A/N: The prologue is set in third-person, but the rest of the fic will be in first-person.
The Start of Silence (Prologue)
Somewhere in the wild Yukon, 1978
"Loose."
A sharp thwang echoed off the concrete walls as an arrow lodged itself in the center of a target fifty meters away. The girl that loosed it stood emotionless, her face blank, her arm still raised from releasing the bowstring. She was beautiful, bearing an air of grace along with the ferocity that resided within her, even though she was no more than eighteen, and she was built like a soldier in peak physical condition. Her long, russet hair was pulled tightly into an intricate braid, as was required by her handler, her crystalline blue eyes cold as stone and her young muscles taut, the result of year upon year of intense emotional and physical training. Her origins were like many that resided with her: a child with no family, only her name, brought to this place in order to serve a higher purpose. Trained to be killers of the highest order.
"Well done, Silencer." An older woman, who had the permanent look that she had just swallowed a lemon, strode slowly over to her pupil with calculating and cruel green eyes, "You've impressed the Board with your skills. They've approved your graduation and are ready to send you out into the field."
The girl relaxed her arms, lowering them to her sides and giving her instructor a sharp nod, "Thank you, Mistress. I'm honored to have the opportunity to serve Project D.E.C.K."
"You may retire for the evening and you will meet the Board in the morning at 0700 promptly. There, you will receive your first assignment as well as your uniform."
The girl gave another nod followed by a quick salute, before hoisting her bow over shoulder and stepping out of the concrete room. She finally relaxed once out of her handler's sight, allowing emotion to flow through her for the first time that day. She no longer had to be the Silencer, she could finally be Jean MacLeod, the girl who hid behind the Silencer's mask. She walked through the dimly lit halls, past the eight by twelve rooms where countless other boys and girls where held when they weren't training or in class. At the far end of the compound, where the oldest students slept, Jean came to a halt, pushing the last steel-reinforced door on the right open.
There had once been a girl who shared the room with her, her name was Amy and she had seemed nice, but many weeks ago, she left for training and simply never returned. Not that it affected Jean in any way; those who failed to meet D.E.C.K. expectations were not seen again and one couldn't afford to be kind or compassionate when your own life depended on being as unwavering and emotionless as the concrete walls that stood between you and the outside world. The only way out alive was to graduate, to work as a Designated Expert Contract Killer for the world's most vile men and women.
A heavy sigh escaped Jean's lips as she set her bow against the bookshelf that she, as the top student, was allowed to have. After setting her quiver down, she flopped onto her bed and yanked her archery glove off, tossing it onto the stone floor with a soft slap. In less than twenty-four hours, she would finally be free from this hell-hole. No longer would she have to take orders from her stuffy handler. She could do what she wanted, when she wanted. But she couldn't forget the contracts she would have to fulfill. She was an assassin of the highest order; one that could rival even those of the infamous Red Room that those damned Soviets had been trying to keep under wraps for over thirty years now.
On the opposite side of the small square window from which the only light filled the room, the sun began to fade behind the mountains and evergreens that lined the horizon, the sky turning various shades of pink, orange and violet. Jean's eyes began to grow heavy, a yawn escaped her as she allowed her mind to drift toward dreams of freedom for the first time in years. Only a few more hours until release... until liberation. The thought made her smile.
The next morning came quicker than expected. Jean had let her hair hang loose, but still wore the black t-shirt, cargo pants and combat boots that students were required to wear. She followed her handler to an unfamiliar part of the compound, a long and narrow hall, lined with oil paintings of unfamiliar people, whom Jean assumed to be the Board. They came to a stop at a large wooden door, which opened as though it could see who was standing in front of it.
"You will go in alone. Speak only when spoken to." Jean's handler said curtly.
"Yes, Mistress." She replied quietly, before stepping beyond the wooden door.
Once inside, Jean was met by a large, oak, half-moon table, behind which fifteen unrecognizable faces sat. Directly in front of her sat a grim looking man, with derisive eyes and a stern look upon his aged face.
"Jean MacLeod, D.E.C.K.'s top student, a master of combat and espionage. My name is Anthony Masters, and I am the Director of the Board. I must say it's a pleasure to... finally make your acquaintance." The man said, in a slimy, venomous voice.
"Thank you, sir." Jean answered with a small nod.
"We've never had a student excel as much as you have, Jean. And your hard work will soon pay off." Masters stood from his seat and set a large hand on a folder that lay on the table in front of him, "We have an assignment for you, Silencer."
He slid the folder toward her, silently asking her to step forward and take it. She did so, opening the file to see a young woman with long black hair wearing a Red Room uniform.
"This is Karina Antonov, an agent of the Red Room, your assignment is to kill her, obtain the research she has stolen and return it to Alexander Pierce in Washington D.C." Masters explained, before snapping his fingers once. A young student, one of the newest recruits, came rushing in from the shadows, a bundle in his hands. He stopped in front of Jean and handed the bundle to her.
"A car is waiting for you outside, as is your bow and quiver, Silencer. Remember your training and you'll do fine. We expect great things from you, Jean. Do us proud."
"Of course, sir."
"Oh, and one more thing," Masters waved two of his fingers and a pair of older men stepped out of the shadows, one of them holding a glowing brand, the other holding a med kit, "You have to receive your mark. Please hold out your right arm."
The two men stepped forward as Jean did as she was told. She knew this was coming; much like the sterilization ceremony of the Red Room, Project D.E.C.K. had its own way of keeping its assassins in check. A tracker chip in the neck and a brand to ensure that one never forgot that their loyalty was, first and foremost, to H.Y.D.R.A. She barely realized that the flesh on her forearm was being seared with the symbol of the organization she now served and by the time she felt any pain, the medic was already treating her freshly burnt skin.
"Congratulations, Silencer. You are officially a D.E.C.K. agent. Serve well. Hail, H.Y.D.R.A.!" Masters proclaimed with a wicked grin. The other members of the Board responded with a monotonous, 'Hail, H.Y.D.R.A.!' then began to applaud as the medic and the brander disappeared. Jean glanced down at her stinging flesh to get a good look at the mark, doing her best to hide the anger that rushed through her as she caught sight of a wicked octopus seared into her forearm.
There was no escaping this place, she realized, in that moment. There never was. Freedom was simply an illusion, an unattainable goal that was meant to push students to become the best possible assassin. If she denied a contract, she would be killed. If she walked away now, she would be killed. The only way to save herself now, was to destroy all she had ever known. It would take time, but it would be worth it in the end. The Silencer would not remain, nor would H.Y.D.R.A., when she was done.