Chapter Text
Yelena woke up cold; somewhere much more strange and unfamiliar than she was used to. This wasn’t her house, this wasn’t Ohio. She could tell from the smell alone. Back home, the air was warm and smelled of pine trees and freshly mowed grass, but here all she could smell was distance. It felt too clean for her liking, it felt like nothing. The lights were off so she couldn’t see a thing and at this point, she would usually get up and go find her mother in her bedroom, but something told her she wouldn’t find her; she didn’t feel comfortable leaving her rickety bed. The six year old wasn’t an expert or some kind of secret agent like in her games, but she could feel eyes. She had no idea where they were or why they were on her, but she felt as though she was being watched. It wasn’t a good feeling. She wanted to cry or shift and squirm, but there was something in her that wouldn’t allow her to and she couldn’t fathom why. Everything is weird. She had no clue as to what was going on.
The last thing she can remember was talking to her papa, his brown rimmed glasses pointed down at her and warm blue irises consoling her as tall and angry looking men surrounded them. Something was wrong with her mama; she was bleeding. It was from the plane, right? There were noises firing and going off in her ears all night long from the day before. Why were people chasing them? Why wasn’t she home? Was Natasha here too? She recalled how she hid behind her older sister, clutching her to her little heart’s content. She was always the braver one out of the two of them. Yelena wanted to go out and search for her, but the same feeling in her gut that wouldn’t let her move forbade it. She wanted her pony. Who took it from her? There were so many questions firing in her head, Yelena felt as though the room was spinning; she couldn’t even comprehend the weight of them all. All she could think about was her last memory in Ohio, looking at Nat upside down and eating dinner with her family. She had no idea what was coming to her. She wanted to go home, but she hadn’t known that this was her home now.
Suddenly a siren blared out through the room she was in and she heard ruffling. There was a voice in a language she hadn’t understood and as soon as it was over, Yelena sat up in her bed only to find twenty-nine more just like it. Other girls on all sides of her re-situate themselves out of bed and walk over to the foot of it in their white night gowns. Yelena was beyond confused at this point, but she assumed that she must follow. It felt like school, but different. Looking to the other girls as an example, the blonde shadowed the rest of the girls and stood firm in front of her own bed. They waited like that, in position for a while. The child noticed a few things. For starters, most of them were bigger than her; some were her size, but none smaller. It kept going up and up as if it was organized by age. Yelena couldn’t imagine there was anyone in this room that had been younger than her, in fact - she was the last bed out of both lines. She counted them up just like her mom taught her to do, but then was left empty. She didn’t know what else to do, they all looked intimidating.
Finally, the siren stopped and within the second, three men walked in through the metal door at the front of the room. One had a clipboard in hand while the other two had what her father called a gun. All she knew about it was that it was dangerous according to her family, but not much else. Why would they have something like that? Where was Natasha? The older looking man with the clipboard went down the line separating the right and left wall of beds and girls, taking a gander at all those he passed and swiftly writing something down on the board he’s hugging close to his chest. Yelena was torn on whether she wanted to know what it was, but she wasn’t daft enough to do anything about it. Or was that fear? Whatever it was, in this moment she was grateful for it. Yelena didn’t like this. After saying something in the foreign tongue she didn’t know, the man with the clipboard ended with a nod and soon one of the other two men shoved her in the back with his gun. “Idti.” the man spoke, a voice so deep it startled her just as much as the gun had.
Yelena knew that one; go. She still isn’t aware of what language it was, but her parents used to say that to her a lot. Yelena turned around and followed in the footsteps of the girls ahead of her to the tee. She didn’t want to be caught slipping with these people; that scared her. If her dad was here, he would help her - show them not to mess with his little girl; she knew it. Why wasn’t he here? The further they went, walking down hall after hall until they came to a crossroads in the building, the more curious she became. Eventually the one line made two and then four, until Yelena was ushered into one group full of the girls most similar to herself. Something told her this wasn’t for a fire drill. Once inside another room, all the girls were told to get on the platforms in the back - or at least that’s what she presumed as she copied what the others did. One by one, all the girls were scanned with a device attached to the ceiling, a red ray highlighting their bodies as they rotated around in a slow circle. She couldn’t even guess as to what it was for, but she wasn’t going to start asking questions now. Once all the girls were scanned and given a status that Yelena couldn’t decipher, some were escorted out with more guards on both sides of them while the rest went on.
She really didn’t like this part. Those who continued were taken to a room with a table very similar to when Yelena went to the doctor’s last year for a check-up with her mom. It seemed very self-explanatory for Yelena hopped on top of it and waited, though it was a bit of a struggle with her height. The tan girl didn’t have to wait long before a man waltzed in, not bothering to make eye contact with the child once. The evaluation wasn’t much different than the one she had before, if not a little more expansive, but it still chilled her to the bone. His touches were empty; emotionless and his glare was much of the same. It astounded the little girl how someone who was alive could seem so numb and departed. It was easier for the six year old to imagine him as one of the villains in her made-up stories, that this was all just a game or some kind of dream. She would wake up soon in the arms of her sister and parents as though none of this had actually happened. She told herself that lie so many times, the youth nearly believed it when led into the next room. It certainly made her feel less afraid, so why shouldn’t she?
She was once again accompanied by a group of girls in what she assumed to be her age group - sort of like how people are divided by grade in school - and when what must have been the most muscular man she’d ever seen entered the room, she knew this wouldn’t be good. Not that she could predict the future or anything, but Yelena was proven right real quickly once the man stood in front of the first girl in line and struck her hard across the face. The room was a mess; the slap had caused a ripple effect down the line of awaiting girls and before he could move on to the next girl, multiple of them ran towards the door. Yelena wanted to go with them, she hadn’t wanted the man to get to her, but it appeared her feet were frozen in place. She didn't know if that was due to her fear of what was outside the door or what would happen if she tried to find out. She wanted to yell and reprimand the man for hitting someone and being so naughty as her father would say, but there was a voice inside her head that said he was allowed to be. That somehow it would be naughtier for her to act out in defiance. Was that true? Why? What kind of backwards place was this? Why was she already listening to it?
The disbanded girls were rounded up and put back in their places, earning themselves a blow anyway despite their efforts and were then taken out of the room just like the others had been. The ones who stayed in their places - Yelena counted to be about six out of the twelve they started out with - went onto what would have been classified as round two if this were one of her dad’s boxing matches he liked to watch on the television back home. He began in the opposite direction and started with her, for some reason her endurance had been rewarded with a knee to her stomach. Yelena wobbled and stumbled but refused to let herself fall. The tears in her eyes were burning just like her belly had been now, but when faced with the icy stare of the man who had done it to her; Yelena didn’t want to let them fall in his presence. It was an instinctive act of self-preservation that she had been born with, she later supposed, but today all it had been confusing. If he were her father she would have let them out, if it had been her mother she would have cried until her orbs were drained and dry, but they weren’t and so she hadn’t.
Little by little, they did a few more hits and strikes, each time one girl couldn’t handle it, but Yelena tried the hardest in her life to make sure it was never her. By the time they were over, there were only two girls left. Finally, they let them go, but Yelena was starting to think there was something else she’d have to endure. Would it ever end? Next had been a different kind of test, one that nearly got the best of her. It was emotional and scarring; it tainted the fanatical picture she had painted of the world in her head. They showed them pain being inflicted onto someone else, they showed them abuse directed to an animal of their choice and taunted them about their families. Every time a word was muttered, it was intended to break them before they even had the chance to fight back. Each time one of them cried, they were taken away. You would think that would be enough encouragement to stifle their feelings and bury them as far down as they could, but it was much harder than it sounded. Yelena only considered herself lucky that she had made it through. Pain only makes you stronger.
Still, by the end of it Yelena had never wanted her family more in her life - and she had wanted them every day that she’s been alive. She didn’t think it was possible to want them this much, more than the food they were ultimately granted only hours and hours later. They didn’t have the macaroni and cheese she was hoping for; in fact, she had no inclination as to what this was. It tasted nutritious and whatnot, but it wasn’t served with the affection she had grown accustomed to with her parents. If she closed her eyes, Yelena could still see herself sitting at her designated spot at the dining table in her house back in Ohio, she could imagine her sister sitting beside her teasing her about needing a booster seat, and her parents holding hands as soon as they sat down before digging in. Here, she didn’t have to help set the table or the option to help cook for about five minutes until she got bored; she didn’t need to pass the plates full of food to anyone who asked or put her dishes in the sink and rinse them clean. It simply appeared out of nowhere when they came into the room, void of any explanation. It felt lonely this way. Yelena liked her other routine better. Where was everyone?
Yelena was made even more aware that she didn’t know anything about what's going on. She had no one to turn to and ask and didn't possess a single solacing doll to cuddle when she was scared. Everything about what she knew was suddenly gone and she didn’t even know why. She just wanted her mama and papa to come out and envelop their arms around her the way she so adored; it was an everyday occurrence, and she hasn’t had one yet. Why was she here instead of back home? What were these rooms and tests and guards for? What were they doing? Why was no one telling her anything? The child wrapped her hands around her arms to protect her from the cool air coming in from the vents all around her. She could be watching tv right now. What was all of this for? In spite of the overwhelming feeling in her gut telling her it’s not, Yelena couldn’t help but attempt to convince herself that none of this was permanent. Why did they need her here anyway? It just didn’t make any sense.
Once she was finished, the youth waited for further instruction or any sign on what to do next - anything really, but she found nothing. The others were still eating and they were still being watched as if one of them held a bomb in their hands. Without anything to do and with all the worries inside her head threatening to overflow, Yelena diligently left her seat and wandered over to one of the guards, looking him dead in the face. She needed answers. “Where are my parents?” the girl had to inquire, an itching sensation working it’s way through her at the thought of her family being worse off than she is.
The guard said nothing, his expression covered and stance as collected and reserved as ever. He hadn’t made any indication of hearing her and so she asked again. “My parents and sister. Are they here too? Where are they?”
That time her query seemed to cause a commotion. Slowly but surely, the heads of all the girls in the room at their tables turned back to gawk at her interrogation, shell-shocked but keeping that to themselves. Yelena hadn’t known where this newfound bravery and nerve came from, but she premised that if she were to put on this brave face of hers, she would do a lot better with them by her side. What if they needed her too? She couldn’t abandon them. Without a word, the guard she was canvassing had raised his gun to his waist, a bit lazy but no less frightening as it was left pointed straight at her head. The barrel pointed downwards to aim directly at her forehead had stunned her and she began to realize that she had forgotten she wasn’t in control. She can’t forget that again. Biting her lip, it took everything she had in her to resist the urge to scream as she turned away and went back to her seat as silent as a church mouse. When she dared to gape back at him, there was the clipboard man talking to him in hushed tones she couldn’t make out, but it was undeniable that their eyes were on her while a smirk was plastered across the new man’s face.
It wasn’t long after that that the girls were divided into groups again and commanded down more halls and more tests. Yelena can hardly remember what the earth looked like outside the walls after how much she has seen of them. Gray and black, and littered with drills and technology she couldn’t even begin to gather. Rubbing her red face that was already starting to bruise from one of the last tests, Yelena and another section of girls were put into a room and given orders. Some were easy like ‘walk over to the wall’ and ‘hop on one foot’ - though her lack of knowledge on the language did prove harmful a few times, she merely did her best to understand what she could and go off of what the others were doing. However, these instructions soon got harder and harder to enact. They asked them to kick the girls next to them or hit themselves in the arm. They were all childish things to do, but Yelena hadn’t wanted to do a single one. She didn’t want to hurt people. She should just be grateful they stopped somewhere around there unlike what the older girls were doing.
When someone would refuse, as they have always done, they were dragged out. Yelena hesitated one time when asked to harm another girl next to her, but once the guard had yelled at her twice more - she figured it had to be the better option. If she would have known this test was just to see which girls were more compliant, a twenty-seven year old Yelena would have liked to think she would have disobeyed - she would have liked it better that way if she had. Just when Yelena was beginning to think she couldn’t handle any more, the girls were allowed into a new room, one where everything inside was being used for some kind of analysis. It looked like something out of a movie. The man with the clipboard was back, but this time he wasn’t alone. Instead of speaking to a lowly guard, Yelena didn't know this yet - but it was Dreykov he had with him this time. He stayed behind as the man with the clipboard had done what he had this morning and took down the names of all the girls that were left. Or, well, that’s what she assumed given that all she could understand from what they were saying were the names the others gave.
Out of all the girls her age that she started out with in her room this morning, she only recognized one face. She had no idea what this was, but something eerie told her she wouldn’t be seeing the rest again. The blonde stood tall and as strongly as she could, thinking and hoping she looked just as scary as the other men surrounding them when he got to her. “Yelena.” she listed off as clearly as her timid voice would allow.
“Belova.” the child heard from across the room, the bigger man in a bright red tracksuit announced while making his way over to her. Yelena felt like she knew him from somewhere. Wasn’t he the man her dad hugged when her mommy was being carried away?
Becoming unnerved by the way he approached her, the girl squeezed her little fists shut so tightly her fingers turned white when he put his hands on her face. She couldn’t let them know she was terrified. “I remember you, my child.” he looked at her in admiration, but something about it made the girl feel like a barbie doll on display at her favorite toy store. “I expect you will do great things. Don’t disappoint me, Belova.”
Belova. It sounded somewhat familiar, but she couldn’t ever recall hearing it. The six year old had presumed her last name was Rushman like it had been at school. Though her parents might have mentioned something once about how silly that name was, it never occurred to her that it was because it was fake. Was that her real name? Why would they lie? Whatever it was, Yelena never found out. Before she could continue down that foggy path, the big man had retreated from his spot in front of her, revealing all the surprised faces of the girls beside her as he left the room as quiet as he came. If her papa trusted him, then she supposed she would too. After all, why would he trust a bad man? Her father was her hero. With that, the front man finished his job and the rest of the men in the room grabbed one girl each and took them somewhere new.
The room Yelena was put in had flashcards and posters and everything one needed to learn the Russian language. She was actually thankful for this; she didn’t know how much longer she could get by with only half an understanding. Over the years, Russian turned into English - that she happened to be able to skip over - turned to Spanish and then Mandarin. Out of all the languages in the world, Yelena and all the other girls in the program learned most of them. It was easier as a kid, her mind absorbed the information as efficiently as she retained the teachings her captives taught her. By the end of the day, the last thing she was guided to was her first daily documentary. They showed them movies about war and espionage, about weapons and bomb, armies and soldiers, but most of all they showed them images of women. Women they could control, who listened to their superiors and took their orders like it was the meaning of their life. It was hallucination, hypnotherapy; put in place so that every girl that sees it begins to believe that they are one in the same. As Yelena watched that first one, her mind slipped down a road of wonder and conflict that she was never quite able to shake. It worked.
That night as she laid back in her thin bed, joined by the eighteen older girls she started out with and the only other girl her age that lasted as long as she had. By the morning, there were ten new girls her age that she assumed had passed their tests yesterday and that became known as her cohort - otherwise known as kogorta. Upon waking up, she had been granted a box full of clothes for her to use - two identical outfits to the rest of the girls to switch between washes. But for now, she couldn’t sleep. After all she had gone through in the last twenty-four hours, one would think that she’d fall asleep as soon as her head hit her pillow, but no. Yelena couldn’t stop her pondering about her family. It was only now that she asked herself the question; where was she? She didn’t want to be here. All she wanted in the entire world was to be back home with her mom and dad and her sister. She felt like she was waiting for something that wouldn’t come. However, as she clutched the ripped in half photo strip of her and Natasha she was given before being separated, she thought about what they would want her to do.
These were their people - that’s what she told herself. They called this place home. Her father hugged that man, her mom tried to take them here and again her dad told her it was for the best; that everything was going to be okay. They told her to be strong. Even bullheaded Natasha gave in. They wouldn’t lie to her. They wouldn’t abandon her - they wouldn’t. They were the most honest and kind people she has ever known; they loved her. They knew what was best. So, she listened to them. Believing that she was meant to be here, that this was all for a reason had made it easier for her to get by every day and wake up to more anguish and agony. They wouldn’t do this for no reason; her family would never leave her here to rot. She had just enough trust in them to let herself fall into the lies surrounding this place. When she felt petrified and alone, when she didn’t know what was right or wrong anymore, she just remembered what the told her. Every time Yelena began to doubt all of this, she just thought about how much her parents would want her to do this, how she was meant for this. She never doubted them. She loved them and she would keep her head held high to prove to them she was worthy of it.
This was a good thing; that was the one constant thought she had for the next twenty-one years as a widow. This is where she belonged. Her parents knew what they were doing and she just had to have faith in them. And so, this was her home now. Whether it be in a ballet uniform, a specialized tac suit, in her nightgown during middle of the night - she would fight and carry on and excel far beyond the typical widow ever would. She would make them proud. This was going to be the rest of her life, that was what she eventually came to accept. This is where she was born and where she would be bred in the eyes of the world, no matter how much or how many times she didn’t want it to be. Welcome to the Red Room.