Hello, everyone and welcome to my new story! I would like to thank everyone who reviewed, followed and favorited this story! This is everything a writer needs. I hope you like this chapter, as well! The strange phrases scattered in the chapter are written in Russian, so if I didn't get something right, blame it on Google Translate, from which the translation from English originated.

Special thanks to my beta, Wings of Indigo, for helping with this story!

Solitary Confinement Level, 2R Facilities, somewhere in Northern Russia, October 16th 2009

She had thought that even if she tried to do it, she wouldn't feel a thing. But then she tried it.

Slowly, headphones on, she lifted herself from the bed and started trying some of the moves she thought she knew. Surprisingly to her, they worked. Quicker this time, she spread her hands around her and moved her legs across the polished white floor, the song blearing in her ears. She did leaps in the air, elegant turns and poses that would make a real dancer jealous. As The Show Must Go On played on she danced on, ignoring the fact that she should be waiting for her evaluation, ignoring the fact that she was locked in a crazily white room like the prisoner she was all those years. The only thing positive about the evaluation was that there was hope that she would finally get out, hope that she would be able to reunite with her, hope that she would get away.

Hope. Like her name. Over the past years it had seemed so ironic that she had stopped using it, settling instead for a smaller form of it. Hope. The only thing she could do since the day she was dragged in that hellhole. Since the day of the car crash, the one that took her parent's lives. Since the day that woman dragged he out of the inferno seconds before it exploded and saved her life, so that she would take other people's lives. Since her life changed forever.

Not that everything was bad at first. She even had a friend during her first three years in the Academy. And they supported each other. They helped hope stay alive for both of them. But after three years they just had to shatter everything good that was left for them…

As she struck her final pose she came face-to-face with a woman, who had silently crept into the room while the occupant danced on. She had shoulder-length blonde hair and blue eyes, which were now staring at the frozen girl intently.

''Yelena'', she greeted her, removing the headphones hastily from her ears and stopping the music.

The blonde smiled and nodded. ''Digital storage devices are forbidden within the facility. I'd like to know where you found it.''

It was the girl's turn to smile. ''Sometimes being the best of the best has its privileges. You wouldn't know now, would you?''

Yelena visibly tensed. She went to snatch the small device from the girl's hands, but she caught Yelena's hand, twisted it and tackled her to the ground. She kept her hand twisted and Yelena screeched in pain.

The girl bent over close to Yelena's ear. ''Friendly reminder.'' She let go and Yelena scrambled to her feet.

''If I could kill you, you'd be dead five years ago'', Yelena growled.

''And you'd be a rotting corpse in a mass grave with a bullet in your head'', the girl replied coldly, falling on the bed and resting on her back. ''What are you doing here, anyway? I'm not authorized to visits.''

''I came to tell you your friend's latest news''. She could hear the smirk in Yelena's voice.

Her blood ran cold. ''Чей?''

Yelena chuckled. ''Не играть немой. It's always been her, right? Your precious Natalia, your best friend. The traitor. You were trained to be spiders together. But you were always the best. Better than her, better than anyone. And then, puff, you vanished. No more training, no more playing best recruit. You passed the role to dear old Natalia to show us who's boss.''

She turned her back to Yelena, facing the wall. ''She betrayed us to the Americans. She shut down the base and let us run away with no home. She became an enemy agent, she's fighting us. How does it feel now, huh? Betrayed much? Scared that she might kill you? Angry?'' Yelena had by now reached the bed and was leaning above her ear. ''Alone?''

Before she could even punch her in the face the door of the cell was swung open and in came a squad of three people, two men with riffles and a woman dressed in a bright red dress and matching heels. They called her the ''Scarlet Iron Lady'' behind her back because of her attitude and place as the only woman in the Academy's Council. All the girls feared her and all of them tried not to get on her bad side. There had been speculation that the unexpected murders that happened in the middle of the night were her work, all those girls marked as her enemies. And it was common knowledge that she hadn't gotten her biggest enemy yet, and that drove her mad. That enemy could not be any other than Natalia.

The girls stood right next to each other in attention, as they had learnt over years of training under the woman. ''Belova, out!'', she shouted, pointing towards the door. Yelena bowed her head and started walking to the exit. Before she got out she turned and faced the girl once more.

''What did they find in you, anyway? Why are you locked in here letting Romanova take all the glory?'' At that moment the girl lunched at Yelena, but the guards held her back and the blonde danced out of the room, smiling.

''Gunslyakova, behave yourself!'', the woman commanded. With all her willpower, the girl stopped struggling in the guards' iron grip and stared at the square envelope in the woman's hands. Noticing this, the woman smiled. ''Congratulations. You have been awarded the ultimate title of the Black Widow. You will be placed in Moscow in three days.''

The girl stared at her in disbelief. ''I-I am honored, ma'am, but I thought that title belonged to Na- agent Romanova'', she caught herself before she said the name; she was in a delicate place, hanging from a single thread. Attachment meant cancelation.

A vein pulsed on the woman's forehead. ''Romanova turned her back on the organization that made her what she is today. She may use that title, but she is not authorized to. You, on the other hand, have the pride to call yourself 'Black Widow'. We will discuss your… restrictions tomorrow morning. Have a nice day, Miss Gunslyakova.'' She nodded to the guards and they let her go, proceeding to follow the woman outside.

''Wait!'' The Iron Lady turned her head sharply around, black hair fanning out behind her. ''While I'm out, will I be able to-?'' But she stopped asking when she saw the growing smile on the woman's face.

''I have an idea for that, we'll discuss it tomorrow morning.'' And with that the group disappeared out of the door. The characteristic metallic clicks indicated that she was, once more, sealed in.

She should have been happy. Happy that she would taste the air of freedom once again, that the sun would touch her face and that she would walk on solid concrete again. She should be feeling dizzy from relief that she wouldn't die a horrible gruesome death in the hands of the people who stole her life.

Instead, her mind raced to the things she had to do to get that title. Instead, her mind projected the face of the businessman she had to kill as her evaluation target. She saw the empty brown eyes stare up at her, seemingly congratulating her. ''Well done, I'm your best kill yet. Time to add me to the list.''

Instead, her mind showed her all her kills. Because he wasn't the only one. He was just the last one in a long line. There were powerful women before him. And drug dealers. And even innocent civilians to cover for messed up missions. In that place it was kill or die. For her it was different. For her it was carry out or be locked up for four months. Which, for her, was worse than dying. At least dying would be quick. At least it would rid her from the endless sessions with the white walls.

Instead, memories of all her time imprisoned resurfaced. All the time staring at the white walls. All the while being tortured. All the while being experimented on. All the while she had to take all of the horrible things they did to her without protesting. And the one time she defied orders things changed. Yes, she was trapped in her white walls again. Yes, the experiments were still conducted. But she was training again, training in many things, training to infiltrate and kill. Her only break was the thing that made her even more of a monster than she already was.

Instead, she crawled under her white blankets and let the tears slide down her cheeks and damp the blank pillow.

''Наталья, мне очень жаль.''

…

Маленький царь Café, Moscow, Russia, October 20th 2009

With one last black line she finished her small masterpiece.

She had been sitting for two hours in a small corner café in Moscow called ''Little Tsar'', two blocks away from her brand new apartment, in which she didn't even want to step inside yet. Instead, she had found this small but overcrowded café and had occupied herself with drawing her symbol on the back of a card advertising the place. When she was satisfied with the result, she went inside, welcoming the wave of heat that hit her upon entering. She made her way towards the bar, were a rather handsome man was wiping glasses dry.

''Hey, would you do me a favor?'', she asked him, wearing her best smile, perfectly aware that she was being watched. He smiled back. ''Would you send this somewhere for me?'' She grabbed a napkin and hid the card underneath, sliding it over to him.

He looked at her, puzzled. ''Can't you do it yourself, miss?''

Her smile didn't even quiver. Instead, it grew a bit wider. ''Mama is really strict at home. She won't let me contact my friend, she will check my mail every day. Could you do it for me instead?''

He considered it for a moment, but her dazzling smile had him the moment she had asked. He leaned closer over the bar. ''Alright, gorgeous. Where to?''

She clapped her hands and took a pen from her pocket, scribbling down the secure address she had taken from the 2R files. It wasn't hard to obtain; it was hard to get away with. To any distant watchers it would seem like she was writing down her phone. She pushed it towards him. ''There. No need to write the address on the outside; she knows it's me.'' She then picked up her stuff and got up to leave.

''Hey, don't I get your name?'', he shouted before she could make it outside.

She turned around again. ''No.'' She was wearing a teasing grin now, one that was rewarded by the bartender's confused look.

As she made her way towards her apartment she prayed that the envelope would reach her without anyone intercepting it. But more than that, she prayed that the envelope would gain her an ally, if not win her her best friend back.

Either way, it was be found or die.