Road to War Part IV: The Space In Between

Try to Fill the Spaces In Between

The stranger who comes through the door to watch them dance catches her attention, but she doesn't show it. The Madame is leading him and wears a long-suffering expression. Whoever he is, she is not happy about having him there. His hair is brown and long enough that he tucks it behind his ears from time to time as he assesses them. His eyes are blue and he is a little pale, as though he hasn't seen any sun in a while. Though there is stubble on his face and his general appearance is somewhat unkempt, his eyes are bright and focused and she can tell he's reading them at least as thoroughly as their dancing instructors do.

She focuses on her dance, but cannot keep from wondering if he is a new instructor or, if not, why else he would be here. He doesn't look like a dancer, and their program is top secret, so it's unlikely he's just someone here for observation. He doesn't look like anyone official, at any rate. Madame Pauk speaks to him quietly, and he answers briefly. Then she claps her hands to signal a break, and gives them ten minutes to get to a training room Natalia doesn't think they've used before. She goes out of the room with the others to take advantage of their break, resisting the temptation to turn back and see what Madame and the stranger are doing.

After a quick drink and a snack from the backstage area, she makes her way to the assigned location. Yelena is with her, as usual, though Elena and Anna arrive before them. Madame Pauk and the stranger are standing in the corner of the padded room, talking quietly. Well, the Madame is talking. He doesn't seem the kind to waste words. The room itself has mats (red, of course) all over the floor and a few feet up the walls. There are various pieces of equipment piled in a corner, clearly not intended to be easily accessible.

Anna glances up at Natalia and Yelena as they enter, looking questioning. Natalia shrugs as she sinks to the floor next to her. Yelena sits on the other side. The other girls trail in, usually in pairs, and arrange themselves on the mats near the door to await further instruction. The Madame looks over at them if they make any noise, so they sit in silence. Finally, everyone has arrived, and Pauk and the stranger move from their corner toward the center of the room.

"Good morning, ladies. Because of the results of your most recent mission, my superiors have determined you are in need of a new instructor," she motions toward the man. The girls look at him, but his face is devoid of expression. What he thinks about being here to teach them is impossible to tell. "Codename: the Winter Soldier, he is a wetworks specialist. Deadly with a gun, deadlier hand-to-hand, and skilled at short-term cover operations. He is with us for only a brief time, until he is needed elsewhere, so I'm sure you will all take advantage of his expertise."

There is a warning in her tone, but the girls are unsure about what they are being warned. Madame turns to the unnamed Soldier and gives him a nod before moving back against the wall to watch. He glances at her, then turns to survey them. His scrutiny is uncomfortable and seems unending as he looks them over. Then he clears his throat and unfolds his arms. What looked like a shiny sleeve is shockingly revealed to be his arm – or a metal prosthetic, at any rate. The girls are too well-trained to react, but Natalia can feel a quiver of surprise run through them all. She's never seen such a thing before, but doesn't expect he'd be too thrilled with her desire to look at it more closely.

"Stand up," he orders. His voice is rough, as though it's not used very often.

The girls rise gracefully to their feet and the nervous energy is palpable. They look toward Madame and she just smiles grimly in response.

"Pair up," the Soldier says as he moves toward them and spreads them out. The girls shrink away from his metal appendage, but he merely uses shooing motions to get the group to take up most of the room. Then he returns to the center and looks at them critically. "Face your opponent. Get ready to spar."