1987
Undisclosed Location in Central Russia
Following the death of her Mother, Roźalia Sablinova stepped foot into the KGB Red Room as a nameless face.
Just a piece of meat. A slab of marble really, being pushed into the den of an artist, ready to be sculpted into a beautiful statue. At least that's how the Head Mistress seemed to put it.
Her name was Madame B, and when Roźalia first met her it was in the main room in her family manor before her Father shipped her away with the woman to some 'school for girls'. And while Roźalia knew the 'science school' her brother, Henrik, had been shipped off to in America was really what it was, she wasn't so sure about where she was going.
But, as soon as they got out of the vehicle that transported them there, two large men with guns grabbed hold of Roźalia's arms and held her down just before a third person tied her hands behind her back with some sort of rope and pulled a red piece of fabric over her eyes. She was blind and bounded. She knew then that this was no school... It was a prison.
Roźalia attempted to fight, like her Father taught her, but it was no use. These men were strong and rough, and each time Roźalia tried to struggle, break free, fight or run, the men would jab the butts of their firearms into her legs or her side, shouting in the language she recognized as Russian to 'shut up' and to 'obey'. She refused to let them take her, though. She kept fighting and thrashing as they continued to drag her along.
When they finally stopped, Roźalia was dropped onto her knees in some kind of room. She wasn't sure what it looked like, but she could hear all the soft murmurs and the warmth of other bodies around her. She wasn't alone.
The brunette child still couldn't see when Madame B began speaking again, her voice erupting from a place a few yards in front of where Roźalia sat bound. "Welcome, girls," she spoke in a broken English accent. "You may be wondering why you're here, how you got here, and what we're going to do to you. But, there will be time for questions later. Because all you need to know is that you are the future. The future of the world.
"But for that to be accomplished, you have to forget everything you ever knew before this very moment," she instructed. "Forget your old life. Forget where you came from. Forget the people you left behind. Forget what you first thought was true and normal. Today is the start of your new life. Today is the start to a better future, a pure future, for all..."
There was a long pause as her words registered for Roźalia and whoever else was in the room with her. She was still unable to see when the restraints behind her back were suddenly cut off.
"See here in this Institution, we will break down all the preconceived thoughts, ideas, and beliefs and build you back up to become a better, stronger version of yourselves," Madame B continued to speak.
"There will be no more crying."
Roźalia was suddenly gripped by the arm and shoved to her feet.
"There will be no more 'Mother' and 'Father'."
The same arm that shoved her to her feet, pushed her forward once more towards where Madame B's voice was coming from, only a few feet to the left more.
"There will be no more innocence."
Suddenly, Roźalia felt something being pressed into her hands. She immediately understood what it was: a gun.
"There will be no more mistakes."
A person came up behind Roźalia and whispered something in Russian that sounded like 'fire', but she wasn't entirely sure.
"There will be no more light and dark."
'Fire!' the voice shouted once more from behind her. Roźalia had no choice but to reluctantly aim as best she could while still being blindfolded. She raised her gun, twitched her finger just above the trigger, and took a deep breath in.
A small part of her hoped she was aiming the weapon at Madame B as she continued to speak.
"There will be no more weakness!"
When Roźalia breathed out, she pressed her finger on the trigger. The singular shot rang out, an array of gasps and cries of surprise from behind her became white noise when there was the sound of a large object hitting the floor with a 'thud' just in front of where Roźalia had been pointing her gun.
'Look', a voice whispered to her. Slowly and hesitantly, the girl lowered the gun and pulled the piece of fabric from over her eyes. What she uncovered caused all the air to leave her lungs in a soft gasp of shock and horror. Lying on the ground, a gunshot wound in their chest, was a man. His body was slumped on the ground, his eyes wide open and his limbs sprawled out around him as a pool of blood began to form beneath him.
"There will be... only us."
It finally dawned on Roźalia as she stood with the gun still in her hand, glancing down at the dead body in front of her; she had just killed for the first time.
The girl was in such a state of shock, she hadn't noticed Madame B walking towards her side until two perfectly polished and pointed fingers pressed themselves against her chin, pulling her head up and away from staring at the body and towards the top of the wall behind it. "What's your name?" The woman asked in a soft voice that still somehow demanded fear.
She was numb, unsure of how to respond. So she did the only way she knew how. "Roźalia Sabli–"
The girl was suddenly cut off when Madame B struck her upside her head and hissed in her ear, "That is the name your parents gave you. A weak name. A name with meaning to your old life. What is your name?"
"I..." Roźalia wasn't sure what to say. She didn't want to say anything wrong and get smacked again, she wasn't sure if she could handle it when she was still reeling over the fact that she just killed some random human being. If she were to get hit again, Roźalia doubted she would be able to hold back her tears and sobs. "I don't know," she said, her voice breakng slightly. "I don't have one."
Surprisingly, Madame B didn't hit her again. In fact, a smile graced her features as she turned back towards the rest of the room behind Roźalia. "That's correct. You don't have a name. You are merely a shell. You're simply Roźalia from this point forward. And not because your Mother and Father gave you that name, but because the Red Room has deemed it acceptable for you to be called this name. Do you understand?"
Roźalia's eyes still remained on the dead man in front of her as she spoke in a dead and numb voice, "Yes, ma'am."
Roźalia wasn't sure what her Father gotten her into, or what she was to make of it all, but she did know this; she had to survive. She didn't just stick it through all the months of training and hard work her Father out into her and her skill-set only to fail him. He sent her here to be better, to grow, to advance. She was the Future. That's what he called her. The Future.
And this was where it all began...
GUILT
[x] chapter one [x]
Silence, Salt, and Burn
1989
Undisclosed Location in Northern Russia
Roźalia excelled within the ranks of the Red Room.
When her Class had first begun, she was one of the youngest girls amongst a Class of 75. 75 girls from all across the globe ranging from 5 to 14. Roźalia was only 6 when she'd first started training with her Father at the Manor. Three years later and now Roźalia was a 9 year old amongst a slowly chipped away Class of 42 remaining girls.
She learned that she was quite the spectacle within the Red Room; the daughter of a high-ranking official of some kind... she'd hear whispers from the guards or the Lieutenants that would pop by every so often. More officials from different places and organizations watching her and her Class as the days got longer and the nights even longer. It was hard to tell the time in her small dark room where she was handcuffed to her bedpost every time she slept.
"Zamolchi!" one girl whisper-shouted from across the room. Shut up! Roźalia translated to herself.
No one in the Red Room was permitted to speak their Native tongues, they all had to learn Russian or fail. And failure usually meant death. So, naturally, Roźalia picked up the Russian tongue quickly and with ease.
"YA ub'yu tebya!" The same girl from before shouted. Roźalia recognized the threat in her words: I'll kill you.
Truthfully, she didn't blame the girl a few beds down from her for being so angry, she was getting quite annoyed with the little girl crying and whimpering in the bed next to hers. Her sobs were echoing in the room and with how much physical exertion the girls were doing every day, it was vital they got their sleep... But no one was doing much sleeping with this girl crying so loudly.
So, Roźalia decided to take pity on the crying girl. "Prosto ignoriruy yeye," she whispered over to her. Just ignore her.
The crying girl only whimpered in response. "It's scary here," she whispered in English. The little girl couldn't have been older than five.
Roźalia rolled her eyes in exasperation. "We're not supposed to speak our Native tongue," she explained in a hushed tone just in case anyone was listening in.
"I- I don't know how to speak whatever it is they shout at me," she hiccupped.
Roźalia's face remained impassive. She wasn't about to translate every little command and order to this child. "Well, you better learn it quickly," she shot back. When the little girl looked taken aback by her harsh words, Roźalia turned back onto her back going back to staring up at the cement ceiling above them. She wasn't going to baby anyone, and she certainly wasn't going to sugarcoat anything for her, it wasn't going to help to lie.
"Legche ne stanet..." It won't get any easier. Roźalia paused, turning her head so her eyes met with the little girl's. "Cry into your pillow so no one hears you next time." And with that, she turned back to the ceiling and shut her eyes.
The girl, thankfully, followed her advice that night, and the next night, and the night after that, and the nights in the week after that. Until one day, she didn't...
"Drat'sya," one of the Red Room Lieutenants had commanded the Class one day as they stood around in the small ballet studio. All the girls glanced around at one another, unsure of what was happening. This wasn't a normal day of class.
A normal day of class consisted of them coming into this studio and watching weird movies in different languages. Sometimes they'd be animated, sometimes they'd be a live recording from a theatre, others would be with real people. Some were romance films, some were horror films, some were drama films, some were documentary films. After they'd spend hours at a time watching, they'd watch a series of girls older than them perform ballet to a soft sonnet from a scratchy vinyl record in the same room.
When they were done watching the ballet, they'd all have to pinpoint everything wrong these girls had done. If they got something wrong, they'd be punished. They were taught to be nit-picky and detail-oriented. Every small movement, every little flaw, every hair out of place, and every wrong breath could lead to punishment for either the ballet dancers or the little girls having to watch them.
But this... this was new.
The Lieutenant scowled at all the girls when no one moved. "Ya skazal..." he began slowly, grabbing a girl- the one who had been crying the night before- by the hair and dragging her to the center of the room, dropping her to her knees. She let out a yelp. "-Drat'sya!"
Roźalia didn't need a mental translation to understand what he wanted them to do.
Fight!
No one stepped forward at first, but Roźalia knew that there were several girls willing to take the head off the crying girl for the long, restless nights she was giving them. A part of Roźalia wanted to help this poor English-speaking girl who probably had not the slightest clue of what was going on. But... she knew the only way to actually do that was to give the Lieutenant what he wanted before any of the other blood-thirsty girls of the Red Room could give it to him. A fight.
Roźalia stepped forward to stand before the little girl.
The Lieutenant seemed please, but he didn't show it. At least not openly. Though no one in the Red Room showed many other emotions other than hate, rage, frustration, and exasperation. But Roźalia knew what silence satisfaction looked like enough from seeing it from her Father.
He stepped off the main floor, leaving only the two girls to face off.
The little girl shook her head. "I don't- I don't know-"
"Ssh!" Roźalia hissed, cutting her off before anyone could tell she was speaking in something other than Russian. From the tone she'd used, it just made it look as though Roźalia was only getting annoyed and not helping her. Slowly, Roźalia raised her fists up in front of her to signify they were going to fight.
The girl's eyes widened, unsure of what to do seeing as she had never done this before. She scrambled to her feet and mirrored Roźalia's actions.
"Chego ty zhdesh'?" The Lieutenant called out- what are you waiting for? "Drat'sya!"
Roźalia knew two things in that moment; she couldn't stall forever and the little crying girl certainly wasn't going to throw the first punch. So, she did.
The brunette girl spun around, not throwing a punch, but kicking her leg back at the little girl, hitting her square in the chest and knocking her down before spinning back to face her in the same position she'd started in.
The little girl looked like she was going to cry as she laid on the ground, her teary eyes looking up at Roźalia like the night they'd met. Damn it, Roźalia wanted to curse at her. Don't cry- never cry.
To try and convey her message, Roźalia socked the girl in her cheek. The little girl yelped as her face planted down into the ground. Good, she thought to herself. Now they can't see her tears and they'll call the next people up to fight. Roźalia's defenses fell, as did her fists. She was done. She'd won.
"Kak ty dumayesh', chto delayesh'?" The Lieutenant called out. What do you think you're doing? Roźalia's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. What did he mean what was she doing? "Ty yeshche ne zakonchil!" You're not finished yet- he shouted, gesturing down to the girl lying on the floor, her soft cries echoing from the floor, to the walls and throughout the room.
No...
Roźalia froze, her eyes widening as she stared down at the wheeping girl at her feet. He wanted her to... He wanted her to...
She'd killed before- her very first day in the Red Room in fact. She had become partial to the loss she'd felt after shooting the nameless man that first day. But... this was just a girl, no younger than herself. And she didn't have a gun to pull and just get it over with either.
The Lieutenant walked over, he circled around to stand just behind Roźalia who was still frozen in place, staring down at the whimpering girl trying to turn herself onto her back to stare directly into Roźalia's wide eyes. "Boy ne mozhet zakonchit'sya, poka vasha tsel' ne budet mertva," he whispered into her ear, sending chills down her spine.
The fight cannot end until your target is dead.
Roźalia couldn't get out of this. She'd initially stepped up to help the poor girl, and now she would have to be the one to kill her. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on Roźalia, neither was the inevitability of it. The crying girl on the floor would have to die, and it would have to be by Roźalia's hand or she would become the dead one.
Roźalia took a deep breath and a step forward.
The girl on the floor looked relieved at first as Roźalia knelt down close to her. A part of Roźalia was relieved that the girl didn't understand what was being said, but another was sickened by the way the girl almost relaxed when Roźalia's hands reached out towards her. She probably thought she was going to help her up, but at least in her final moments she will have thought she had a friend.
Roźalia watched as the relief quickly washed away from the girl's eyes as her hands came to wrap around her small, frail neck. She didn't squeeze until the crevices between her index finger and her thumb were pressed against her throat. The girl's teary eyes widened, her legs began to kick out as she bucked up, attempting to push Roźalia off of her. Her hands came to scratch at the brunette's hands, arms, face, anything she could reach, but it was no use...
Roźalia wanted to look away from the girl's striking blue eyes, but she couldn't. She wanted to help her even though she knew she wouldn't survive. As sick as it was as she watched the life leave the girl's eyes, she didn't tear her gaze away because she didn't want her to be alone when she finally closed her eyes for good.
She didn't stop pressing down on her throat until she'd felt her stop kicking, until she felt the girl's arms go slack, until she felt her cease her fighting, until she saw that fear in her eyes finally diminish only to be replaced by pain, confusion, and then finally... relief.
Relief because she wouldn't have to cry into her pillow anymore, she wouldn't ever need to translate Russian, and she wouldn't have to be a prisoner in the Red Room and be subjected to what Roźalia would have to endure for more years to come.
When Roźalia finally let go of the girl's throat, she didn't cry, she didn't react, she didn't show an ounce of emotion. She rose to her feet and stepped over the dead girl's corpse. Her hands still tingled from having felt the spark of life go out underneath them. She was stone cold because she was going to survive.
It was that day that Roźalia learned that the Red Room wasn't an Institution like Madame B had said it was, it was a prison. A prison with only one way of life: to survive.
1995
Kiev, Ukraine
"Vona pryrodnyy vbyvtsya. She is a natural killer," Madame B remarked from her place up on the cat-walk just above the small training area where the She in question was practicing. "She was born for this."
Down below, Roźalia was rapidly throwing the several small blades laid out on the small table in front of her. Her technique mimicked that of a type of fast-paced dance. A fast and deadly dance with precise moves... and she never missed.
"Where does this girl come from again?" the man, Doctor Jonah Silvestri, asked as he peered down his nose at the girl still unleashing her wrath upon several targets surrounding her on the mat.
"Slovakia," Madame B answered. "She's Ernest Sablinova's daughter."
This piece of information seemed to intrigue Dr. Silvestri. He turned to Madame B and raised his eyebrows in perplexion. Roźalia Sablinova, daughter of high-level scientist Ernest Sablinova, was now top of her Class in the Red Room, one of only twenty-one of the surviving Class of 1996... so far.
Dr. Silvestri turned back to watching the brunette girl still throwing her blades with precise accuracy, hitting each and every one of her marks. She was a very interesting girl.
"So... why are you here, Dr. Silvestri? You were very... nespetsyfichnyy- vague when you asked for a meeting," Madame B said in a sultry voice. A voice she used in most of her conversations to let on that she knew more than she was letting on. A spy's voice, Dr. Silvestri had come to recognize it as. "It's interesting. You get kicked out of the Winter Soldier Program to come pursue a new subject to test your little HYDRA knick-knacks on."
Dr. Silvestri smirked, but maintained his strong gaze on the girl down below. "What was the interesting part?"
"The interesting part is that you would come here to choose a new subject to test on," Madame B clarified. "You Amerykansʹkyy... American scientists enjoy choosing from your own country for subjects," she smirked. Dr. Silvestri understood her jab at the Winter Soldier's true identity. "Why would you come all the way out here? For her?" She jutted her chin out in the direction of Roźalia.
Dr. Silvestri smiled as he watched Roźalia flip. In mid-air, she managed to toss three different blades at three different targets, each on hitting the center of the head just before she landed in a perfect defensive position. Her eyes narrowed as she stared down her unmoving targets then slowly turned to glance up at where he and Madame B were idly watching her.
Dr. Silvestri nodded slightly. "For her," he confirmed.
Madame B smiled smugly. "Roźalia," she called down to the brunette. "Uberi svoy besporyadok. Clean up your mess. Meet us in the foyer when you're finished."
Roźalia didn't obey right away, she lingered, turned from Madame B to the strange man beside her then back to her Handler before finally stalking off to go rip all the blades from her targets.
While she did that, Madame B turned back to Dr. Silvestri. "What is it you want her for, exactly?"
Dr. Silvestri shrugged. He knew he shouldn't trust Madame B. Then again, who could you trust in this industry, in this organization? The answer was no one, certainly not Madame B. But, then again, in their line of work, neither of them were guaranteed to last very long. It wasn't like everyone in HYDRA, or SHIELD, or the KGB, or any other American and Soviet alike within the Intelligence Community were planning on going into retirement anytime soon or ever, really.
But Dr. Silvestri knew he was a dead man. Sooner or later, his actions would react like a rubber band as he kept pulling and pulling and pulling, eventually, they'd snap back with the consequences.
What was telling Madame B anything about what he planned for her Student, her Protégé, going to add to his rubber band of actions?
"The Winter Soldier program is set, there was no more improving or helping that lost and broken soul Vasily Karpov has on a leash. It's not going anywhere, so I left," Dr. Silvestri explained as he began a slow walk along the catwalk towards the stairs, Madame B at his side. "But I found something, a SHIELD program hidden away from the world. A little Ghost, they call her. She's excellent, a scientific phenomenon handed directly to SHIELD- really HYDRA- thanks to the excellent be fallings of Elihas Starr."
Madame B frowned, "I don't believe I'm familiar with this Mr. Starr-"
"Doctor," Dr. Silvestri corrected her. "And you wouldn't be. He was a smaller scientist, not one very interested in nukes, bombs, EMP's, weapons, or anything else that might put him on your radar, but... he was on mine. And for good reason. He managed to create one of SHIELD's greatest accidents: Ava Starr."
"Any relation?" Madame B prompted, hanging on to every word.
Dr. Sivestri nodded. "His daughter... the irony of me finding my solace in the daughter of a renowned SHIELD scientist and solace in yet another daughter of a high-ranking scientist within HYDRA." Dr. Silvestri stopped when they'd descended the stairs and turned back to where Roźalia stood, ripping out three blades from the head, heart, and crotch of the target.
"But I'm not here because of Ava Starr. I'm here because of her blood," Dr. Silvestri continued. "The Ghost is... unstable. She has too much in her system. But I managed to get my hands on a small sample of her blood to dissect the energy matter that gives her her special abilities... and I'm in need of a subject." He gestured over his shoulder at the girl staring back at them. "She's perfect."
"She also hasn't gone through her Graduation Ceremony just yet," Madame B explained with a disapproving frown. "It's a mandatory Ceremony following the thorough Graduation Inspection and Physical."
Dr. Silvestri let out a heavy sigh, his eyes still raking over the fifteen-year-old's body. She was fit, physically fit. What more 'inspection' did she need? "When will she undergoing this Graduation Ceremony?"
"She turns sixteen in ten months... then she will undergo the Ceremony," Madame B explained.
Dr. Silvestri pursed his lips and shook his head. "That's too far away. With how potent this sample is... I'd need her now." Madame B's frown deepened. "You pride your subjects- sorry, your students, on being some of the best in the world... What would your other clients say when word gets around that you turned down a HYDRA scientist in the market for a girl to turn into one of the most powerful operatives in the world?"
Madame B raised an eyebrow at him. She didn't take threats lightly, especially not ones that held so much weight as the one Dr. Silvestri posed now. She couldn't kill him, he was too high-up in the community she operated with the most. But... she could just give him what he wanted. Having an operative like the one he was promising come from her Red Room would be... spectacular for the rest of her Widows.
"Alright," Madame B nodded eventually. "You'll get Roźalia, but the cost goes higher up without the Ceremony."
Dr. Silvestri tilted his head in perplexion. "Why is that?"
Madame B turned to glance towards the girl carefully twirling the blades through her small, frail fingertips so effortlessly before placing them in lines on the table where she'd first picked them up from. She was a marble slab that had been cut away so effortlessly to create a piece of hard, unbreakable art. She was ready... mostly.
There would always still be that defiant spark in her. She obeyed, but Madame B could sense her defiance. She put on a façade like she wanted to be there, like she wanted to thrive there, but... Madame B had trained enough spies and covert specialists and undercover operatives to know a liar when she saw one. She was like a live wire... more deadly, more prone to mistakes if she had even a sliver of hope left in her body, but... that wasn't Madame B's problem anymore. It was Dr. Silvestri's.
"More risk," Madam B eventually answered as Roźalia turned to glance back at the pair staring back at her.
They were looking at the girl as though she were a prospect, but she was looking at them the same way she had looked at the targets she'd thrown those blades into.
1995
Undisclosed Location outside of San Francisco, California; United States
She was back where she was in the beginning... just a slab of meat. Sold off to yet another carver of marble attempting perfect. But Roźalia had to wonder... how far did a carver go before he stopped and realize the slab of marble he was cutting from had been chipped away too much... that it had been broken far past saving.
Dr. Silvestri was bearing her soul out while he carved into her more than what her Father did or what Madame B did to her. He wanted to carve her marble statue into a marble sword, and he was going to drill down to her core.
"The procedure... it will be painful," Dr. Silvestri explained to her as his team of scientists began to strap Roźalia down against a slightly inclined observation table.
There was a bright white light beaming down into her eyes, but if she looked at him head-on, the lights wouldn't blind her as much if she tried to look straight up at the ceiling like she normally did. Thinking about it now, Roźalia hadn't slept in a bed without being restrained in almost a decade. She couldn't say she missed it, she could hardly remember what it felt like anymore... being free.
"Good," Roźalia replied, her voice hoarse from not being used in so long.
Dr. Silvestri furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "'Good'?"
Roźalia, still restrained, shifted slightly against the table, her chin jutted out as she looked down her nose at him the way he had done her when he'd first seen her at work in the Red Room. "If I survive this and I remember the pain... I'll know exactly how to make it feel worse for you."
Dr. Silvestri wanted to have her elaborate, but from the way the brunette clenched her jaw and turned her eyes upwards, he knew that was the most he was going to get out of her.
"Alright then," he sighed, tucking his pen behind his ear out of habit. "I'll talk you through anyway... The procedure will start with a quick blood withdrawal-" Roźalia didn't even flinch when a needle was pushed into her vein on the crook of her elbow or when it was later withdrawn with a vial of her blood. "-then we'll inject you with a potent sample of Quantum Energy and human DNA extracted from a SHIELD Operative. You do know what SHIELD is, correct?"
She nodded.
"Well, it's a very rare sample, which means it's untested and unpredictable," Dr. Silvestri explained. "It could be painful and effective. It could be painless and uneffective. It could just be painful... You'll be the first person we ever test it on... Good luck to you, Miss Sablinova."
Roźalia flinched at the name.
"Sorry."
No, he wasn't.
Dr. Silvestri turned to his team of scientists on either side of her. "Begin," he instructed them.
Roźalia turned her eyes to the ceiling, clenched her jaw, and hoped she'd survive this. She survived her Father's abuse, she survived the loss of her Mother, she survived her brother leaving, she survived the Red Room, she survived being a Killer... she was not about to be killed by a single needle.
She was going to survive not because she'd been through so much, but because she was doing it out of her own spite.
Like the first needle when they'd drawn her blood, she felt it pinch her skin. But not in the crook of her elbow, but in her bicep, right through the muscle. That one hurt, she hissed through her teeth.
Then the hissing turned into groans of pain as the first pinch turned into a searing type of heat spreading through her arm. Suddenly, all the nerves and muscle in her limb were set a flame... if flames were tiny knives stabbing and pricking the inside of her like she was being cut a thousand times over the more it began to spread... and spread... and spread-
"Gah-!" Roźalia gasped as she began to jerk in her retraints. "E-agh-!" she let out a blood curdling scream as those small flaming knives that spread from her arm, to her neck, to her chest, her heart, her lungs, her other arm, her hands, her fingers, her sternum, her stomach, her spine, her legs, her feet, her toes, her neck, her throat, her skull, her eyes.
It burned, it fucking burned.
Make it stop.
Make it stop!
Make it stop!
"Make it stop-!" she screeched through clenched teeth as she felt the flaming knives slice through her face muscles; her tongue, her nose, her teeth, her eyes- suddenly, that bright light above her was no longer shining, but she hadn't closed her eyes... In fact, it had only gotten brighter.
It burned. It burned so fucking much.
"Please-" she gasped. "Please!"
"I'm sorry, Roźalia," she heard through the ringing she hadn't even noticed was there until she heard Dr. Silvestri's voice through her screams and ringing as she drowned in the flames and swords. "You'll come out stronger-"
"AGH-!"
Eventually, she couldn't feel anything other than flames, suffocation, burning and... light.
Even when it all went dark, all she felt was light.
It was too bright when she woke up... and she felt like a living and breathing third degree burn. "Mm," she moaned, her throat sore from all the screaming. It felt like it had lasted eons, but in reality, it was probably only for a few moments. But she imagined that when you felt like you were drowning in flames and swords and light, it would feel like you were drowning for a millennia.
"Good morning, Roźalia," the rugged voice of Dr. Silvestri greeted her from somewhere in the ringing light. "You can open your eyes now, no one is going to hurt you anymore... or ever."
She wasn't sure what he meant by that just yet, but if she wasn't afraid of the dark, she certainly wasn't going to be afraid of the light, either. So she opened her eyes and saw herself laying down on the observation table she'd been strapped to before... and Dr. Silvestri hanging back near the doorway of the room with the bright light.
"...je to svetlé," she muttered, trying to hold a hand out to shade her eyes.
Dr. Silvestri frowned. "I don't understand-"
"Je to svetlé," she repeated in a louder, but hoarse voice. It's too bright. It's too bright. "Vypni to."
"I don't understand what you're trying to say-"
"Vypni to!" she cried out, gasping when it suddenly got brighter in the room and that burning, stab pain come back in a single small explosion. The lights flickered and suddenly, for a moment, Roźalia became extremely self aware of her surroundings and the fact that through the pain, she'd gotten her wish... the lights were out. It wasn't as bright. She'd turn the lights off. All of them.
She paused for a second... dropping her eyes down to her hands that she realized were shaking with small wisps of glowing white light in her hand as if she had swallowed up that light. "...Čo si robil-" her voice cracked. "What did you do? What did you do to me?" she begged, pleaded for an answer in a soft, broken whisper. She looked up at Dr. Silvestri from across the room. "...what did you do to me?"
Dr. Silvestri was beaming as he pulled a small pocket-held mirror from his coat and approached slowly. He held it out for her and when her eyes fell upon her reflection, she looked as though she wanted to either cry, scream at, or kill her reflection staring back at her with the same look in her bright, brown eyes. "I made you unbreakable," he told her with a smile.
Horrified, Roźalia gasped at herself in the mirror pressed into her hand. She wasn't scared of how pale her face was, or the fact that her eyes had changed from a dark brown to a lighter hazel... It was her hair. Her beautiful, brown, long hair. Hair her Mother sang to her as she braided it on hot Spring afternoons. Hair all her maids used to love brushing for her before she went to sleep. Hair her brother used to pull when they play-fought. Hair she loved to run her fingers through just to stay attached to who she once was... Gone.
Now she stared at an unrecognizable girl with bright, light, pale, white hair. White like that stupid bright light beaming down on her before. Bright like the shine of a thousand stars. White hair...
"You... you..." she stammered, trying to find words to even describe what she was feeling. There were none.
Across the room, Dr. Silvestri stared down at his creation. He'd not only carved a perfect marble sword from a marble statue... he'd actually turned her into a marble weapon... One far better than a sword or a shield...
She was no longer marble. She was Silver.
A/N: Everyone say 'thank you. Black Widow for giving Ally some fucking inspiration to finally get to writing this story.' Also, no spoilers, but I'd die for Yelena Belova.