Belarus. 1996.
I hadn't realized that the following week from my encounter with the masked soldier would be the start of a new year. I had forgotten about my birthday again, but I wasn't surprised to find it didn't bother me anymore. A birthday was just a record, a piece of paper people could use to find you, proof of your very existence. A birthday is a celebration shared by friends and family and I don't have either of those. Outside of the Red Room, Elena Marakova doesn't exist and that's the way I want it to remain, it will be so much easier to begin to scratch names of my list if the targets don't even know they're on it.
The only celebration in the Red Room that mattered was the graduation ceremony and the oldest girl, the last one standing of her intake group, was getting ready to leave. She didn't have a suitcase to pack or any personal belongings to leave to the five youngest girls who still sobbed in their beds at night, thinking no one could hear them. She stood proudly as she was led down the main hall, dressed in a long heavy coat to protect her against the wind. We stood in neat rows, creating a path for her to walk down, like soldiers saluting a fellow comrade as they ventured into the field of battle. Though her posture exuded confidence, her face was melancholy and as if she was trying to conceal pain. I watched the soldiers lock the doors after they had closed them behind her and made sure I could recognize the face of the soldier who held the keys. He stuffed them into a pocket on his trousers before grasping hold of his rifle once again and standing to attention. I kept my head low as we returned to our scheduled classes.
My time here is coming to an end.
My powers have peaked now, not only can I hear the thoughts of others and get glimpses into their memories, but I can manipulate them, something I'll use against the key keeper if necessary. I don't find it particularly enjoyable, but desperation will make a girl do strange things. I am tired of being their puppet. It's time for them to be mine. I still feel the occasional tug of the strings the teachers use to keep me under control, but they don't scare me anymore. Fear has been programmed out of me, it's a distracting emotion to feel during a mission, and anything that could be a distraction must be eradicated instantly. I think they can feel that they're losing their grip on me, but none of them seem to do anything. Maybe they've truly given up on the cause as well. If the Soviet Empire was going to come back, it would have already done it by now, the world is moving on around us but behind the walls we still live in the glory days of the USSR.
Another scar has joined the few others that mark my skin. From my most recent spar with the strangely masked soldier, I finally learned his name whilst I laid wheezing on the sparring mat with a punctured lung. They called him soldier when talking to him, but they called him Winter when talking about him. I had asked my teacher and she had explained The Winter Soldier was HYDRA's pride project and I should consider myself lucky that they wanted to take me on as well. Surgery had been necessary to rectify my injuries and I had welcomed the prospect of a general anaesthetic, escaping the harsh reality that was my day to day life. However, the doctors decided only a local anaesthetic was necessary, that was five days ago, and I still had the imprint of my teeth in the back of my hand where the pain relief had failed as its job. I knew it was punishment for failing to win in the fight, there was never a loss without consequences. I held my wound dressing tenderly as I did my best to look like I was absentmindedly wandering the halls, never going anywhere in particular. The soldiers paid me no heed anymore, as far as they were concerned, I wouldn't be a problem after tomorrow.
Karpov had stayed true to his word and my teacher had informed me I would be taken to Siberia to continue my training under HYDRA handlers. She had smiled when she said it, emphasizing that it was a great honour, but her thoughts indicated otherwise. I knew what awaited me in Siberia and it made the Red Room seem like my old home in St. Petersburg. Despite it all, I'd manufactured a comfort of my own in this place, the way the setting sun would cast deep orange glows through the high windows in our ballet studio and in winter, when it got dark so early in the evening, the stars would fill the floor as they shone through the skylight in the ceiling and you could almost pretend they were stage lights at the Bolshoi or the Mariinsky. I'd made my decision that night, watching the stars twinkle overhead. I was leaving, and no one was going to stand in my way.
I maintained the perfect façade until the right moment hit. I continued to excel in my ballet classes, there was only three of us now, a girl I'd not made any attention to remember and the same girl who I should have sparred with the day I was made to kill Mara. A part of me wanted to stay - until I would have the opportunity to end her the way it should have happened when we were younger. But I knew it would have only postponed the inevitable, I came into this program in a group of twenty girls. But only one of us was going to walk out of those doors alive.
I kept my eye on the teachers as they locked away the guns we had finished cleaning and reassembling. The Bizon was the latest sub-machine gun to be manufactured on the Russian market and the soldiers had replaced all their old firearms with them. They were foolish, the soldiers used us to maintain their weapons. I knew that at least two of them would find the springs catching in their guns tonight. The teacher kept the small metal key to the locker on a piece of string around her neck. Terribly crude and surprisingly lax, but useful for me regardless and I wasn't about to turn away any mistakes that would make this escape easier.
I snuck into the dorm during the time between classes and unscrewed the stand to my bed. The fixing was old and rusty, so it didn't provide much resistance as I pulled the leg away, slipped the handcuff off and placed it under my pillow. They didn't bother to lock us up themselves anymore, instead, they opted to have us hold up our wrist, so they could see the handcuff around it. The New Year appeared to have marked a turning point for the Red Room. Hardly any new girls were brought in, the world was moving on outside of these cold walls and it was apparent even to those of us who were kept here against our will.
The night came almost too quickly, and I felt sure that I had forgotten to do something, but as I cuffed my wrist and felt it still move freely, I was confident in my plan that before the sun rose, I would be walking out of this place and away from this life. I didn't know what was on the other side of the doors that led out into the snow, but I was willing to take my chances.
The silence was heavy as the girls in my dorm succumbed to sleep, though their eyes were closed I still let myself invade their thoughts to make sure. Some of them were dreaming of being ballerina's, performing at the Bolshoi, maybe that was the new lie they were being told to get their families to hand them over to the Red Room. That this was an intense ballet school, promising them fame and money. Other's dreamed of their homes and their families, sat in front of warm fireplaces. I sighed as I sat up, removing my nightdress and exposing the vest and shorts we sparred in underneath. I made a mental note to find something more suitable to wear before I ventured out into the snow, if I even lived to get that far. The handcuff clinked against itself as I slipped my shoes on, got to my feet and began to weave in and out of the empty beds that still filled the dorm.
"What are you doing?" I froze at the accusing voice behind me, turning my head slightly, the girl I hadn't learned to remember was sitting up in her bed, her wrist handcuffed to the bed, her eyes flickered down to my wrist.
"Go back to sleep," I instructed, hoping she would listen to me and do as she was told. I hadn't considered what would happen to the other girls who were as much prisoners here as I was. But I couldn't let them go free, they would know my face and if anyone is going to know how to best you, it is someone who was once an ally. I turned to face her and slowly made my way to her bedside.
"What's your name?" I questioned. She hesitated, and I could almost hear the cogs turning in her head.
"Lydia." She narrowed her eyes, her confidence faltering, she was tugging gently on the handcuff. "What's yours?" I sighed, as a decision came to pass, and my teacher's words replayed in my head.
Mercy is weakness and weaknesses are not tolerated. It's kill or be killed.
"It doesn't matter," I replied simply, and I sighed as I picked up the pillow from the bed next to her. Lydia's eyes flashed as realization dawned on her face, I pressed the fabric down against her nose and mouth before she could call for help. Her one free hand scratched down my arm, my skin whelping and beginning to bleed. Eventually, her chest heaved, and she exhaled deeply, after a few moments her hand fell away from my arm and I lifted the pillow away from her face. The areas around her nose and mouth had turned pale blue and her eyes were clenched shut. I stood up and turned away from her. The other girl was still asleep and the youngest girls at the other end of the room were still sleeping soundly. I would deal with them first.
We had been taught how to be creative when it came to completing missions. I knew that one of the empty classrooms held bottles of nearly every lethal poison to mankind. I needed something that I could leave to work on its own. Foraging through the old cupboards – the locks had been old when I'd arrived and now they gave way with a slight tug - I found the small jar of Cyanide. The small crystals rattling around in the bottom. I retrieved a candle, a small metal tray, and a mesh stand. On my way out, I spotted a small knife foolishly left on the desk at the front, I snatched it up in my grip and slipped it down my waistband.
The halls were empty as I slipped back into the dorm and silently closed the door. Everyone else was still sleeping. I counted eleven different thought processes without looking up from the small metal tray I tipped the crystals into. Placing it in the middle of the room, I lit the candle underneath and stepped back as the light fumes began to curl up from the crystals and disappear into the air. I quickly left the dorm and locked the door behind me. It wouldn't take long for them to go and I hoped it would relatively painless. They weren't my enemies, but they might one day become just that, and I already knew I had enough to deal with.
My steps were silent as I made my way to the teacher's room. They each had private rooms to sleep in that I had thought would be kept locked, but as I came to her room, I was surprised to see the door ajar, I removed the knife from my waistband and tentatively pushed the door open, wincing as it squeaked on its hinges. She was sat on her perfectly made bed, staring at the blank wall. A small smile appeared when I stepped into the doorway.
"I had figured this time was coming." There was a moment of silence as I waited to see if she would say anything else.
"Are you not going to try and stop me?" I questioned, she turned to me then, a glimpse of sympathy in her eyes.
"You will try and kill me, regardless. So why should I bother?" Her lack of resistance was beginning to annoy me, I hadn't considered she might be trying to stall me.
"For the glory of the motherland! Or do you not believe in that anymore?" She chuckled.
"I stopped believing in the glory of our country long ago." I took a step forward, my grip tightening around the knife handle.
"Then why have you kept me here? Why have you continued to recruit new girls?"
"This goes much deeper than you can comprehend. Did you honestly think it would be easy? I don't care what you do, girl. I've moulded you into the thirteen-year-old who stares death in the face and does not flinch. But if you think you are going to escape this place, you are wrong. They will kill you before you make it to the doors."
"Well, at least you won't be in my way." I stepped forward and plunged the small knife into her chest, I knew the exact place to fit the blade in between the ribs so the blade didn't break away from the handle. I grasped the key from around her neck and the weight of her body snapped the string as she slumped to the floor, choking on the blood that filled her lungs.
The Academy was still silent as I unlocked the gun locker and strapped two of the Bizon's over each of my shoulders and a third in my hands. My vest and shorts didn't have pockets so extra ammunition was not a possibility. I had 192 rounds that had to get me to freedom and I was not going to waste a single bullet.
I closed the door of the classroom, and as I made my way past her room, I pulled the teacher's door shut. Her lifeless eyes staring out to the hallway. I couldn't help but think about the girls in my dorm. I hoped they weren't suffering, they didn't deserve to but to leave them alive would leave them to die regardless, I didn't plan on leaving anyone alive to un-cuff them in the morning and they would eventually die of starvation, restrained to their beds.
As I stepped into the main hall, the moonlight was shining through the skylight and casting the ballet studio in an almost mythical glow. I let my defences drop as I found my mind wander to what I would do once I was out of the Red Room. I was so lost in my daydream I didn't notice the whistle of the bullet until it just grazed my skin and plummeted into the window in front of me, smashing the glass. I spun on my heel and pulled the trigger as the glass of the window fell around me, cutting into my bare arms and legs. The soldier fell with a heavy thumb and suddenly a loud siren began to scream, breaking the silence of the night. I ran to the soldier, checked he was dead, pulled his hunting blade from his pocket and slipped into an alcove as three more soldiers came running down the hall. I watched them from my concealed spot as they looked over their dead comrade. None of them were armed, fools. They were easy to take out, the first had his throat slit and my hands were suddenly soaked in warm blood. The other two were too slow to respond to my gun and both fell when I pulled the trigger again.
I couldn't deny I was surprised at how easy it seemed. I didn't have to physically fight any of the soldiers. Sixteen of them fell to either my gun or my knife. To my irritation, however, the seventeenth, the key keeper, was not amongst them. I searched each of them, thoroughly going through their pockets and sighing in annoyance when the keys were nowhere to be found. Eventually, I found a key card, I had only seen one other door than the Gold Room that warranted a key card.
I was down to my last gun. The knife I kept reusing, it was a surprisingly useful tool and I was beginning to feel rather attached to it. I had taken a holster from a soldier's uniform and fastened it around my own leg. I finally came across a heavy metal door that needed a key card to open it. I pressed the plastic against the screen and it beeped as I heard the hydraulics hiss and the door opened. I slipped inside, and it shut behind me, the locks clunking heavily as a light flickered on and I took in the sight of me.
Black suits lined the far wall, with an assortment of weapons in between. Guns, both rifles and handguns, pistols and hand grenades hung on small hooks. Grappling hooks, small metal discs, and bracelets that buzzed with electricity were sat in glass topped drawers.
I dropped my rifle to the floor and approached the black suits on the wall, they were a sleek design, a strong, most likely stab resistant fabric. On the left arm was the Red Star Emblem and on the other, a black spider with a red flash on its back. One suit however, had the Red Star on one arm and on the other was a white Scorpion, contrasting heavily against the dark fabric. The suit meant for me when I was ready to graduate. I quickly undressed and re-dressed into the suit, zipping it up until the silver zip sat at the nape of my neck. It seemed to mould to my body, almost shrinking itself until it was like a second skin. The sleeves stretched into fingerless gloves and a button in my palm lit up a strip on each arm and leg as well as the Scorpion emblem on my left arm. I strapped the knife holster onto my leg and clipped a gun holster to the other. I left the soldiers rifle on the floor and picked up a newer, sleeker looking model from the wall, strapping it over my shoulder. I took a handful of the small electrical discs and put them in a small pocket. The boots also had a small knife holster and so I strapped that to my ankle as well. A large full-length mirror hung in the room and I was surprised when I caught my reflection, it had been so long since I'd seen what I'd looked like that I had to take a few moments to see how I'd changed. My red hair was so much longer, with a natural wave to it that ended just above my navel. My eyes were grey like storm clouds and my skin was a milky white.
I snapped out of my trance and picked up the key card, unlocking the door once again and waiting until it locked behind me before resuming my search for the key keeper. As I wandered down unfamiliar halls, the windows began to get bigger, letting more light through and almost teasing at the prospect of freedom.
He knew I was coming when I found the door. 'Monitoring' was written above it and I knew he had been watching me all night. He was probably arming himself as he watched me through the small camera that was mounted just down the hall but as I watched it I noticed there was no red light. It didn't work. I stepped aside so I was parallel to the door, pressed the key card to the screen and waited as it beeped, and the door opened. A spray of bullets came through the doorway before it had finished opening, I gripped my own weapon tightly and waited for the crucial seconds I would have when he had to stop to reload. Eventually he did stop, and I spun on my heel to fire into the room. When my own magazine ran out, I dropped the rifle to the floor and took the knife from my holster, raising it above my face as I slowly stepped into the room, he hadn't been caught by the fire but there was only so many places to hide in the small room. I saw the chain of keys on the desk where a bank of monitors sat, a view into every room of the Academy. How had I never noticed them before? They had watched us dance, train, sleep and they had watched me be tortured every night for a year.
"No one else has survived. You are not going to be the exception." I warned. The adrenaline that had flooded my system when the shooting had begun had subsided and I felt calm, almost tired.
"How scared can you be of a thirteen-year-old girl?" I questioned mockingly.
"Who said I'm scared?" He finally answered me, stepping out from a shadowed corner. A sadistic grin spread across his lips and I adjusted the grip on my knife as he lunged at me. He was almost manic, and the lack of control and planned moves caught me off guard. He took hold of my shoulders and lifted them up before slamming them back down into the desk and my neck snapped back violently, my head banging against the table, causing me to bite my tongue. I slashed my blade at him, but he slammed his hands down on my ears and I yelled out in pain as my ear drums began to ring loudly and my hearing became disorientated, it put me off balance. I thought he would take the opportunity to run or to kill me, but instead, he stood and laughed, mocking me. I closed eyes and waited for the ringing to dim, his laughing becoming clearer as my hearing began to return.
"You're no threat, little girl. Just some freak with alien DNA. HYDRA will get here in the morning and you will go to Siberia. If you're lucky they'll kill you quickly. If I'm lucky they'll torture you fi…"
I lunged forward and raised my hand, plunging the knife blade into his eye socket. I felt a crunch up the handle before I pulled it out again. He screamed out in pain and writhed around on the floor as I caught my breath and resumed my calm demeanour. I took the pistol from its holster and pulled the trigger and he was silenced instantly, the blood from his forehead wound combining with the blood seeping from his eye.
I took the keys from the desk and slowly, made my way to the main doors. All that had been between me and freedom was one single key. The Red Room was silent, and it would remain that way for the rest of time. I left the doors open, the starving wolves would smell the blood soon enough.
I marched out into the snow, the prevailing wind was bitterly cold, but my suit was surprisingly warm, and I welcomed the chance to feel the fresh air in my lungs when I'd been deprived of such a simple thing for so long.
A heavy military truck was parked to the side of the building and with a quick snap, the neck of the driver was broken, and he slumped out of the seat and to the frozen earth. There was no need to worry about concealing the body, the wildlife would take care of him too. I climbed into the truck, slammed the door and arranged the mirrors.
I'm not a child anymore, they killed her a long time ago. Elena Marakova doesn't exist, she died with her parents and unborn sibling in New York. There is only one name they will know me by and they will fear it until the day they die.
Scorpion.
I turned the key in the ignition, entirely calm for the first time in years. There was no threat hanging over my shoulders anymore. My time of being someone's puppet was over.
I've got no strings to hold me down…
The heavy truck eventually roared to life and I watched in the rear-view mirror as the Academy began to sink into the darkness behind me.
…to make me fret or make me frown…
Elena Marakova died a little girl in New York, all those years ago. The Red Room continued to chip away at the little girl until I'm all that's left.
…I once had strings, but now I'm free…
I pulled onto a deserted road and pressed my foot onto the accelerator and glancing at my reflection in the mirror, I smirked at the spattered blood that covered my skin.
…there are no strings on me.