Cracking An Enigma (a YJ fanfic) COMPLETED

Chapter One: I run for a living

"You're mad. Bonkers. Off your head... But I'll tell you a secret... All of the best people are."
Alice In Wonderland, Lewis Caroll

Emilia's POV

"EMILIA?"

My heart crashed around in my chest like a bird in a cage. My footsteps, which were steadily slowing, were loud and uneven, as I sucked in air.

"Emilia? Find her! Don't just stand there, find her!"

I kept running. The deep, intimidating voice of my father echoed in my head, as I rushed through corridor after corridor, my hope fading with each turn I took.

"Give up Emilia. You can't escape," I heard him scoff. I was almost sick just hearing him. He was supposed to be my father. Instead, he'd ruined my life.

Since I was nine, he'd found me, and taken me from my orphanage, to train me up to be an assassin. I could have had a normal childhood. My father had left my mother after a one night stand, he hadn't expected her to have a daughter though.

That daughter being me, unfortunately; Emilia Brookston.

My mother brought me up single handedly; she was a wonderful woman. Until of course social media ruined her. She slowly became more and more depressed, until... Well. I won't speak about that yet, it's a touchy subject.

And now here I was, stuck in a warehouse, trying to escape once more. I slid to the floor and sobbed quietly, as I listened to the heavy, unstable thud of my father's combat boots come closer.

"Stop being silly Emilia. You're Ukrainian, for goodness sake. We don't act like this,"

Who was he referring to as we? I couldn't tell, as he came nearer to my shaking body. I curled up, and tried my hardest not to make a noise.

"Well, you're British too, of course." He stopped for a second. "Damn Americans, who do they think they are?"

I'd never met an American. Not formally at least. Sure, there had been the many arms dealers that Dad had pulled cons on, but I'd always watched from behind doors, as he shook hands, promising money. Of course, they never got what they had came for. Even if they did, if you got mixed up with Dad, you'd die, one way or another.

"They're all so naive you know?"

"I'd have to say that you are too," came a voice. I didn't recognize it, but just from the tone I could tell she was smirking. And it was definitely a she. There was the sounds of fighting, before a loud thump came to my ears. I couldn't help myself, and I let out a whimper. The woman caught it, and turned the corner, where I sat shuddering.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

I looked up, and finally met eyes with her. She was beautiful; very, very, much so, with emerald green eyes, and red ringlets of hair dangling around her face. She was wearing a black catsuit, which seemed equipped with many unidentifiable gadgets.

I was simply wearing a stolen, blue prison suit, with my wavy, short, brown hair all over my face in greasy waves, as I had not washed it for God knows how long. She smiled at me, and pointed over at my father, who was lying on the floor, out cold.

"Is that your dad?"

I nodded.

"And who are you?"

"Emilia Brookston," I mumbled, wiping snot off my face.

"Well, Emilia Brookston, until we can find you a suitable home, you're coming with me."

I didn't object. She picked me up and slung me over he shoulder. Then to my shock she ran forwards and jumped through the nearest window. I let out a scream of terror, as glass flew around me like hailstones of doom.
She seemed to know what she was doing though. She landed like a pro, and set me down gently, before kneeling down to my level. She held out a gloved hand.

"I'm Natasha Romanoff,"

I hesitantly took it. She saw the marks on my hand. "Did your dad do this to you?" She asked, pointing to them. I winced, and nodded. With a pained look on her face, she said quietly, "He's not gonna hurt you again girl."

Then she stood up, took a remote from her belt, and pressed a large red button. The warehouse before us exploded into flames and explosions. I watched with wonder at the firey mass. Then I clutched at Natasha's hand. She glanced down at me, the sighed.
"You're growing on me, kid. You could have a teacher, but you wouldn't want me for one."
She kept her eyes on the flaming house.

"Why?" I asked.

She chuckled drily. "For a lot of reasons, Emilia. For a lot of reasons."

She was right, in a certain sense.

But as I watched that warehouse burn to the ground, I felt safer than I had in a long time.
I looked up at her again. "Can you teach me?" I said quietly.

"Teach you what?"

"How to jump through a window," I said looking at her doefully with my muddy brown eyes. "I think it would be useful."

She looked thoughtful for a moment, before snapping to no one in particular, "Ah, screw it. I'm training you, no matter what the League says. I'll keep you a secret. It's not like they're my real family anyway," she said quite scornfully.

I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about.

But at that moment, even I knew that my life had taken a huge turning point.
I just had to wait and see whether it was for the good or bad.