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Identity: Elena Belova
Born/Given: ??/??/1989
To Moscow
Nationality: Russian
Parent: Unknown - Adoptive: Alexei Shostakov / Melina Vostokoff
Environment: Red Room
Social class: Elite group of female spies and assassins
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[...]
Yelena was never truly free to make her own choices. Before the serum was administered, pain and fear dictated her every action.
The day Oksana freed her, it was not a liberation; there was not the slightest joy.
It was regret, grief, guilt: a flood of negative emotions.
— “Free the others.” Yelena didn’t need to hear anything more. She carried out the orders mechanically, casting one last look at the consequences of her actions before following the new order she had been given.
Of course, she wanted to free others.
But she didn't have time to truly wish for it before she ran away.
If we are to believe Albert Camus , no one is truly free to make their own choices; everything is predetermined .
Spinoza , who shares this view, expresses it thus: "The soul is determined to will this or that by a cause which is itself determined by another, and this other is in turn determined by another, and so on ad infinitum."
Yelena wants to free the other Widows because she has been controlled, and she has been controlled because she grew up in the Red Room.
A story of cause and effect.
No choice, just a logical reaction.
Fortunately, there are some more positive conceptions of freedom. Sartre believed that we can fight against this determinism, that it is possible to detach ourselves from these unchosen criteria that determine each of us.
These criteria are merely tests of our condition as "free human beings".
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The night is calm.
As often happens, sleep eludes her, so she gets up and gently closes her bedroom door after leaving it so as not to alert the other soldiers in the building that she is awake.
She didn't choose to be here, so sometimes she needs to escape and flee from this place.
Not because she didn't like her team; in fact, she liked them more than she ever thought possible.
But after more than 25 years of domination, she now refused to have anything imposed on her. This place, these people, her status as an Avenger – everything had been imposed on her.
She walked silently through the corridors, taking a detour to avoid the kitchen. Alexei and Bob often took late breaks.
When she finally reached the front door and opened it, she took a deep breath, the fresh air pleasantly filling her lungs. She made sure to close it immediately behind her; winter had not yet arrived, but the autumn nights were beginning to get cooler.
It had taken him many long nights under the stars to ask himself: "Yelena, what do you want?"
It's a complex question for anyone, really, but even more so for her. Bucky was a good advisor; he had spoken to her about her quest for identity, the mistakes and trials she would make, the fact that she would never truly be able to free herself from her conditioning, and he was right.
She wanted to change her hair, to stand out from the physical standards imposed by the Red Room. Her first attempt reached her shoulders; it was too long but too short to be tied up properly, so she cut it again, not out of desire , but because it was not practical according to what she had been taught .
At least she prefers this haircut to the other one.
Today, the moon is magnificent, the sky is clear, and passersby are few. Yelena has always appreciated the contrast of this city: during the day, people are in a hurry, numerous, and grumpy, while in the evening, and especially at night, they take their time and laugh.
New York is a vibrant city, no matter what time you go out. That's what the new Avenger appreciates. She goes out, wanders aimlessly, and decides to discover a new bar, a park, or even find quiet viewpoints.
At first, she was determined to be there before everyone else, but Bucky had told her not to let that stop her from doing what she wanted for them. Yelena had worked alone most of her life, and on the rare occasions when she hadn't, she had always made sure to be the one they could rely on. Delegating that role to Bucky, even occasionally, was difficult, but after a while, she managed to free herself from this self-imposed responsibility.
At the moment, she had no idea where to go. She wanted to see people, chat a little, but not in a noisy place.
When you've never made a decision before, the first few times can be a little intimidating. So Bucky advised her to start with small things. She went shopping to buy some clothes.
Apparently, she appreciated cool colors and comfortable clothes, but also jeans and long coats, which she had never really tried before. Jewelry was important in the Red Room, as many elements played a role in seduction. She liked it, but she preferred it less feminine, simpler, but a little more elaborate. Silver seemed more elegant to her than gold.
Small details, certainly, but of great importance in his eyes.
The superfluous was forbidden in the Red Room; it was considered useless. But now that Yelena was starting to have a wardrobe that was a little too full, knick-knacks on the furniture, and even several photos of her family and her team, she understood that it was a way of preventing them from discovering their own tastes, from forging their own identity: from being someone.
A car slowed down beside her. The blonde turned her head when a window rolled down, revealing a young man in his twenties.
He gave her a broad, undeniably charming smile. His friend, sitting next to him, turned down the volume of the rap music playing on the radio. Yelena politely stopped.
"Would you like me to take you somewhere?"
— No, I don't have time to waste.
The reaction was such that the driver frowned while the other man burst out laughing.
— “At this hour, it could be dangerous for a woman as gentle as you.”
Yelena saw the passenger nudge his friend with his elbow, probably to congratulate him on his first sentence.
-“Between us” the blonde began, approaching, which made the two boys smile“it’s you who could be in danger.” A knife suddenly appeared in her hand, its sharp blade threatening the driver’s throat. He swallowed hard as his friend muttered, “Damn.”
-"Sorry" the young man said quickly, stepping back. Yelena put away her weapon, knowing full well that this mishap might discourage them from approaching other women in the future.
A persistent man, especially if he approaches women in the middle of the night, will never leave them a choice; he will offer them fear, and fear is nothing more than a weapon of subjugation.
— “It’s better for you if you never do that again.” The good thing is that any weapon can turn against the one who wields it.
The Dreykov ruling is one example of this.
He nods his head and speeds off without bothering to close the window or turn on the music.
Yelena watched them drive away and turn at the first intersection; she knew perfectly well that her reaction was anything but ordinary. In a way, it was a good thing, but in another, it reminded her of where she came from.
Lately, she has learned to gauge these reactions, which are less brutal, less threatening, less acerbic.
Little by little, she manages to free herself from the expectations of the Red Room.
She tries to make her own choices, but the more she thinks about it, the more she realizes that most of these choices are influenced by an external factor. Having a hierarchical superior is obviously a source of constraint, as is living in a community.
If she thinks about it carefully,
The only thing that seemed out of place in her otherwise perfect career was the day she went to Kate Bishop's house.
Therefore, this could be considered part of his mission, which consists of targeting his target's inexperienced young protégé and extracting information from him.
She went there out of simple curiosity and, for the first time, gave in to her desires. It took her some time, however, to admit it to herself. The rules of the Red Room were still deeply ingrained in her; they were her only guide. But when she began to detach herself from them, it became clear that she had been inventing excuses to avoid breaking the rules she unconsciously followed.
She hadn't even shaken the archer in the slightest, no tackle, no twisted arm or small cut... nothing.
Absence has never been more meaningful.
Kate Bishop, on the other hand, is now just a distant memory.
Arriving at the intersection where the boys turned, she paused, thinking about which direction to take.
"But do I want her to remain a distant memory...?" she wondered, glancing at the stars as if one of them might offer an answer. "Hmm" she hesitated. Would Kate even want to see her again?
After all this time and given the circumstances of their meeting, it seemed unlikely; she herself shouldn't even be thinking about it anymore, but still…
Having made her decision, she turned left.
[...]
Very early on, Yelena understood that this great dream called "freedom," like everything else, had its limits.
Because freedom necessarily implies responsibilities: responsibility for one's actions
Respect for the law, or not.
The law is not complicated to respect, except perhaps in the exercise of one's functions; no, what is really complicated is society, social norms, all these unwritten rules that must be respected — what some call common sense.
But common sense compared to whom?
John Stuart Mill , in his work "On Liberty," where he addresses the limits of the power that society exercises over each individual, says:
" One person's freedom ends where another's begins ."
This is what Yelena is doing in the middle of the fire escape. The previous year, she had entered Kate's apartment with total nonchalance; today, she hesitated a little (really a little, let's not exaggerate).
Entering someone's apartment at almost 2 am, without having seen them for nearly two years, might not have been socially acceptable. So, with a slight hesitation, she descended the metal staircase and entered to knock on young Hawkeye's front door.
It's a rather new experience for her, but you have to start somewhere.
In a way, whether we are free or not, there are always things we do out of obligation.
To my great surprise, the door opened.
Kate, dressed in purple flannel trousers and a too-short tank top stained with bleach, appears before her. One hand covers half her face to stifle a loud yawn as she struggles to articulate a polite greeting.
— “Good morning, can’t this wait until tomorrow?” the young woman asked, rubbing her eyes, trying to wake up.
-" Kate Bishop, what did I tell you about the security of your apartment? The words, the question, the voice, the intonation, the accent, the combination of all these elements startled the archer who abruptly raised her head, her eyes wide, surprised to see the new Avenger after all this time.
-"Yelena?!" she exclaimed, unsure how to react. "You..." Kate had a thousand questions, but she suddenly remembered the blonde's situation: "Did something happen? What are you doing here?"
-“I’m here because I can,” smiled Yelena, rather proud of her choice. “I can?”
The brunette observed him for a moment. For a super-spy who had returned home and prepared pasta to interrogate him after breaking into his apartment, it was a surprising question.
-“Yes” Kate replied quickly, realizing she had been silent for too long. “Of course, come in.” She stepped back to let her into her apartment and closed the door behind her.
Clearly, Yelena didn't need an invitation to feel at home; she went straight to the cupboards as if she already knew what was in them and what they were for. Kate hadn't changed a thing since the last time.
-"So..." Kate began, trying to start a conversation, "the door?" The black widow turned around, a bottle of beer in her hand "Is that new?"
-“I wanted to come, that doesn’t mean you wanted” she replied, shrugging as if it were obvious. Which it absolutely wasn’t, at least not at 2 am
But honestly, Kate doesn't care.
-“I’m delighted to see you again” admitted the Champions leader. “It’s surprising after all this time, but it’s nice.” Kate had followed all of the spy’s activities from afar since the attempt on Clint’s life. She had come a long way, and seeing that after almost two years without direct contact, Yelena was clearly thinking of her made her happy and reassured; she wasn’t the only one clinging to that brief encounter from the past.
- “I’ve been rather busy,” the blonde replied, heading over to the sofa to sit down. Hawkeye realized…than her colleague? His friend? It didn’t matter. She didn’t just talk about her superhero stories. “But I’m starting to have a little free time, and I thought: why not come and visit our amazing Champion, Kate Bishop!”
-“At 2 am?” the amused brunette asked, going to get herself something to drink, something milder, just a can of soda. It was obvious Yelena wasn't telling the whole story, but she didn't need any further explanation now. “Okay, now that you're here, what do you want to do? Chat? Eat? Watch a good movie?”
The choice.
Yelena froze for a moment. Making decisions was still complicated for her. When it came to missions, she knew how to act in the face of any unforeseen event; she could make a decision in a split second without the slightest hesitation, even when lives were at stake. It wasn't for nothing that she was the one leading the new Avengers. But when it came to personal choices? That was a completely different story.
So she turned the question around:
-"You do have a preference?"
The easy way out. She knew it.
-"Not really, I'll probably regret it tomorrow morning, but I'm even prepared to pull an all-nighter!" Honestly, it throws Yelena off a bit. The last time she'd seen her, she'd fought with Kate, trying to kill her mentor, and now she's suggesting a sleepover as if they'd been friends forever. Kate collapses onto the sofa next to the blonde, relaxed, smiling, welcoming despite it being an unexpected visit in the middle of the night.
If she listened to her training in the red room, she should have been wary.
She knew perfectly well it wasn't necessary, yet in her eyes, it made no sense, but on the other hand, she was the one who came here.
And that's when she understood.
Once, when a news report was criticizing how they had manage a situation, Yelena couldn't help but ask how one can do what one wants when so many people have such varied opinions.
Bucky had explained to her the difference between the opinions of the audience and those of the actors. The opinions of those around you aren't important if you're true to yourself. However, those directly involved must be listened to.
So the advice was simple: surround yourself with people with whom you can truly be yourself.
Kate exudes something like that, something reassuring that say : "Don't worry, I'm not going to judge you, I'm no better than you."
-“Maybe we could make some snacks to eat while watching a movie?” Yelena finally suggests, because yes, not making a choice is also a choice, and it’s not what she wants.
-“I totally approve of the idea!” exclaims Kate, abandoning the sofa for the kitchen counter, which she jumps onto to sit down. “I’m hopeless in the kitchen, so you take over!” She gestures vaguely toward her (semi-)equipped kitchen.
Yelena watched the brunette's smile, her legs swinging like a child perched high in search of a bowl to lick, and her bright, expressive eyes waiting for her to start cooking. Although she was a super spy, able to navigate using only the sun, whether in the middle of a dessert or a rainforest, she could lose herself in this girl's blue eyes until the end of time, and she would gladly do so without any shame.
But she only smiled back and looked away to the fridge, where she took out eggs and milk.
-"How about pancakes?"
-"I think we're going to be the best friends of word, I love it."
.
.
.
.
.
Her best decision.
She wakes up lying on the old sofa in young Hawkeye's living room, with a soft blanket over her. The sun's rays hit her face; it's pleasant, warm, and inviting... adjectives that remind her of Kate.
She doesn't even know when she fell asleep, but she knows she never reached the end of the movie; in any case, it was quickly forgotten. Kate told her how the Champions were formed, why they didn't adopt for the "Young Avengers" as originally planned, she told her about her team members, Peter's jokes, Kamala's fanaticism, and Riri's obsession with new inventions. She listed all the superheroes she'd met, the groups she'd worked with, the titles she'd earned. Yelena already knew a lot of what she was talking about, but hearing it from her own lips was something else entirely.
After a while, sleep overtook her. She didn't even hear the brunette leave. She couldn't tell if it was because Kate had improved her stealth or if she was simply more tired than she thought (the latter being the obvious choice).
When her feet touched the floor, a flash of yellow fur shot from upstairs.
-"Were you there?"
-“He’s always full of energy, but after 10 pm, he sleeps peacefully in his bed and no one can get him out,” explains Kate, her shoulder leaning against the railing, her eyes fixed on Yelena, who is scratching the dog’s exposed belly. “Did you sleep well?” asks Kate, heading to the fridge to get a jar of jam and the few pancakes left over from the night before.
-“Very well,” replies the blonde, scratching behind Lucky’s ears “Yes, you’re handsome, but I’ll have to leave you now my little boy.” Seeming to understand, the dog sits up, ears down “Don’t make that face, I’ll come back to visit you.”
-“You could come with me to walk him before I leave” the dog’s owner suggested, quickly rinsing a small spoon in the sink to serve the strawberry jam.
The widow stared at the dog, considering her options.
What's best, staying or leaving ?
No.
I have responsibilities.
Can I stay?
No.
-“If you don’t have the time or the inclination, that’s okay,” Kate reassured her, taking a bite of her rolled crepe. “You know where to find us.”
What do I want?
Do I want to stay?
Yes
Learning to ask herself the right questions.
-"I think we can manage without me for a morning," the widow finally agreed, provoking a broad, happy smile from Kate, and for that alone, it was worth saying yes.