A/N: Okay. So.

This fic has been in the making since November. It has taken a lot of agonizing and doubting, but I've finally finished it. It's all pre-written, so it won't fizzle out in the middle like some of my other multi-chapter fics have. I'm very proud of it, as this is my longest finished story to date, and it's about my favorite character of all time. Natasha is central to the plot, along with a couple of other characters, but most of the ones listed only have minor roles. There is no romance in the story, though future relationships may be hinted at.

It wasn't too hard to make this story compliant with Age of Ultron; I tried to avoid having it be AU when I was writing in the months before the movie came out, so there were only a few minor fixes that I needed to make. That being said...

WARNING: this fic contains child abuse and death as well as psychological torture, not to mention violence. I'm dealing with the Red Room, so it's not going to be for the faint of heart. If this is upsetting to anyone, I'd recommend not reading.

Also: I know next to nothing about a lot of the locations mentioned in this fic, so if anyone would like to correct me, they are welcome to do so. Timelines are a little skewed as well; I jump around a lot.

This first chapter is sort of a prologue. I'll probably be updating every few days or so. Enjoy!

Unknown location, unknown time

"They're not field-test approved," admitted the blond man. "But they will be."

Always take notice of your surroundings. Always use them.

They thought that none of them noticed, when they spoke of the girls as though they were not there. 248 watched them through the screen, their outlines ranging somewhere between fuzzy and clear. She was waiting for the brightness to come again, hoping against hope that maybe it wouldn't surprise her this time. If she somehow managed to predict the pattern, then she would be able to lie down and let her eyes close. The men were tall and large and had slept well that night. She would be asked about that. She would be asked about any details that she noticed about them.

Nothing will be undisclosed.

Long, dirty curls fell to her lower back. It had been twelve days since they last allowed her to clean herself. The sickness passed three days ago. The lights had been flashing for two.

"What's the earliest age that they're planning to carry out the procedure?"

"Fifteen. This one isn't the closest, but she is closer than some."

248 didn't move. The light flashed on. She squinted against it, tensing up in frustration. This time, she started to count the moment it went off.

"She hasn't started screaming?" He was impressed. "That's longer than usual."

Screaming. That was bad. 248 knew that. But she hadn't started to shake yet. Madame B. said that the shaking was the warning sign— that the screaming would not be far behind it. Whenever 248 thought about how hungry she was, or how tired, or how thirsty, she put all of those things in a box and locked it, just like Madame B. told her to. They always slipped out through the cracks eventually, but that was okay. She just put them back in. It was easy.

You will forget, eventually. Eventually, the box will no longer exist.

"We have two others that have begun combat training. If 248 passes this test, she will join them."

The tall, blond man had a scar under his left ear. 248 tried to imagine all of the ways it might have come to be there: a bullet graze, a narrow miss with a knife. Maybe his wife fought back when he beat her, and he received that from manicured fingernails.

Madame B. told her those things. She was always telling her things.

"I'll want to see her again when she begins to scream," the other man said. "We will make our final analysis then."

"Of course."

The men left then, exiting through the metal door that lay a distance of approximately ten meters away from 248, with a screen of glass between them. The light on their side flickered off shortly after, leaving 248 in total darkness. She had counted two minutes and 35 seconds, and was still counting. She did not think that the light would flicker on so soon, because all of the other times seemed longer than this to her.

They need to see you endure, my dear.

I will last, Madame B., 248 promised. She could not say it out loud. That was against the rules, and the men in black would come in and beat her for it. There was a faint squeaking noise, of the light on the other side swinging, though she could not see it.

It was all expected. It was all what Madame B. promised her. For the good of the world.

248 was allowed to try to sleep, but none of them believed that she could. No matter how she tried, she could not get her body to expect the flares. They startled her without fail, even when she was almost asleep. Now instead she sat, unable to feel her bottom, with her arms wrapped around her legs. Her eyes were wide open, trying to see in the darkness. Seeing in it would mean she no longer had to fear it.

There is no place for fear.

The light flashed, marking 18 minutes. The moment it went away, 248 restarted the count. This time she tried to sleep.

The longest that 248 had been able to sleep at a time was three minutes. Three minutes before the light came back and woke her. The time after that, however, it was not the light that startled her.

It was the door on her side of the observation glass getting thrown open.

Truly surprised this time, she turned her head, squinting again at the brightness that emerged from the doorframe. There was a woman silhouetted in the doorframe. 248 did not know this woman. She knew no woman except for Madame B. She knew about the others like her, but she did not know this woman.

"I am training," the woman said harshly. "I'm preparing her for the unexpected. How else can they learn to adjust in the field?"

248 stood, unsure. The woman looked at her.

"You, 248." She took a knife from her belt. "Run."

Madame B. did not tell her this. She did not say that a strange woman with a knife would enter her cell and advance upon her with nothing on her face. 248 could not read this woman. Madame B. did not tell her. Madame B. did not tell her—

Run.

She ran.

248 darted between the woman's legs, sliding across the floor on her knees, and stumbled to her feet, into the blindingly white hallway. She chose to go right, pelting as fast as she could go. She could not hear if the woman was following her, with her knife in her hand, poised to either throw or slice at any moment. She turned left, then right, and then left again, and nearly ran into several of the men in black.

"Hey!" one of them yelled, but she knew that the woman was coming. She slipped past them as quickly as she could, hearing several of them cursing. Their feet did thud on the floor, so she could tell that they were giving chase. The halls were a maze, but always take notice of your surroundings— she had been to this junction before. 248 picked the left side this time.

There was a door. 248 barreled through it, and barely looked around before she saw the metal cabinet. She pulled in on herself to fit inside, making herself as small as possible. She listened to the thuds as most of the soldiers pounded past, but the door handle clicked, and then re-clicked. At least one had looked inside to see if she had hidden here.

248 did not move. She did not breathe. Where was the woman?

Her stomach swooped oddly, and then her head banged against the side of the cabinet and she was spilling from its doors. It took her a moment to realize that the cabinet had been tipped over by the woman, who was towering over her. 248 scrambled to her feet and ran again, but this time the woman's hand caught in her hair.

248 finally screamed.

The man in the observation room scowled. "I thought I had ordered termination. Your intervention may have had a negative impact on the process."

"I overrode that order," the woman said calmly.

"You do not have—"

"I had the right. Madame B. was kind enough to allow my input."

"She should have been killed the moment she began to scream. It was too early."

The woman's eyes were shadowed, but there was a humorless glint to her voice. "No. Had she not run, as I told her to, in spite of the fact that it went against everything Madame B. told her before her final examination began, I would have slit her throat then and there. It is a quiet death, more merciful than most. But it is a death and a failure all the same."

"But she ran."

"She ran."

The man stared at 248 as she tackled the other, stronger trainee without hesitation or mercy. She was quickly thrown off, but she rose again and met her opponent with surprising speed. The woman beside him was watching her as well. He could not read her face.

"Adaptability," he muttered. "Some might say it would engender rebellion."

"It's how I was trained," the woman responded. "And you are well aware of my record."

He inclined his head in acknowledgement.

In the combat room, 248 allowed her opponent to wrestle her to the ground, and then twisted and sank her teeth into the other girl's forearm. She did not let go until she drew blood.