A/N: Hi guys. No Winter Soldier in this one, sorry. But, don't worry, he'll be back next chapter ;)

Big thanks to Bluebox345, wandering with the wind, vanugh, cookie135, arthurcurrs, bunny-chan66, Toujours-Pur-XXX, ElliGordon and wicca7002 for following/favouriting. :)

Review Response(s):

loqui2332: I don't know whether to answer that in English or Spanish, but, since I can't actually speak Spanish, I'll stick to English. First, I'm glad you're enjoying it so far. Second, I don't know whether or not I'm doing civil war yet. Depends on how both this story series and the movie turns out.

6 - The Birth of Cynthia Jones

"Welcome to my humble abode!" Magnolia Cartwright said, flamboyantly throwing open her doors - yes, she had two doors, not one - and stepping aside so I could see her villa.

The walls and floors and all the inside stonework was a gleaming white, and a grand staircase led up to the other floor. It was all very open, and the design was something that rang a very dim bell in my head. I must have seen something similar in the past.

"It's very impressive, ma'am," I said. I'd been instructed to call her 'ma'am' by the woman herself. She was my superior now. And my instructor.

"I'm glad you like it," she said, preening. She then dramatically raised her hands and clapped twice. Instantly a gaggle of women dressed in baby pink dresses appeared, forming a neat line in front of the staircase. "These women are to wait on you for the duration of your stay," Magnolia told me. "But they will also aid me in teaching you etiquette. While I will be showing you how to dress and do your hair (among other things), they will be teaching you how to stand, walk, talk and eat like a lady. You will no doubt find that you will sometimes need such skills during your missions."

I nodded. "Of course, ma'am."

She smiled. "And while you are here I will not call you Silverthorn. That is a name you will have to abandon whenever you are required to be a lady. Thus, from now on, I shall call you... Ursula Jones, I think."

"Ursula Jones," I repeated slowly, tasting the name on my tongue. Honestly, I hated it. But it wasn't my choice.

Magnolia grimaced. "Oh, gosh, on second thought, that name doesn't suit you at all!" She hummed, then turned to her maids. "Girls, I want you each to list off a name to me, and I shall pick my favourite. Just a first name - I think Jones is a safe surname to go with."

"Jennifer."

"Scarlett."

"Maria."

"Anya."

"Cynthia."

"Vanessa."

"Lillian."

"Yvonne."

"Cecilia."

"Iris."

"Ruby."

Magnolia hummed thoughtfully again. "Cynthia," she decided on in the end. "Cynthia Jones is to be your formal name."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Excellent." Magnolia turned back to her servants. "Aimee, please lead Miss Jones to her room."

The only red haired woman stepped forward and bobbed into a curtsy in front of me. "If you'll follow me, ma'am," she said in a sweet but low voice, before turning and leading the way up the giant staircase. While her footsteps made little echoing taps, mine were soundless. Years of practice tended to do that.

Aimee led me to a room that was extravagantly furnished and everything was clearly very expensive.

"This is a beautiful room," I said to her, keeping my voice quiet enough that it wouldn't be heard on the other side of the open door.

"Only the best for Miss Cartwright's guests," Aimee said with a polite smile.

"So what is expected of me first?"

"That is my duty," an older woman said, her greying hair pulled into a tight and extraordinarily neat bun. "Thank you, Aimee, you may return to your other duties." Aimee curtsied again, then left the room quickly. The woman turned back to me. "While Miss Cartwright will be your teacher for most things to do with appearance, for tonight she has asked that I find you the correct apparel for dinner."

"Of course," I said, detecting that this woman was also above me in status, and so I had to follow her instructions to the letter. Not that I minded - even though I secretly loved the leather armour I wore on missions, I missed being able to dress up like a woman.

"Do you have a favourite colour, Miss Jones?"

I blinked, then said, "Honestly, I don't remember."

The old woman smiled. "That's quite alright. I'll just pick based on what I assume will suit you." She looked me over briefly, then disappeared into what I assumed to be a closet of some kind. After a minute of ruffling fabric, she came out with an elegant, silk dress that was dark blue with silver details, and a pair of pale blue heeled shoes. "If you'll allow me...?"

"Oh, yes, of course." I quickly began to unbuckle my armour, not failing to notice the woman's incredulous look as I pulled out twenty throwing knives and four daggers in addition to the two visible blades and single visible gun. When I was stood in little more than my skin she approached me with the dress and pulled it on over my head. The dress was incredibly silky, with a wide neckline and form-fitting sleeves. The skirt hovered a few inches off the ground. I had a feeling it was supposed to be closer to the floor than it was, but with the serum I was injected with, I became a little taller than the average woman. When I slipped into my shoes, the skirt was lifted even higher.

The woman then sat me down in front of a white vanity table and began to fiddle with my hair, wrapping it intricately and keeping into in place with so many pins it wasn't long before I thought there was probably more metal on my head than hair.

She smiled at me. "That is adequate for tonight. You are lucky you have such a flawless face, otherwise we could have been here for another hour!"

I smiled at her. "I was physically enhanced many years ago," I told her. "It stopped most skin blemishes from appearing. Believe me, I didn't used to be like this."

She smiled wanly, then said, "Miss Cartwright will no doubt be waiting for you in the dining room. It is the second door to the right of the staircase as you walk down it. Is that all, Miss Jones?"

"Yes, you've done beautifully. Thank you." I spoke with genuine sincerity in my tone, and the smile was also sincere. The woman curtsied, before disappearing out of the room. As soon as she was gone, I rolled my eyes. "I can't believe I'm being forced to do this," I grumbled. I did indeed like how I looked, and it was nice to feel like an ordinary woman again, but I knew I would be much more comfortable facing off fifty highly trained soldiers than sitting in a room with half a dozen boring, pompous rich people discussing incredibly dull things like politics or the latest fashions. At least if the war was still going on I'd be at least slightly interested in the topic. Swallowing back my derision, I walked down to the dining room, cringing as the uncomfortable shoes rubbed against my heels.

I already knew this was going to be a long stay.

"Can't sleep?"

I turned around to see Magnolia wearing a white nightdress, over which was a red silk robe.

"No, ma'am."

"Whyever not?"

I hesitated. "The bed is too soft," I said at last. "I've spent so long sleeping on a bed that is little more than a stretched piece of material, and now I am provided the luxury of a proper bed. It is disorientating - like I'm going to sink right through the mattress."

"I can find you a firmer mattress if it will make you more comfortable."

I stared at her in shock. "I wouldn't want to trouble you with my comfort-"

"Nonsense," Magnolia said strongly. "You'll be here for a while, and while our brothers and sisters over in Russia might not care for your wellbeing, I know you are more likely to work efficiently if you are well fed, comfortable and have had a good amount of sleep."

I resisted the urge to gape at her, instead simply smiling and saying, "Thank you, ma'am." The two of us fell into silence, until I broke it and cautiously said, "Permission to speak freely, ma'am?"

Magnolia arched a perfectly formed eyebrow. "Granted."

"How did you get involved in all this? With Hydra?"

Magnolia smiled tightly. "I tried to take them down."

I frowned. "And somehow ended up recruited?"

Magnolia hummed. "My father fought in the U.S. army during the war, and he was killed by a weapon built by Hydra. I was just a girl at the time, but I made it my life purpose to get revenge for his death. I broke into a Hydra base and was immediately captured by a girl who couldn't have been much older than I - I was only fifteen. For someone so young, she was very strong! Anyway, while I was held in a prisoner cell I had the ideals of the new Hydra drilled into my head. World peace brought about by control. Something in me found the idea extremely beautiful. It wasn't long before I'd signed myself over."

"And you train their female soldiers?"

Magnolia chuckled. "No, no. You're the first. I get them information - the same way you will by the time you're finished here."

"Seduction," I said.

Magnolia smiled. "If you want to see it that way. More often than not the men don't need help to be drawn in. As soon as they see something they like, it's like they're iron and you're a magnet. Barely any work involved at all."

I bit my bottom lip, before saying, "With all due respect, ma'am, I'm not sure I'm the best person for the job. I'm more muscles than curves, and a lot of men seem put off by a woman who has to look down to look them in the eye."

Magnolia chuckled. "To some, yes. To others, your being taller than them makes you a bigger challenge. It is impossible to properly work out how a man's mind works, but there will always be those who see a challenge when they see a taller woman. And you do yourself no credit - while you may pack a solid punch, you still have all your feminine curves as well. And if there is still doubt, there are ways to rectify that."

"I do hope you don't plan to squeeze me into a corset," I stated dryly, and Magnolia laughed, her voice like tinkling bells.

"Nothing quite so dramatic, I promise," she said with a smile. She placed a delicate hand on my shoulder. "Go back to bed, Cynthia. Even if you do not sleep, you can still rest."

"Yes, ma'am," I said, inclining my head slightly, before lightly brushing past her and heading back to my assigned bedroom.

I had been in San Francisco for just over a month. In that time, Magnolia had brutally drilled me on how to choose the perfect dress and how to do my hair in about three dozen different designs (most of which involved at least one braid of some kind). In addition to that I was taught how to walk and eat and God only knows how many other things like a lady should.

My back protested the torture for weeks, but then just a few days ago it finally stopped aching. Shoes with three inch heels were apparently the current fashion favourite, so I'd learnt how to walk in said shoes (without wobbling or bending my knees to compensate for the uneven foot position).

Today, Magnolia was going to attend a party. And she was dragging me with her, having decided it was time for me to be 'introduced to the new world', whatever that meant. So that was why I was stood in front of my mirror in a crimson red, knee-length party dress, with shining red shoes, braiding the top of my hair. The rest of my blonde locks had been puffed up so my hair was about twice its usual size. In my ears were a pair of outrageously large, gold hoops. My eyelashes were thick with black mascara, my lips were red, and so were my nails. Basically, I was the perfect image of red.

I thought I looked pretty ridiculous, but my personal maid, Julia, was practically tearing up she was grinning so wide. She was bubbly by nature, but apparently my outfit sent her over the edge, as she wouldn't stop saying how 'perfect' and 'charming' I looked.

Finally having enough of her constant chatter (and finally finishing off my hair), I turned around and placed a firm hand on each of her shoulders. "Julia," I said sternly, and she immediately pursed her lips together, though she was still smiling. "Take a deep breath, darling," I said with a grin, having discovered she actually liked being called that - this woman had more than a few strange idiosyncrasies.

"Sorry, Miss Jones," she said, bowing her head. "It's just... This is your first party! And you've dressed up so perfectly I just couldn't not say anything."

"I don't mind you making a comment," I told her, still grinning. "You don't need to go on and on and on, though."

She blushed. "Sorry, miss."

I squeezed her shoulder gently, silently telling her it was fine. I then turned away and went into my closet. After making sure Julia couldn't see me, I started to strap knives and daggers (and my single pistol) to my skin, so they were hidden by my dress. Old habits die hard, and innocent little Julia didn't actually know the truth behind the reason for my etiquette training. She didn't know who - what - I was. And I didn't want to be the one to drop that particular bombshell on her.

When I came back into my room, Julia was busy sorting out the mess I'd made on my vanity table.

"You know you didn't have to do that," I said, making her jump.

"How on Earth can you walk so quietly in heels?" she asked, clearly without thinking, because a second later her eyes widened and she placed her hands over her mouth, cheeks flaming. "I'm sorry, that was far too-"

I chuckled. "It's fine. I may be forced to act like it, but I'm about the furthest thing from a 'proper lady' as you can get." I smiled. "And in answer to your question, I've just had lots of practice." I glanced at the clock on the wall. "Oops. I should have been downstairs like... almost ten minutes ago. Bye, Julia!"

"Have fun, Miss Jones!" she called after me as I darted out of the room. After checking no one was looking, I swung myself over the railings of the second floor indoor balcony, landing on the balls of my feet so I didn't snap my heels. I then walked briskly outside, where Magnolia was already waiting. "Sorry I'm late, ma'am; I had to make a few last minute touches to my hair."

Magnolia turned and smiled at me. "It's fine - we can afford to be fashionably late. And it seems your extra efforts paid off - you look stunning. Red suits you."

I smiled sheepishly. "Thank you, ma'am."

Magnolia shook her head. "For tonight you're not my student. You're my friend. So, please, call me Magnolia."

I nodded. "As you wish."

Magnolia turned and headed towards the sleek, black car that was waiting for us. While she went to the far side, I climbed in to the closest side, a man in a smart suit holding the door open for me. I smiled slightly in thanks to him.

Once we were moving, Magnolia turned to me. "I just want to reiterate: this is not a mission. No end goal. No plan. Just putting your training into practice in the real world. Understood?"

"Of course."

Magnolia nodded. "Good. Now, I'm meeting a few friends there. You are to be on your best behaviour, and don't be afraid to show off you womanly assets."

I pursed my lips. "I... don't think I'll be doing that, Magnolia. It really isn't one of my skills."

Magnolia laughed. "There you go again, talking like what is natural has to first be learned. Cynthia, honey, when are you going to understand that being a woman shouldn't require any effort beyond picking the right clothing? Let the men come to you and worship the very ground beneath your feet."

I raised an eyebrow at her. "The day that happens is the day I tie myself to a chair and offer myself to be shipped to Africa," I stated dully.

Magnolia rolled her eyes. "Keep the cynicism in check, hon. It is unbecoming of a lady."

"Unfortunately it goes against my nature to be a lady," I muttered under my breath, and Magnolia giggled.

"You certainly are a strange woman," she agreed with a wide smile. "Nothing wrong with that, of course, although you are arguably the strangest I've ever come across."

I stared at her, then blinked and pointed out, "I killed the President."

She smiled, that dark gleam that I hadn't seen since the day I met her appearing in her eyes. And I finally worked out what it was: blood lust. "Yes, that's very true." She sighed through her nose. "Well," she chirped, brightening again, "we'll be at our destination in just a moment. Remember - back straight, hands flat, and impeccable manners. One of my friends - Francesco Deviano - comes from a high-born family in Italy, and I've even singing praises about you louder than a canary. So don't disappoint."

I almost rolled her eyes with how much importance she put on a good first impression, but instead simply nodded my head.