My Little Spark - Romanogers Oneshots

Trained to kill

Age: 17

---⧗---

The Red Room. The place I was raised. Trained. I had only the faintest memories of my mother. She was an ex-widow, perfectly skilled. When Dreykov couldn't recapture her, he took a 6 year old me away. Now, I was described as 'Dreykov's child. The greatest child assassin.' I hate to admit it, but it was true. Through Dreykov's manipulation, special treatment and torture, I had been turned into a weapon. Something with no face. No identity. Something to be used until it was no longer useful, then eventually thrown away. That's how it works in the Red Room.

"Anastasia Rogers, please report to Dreykov's office immediately," a voice came over the tannoy as I was in the middle of a training session.

I looked at Madame B. She nodded, so I kicked the girl I was fighting down and stood up. I quickly headed down the corridors to Dreykov's office and when I got there, knocked on the door.

"The door is open my child!"

I opened the door and went in. Dreykov was sat at his desk, his panel projecting something onto the large screen ahead of him. The man gestured me over to him so I went over.

"I have a mission for you," he started.

An image of a woman flashed up on the screen. I narrowed my eyes as I walked a few steps closer to it. She seemed oddly familiar. Copper red wavy hair to her shoulders. Emerald eyes. A distinctive face.

"You need to kill this woman," Dreykov ordered in his raspy voice.

"What is her name?" I asked.

"Natalia Alianovna Romanova."

The name, the appearance... everything about this woman was so familiar. I couldn't figure out why though, and it was annoying me. So I decided to ask.

"Dreykov, do I know that woman?" I asked. "She seems really familiar."

Dreykov chuckled.

"Yes, you know her," he admitted. "I wasn't going to keep it from you but I'm surprised at how long it took you to figure it out."

I blinked.

"Who is she to me?" I questioned.

Dreykov chuckled again.

"Your target."

I knew Dreykov wouldn't tell me. But he'd given me an order. I needed to kill Natalia Romanova.

Natasha

I sat on my bed, the last picture I got with my little girl held gently in my hands.

"Hey," Steve greeted, poking his head around the door.

"Oh hi," I replied, turning my head away so he couldn't see my face.

"Nat..." my husband started, sitting next to me on the bed.

"Don't, I'm fine."

"It's been 11 years, she's not coming back."

"Don't say that!" I turned to him, feeling the tears welling up. "I got out, she might too!"

I felt Steve's hand on my shoulder. I shrugged it off.

"Stop, I'm going out," I mumbled, standing up.

I grabbed my coat and shoes and put them on.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?" he asked, seeing my hand.

It had hovered over a single vial of the red gas.

"No," I mumbled, grabbing the vial and stuffing it in my pocket as I left my room.