swiftly grab him from behind, using all my strength to snap his neck. As his lifeless body starts to collapse, I catch it with one arm and gently lower it to the ground to avoid drawing attention.

I quickly search his pockets and find both a handgun and a ring of keys for the cells. With steady hands, I unlock my cell door and step out into the dimly lit corridor. As I progress down the hallway, I encounter a few other guards patrolling the area. Using a combination of stealth and quick thinking, I manage to take them down without alerting anyone else.