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I woke up in a twin bed with the feeling of a hand near mine above my head. I looked up fast, more alert with my heart pumping adrenaline through me from the unexpected change of environment. The lady didn't smile at me and instead just unclipped a handcuff from the bed frame to release me before moving on to the next girl. I sat up cautiously, rubbing my wrist after it had been so unceremoniously cinched down in a handcuff and looking around at the room around me.

The girl behind me stayed seated on her bed and so did the girls in the other rows of twin beds. It was a quiet experience that left a sick feeling in my stomach while I looked around the room wondering what I was supposed to do and where I even was. For a second I contemplated standing up, but the rest of the girls keeping themselves down pushed that idea away. Instead, I sat there quietly, wondering how I ended up wearing a white nightgown, and how I still somehow had my gloves.

Just tucked under my bed was a box that I could feel with my heels, and looking around the room, I could easily see the trunk hiding under every other young girl's bed. It had to be some sort of issued product like the night gown I now had on.

The lady turned and stopped back in the doorway of the room, standing stiff and watching us. A loud Russian command left her mouth and while I could've translated, I didn't have to. All the girls got up and started to make their bed, forcing me to follow along like I'd done this before or something. I wasn't really sure where to ask questions yet, so I just listened instead, knowing I'd been tricked into something I did not want to be a part of. Something told me it was better to listen though.

If I could muster the courage, I could face the pain that would come with praying to be elsewhere. Sure, I didn't know if it would actually work, but wanting Bucky almost seemed to do the trick before. If this got bad, it was worth the pain.

Another russian command was shouted and the girls ducked down for their trunks, me following along like a good little robot girl. I picked up the trunk labeled with a number engraved on the top.

'273'

Our lady up front had given the command for a dress, so that's what I put on while side-eyeing the other girls to make sure I was doing it right.

"LET ME GO!"

Some of the girls including me looked toward the door where the shout had come from, but the lady at the door glared at us when we did. There was something chilling about that strange girl shouting out in the hall. It seemed so close to familiar that I had a hard time placing exactly where I'd heard her before.

"You think yer gettin' me in a dress!" The girl shouted again. "Yer whistling dixie!"

I cringed in the fast silence that fell over the room outside after a loud smack was heard. That was enough to keep me tying my shoes and minding my business while that voice tempted my memory. Pulling a little box out of my trunk, I frowned as I noticed almost all the other girls were standing ready to go. I popped it open and sighed in relief when I saw the canisters of liquid nitrogen. Whoever had dressed me and put my hair up in two braids had probably tried and failed to take off my gloves without noticing how my skin burned. At least this meant that I was avoiding the trouble of being forced to transport instantly around the world if my hands got hot again.

I closed the box back up and tucked my trunk under the bed with the other girls, being the last to stand up straight and wait for direction. I was obedient to the commands out of confusion and in hope that I'd figure out what was happening without causing trouble or getting smacked like that girl outside. I felt like I'd been dropped into a game of chess except that all my pieces had been hidden and so had my opponents. In fact, I still wasn't quite sure yet who my opponent even was.

Did they really know where Lily's father was? Or had I been tricked by the enemy into helping them win the war?

It would explain the russian.

"STANOVIS!"

I moved to fall into two lines with the other girls and the lady opened the door in front of us. We walked out in our line, keeping its shape as we all filed out. When I exited the door, I could see the hallway stretching down toward a big window in both directions. To my left, there was another door where girls were filing out of, and from my right, the door was still shut, but a woman was working to unlock it.

The girls that were exiting their room too to head down the hallway directly ahead of us had to stop so that we could leave first. With them was a horribly familiar set of blue eyes and brown hair. A girl I knew all too well locked eyes with me and made me stop in my tracks in shock. The miserable expression on her face shifted too when she looked at me.

"Mary?" She took a step toward me and I did the same toward her.

"Barb?"

A tight hand gripped my wrist and I was yanked back into line by our leading lady and her mean glare. "Keep walking."

I swallowed hard and ducked my head down, shuffling back into a spot in the line to leave again while Barb gave me a horribly forlorn look. She was intimidated back into place too and we both resumed prompt obedience for whatever hell hole we fell into. But at the very least, I now knew where one of my pieces lay in this chess game. And I also knew that there was no way I would leave this place without her.

We marched down a set of stairs into a dining room where we lined up and collected a very balanced meal. We all ate in silence before being ushered out into, what I assumed, was our first class of the day, until a projector was put up and Snow White was played in front of us. We watched it through twice with everyone reading along with what Snow was saying as if they'd done this before. The second time through I had it almost memorized, so I was actually able to follow along.

"What's your name?" A girl asked me, making me jump at the sound of hearing one of them speak. "I'm Lucy."

We had been tucked into a changing room with assigned cubbies that held tights, small skirts, a tight top and ballet slippers.

"Mary," I sat down to pull on my slippers with her. "Do you know what this place is?"

"The Red Room." She replied easily, getting another girl to migrate over to us. "That's what the older girls call it at least."

"There's older girls?" I looked toward the door with a frown, still with Barb on my mind. "How long have you been here?"

"Since I was six."

I looked back at her again as we both stood up. "Are we not allowed to talk in other rooms? And are we doing ballet?"

"Technically, we're not supposed to talk here." She lowered her voice a little to be quieter. "But they haven't stopped us yet. You caught on quick with this all. I thought for sure you'd try to run like that other girl."

I shrugged at that. "I can't run if I don't know where I'm going."

She nodded and gestured at her friend. "This is Jo."

"Why do you have gloves?" Jo asked immediately, giving me a suspicious look. "They should've taken all your things."

"I…have a medical condition." I winced, rubbing the back of my neck.

"Then they should've left you." She scoffed back, crossing her arms. "Only the best and the prettiest girls are a part of this. You're supposed to be chosen based on your genetics. Why would they pick someone who has any medical problems?"

"I don't know." I tucked my hands back behind me as if to hide them. "I just am. I didn't choose to come here."

"Red hair is kinda weird too." Lucy added with a frown. "They prefer blonde and brown with blue eyes. Only one of the older girls has red hair."

I shrugged again haphazardly, "I don't know. I don't want to be here either."

"No one wants to be here."

Jo shook her head in response to her friend. "Some of us want to."

"You're american, aren't you?" I asked, "Doesn't that mean you'd want to fight for our side? Not the Soviets?"

"Most of the girls here are Russian." Jo shrugged at me. "We all win if the war ends. Plus it's right there for our purpose here. You'll find out on Wednesday when we watch older girls fight. To be built to perfection isn't really something I'd turn my back on."

"Well, some of us didn't go willingly." Lucy rolled her eyes. "I just follow along now because one day they let you out on real jobs. When they let me out on missions when I'm older, I'll just leave and they'll never find me again."

I narrowed my eyes at that with pursed lips. "You don't want to leave now? And what do you mean 'built to perfection'?"

"Speed, Stealth, Charisma, and Strength." Lucy smiled proudly, "I'll be just like the older girls and the graduates. They all know the pledge, but I guess we don't learn it until later."

"And…" I blinked at her in shock, looking around at the other girls next. "You're really okay with it all? All you care about is ending the war? Even if the bad guys win?"

"Both sides are bad in war." Lucy replied, her smile fading. "No one really wins until it's over."

The door opened back up and the lady ordered us to file back out, effectively ending our conversation. I listened with the other girls and in no time I was being ushered into the absolute worst ballet class of my life. We practiced for two hours, with only one water break, until my legs and feet were screaming in pain.

I did my best to keep up but none of my moves were ever good enough for the teacher. Again and again she forced me in front of the class just to tell me I failed. My hands and legs were smacked countless times with a small wooden stick that afternoon.

"Feel the pain, Masha." Belyaev ordered in her thick Russian accent. "Focus on it and make it work for you. We do not have space for weakness."

My hands shook and my holding leg trembled in the held retiré position. I was struggling to stay balanced enough since the pain on the balls of my feet had started to become excruciating.

"Hold." She snapped again, holding the stick up to the small of my back. "Grand Plié second position. Everyone else. You can all hold until Masha stops shaking like a little girl."

The other girls changed positions to go down into a Grand Plié.

I must've stood like that for half an hour, trying desperately to do what she said, but still failing to do it right. When I got myself to stop shaking she'd say I was too low, then when I got higher, my back and neck weren't long enough.

Eventually the other girls were freed and sent to lunch. This did not mean I was released. Instead, I was told to switch legs and hold the same again. It was horrible and I wanted to leave, but I kept myself from wishing. If I left now, Barb would be all alone and I didn't know what horrors they were putting her through or what they would put her through if I didn't find a way for us both to leave. So, I held strong.

Until the sun was setting in the big window beside me and even my head throbbed from the tension on my whole body. A few times I was sure I would pass out, but somehow I wasn't even allowed that mercy.

"Disgusting." Belyaev scoffed finally, "You miss your combat class, your strategy match, and your arithmetic all because you are in pain. The headmaster will be just as disgusted as I am."

I was released and felt like I was walking funny when I entered the dining room where all the other girls were already eating dinner at the tables. My legs ached and still shook a little with my hands while I picked up a made tray and sat down. The canisters of water and milk I got were emptied almost the second I sat down. Next, I dug right into that plain chicken that seemed to be the only thing they served in this place.

The oddest thing of it all was how not one girl looked up at me when I entered. Lucy and Jo seemed completely unbothered when I took the open seat across from them, not even looking up at me as if it were a regular day.

Later that night, after our showers, she seemed concerned though.

"Did you make the whole day there?" She asked, "Or did they send you to the infirmary after you passed out?"

"I didn't pass out." I whispered back, hearing how other girls held small conversations around us too. "I had to switch legs once and I got whacked a few times. My feet really hurt."

"Jo passed out." Lucy smiled, "I didn't though."

"Do they make everyone do it?"

She shook her head, "No, only if they want to single you out. Which…happens a lot, but some girls started here and never got singled out."

I rolled the rest of the way onto my side with my handcuffed hand behind me on the bed frame so I could face her in her bed beside mine. "Are the other girls mad, do you think?"

She shook her head again with a smile. "Belyaev would've made us hold a position at the end anyways. I'm just happy she didn't put us in fourth position plié. Then I would've been singled out."

"She has bad positioning in fourth." Jo provided from my right. "Her knees don't turn the right way."

"Your punches are weak." Lucy shot back at her friend. "I always beat you during combat."

Jo scoffed at that and rolled back over. "Whatever."

A loud Russian command was heard from the hallway and our door pushed open, making everyone hush in an instant. I shut my eyes and pretended to be asleep while the sound of footsteps marched down the aisle toward us. Our lady guide, Pavlov, stopped in front of Jo's bed and unlocked her handcuff.

"Up."

I opened one eye just a little to see Jo get up as commanded and pick up her trunk from under the bed. Another girl stood beside Pavlov and I did my best to contain my smile when I saw who it was. Jo was ushered down the aisle into the empty bed beside Lucy's and Barb was ordered into the bed that Jo had previously occupied.

I was beyond excited as soon as Barb was handcuffed down and so was Jo. Then, without another word, Pavlov marched back out of the room and shut the door behind her.

"Hey," Lucy smiled at her friend. "We're close again."

"Barb?" I whispered over to her. "Are you okay?"

Barb smiled a little when she saw me. "I'm fine. I want to go home."

"I'll get us home, don't worry." I tried to give her a comforting smile, "I just gotta figure out what this place is first."

"I'm really bad at ballet." Barb mumbled, tucking the blanket up close to her face. "And fighting it seems."

"They make us fight?"

"I think I'm gonna have bruises." Barb confirmed, "'Cause these girls hit hard."

It seemed that this routine was going to keep itself up for a while since we did the same thing every day all week. In that time, I grew a slight resentment for my ballet teacher and the bland chicken we had at dinner every night. I also made some enemies with the other girls in hand combat classes, learned the entire script to Snow White, and got very bored in math and writing classes.

On what I counted to be a Saturday, we were actually granted the choice in what we wanted to do that morning after a Russian reading session that Barb struggled with more than I did. I wanted to go practice fighting or strategy games with Lucy and the majority of the other girls, but I was a bit stubborn in comparison and had a bigger plan in mind. So, instead, I joined one other girl that I didn't know in the ballet studio with Belyaev. The woman hid her surprise well, but I knew she was when I stepped in there with the other girl who seemed to speak mostly Russian.

"My weakest." Belyaev taunted me from the moment I stepped in. "You want to feel more pain? I'm surprised."

I remained silent and lined up at the barre, raising my leg onto it to stretch with the other girl.

"Answer." Belyaev commanded, coming up to me with the stick. "Why have you returned by choice?"

"I want to get over the pain." I stood up a little straighter, making sure to keep my chin up too before bending over my leg to stretch it. "So that I don't feel it anymore."

"You do not stop the pain." She huffed, folding her hands behind her while I moved back upright to switch legs on the barre. "You make it work for you."

I glared at her in frustration at that. "You keep saying that. That doesn't mean anything."

She raised the stick in a flash, holding it under my chin before I had a chance to react to it. "I should ruin you for talking back like you have. Break your neck before you take your last breath. But this-"

She smacked my hand just at the point on my fingers where the gloves ended, making me flinch.

"This, and your mind, are something special to the headmaster." She whacked my hip hard, making me bite my lip to hold in a whimper. "I will work you hard today before he calls for you. Perhaps you'll make a fool of yourself walking into his office if I try hard enough. Now! Off the barre!"

It was a tougher ballet class than any of the others I'd experienced this week. Soon she had me doing spins over and over until I felt like I'd be sick. Then she had me take off my slippers until a hole wore in my tights and the skin on the bottom of my feet was rubbed raw from the moves. The other girl didn't have to endure such torture.

For a moment I regretted my choice, but I already knew what I was working for. So with every painful turn, I let myself hate this whole place even more.

I hated them for ripping me from my home. I hated them for making me an enemy of my own country. And I hated them for being elusive and hiding all their pieces in this chess game. Well, they were in for a surprise because they hadn't yet captured my queen. In fact, they had no idea my queen even existed - keeping me one step ahead of them all this time.

And I was going to keep it that way until I absolutely couldn't anymore.

"Masha," A monitor appeared in the doorway after hour two of our practice, "The Headmaster demands your presence."

"The mission won't be able to be run for at least two months now!"

"Where is your technology, Stark?" Phillips demanded, "You cannot possibly be relying on that girl for help."

"I'm doing my best!" Stark shouted back, "And I don't need her to get things done but it does damn well help to know that she's not dead!"

"You need to pull it together!" Phillips slammed his fist down on the table.

"And you need to find my best friend's daughter!"

"Don't you have a journal of hers-"

"For the last time, Jenkins-" Howard snapped at him. "I don't need her mind to get things done! I need her safe!"

"Just get us our weapons." Phillips got up then, motioning the other bigwigs along with him. "And you best be keeping this news to yourself. The last thing we need-"

"Is Rogers being more distracted," Howard interjected bitterly, "Yeah, I got that."

Jarvis was waiting for Howard in the lab when he returned, just solidifying that shitty feeling.

"Explain the blue cloud to me again." Jarvis requested gently, keeping steady eyes on Howard as he sat back down.

"Jarvis-"

"We've checked everywhere she knows." Jarvis interrupted his plea, "Where else could she be?"

"She might not have disappeared like that." Howard sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Someone could've heard about her smarts and grabbed her. A spy of sorts. You said her window was open. And her journal on the front step. Maybe someone grabbed her."

"She wouldn't be looking for Barnes?"

Howard hesitated to answer that because he honestly didn't know. There was a chance she would go looking for him, but Howard didn't think she'd really be that desperate.

"We'll find her." Howard replied finally, "Or she'll come back to us. I'm sure she's alright somewhere."

Jarvis looked around before finding a seat for himself too. "We should have kept her closer after we got news of her brother."

"There's no one to blame here." Howard slid her notebook over in front of him and flipped it open to one of the monstrosities she'd imagined up right after finding out about Barnes. "We'll get her back."

He didn't know how good his word was on that though considering that he was pretty sure she could appear anywhere she wanted just by wanting to enough. If she was somewhere and still alive, she just didn't want to come home yet. Or…she was afraid to because of the consequences that came with blue-cloud travel.

Mary was clearly feeling a bit of anger too right before she disappeared. At least, that's what Howard could gather after reading through her nightmare creations that she'd dreamt up that night. Dendrotoxin was one that caught his attention, but he ended up settling on the least horrifying of her work- a forearm rocket launcher. Building something like that would keep Phillips off his back for a while while he tried to sort everything out with his missing mentee.

He needed all the time he could get.

"Sit."

I complied and sat down across from this man at his desk, eyeing their King carefully.

"You are a very smart girl, Masha," He started with a smile. "I say, we did not expect the surprise you came with."

He raised his hands as if to demonstrate.

I just stared back, not speaking up unless I was going to be told to.

"You want to help your friend's father, yes?" He asked, making me perk up immediately and nod. "Good. I have work for you tomorrow morning. A strategy ploy for you only."

This changed the game a little too. After a full week of being here, I wasn't so sure Rose's father was ever a piece in this game in the first place. Our Headmaster seemed pretty sure of himself though.

"You may ask."

"What kind of strategy game?" I asked quickly, "Why just for me?"

"Not a game." He shook his head. "The real thing. You will tell us how to get him out with minimal casualties and in exchange we will release him."

"And send him home?"

The Headmaster smiled at that. "We are sure his friends will come get him when they know he is well."

"We're not fighting with the allies, are we?"

"Masha," He leaned forward with an almost 'coo' to his voice as if he were trying to settle an angry cat. "We are all working to end a war now. The Black Widow operation does not choose simple sides like the English and the Germans. We are a part of something bigger. After all is said and done out there, we will all still be here to serve our leader's intentions."

I wanted to tell him he is stupid to think I'd fight for anyone other than my own home country, but I knew now wasn't really the time to trash talk my opponent. It was, however, nice to finally meet him.

"Why do you treat me different?" I asked, "My ballet instructor said she'd break my neck if I wasn't favored."

"We know what kind of mind you have on your shoulders." He slid his coffee mug closer to himself, "And we know how that kind of mind can be molded with the ambition you carry. You want to be the best and that is what we make here. You…I'm sure…will make an excellent killer."

I felt my jaw slacken a little in shock before I clenched it shut again and looked away. "Killer?"

"The world out there is not made of games, Masha." He rose from his seat and rounded the desk to touch my cheek with the side of his forefinger. "We will make you into a weapon. And I know you will submit. You feel it already. How you can't wait to get up and eat the food we prepare for you…how you sit down in the same chair to watch Snow White…how you love to cook and clean and keep house for those seven dwarves…"

My blood ran cold, sending a shiver down my spine as I flinched from the touch. His words poured an awful feeling into my gut.

"Already, you have chosen a day of pain instead of quiet study." He slid his hand back to pet my hair. "You beg to control it. To make the pain work for you instead of submitting to the power it holds over you. Soon, you will crave the pain as you desire control over it."

"I want…"

"You have no wants here other than to be who we will make you." He continued over me while I felt sick. "My daughter, you will one day be unable to feel as you do now. Do not fear. Tomorrow you will save a friend. And in one month, you will be forced to save yourself."

One month.

That was my new timeline to work with. I may not know all the pieces in my game, but I knew how long our game could last. They were hardly metaphorical here, so I took what he said to be the truth. And while so much of what he said about craving my routine was right, he was wrong about my choice for ballet this morning.

I had half a plan and no back-ups. With my timeline set at one month, I needed to double down on my practice before robbing this place of everything I could. I was making the most out of this place and then leaving. If this place existed in between the war, it would be no trouble for me after I was gone and helping Mr. Stark end the world again.

In the end, the Headmaster would be right. Tomorrow I'd save Mr. Anderson, and in one month, I'd be forced to save myself.