A/N: Another look into the life of Natasha Romanoff before she became the Black Widow.

~Sandy

The Little Red-Haired Girl

Chapter 3

"I can't." Natalia kept all emotion from her voice so Dr. Petrovitch wouldn't reprimand her again. The time spent in the room had given her nightmares that were never ending. The walls, floor, ceiling and door were all painted the color of blood though she couldn't be certain if it was just a color or actual blood. Her keen sense of smell detected nothing, not even scents from the kitchen. Putting that thought aside, she looked through the scope of her rifle again. The man hadn't moved except to raise a cup of tea to his lips and take a bite of cookie. "What if he's innocent?"

The voice in her ear dropped into a chilling register. To some, it might sound like the purr of a cat. But to Natalia, it promised retaliation if she did not comply. "Does it matter? He is a danger to society, to the world, and must be eliminated. Do it now."

Still, she hesitated, the index finger of her left hand caressing the trigger. "That's what you said about Segey Lebedev."

"I promise you, that is not the case here. There is incontrovertible proof that he's guilty of these crimes. Shoot him now!"

Again she hesitated. What if the man in her crosshairs was guilty and she let him get away? More people would die and it would be her fault. Petrovitch's voice shouted in her ear. "Shoot now!"

Her finger spasmed and the man's head jerked, blood spattering everywhere. The crowd around him ran for their lives, some screaming, others horrified at the carnage. One lone person came forward to touch him on the neck, shaking his head sadly as the police and medics came running.

Natalia immediately began disassembling the rifle, quickly and efficiently packing it into the canvas bag at her feet. She hooked the strap over her shoulder, ran to the other side of the roof and climbed down to the fire escape. At the bottom, a car waited. She got into the back seat and it drove away from the scene. In the front seat were Petrovitch and Kuznetsov. She didn't like the way Petrovitch's assistant looked at her or how he kept watching her when he thought no one was looking. And the other day he's tried to trap her in a corner leaning closer and saying, "Call me Artyom, Natalia."

The feel of his hot breath made her skin crawl to be that close to him. She got the same feeling around every man she came into contact with, except Petrovitch. The head of the facility did have a special interest in her, but she knew it wasn't the same as Kuznetsov's. No, his interest was more like that of a man for a woman and she was still a girl, though that was changing.

Petrovitch broke into her thoughts by turning to look at her with a smile. "I'm very proud of you, Natalia."

She crossed her arms over her skinny chest. Partially to hide the recent changes her body had been going through and partially to show her annoyance. "I hesitated. Couldn't take the shot."

"But you did, and you performed splendidly." He held out a hand and reluctantly she put her much smaller one in it. "It will get easier. I promise."

"May I ask a question?" When he nodded, she continued. "Is what we're doing right?"

Smiling, Petrovitch faced forward again. "Of course it is or we wouldn't be doing it, child."

Natalia nodded and looked out the window to watch the buildings change to trees as they left the city and turned onto the narrow road that would take them to the facility. "Dr. Petrovitch, how old am I?"

He looked thoughtfully out the window then back at her. She'd learned some time ago to read people's faces and body language. Whatever Petrovitch was about to say, it would be a lie.

"My child, you will be fourteen in two weeks." His face split into a smile. "We'll have a party and the cook will bake a cake. Would you like that?"

Wanting to say no because none of the other girls had been given a party, she forced a smile which he was completely taken in by. "Yes, I would."

The Beginning