A/N: Thank you for your patience! I apologize for the major lapse in updating. I will attempt to prevent that from happening in the future. Enjoy the chapter, and please tell me what you think. Also- I am planning on updating about once every other week, for now. I am doing NaNoWriMo in November, but I should still get a couple of chapters posted next month.
It took quite a while to get Nika bandaged up after their interrogation. With several badly broken fingers, semi-deep knife cuts, and bruises that covered the majority of her body, her brothers were feeling well and truly despicable after seeing all of the injuries tended to. They had used their resident "doctor," of course, which was just one of the men employed in their garage who had a little training in the medical field. While it may not have been the greatest treatment they could have hoped for, it was the best they could currently offer. After all, they couldn't exactly walk into a hospital Emergency Room with their little sister (whose birth and/or identity was probably not recorded in any known database) and explain that they had beaten her up and tortured her for information just prior to this visit. Even with the Man-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named paying off the police, that would probably still get them thrown straight into jail, which was the last thing they needed right now.
In fact, what they most needed (and wanted) at the moment was for Nika to talk to them. But of course, she obstinately refused to say a word. Were these people monitoring her? Was this mission of hers on some sort of time limit? Were they going to burst in, guns blazing, if she wasn't back at their rendezvous point by a certain time or date? She answered none of these, despite their best attempts to elaborate the importance of the questions. If they were going to have to fight these people, they preferred to be prepared.
So here they sat, half an hour after Mikhail had finished stabilizing her. They had spent most of that time badgering her with questions and getting no response, either verbal or physical. She sat still, staring at the wall with a rather irritated expression on her face (though Vladimir would swear that she looked smug). Vladimir's patience was running thin, though he tried to stay his temper, seeing as he was the reason they were sitting in this dark, dank little room. Looking around, he realized what a dump it really was. He'd never had much cause to be back here, as he was very rarely injured badly enough to need assistance, and the few times he was had him in so much pain that he hadn't the presence of mind to pay any attention to his surroundings. Other than the operating table where the patients sat and the tall chair that the Doctor used, the room was devoid of any furniture. Whatever medical equipment used here appeared to be stored in a small bag which was currently stowed in the corner, on the floor. There was some sort of fungus growing along the cement walls, and there seemed to be water leaking down through the cracks in the roof. Looking around, they couldn't quite believe that this was the local medical room, but they reminded themselves that none of this mattered right now, and forced their brains back on track. The only reason they were still back here was because they had some questions for their irritatingly stubborn little sister, and since no answers were forthcoming, there was really no point in sustaining their visit.
"We should go. We can head back to our apartment and you can get some sleep." Anatoly said, sighing. He ran a hand over his face. In the harsh light of this room, he looked even more exhausted than usual. He was speaking in Vladimir's general direction, though his words were obviously aimed at Nika. He knew that neither he nor his brother were going to get any sleep that night. Vladimir was zoned out, deep in thought, and for a moment Anatoly thought he hadn't heard him, but then he uttered,
"Nika. Come." Nodding his head toward the door and giving her a pointed look, he walked out, expecting his siblings to follow.
She went without complaint to their car. They both wished that she would speak, but they knew that pushing her to do so would be fruitless, so they decided to wait until the next day to try again on that front. They drove in a sleepy silence for the short drive back to their place. Looking in the rear-view mirror every so often, they noticed that Nika seemed to be fighting sleep. Her head would abruptly jerk up, and she seemed to be barely keeping her eyes open. It had been a good long while since she'd had a proper rest, most likely. Here was hoping she'd actually sleep tonight instead of staying up to plot the means of her escape. Both Vladimir and Anatoly knew that was on the forefront of her mind. Even if she had harbored any sort of familial care for them before, she most certainly wouldn't now, after they had spent hours torturing and hurting her. Well, in fairness, she had tried to kill Anatoly, and they couldn't have known who she was. Nonetheless, they felt bad about how the events had played out. Amidst this, however, they both were possessed of an emotion which overshadowed even the deepest feelings of guilt: joy. Their sister was home. Though she was here to kill one of them, she was still here, which was more than either of them could have hoped for. In truth, they had assumed her to be dead years ago, but knowing that she was alive filled them both with a happiness that they thought they would never feel again.
When they arrived at their apartment building, they all shuffled upstairs, ignoring the blatantly curious looks of one or two of their neighbors, and entered what was apparently Vladimir's apartment. So, they didn't live together after all. 'But they live right next to each other, so I was basically right.' Nika mused drowsily.
Vladimir gave her his room for the night, until they could make other arrangements. She walked to the bed and began to make herself comfortable for the coming hours, though not before noticing the various men (some of whom she had seen at the garage) standing down on the street, where they doubtless thought they were hidden in the shadows. They would have to do much better than that if they wanted to fool her.
A loud knock on the apartment door woke the brothers from their exhausted stupor. They had been trying to remain alert, sitting up in the living room all night since it seemed a matter of fact that their teenage sister-turned-assassin would try to get away again, but it had been a very long day, and they had both begun to doze off. At the sound of someone at their door, they both grabbed their guns from their resting places on the coffee table and stood to open it. Whomever was at the door had apparently decided that they were taking too long, so they banged again.
"Vladimir! Anatoly!" Sergei's tired voice called out. They gave each other a knowing look and opened the door, where they found several of their men and, not quite surprisingly, a disgruntled Nika. Sergei had a firm grip on her upper arm, while Dmitry had his hand on her shoulder, though he stepped back with the others once the door was opened. When they got a proper look at the small crowd, they realized that she had given several of them bloody noses, black eyes, and a few were even hunched over slightly, hands gripping their sides in a way indicative of having a broken rib or two.
Anatoly was the first to react, sighing heavily and walking out to meet them, glancing down at his young sister before addressing Sergei.
"Thank you. We'll take her from here."
"She was halfway down the block before we caught up to her. She had already gotten down the fire escape and taken out the men stationed on the street. It's a good thing the scuffle was loud, or we might not have gone outside." Sergei informed him of this, and while Anatoly was annoyed, he couldn't help but smirk slightly. His little sister, who was.. what? Sixteen? This sixteen year-old girl had taken out 5 men on her own. The smirk vanished when that gave way to another thought- if she could take out 5 of these men (while also dealing with her own handicapped body), all of whom were waiting for her, why were he and Vladimir able to detain her so easily? Sergei was speaking again, he realized, so he chalked it up to his men not being as well-trained as he and Vladimir were and let it go.
Vladimir sent the men away with orders to call in others to replace the ones who had been knocked unconscious by Nika (and those too injured to be of any further use tonight) and the three of them went back inside.
Though they could not fathom why, Nika was adamant that she had to get back to the Red Room organization, even though they were her kidnappers, and the people who had turned their baby sister into a killer. She had been missing for.. was it 12 years already? It seemed like yesterday that they had been children in Russia, waking up to see that their little sister was being abducted. But much had changed since then. Back when they were mere children, who still had much to learn about the cruelty of the world, they could have done nothing about this tragedy. They were not nearly so defenseless now.
"What were you doing?" Anatoly questioned in a resigned tone of voice. He already knew the answer, but this seemed a good place to start.
Her brows were lowered into a deep scowl, and she glared up at him defiantly, not even bothering to look sheepish about what she had done.
"I am going back to Russia."
Vladimir snorted behind them and leaned against the doorframe. Both Anatoly and Vladimir knew that she wasn't going back, but Nika had not grasped her situation quite yet. They knew she would try this, so they had taken the liberty of stationing about a dozen men in and around their apartment building, most of them with a viewpoint on Nika's window, in case she tried to escape that way.
"I also would like to go back, but both of our circumstances rule that we cannot. We must stay in this country, at least for now."
Vladimir frowned at his brother's words. He had never quite understood why, but he knew that ever since they had left the Motherland, Anatoly had yearned to return. They had been very fortunate here, to find Wilson Fisk and, more importantly, to have his connections. They would never have done this well in Russia. Here they had money (a lot of it), power, and best of all, they didn't have to worry about hiding from the police, since Fisk had paid them to leave the Mob alone. All this, and still Anatoly missed Russia. Granted, their country was far better than America, but they had a nice set-up here, and he did not want to abandon it in favor of starting all over in a more difficult terrain. He wondered sometimes if Anatoly did not enjoy their business and the benefits therein as much as he did.
"I don't want to stay here. If I return now-"
"If you return now they'll kill you." Vladimir interrupted. At her surprised look, he continued.
"What? You think that they will welcome you back with open arms?"
Her brow twitched.
"No, but-"
"But nothing. We have heard of these people. We know what they do. If you go back to them now, with nothing to show but a failed mission and too much time away to account for it, they will decide you are not worth the effort. They'll kill you, just as they do all others who are not beneficial to their organization. You are much better off here, with us."
Her lips twisted into a sneer at his last comment.
"They don't turn on their own that easily. There will be consequences for what has happened, but I'll be back out on missions in no time. And you think that if I stay here I'll be safe? No, Vladimir. They know where I am. Even if they did not, they would hunt me down. They will come, and they will kill me if I am found hiding out with the very person I was supposed to kill!"
She was angry now, having talked herself into a rage, even more after realizing just how frustrating this entire situation was. She had been sent on a very simple assassination detail, and now she was being help captive by her own target. How humiliating… and on her first solo mission, too. She had a feeling that this was not something she would easily live down. This failure, this breach in conduct was something that would be on her record for a very long time.
Vladimir's temper sparked at the reminder of her original intentions, how ready she was to murder her own flesh and blood. He began several times to say something, but in the end, he just looked down, smiled bitterly, and stalked out of the apartment, leaving Anatoly to deal with the escalated situation. Not wanting to give him a chance to lecture her and needing time to think, Nika left the room without another word and headed into the bathroom, locking the door behind her and taking a seat on the edge of the bathtub. She knew that this was the only place where she could get the privacy to determine her next move.
Nika knew that regardless of the actions on her brothers' part to make her stay, she would find a way back. What was the saying? 'Where there is a will, there is a way.' And she was willing to bet that her desire to return to the Red Room was much stronger than her brothers' desire to keep her here. They couldn't care that much, seeing as they had never made much of an effort to get her back before this. But she would have to form a more careful plan next time. She decided to wait until her fingers were mostly healed, as the lack of ability to move them all as she wished did present an obstacle. And maybe in the coming weeks, while she was on the mend, her brothers would begin to trust her, and she could have a bit more freedom. She would use that to her advantage. They couldn't keep her here forever. Still, she hoped that spending that much time here in America would not endanger her status with her superiors. By the time she is able to find her way back, they might think she's gone rogue…
She realized now that she would have to find a way to prove her loyalty to them. Not a grand gesture, but something they would appreciate. After thinking about her predicament for a few minutes, she decided to take a look at the big picture. What was it they wanted from her in the first place? What was their endgame? An image of Anatoly flashed through her mind, and she smiled. Sometimes the simple way was best.
Nika had never been one to go exploring and snooping around in places where she did not belong. It was highly frowned upon in the Red Room, and she was no troublemaker at heart. However, something drew her here today. She had been finishing up her daily training routine when she felt as if she were somehow being beckoned down into the dark, twisted maze of hallways encapsulated in the building. She had been here for almost five years now, and never before had she felt anything like this.
As she descended into the basement, her heart beat erratically in her chest, anxiety squeezing at her lungs. If she were to be caught down here… But never-mind that now. It was too late, in any case. She walked around for a bit, getting a feel for the place, and trying all of the doors. They were locked, as was to be expected. All except one, it appeared. She paused, feeling almost nauseous with worry, wondering if there were some authority on their way down here right now who would discover her. There was a moment where she almost turned back, but then a strong tug of adventure swept through her, and she pressed on. Forgetting her hesitance from a moment ago, she walked boldly through the doorway. Spiderwebs caught at her face, a sign that no one had been there in a while. Now that her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, she could see that it was little more than a small supply room, lined with wall-to-wall metal shelves all of which were covered with various items, little more than junk. There were a few tools, file boxes, containers full of what looked like old clothing from a previous generation of students, and other odds and ends. Nothing immediately caught her attention, but as her eyes scanned the cluttered shelves, she noticed something odd. She stepped forward to take a closer look into one of the containers, of which the lid was hanging off slightly, and peering inside. She had to do a double-take. Were those.. guns? Why on earth would they keep weapons down here in a random, unused closet? Surely they wouldn't have just left these, with no one guarding them.
And yet, there they were. Nika picked one up, and realized then that they were covered in a noticeably small amount of dust- at least, compared to the other things down here. Most of the junk in this room was coated with several inches of the stuff, whereas these guns had only trace amounts over their surfaces. So, the various weaponry found here (and it was indeed various, as they were nearly all of a different make and model) had been placed in this room fairly recently. Judging from the amount of dust collected on them, probably no more than a month or two for most, with a few that had a bit more. Why were they down here?
She had been so absorbed in the mystery she had uncovered that she had failed to observe the most basic lesson which they drilled into her head from day one: always, always watch your back. There was a loud bang as the door behind her snapped open and hit the wall, and in a matter of seconds Nika found herself being grasped by the shoulders and flipped around, strong hands with sharp fingernails clasped painfully on her arms.
"What are you doing down here?" It was her head trainer, speaking to her in Russian. The woman was obviously livid, but she never yelled, never once did she raise her voice. Her fury was evident in the way that she held herself and spoke, so calmly, but in such a controlled manner that it was almost robotic. It was the most terrifying kind of anger. Nika was furious with herself for breaking the rules. At that moment, she could not remember why she had so strongly desired to come down here. Hadn't she been tempted just to stay upstairs? Why had she felt the need to be rebellious? It only ever leads to trouble. She should have known they would find her. They probably have patrols down here, in case one of the students tries anything. And even if they didn't, they would have found out eventually. They always did. They were all-knowing.
She didn't reply immediately, which earned her a hard smack to her right cheek. She held her head up, averting her eyes from the woman in front of her, knowing that she would have to willingly take whatever punishment they handed out. She had earned it.
"Why are you in here? This area is off-limits." The cold voice spoke once more. What could she say? That she wanted to rebel? To go against the rules? She hadn't, really. In truth, Nika couldn't say why she had gone out of her way to come down here. So, rather than lie, because they always knew when she was lying, she remained silent. The woman grew impatient and, realizing that she would get no immediate response, merely grabbed Nika's arm and pulled her along, shutting the door behind them and heading back upstairs. But not before her eyes had settled on the open box behind the girl, and the contents therein. They walked briskly back upstairs, but instead of letting go when they were back in the permitted area, she retained her grip on Nika's upper arm, and marched right down the hallway. They passed the girls' dorms, the training area, and every other place she would rather be than here. They walked and walked until Nika's stomach was in knots of anxiety, wondering where the woman was taking her. She thought perhaps they were going to the Office to have a firm talk about the rules and why they were in place. She almost sighed in relief. Talks she could handle. They happened often, not always when the girls broke the rules (there were relatively few breaches, as they were all well-disciplined), but they were often carted off the the Headmistress's office when they were falling behind the others in studies or training, so that they could get to the root of the issue and solve it before it became a problem.
They walked at a brisk pace, Nika's footsteps falling silently on the hard marble of the floor, while the Head Trainer's heels made a light clacking sound with every step. It began to grate on her nerves after a while, but as there was nothing she could do about it, she focused on her surroundings and tried to drown it out. They were in the upscale half of the academy right now. Marble floors, paneled walls with fancy, patterned wallpaper, doors made of solid oak with crystal knobs, and several well-dressed workers going about their daily jobs. The part of the building where Nika lived and trained was quite different. For reasons unknown to Nika, they had made the academy fit into one large building, as opposed to multiple smaller buildings devoted to specific functions. Perhaps it was easier this way, as they were able to keep things (and people) closer together, and there were fewer ways for people to shield the things they did from the eyes of the higher-ups. All she knew for sure was that walking from one part of the facility to another was like going into a completely separate property. Whereas this part was very posh and comfortable-looking, the training grounds for the students were… less so. Cement floors and walls, doors made of hard metal, cheap, rickety bed-frames and lumpy mattresses, complete with thin, moth-eaten blankets. Perhaps they just didn't want the girls getting too cozy. They wanted to remind them that the line of work they were being trained for was not one of luxury and comfort, but one of harsh places and cruel people.
As she walked, Nika began to feel rather well about this whole thing. She was getting off quite easy, considering her trespass. But of course, she knew very well that she should not have made assumptions. They practically flew right by the Headmistress's office door, and she felt as if they were picking up speed as they went on and on down the long hall. Where on earth were they going, if not the office? If she were going to be physically punished, wouldn't the Head Trainer have taken her directly to the training room? When someone breaks a rule, and it is deemed that they shall receive physical punishment for it, they're put in the training room and beaten in front of the other girls. This is done, in part, to embarrass the troublemaker, but it is also a warning to the others. If you break a rule, this will be you. Killing two birds with one stone, so to speak. Nevertheless, the training facility was in the opposite direction. They had passed it on the way here. As she was debating the possible options in her head, they stopped and turned toward a large door. She didn't know if it was just her circumstances, or if it actually looked much more menacing than the rest, but she did know that whatever lay behind it would not make for a pleasant experience. Her trainer stepped forward and knocked, then the door opened from the inside…
Nika woke slowly, and very uncomfortably. She had a terrible crick in her neck, and it took only a moment for her to realize that it was there because she had fallen asleep whilst leaning up against the wall. She was still on the bathroom floor, where she had taken a seat last night rather than going back outside, since her brothers were no doubt waiting for her. While attempting to fully wake up, she considered the dream she had just experienced. It was odd, to be sure, as it seemed like a memory, but wasn't. She had never gone into the sub-levels of the Red Room's building, nor had she been tempted to. Not only was it against the rules, but it had never appealed to her. Everything she needed was on the upper level, after all.
Suddenly, someone knocked on the bathroom door, startling her a bit.
"Nika?" Vladimir's voice rang out, and she stifled a groan, rubbing her eyes.
"What?" She replied, wincing at how her voice croaked from disuse.
"Are you… coming out any time soon? You have been in there all night,"
He was still speaking when he heard the lock click, and the bathroom door swung inward to reveal what looked like, in his honest opinion, a disheveled zombie.
"I was just checking on you. We thought you might have gone down the drain," He smirked. Rolling her eyes, Nika stepped around him and walked into the living room. He makes jokes now? This ought to be fun. At least she smelled food cooking.
They sat around the small, circular card table, awkwardly staring at one another. How long did normal family breakfasts usually last? For the siblings, a morning meal usually meant hastily stuffing down whatever they could find (or, in Nika's case, whatever she was given) and then getting back to work. But this time was different. Vladimir and Anatoly, having found their long-lost sister, decided that they all needed to sit down and get reacquainted. After all, it had been 12 years since they had last seen each other. Surely they could find something to talk about?
Half an hour had passed, the food was picked over (none of them having much of an appetite after the previous night's events), and no words had been spoken. At all. Once or twice, Anatoly had opened his mouth to make a casual comment, before realizing that whatever he was about to say was not fit for a family breakfast discussion, much less to be heard by his younger sister. He supposed, in hind-sight, spending all of his time around his crude employees (not to mention Vladimir, whose everyday language could make a sailor blush) was probably not the best idea.
He wasn't even sure if he wanted Nika in the garage anymore. After all, their men pulled no punches when it came to their language, and he didn't really want his sister picking up that sort of habit.
A few more moments passed, not quickly enough for their liking. Nika stared at her plate, or around the nice apartment, and the brothers stared at her. They had hardly taken their eyes off of her since discovering her relation to them, only letting her out of their sight to allow her some privacy to change out of her soiled, bloody clothing into something cleaner and more comfortable. They were both a bundle of nerves the entire time she was gone (a staggering 7 minutes), worried that she would attempt to flee again, and succeed with no one there to stop her. But their worries were in vain. She did not escape, probably due to the fact that the bathroom has only one door (which they were guarding), no windows, and no other escape routes. Then there was last night, though they didn't have much of a choice in that, since she locked the door. They could have broken it down, of course, but that seemed a bit extreme, and they figured she was probably fine (but that didn't mean that both of them hadn't thought it over more than once over the course of the night).
Needless to say, by the time breakfast rolled around, she was already sick of their constant stares. That was when Vladimir decided that even a question slightly inappropriate to their first meal together was better than this disquieting silence which shrouded them. He leaned back in his chair and asked in a deceptively casual tone,
"So, tell me. How many men have you killed so far?"
She looked up at him, vaguely startled. Anatoly just rolled his eyes and smacked his brother lightly on the shoulder, earning an indignant 'What?' from Vladimir. He had expected his brother to say something like this, it was only a matter of time. However, his sister smothered her surprise and took it all in stride, giving an answer while observing the subtle interaction between the two.
"Many." She replied with a half-shrug. "I have not kept track."
That was a lie. Every person she had been sent to kill, whether they were innocent or not, had been another searing iron on her soul; hurting at first, but eventually fading, leaving dead nerves and a barely-receptive conscience in its wake. But she remembered every man, woman, and child that she had dispatched with a keen stab of pain. Not pain for the dead, but for her waning sensitivity. She knew that the day would come when she would kill someone, feel the blood cover her hands, see the limbs go limp on the floor and the light leave their eyes, and she would feel... nothing.