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The Red Room did not believe in windows. It opened doorways to imagination, and escapism for the widow trainees was not tolerated. The psychological conditioning was a rigid way of removing all traces of emotion and yearning for freedom outside their walls.
The large training hall had bare white concreted walls, the hall was lit by harsh white fluorescent light strips which buzzed repeatedly every 3 seconds. No fans circulating air, just the heavy warm air mixed with sweat and the metallic scent of blood.
Natasha stood in the front row of girls ranging from the ages six to thirteen. Her muscles aching from the grueling 8 hour repetitive ballet training.
Where Madame B made the girls arabesque while balancing on a glass bottle, Natasha fell twice the least amount out of all the girls. Her feet were currently bandaged with rough cloth bandages from the infirmary.
She was grateful the training was only for the older girls, Yelena was spared from this pain for a few more years.
Surrounded by around 30 trainees, all of them thin, they’re eyes watchful waiting for the next punishment at the next mistake.
Some were recent additions who flinched at Madame B’s commanding voice. Others had been here for a few years and a handful like Natasha, had been in the Red Room since infancy.
The light behind their eyes dim.
Madame B’s heels clicked on the tiled floors as she neared the lined up girls. Yelena stood beside Natasha, trembling and scared.
It had been three weeks since they flew to Cuba in the middle of the night while S.H.I.E.L.D shot at the taking off plane. They were ripped away from their adoptive mission parents. Whom yelena still believed were her real parents.
Yelena missed her mother Melina’s Mac and Cheese and listening to American Pie with her father during drives. She missed her family.
Yelena creeped closer towards Natasha her hand reaching for her sister’s hand.
Natasha gently pushed away, hoping Yelena took the hint of not showing emotion where they can see.
However Natasha did not dare speak this out loud. Speaking without permission meant punishment. It would get you beaten.
Natasha missed Ohio she missed her mother.
Madame B stood 5 feet away from the front row of girls, directly in the middle. In her slightly Russian accented English she said, “The Red Room creates weapons, weapons do not think and they do not question. Weapons serve their creator. You serve General Dreykov.”
She began to pace across the front row, her eyes scanning the row as if they were livestock and not girls. They landed on Natasha and Yelena lingering for a second. Yelena luckily had moved back to her original position.
“Today you will spar, Those of you who win will get to eat. However those of you who will loose will not for the next 2 days” Her voice stern.
Natasha’s eyes twitched glancing at Yelena, a silent effort of telling her to be strong.
The pairs were announced.
“Natasha. Yelena.”
Natasha’s stomach dropped, feeling a wisp of cold air hit her face, she pretty sure she imagined from the shock.
Natasha turned to Yelena, his sister’s face pale as if she had seen a ghost. Her eyes wide and glassy. She was only six years old.
“Move” Madame B said sharply. “Or I will select new pairs for you.”
“Come on” Natasha said softly, grabbing Yelena’s hand pulling her to the center of the circle that had formed. They were enclosed by the other girls.
“Natasha I’m scared” Yelena whimpered.
“Quiet” Natasha said softly yet firmly.
“Begin” Madame B said calmly.
Natasha struck Yelena’s shoulder, a controlled yet less painful blow, making Yelena stumble. Yelena raised an arm protecting her face. Natasha kicked Yelena’s shin lightly, making them in close proximity so she could whisper, “Hit me” Natasha said quietly by Yelena’s ear.
“And make it look real, or they’ll make it worse for the both of use” She pleaded.
Yelena’s concentrated and lunged swinging against Natasha’s hip. Natasha made herself stumble back, she needed to make it look convincing, but not too simple that would make Madame B grow bored. Which lead to punishment.
Natasha circled Yelena. She thought of the possibility of a draw match, but pushed it way, as both of them would be punished.
Natasha moved, sweeping her leg under Yelena’s, causing her sister to tumble to the ground. Natasha was now on top of her, her arm around her sisters neck in a headlock.
Yelena’s eyes were glassy with unshed tears of fear, but not pain, Natasha made sure the headlock wasn’t too tight.
The surrounding girls gasps gave Natasha the cover she needed
Natasha hissed quietly. “Listen to me, when I let you up, you have to take my arm and flip me over to the ground, pinning her under your knee. You have to win.”
“I can’t” Yelena croaked.
“You have to, please” Natasha swallowed.
Natasha released Yelena’s throat and moved over as it get on top of her and grab her throat.
Yelena’s body moved and did exactly as her sister instructed, a tear slipping her eye. She could she Natasha giving her a comforting glance, as if telling her everything will be alright.
“Winner : Yelena” Said Madame B.
Yelena scrambled off Natasha, her chest heaving as she had just realized her sister would not eat for the next two days.