An idea that came to me. It's a little mix of actual history, a little mix of Don Bluth movie magic, and a whole lot of Avengers. Taking great liberties with all by the way, but with a strange and wonderful outcome, I hope. Enjoy.
Summary: Ivan Petrovitch gave her the name "Romanova" for a reason.
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Prologue
Russia, 1917
Comrades,
The deed has been done. We've won. My brothers in arms,
our oppressive regime, with its wealth and expensive
taste—with its grand parties and opulence—has fallen.
We've won, my friends, and now, the Russia we've always wanted
and deserved is just within our grasp. A free Russia. An equal Russia.
No one will ever stifle us again. We are the strength of this great
country. We are it's backbone. And now, we will all receive what
we deserve. Comrades...
Welcome Home.
Your friend and equal,
Vladimir Lenin
Ivan Petrovitch smirked as he read the letter, printed on the front page of the St. Petersburg Gazette. He was a young man, no older than twenty, but intelligent. He also had a certain belief in the weight of power. Of which, Lenin now had much. And, with his newly (and secretly) Bolshevik funded black ops program, so would he.
Moving through the the freshly constructed hallways of Department X, he paused, pushing a heavy metal door open and stepping inside. His smirk stretched in a (near) sadistic grin as he looked upon his girls. So many girls.
Each with a special talent. Each alone. He was doing them a favor.
And as he looked on his newest girl, an ironic expression of delight twisted his features. She was young—perhaps seven or eight—and frightened. And as she watched the girls—his girls—as they bent and broke their bodies for his cause, he knew he could use the wide-eyed childishness in her to his advantage. To Lenin's advantage. And oh, how poetic it would be. How very...fitting.
He approached her, eyes locked on her tiny form, as her head tilted back, to glance up at his tall, shadowing figure. Slowly, he reached out, placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, and offered Lenin's words:
"Welcome home," his voice, soft as cream, murmured, "Miss Romanova."