Title: The Zorya
Author: Serena
Summary: In the aftermath of Natalya Romanova's betrayal, something stirs deep in the Red Room. Part of the Falling in Reverse Trilogy.
Timeline: Set after the events of "Drakov's Daughter" in White.
AN1: This is the first of several oneshot fillers leading up to the first chapter of Perfection of Duality, the sequel to White that will be posted on July 26th, 2015.
AN2: If you haven't read White, the context of this story will make no sense.
A failure of catastrophic proportions.
This was supposed to be impossible.
The Black Widow's implant is offline.
Dr. Volkov shouts, "Is there a server error? Connection difficulty?" He knows those things are impossible. That's not how the implant works, but he needs something to blame.
His lab assistant is cowed by his anger, and answers quickly, "N-no sir. It's like she just..."
"She just what?"
"Like she just shut it off."
No. No. They prepared for this. They conditioned her for this. Made it so she would want to obey, that she wouldn't want to fight it.
Where had he gone wrong?
"Get it turned back on," he orders darkly. "If you don't, there's a very good chance we lose more than our jobs tonight." Of course, he is using 'we' to make his assistants feel as though he is under the same pressure that they are. He is far too valuable to the General to outright kill. He's made too much progress, and the veil of protection offered by his father's legacy should be enough if his own merit isn't.
He turns on a heel and heads for the General's office. He needs to be informed of the situation, regardless of the consequences.
Of all the reactions that Dr. Volkov had prepared for, this calm acceptance was not one of them. The Red Room's top scientist had explained carefully the situation they've found themselves in. The Black Widow has gone rogue. Their asset is now a loose cannon.
"The entire implant is offline. No electrical stimulation, no chemical inducements, nothing. Even the GPS is gone. I'm afraid we have no precedent set, sir. We don't know her next move, we don't know where she is, or what she's doing now..."
General Mikhail Rebrenovich merely strokes his chin. "I will activate our agents in her area. I believe we will be able to recapture the asset," he states, leaning forward and picking up his phone. He shares a brief word with whoever is on the line: "Move in." He hangs up immediately following. He doesn't face Volkov, but his words are directed at him. "Take me to the Vechirnia."
"I don't know if now is the best time to worry about the Vechirnia," Dr. Volkov suggests. "Particularly now that the Black Widow program is proving to not be as reliable as we were hoping. We may have to consider the possibility of terminating her, before she causes as much damage as the current Black Widow certainly will."
The General levels Dr. Volkov with a blank glare. Sometimes he finds himself forgetting exactly who he works for, exactly how much he doesn't know, and how much he hopes he will never know. (He remembers Gavril, then, his once colleague, and how he hadn't heard from him since his very dramatic departure from the program. It's moments like this that he allows himself to wonder what really happened.) Rebrenovich says, "It was not a request. Take me to the Vechirnia."
Volkov nods docilely. "Yes, sir. Right this way."
They make their way through the labyrinth of halls, and Dr. Volkov muses about how the Vechirnia was only a few concrete walls from where her predecessor was trained.
She's in the middle of a serum session, much improved since they'd tested on their first Black Widow. Not quite to the same effect as was achieved by Erskine's original formula, nor by their own Winter Soldier program, but impressive nonetheless. The doctor and the General watch from behind their one way glass.
"She seems to be holding up well," Rebrenovich comments idly as another jolt of electricity jolts through the girl's body.
The convulsions end, and her blonde hair is drenched with sweat, her barely-pubescent body quivering with exertion. Her eyes are screwed shut as her muscles sporadically twitch, working off the last of the effects of the electrocution.
Dr. Volkov nods. "We haven't seen such high tolerance since Natalya. While this is an impressive feat," he allows, "it does not assuage my current concerns. With the Black Widow's programming failing so catastrophically, I cannot in good conscience recommend the continuation of this experiment. We could begin with what we have on a fresh wave of test subjects-"
"And waste nearly twenty years of development of this project? Absolutely not, Dr. Volkov." Rebrenovich has fire in his eyes, and if Volkov had thought his cold indifference was terrible, this is doubly worse. "I thought you were a man of vision when I made you the head of the Red Room experiments. Was I wrong to do so?"
"Absolutely not, sir-"
The General interrupts stiffly, "So we adapt. Find where our first mistakes were on Natalya and we will fix them on Yelena." He shifts, and his tone lightens. "Our first asset will be returning to us soon. It appears reeducation will be in order. Once we determine how we are to correct our course of action, we will be able to implement it on both subjects."
Dr. Volkov nods, opening his mouth to respond but snapping it shut promptly when it appears the General is not finished. "This program is the legacy of so much good work for our country. We will continue that good work. I've noted your concerns, Doctor, but you will find that success rarely comes from the absence of ambition." He's interrupted by an alert from his cell phone, one that Volkov did not know existed until this moment.
The General checks it briefly. "The asset has been captured," he reports, slipping it back into his pocket. She will be returned to us, and we will build off of what we have learned."
Another course of electricity jolts through the Vechirnia, and her blue eyes roll back into her head, her body arching against the restraints.
"Now would be an optimum time to test her compliance, don't you think Dr. Volkov?" prompts the General.
It is clearly not an actual question. He's been meaning to give the General a demonstration of Yelena's remarkable compliance (surpassing even that of Natalya years before) and now is apparently the optimum time.
"Be sure to mention Natalya, yes?"
Despite his still very immediate alarm over the situation with their current Black Widow, Dr. Volkov steels himself against it. Think of the science, he thinks. It's a scientific experiment. There is no need to panic when the variables can be controlled.
He enters the room and closes the heavy metal door behind him. As he casts a glance at the one-way glass, mirrored over on this side, he can feel the eyes of the General on him despite not being able to see him.
The image of Yelena Belova is reflected back at him instead, skin beginning to shine with sweat. (That means this session is beginning to approach its apex.)
"Hold, please," he orders the technician who had been administering this session. "Remove the mouth guard. You may replace it when I'm complete."
The technician follows his orders, but Yelena doesn't make it easy, biting down on the mouth guard before her jaw is wrenched open and the teeth-pocked rubber removed.
"Asset, at attention."
Despite the slight muscle twitches and the powerful bindings holding her to the chair, she straightens. Her eyes, glassy and red from the electrocution, are focused sharply on Volkov.
"State your name."
"I am the Black Widow," she answers. Her voice is haggard and hoarse, but there is no doubting the conviction and truth behind her words.
"State your intentions."
"For my country and my commanders to do with me as they will."
"Tell me about Natalya Romanova."
Her eyes widen, taking on an expression of awe. "She is everything I aspire to be. My handlers speak of her exploits constantly. My only wish is to be better than she could have ever hoped to be."
"We've learned that Natalya is a traitor."
A look of eagerness now. "It would be an honor to prove myself against her. I will prove myself a superior Black Widow in every way."
"Don't presume to give us orders," Volkov snaps.
She looks suitably chastened, quickly responding, "Of course not. I'd merely like to offer my abilities in whatever capacity you see fit."
He casts another look at the one-way mirror. It offers no insight into the General's state of mind.
Dr. Volkov can only hope that he is pleased.
If the Vechirnia fails... he dares not think what may happen to him.
Just outside of Moscow, a man receives a telegraph message. The length of dashes and dots sends his stomach into a spiral.
Ivan
They have her.
A