Natasha sat in a solitary room whose sole décor was a wooden desk, chair and a supply of pencils. Madame delivered three booklets and simply explained that she had as much time as she needed to complete them. She wouldn't be allowed to leave until they were complete.

No time for though or emotions, Natasha reminded herself. She worked through the booklets full of scenarios, terminology and questions. Her fingers ached after 10 scenarios where she had to divulge her plans in written form. Identify potential risks, and detail weapons and tactics she'd use to complete the mission.

She set her pencil down and looked around the room. She had finished. In seconds the door opened and Madame swept in to collect the tests.

"It will be a few minutes before we will know your scores. You will be interviewed in the meantime." Madame informed and left the room.

Interviewed? Natasha stood up and faced the door. Who would be interviewing her? What would they interview her about? This she hadn't expected.

A man she had never seen before entered the room. He sat and motioned for her to sit. "No need to be frightened, Natasha. I am here to have a conversation with you."

"I am not frightened." She stated coolly and sat.

"Wonderful." He agreed and watched her for a few moments. She had already eyed him for weapons. Wondering if this was a trick or a set up. "Who are you?"

She kept her face void of emotion. "You already know that." She responded. He had called her by name already.

He nodded, "Yes. Is that the answer you want them to hear?" He nodded toward the door. Of course others were listening.

No that was not her answer. "I am whoever they need me to be. I am no one." She fixed her blue eyes on him.

"You are so young. Haven't you missed out on growing up?" He replied.

"I grew up here. I've trained here and they raised me."

The man nodded, "That isn't what I asked."

Natasha breathed slowly, "You want to know if I regret this. If I resent anything." She cocked her head to the side and paused, "I can save you a lot of time then. I regret nothing." She said it so smoothly, so effortlessly that she almost believed herself.

He looked surprised. "I'm happy for you then. But I just find it hard to believe."

She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms, "I don't care if you believe me or not. It's the truth."

"Is it really?" He pressed. "A beautiful young girl like you. You're okay with missing out on boys, dates, and dresses?"

"Dresses are impractical. I didn't need to grow up to figure that out." She said evenly. "Why should it matter to you if I regret not having boyfriends and dating?"

He sighed, "I'll be the one asking the questions Miss Romanova." He seemed to be frustrated with her. Did he know something and his prying wasn't getting a rise out of her like he had expected?

"Well ask better ones then." She said sharply.

"It's not right what these people have done to you." He said after a long minute of silence.

He was baiting her. Picking topics to test the waters. This interview was a test of her compliance. It wasn't enough to be strong, skilled and intelligent. She had to whole-heartedly believe in the program. She had to show she couldn't be swayed.

Natasha didn't respond, she only fixed her gaze on him. He nodded slowly, "Your silence is more telling than anything you could say, Natasha."

She sat back in her chair and shook her head. He stood up and paced the room in a slow path around her.

"I work for an organization that rescues child soldiers like you. They think I'm interviewing you. Natasha, help me help you. You don't deserve this life. You have a future ahead of you. You don't need to make this the only life you'll ever know." He looked so convincing. A lesser person probably would have believed him. Natasha would not fall for it.

"I have a future. I don't need you or any organization rescuing me." She breathed evenly as she spoke.

"Time is running out to save you. You do know what they'll do to you tomorrow? Don't you?" He replied.

Yes in a sense she knew what would happened tomorrow. Just not the fine details. "I don't see why you need to care so much. I've told you I do not need saving. Tomorrow is just another test."

What she didn't expect for his response was the gun he produced from a holster under his jacket. The cool metal of the barrel pressed against her temple the second after he grabbed her from behind and tugged her head back with a fist full of hair.

She had grossly miscalculated the man interviewing her. She breathed quickly and gripped her chair. "You're going to kill me for not letting you rescue me?"

"Stand up, Miss Romanova. You are coming with me whether you like it or not." He yanked her hair. She hissed and slowly stood up.

"You'll never get me out of here alive. You'll be dead before you open the door." She said surely. There's no way he could get her through the academy without being seen. What she didn't understand was where her test began and ended. Was this real or fabricated now. Could someone have really infiltrated the Red Room poised as a psychologist for an interview.

"This is a test, it isn't real." She looked at the door. Somewhere people were watching. Evaluating her every move.

"I assure you it isn't a test. Let me help you remember that." The barrel left her head. In the split second he moved Natasha broke his hold and swung her leg upwards. Her foot connected with his jaw the moment the gun fired.

White hot, searing pain erupted from her side. Blood blossoming from a wound above her hip. She staggered to the wall, gasping for the air that had been knocked from her lungs.

The man pointed the gun at her again. A phone procured from his pocket.

"What are you doing?" Natasha doubled her efforts to stand and face him.

He dialed a number, "You are leaving with me, and this place will be shut down immediately."

She hadn't worked this hard today and every day for the past 8 years to be taken captive and locked up. She was too highly trained to be treated fairly by any foreign agency or government. She would just be killed to save them the trouble,

She swung her leg outward as he momentarily looked at the phone to check a number. The gun sailed out of his hand. Even injured, she was quicker than him. She slid to the ground, grasping the fallen gun and wasting a single bullet between his eyes.

The phone hit the ground first, then his lifeless body. She clutched the gun, and stemmed the flow of blood with her free hand. Nothing made sense now. Was it a test or not? Had she suddenly been "lucky" and had a random person try to kill her? The combined fatigue, mental and physical exhaustion broke her down. The psychological battery she had just survived left her questioning her motives and the motives of the Red Room.

The door flew open and 5 soldiers walked in. Madame and the commander followed in behind them.

"Natasha… Drop the weapon." Madame ordered quickly.

Natasha's grip on the gun did not falter. James, the soldier in the middle stepped forward.

"Drop the weapon, or we will be forced to take it from you." He warned.

Natasha looked up at him then to Madame. "I don't understand. What was the test?"

Was it the interview or her killing a man? Was it real or staged. Did the academy somehow get infiltrated?

James turned to his commander. "Sir… I believe she's in shock."

The soldier to his right nodded.

"Did I pass?" Natasha breathed. Her lips felt numb. "I don't feel good.." She blinked.

James snatched the gun from her hand and handed it to the soldier beside him. The commander yelled something into his radio device. James and another soldier hauled her off the ground. James took her into his arms as the other soldier pressed a temporary bandage to the wound on her abdomen.

Natasha was aware James running, but she felt like she was outside of her body. Accompanied by another soldiers, James didn't talk to her. The last thing she remembered was her body being set on cold steel table and blinding white lights.