Part I: She's Been Everybody Else's Girl, Maybe Someday She'll Be Her Own

"Sit in the Chair and Be Good Now"

She was one of the 28 ballerinas of the Bolshoi. The training was hard, but the glory of the Soviet culture, and the warmth of her parents ... her parents?

No, that's not right.

She was one of the 28 Black Widow agents with the Red Room. Training was hard, but the glory of the Soviet supremacy, and the warmth of her parents – her parents – makes up for –

She couldn't tell what was real anymore.

Natasha Romanoff couldn't remember her family. She must have had one, though, right? Or maybe she was an orphan, and that's how the Red Room got ahold of her. It would make sense for them to go looking amongst those who wouldn't be missed for new recruits. Particularly given what happened to those recruits. However she spent the first few years of life, all she knew was the Red Room.

Under their strict training regimen, she learned a great deal. The girls had a basic education – reading, writing, arithmetic – before getting into more important skills. History was taught, but not in depth and highly redacted. After she'd escaped, Natasha had a lot of catching up to do to see how the world really worked outside of the Soviet Union, the fall of which did nothing to deter those who facilitated projects like the Red Room.

They were all around the same age, the ballerinas – no, the Black Widows. It was very competitive. Like a real ballet troupe, but much more so. Why ballet? Maybe because high society still saw ballets, and would think nothing of a Russian girl in their midst if she were a prima ballerina. They wouldn't be as on guard as they might otherwise. Ballerinas were artists and would not be suspected of ulterior motives.

That was the idea, anyway. But perhaps it was really because it was a good way for a group of girls to learn to use their bodies in a way that would lend itself well to less artistic and more mercenary pursuits. Of course, that might have just been a story they told her. To cover up the ugliness of the Red Room, replace it with a dance studio. To assuage her of guilt, make her think she had outperformed the others to earn her rank, not left them to die in the snow.

Grigor Pchelintsov oversaw their regular psychological evaluations. Later, when SHIELD had wanted to give her an evaluation, she had resisted and fought back until she found out all that was required of her was to answer some questions. The ones in the Red Room had been more ... invasive. The girls would be strapped down while a piece of machinery closed around their heads. And it hurt. The screams echoed throughout the facility whenever it was in use.

Once, in her fifth year, Natasha snuck down to watch Grigor work. He sat behind a monitor and read it carefully while Elena writhed on the other end of the machine. Though she studied it closely, Natasha couldn't make any headway in understanding what he could possibly be seeing. She was punished for her curiosity.

When they weren't at each other's throats, the girls were friendly with each other. They were of an age, and socialization happened. It was frowned upon by their superiors, who devised numerous training exercises to drive them apart. The result was a friendly façade in the dormitories or the dining hall, and a pervasive distrust of each other the rest of the time. It was a good mindset for a spy to have, as one would never know if a former ally had been turned.

Natalia's closest friend was a brunette called Eva. They were about the same size, so often were called upon to spar with each other. In spite of this, the two got along well and ate most of their meals together. The group of twenty-eight had many such pairings in the early days. Natalia and Eva stayed friends for much longer than the others. Perhaps because they were learning at about the same rate.

In the Red Room, improving skills was paramount. Those who fell behind were given few chances to catch up. Natalia was aware of what happened to the ones who failed. A Black Widow had to be ready to kill and defend her life at any moment. So, if one was not meeting expectations, her sparring partner and she would face a final challenge. The girl who was performing poorly would try to survive while her partner tried to kill her. If she evaded long enough, or was able to put her partner out of commission (preferably not by killing her, but it happened), then she could stay.

It was a brutal life. Survival was all that mattered. Later, after she'd been exposed to how other people lived their lives, Natasha had done a lot of research into how the Red Room was started. Into how such a place could not only exist, but thrive. For years. Decades. The unnamed department that was in charge of it had drawn inspiration from a similar project, and taken it to the extreme. They would have the best agents because they knew nothing but to serve the Red Room. There were no distractions, nothing that could matter more than a mission. Any hint of something like that was dealt with severely.

"Tell him she's waking up," a voice floated above Natasha's head and she wondered confusedly what was happening. But the confusion didn't last long. Her training had involved being drugged with all kinds of incapacitating agents. They had used ketamine, she decided as she came back into herself.

She was lying on a gurney of some sort, tied down. That, coupled with the Red Room memories in her head, made the wings of panic flutter in her chest. With difficulty, she pushed it down. Sharon had gotten out. She had to have. And would be figuring out a way to rescue her. And hopefully Jin-Taek, if he was here. If he wasn't, she would have to see about questioning these people concerning his whereabouts.

Opening her eyes slowly, she blinked a couple times against the bright lights shining in her face. She was in what was likely a basement, given the concrete walls. It matched both the size and design of the one where the laboratory had been, and she thought bitterly about how there was always a sub-basement with these kinds of people. The rest of the room was hard to make out, as it was not nearly so well-lit as her corner, but she could see perhaps three or four shadowy figures watching her.

It appeared that there were cells on the far wall – the bars cast strange shadows. She couldn't tell if they were occupied or not. But she was optimistic that she had, in fact, found her missing scientist. And maybe some other folks who deserved to be freed. Now, just to figure out a way to get free herself so she could get to work on that.

A stillness in the figures brought her attention back to them and she became aware of someone walking down the stairs to her right. It was a heavy tread, from boots being worn by a man who was on the tall side. He had black hair streaked with grey and she was surprised to find that he looked familiar. But distantly, like she'd known him in a dream. Which probably meant he had been involved in the Red Room. Unfortunately.

"Natalia Romanova. How strange to meet you here," the man said quietly, walking over to her.

"I didn't think you'd sink so low as to work for AIM," she shot back.

That amused him. "I don't. They work for me, little Widow. They are... useful to me."

"What are you going to do with Jin-Taek?" she demanded.

He smiled. "It's not him whom I wanted."

It was useless to struggle against her bonds, but she did it anyway as something about his tone jogged her memory. He was Aleksander Lukin, the general in command of Department X. Which included the creation of the Black Widow program.

"I'm so glad to have you back. Let's get to work, shall we?"

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