Her first mission was simple:storm the ballroom leading all of them behind her, and give them a show of strength. Hydra did this to it's donors that suddenly had a change of heart, showing them that backing was not an option.
Kill everyone except for him, a simple mission.
One she delighted in.
Her anger had simmered down to a slow boil, not as all encompassing as it was. But that left space for another emotion.
Rage.
It was February 4th, in Northern Russia.
It was cold.
But she was born of the cold, her soul forged in the icy depths of freezing water.
She was in her element.
They broke the doors with a clatter and she let her whip come out of her hand. Power surged through her body and she felt herself smile.
It felt good to be in charge.
She could hear bullet casings hit the floor at a rapid pace, screams of all pitches tones ringing through the ball room.
Isn't it grand?
She found him, huddled in the corner, tears streaming down his face. For a Duke, he was weak.
She raised her whip, and he screamed.
They said she wasn't supposed to kill him.
There was a lot of blood, but she followed the rules.
She always followed the rules.
No exceptions.