Author's note – I'm using the movie versions of the characters as opposed to the comic book versions, so as not to confuse those who have only seen the movies. But I do highly recommend the comic books themselves!

Africa, 1995…

I wasn't sure why we were going to Africa. Stryker never thought it necessary to tell me what was going on. I don't know why his secrets bothered me so much, when everyone else just seemed to go along. But I was fourteen, and I guess I was just at that age when everyone and everything pissed me off in some fashion. But still…I had a bad feeling about Africa. It wasn't like our other missions. It was darker. Even the plane ride felt wrong. Stryker was quiet. Zero was quiet; in fact the only one really talking much at all was Wade. But then again, he really never shut up.

I remember sitting between Wade and John. Why do I remember such a small detail? Because I, in the grandeur of puberty, was thrilled to the bone whenever near Wade. And I remember Viktor sat across from me. Why do I remember that? I promise that it wasn't pleasure I felt while near him. It was utter nausea and fear. Wade smiled, Viktor leered.

Wade was polishing one of his swords and talking about them in the way, normal people would talk about their children. At least I assumed that was what normal people talked about. I had been surrounded by an all male team of killers for five years. For all I knew, they were the normal ones.

I watched as Wade leaned forward, glancing at Viktor. "I love these swords more than anything else in the world. Want to know why?" he asked Viktor. Viktor snarled and replied with a soft no. Wade gave a chuckle.

"I do," I told him, sitting up straighter in my seat. Wade didn't even look at me; he just continued staring at Viktor, a small glint in his eyes.

"They're memorable," he told him. "Sure they're bulky, tough to get on planes…but whip out a couple of swords at your ex girlfriend's wedding, and it will be a day they never, ever forget."

"Did you really do-" I started to ask but Viktor spoke over me.

"I'm sorry Wade, but I think you've mistaken me for someone who gives a shit." I crossed my arms and sat back in a huff. I glanced over at Jimmy, who more and more I began to call Logan, who was looking terribly ill. I knew he hated flying, and Bradley certainly didn't help with his midflight aerobatics.

I shifted my attention once more to Wade. "Granted they may not be as intimidating as a gun, bone claws, or say the fingernails of a bag lady…" In all my maturity, I let out a small giggle at Wade's jab at Viktor. Before I knew it, I felt Viktor's hand around my neck. He pulled me out of my seat and brought me close to his face. I had been so scared. I couldn't breathe as I tried to pry his hand from my tiny neck.

"Viktor, put her down," Logan ordered. Wade had stood up, his hand on the hilt of his sword. I felt myself losing consciousness when Logan spoke again. "I mean it, Viktor." Suddenly I felt myself crumple to the floor. I coughed and gasped for breath. As I looked up at Viktor, he sneered.

"You ever laugh at me again," he threatened, "and I'll rip out your throat." He leaned back while I stood and returned to my seat next to Wade's. He was still standing, looking very angry. When Wade finally did return to his seat, I glanced over at him, massaging my throat. I felt blood. Wade sighed and from out of nowhere, whipped out a pink band aid. He placed it where Viktor's nails broke skin and patted me on the head. I was in Heaven.

Looking back, I was an idiot. There I was: fourteen, pubescent, and utterly in love with the man who murdered my brother. There are so many things that don't register for teenage girls. The only thought that can bring me any solace at all in my innate lack of common sense is that it wasn't just me. Every teenage girl I see nowadays has that same pathetic glow of awkward puppy love that I am sure I wore around Wade.

Excuse me, I digress. As I watched Wade continue to polish his swords, I became lost in my thoughts once more. I didn't even realize Stryker was calling my name until Zero promptly leaned over and smacked my head.

"Ow!" I cried. "I'm sorry, what?" I glared angrily at Zero who had gone back to loading his guns.

"Nadya." I looked up at Stryker as he beckoned me to join him with his hand. He sat up front near Bradley. Throughout my years working with…working for Stryker, I came to notice something. He was not a happy man. I didn't know why, and I certainly had no intention of asking him now.

"Yes sir?" I asked, sitting down next to him. "I'm sorry I caused a fight…"

"What?" he asked impatiently. "No, it's fine. I just need to talk to you about the mission."

"Really?" I was shocked. He never felt the need to include me on planning. I was basically a human shield to make sure no one (especially him) was shot.

"I just want to make sure you're feeling all right. You've been lazy as of late, and frankly, tonight there will be no room for you goofing around or ignoring orders. I'm sick of your attitude, Nadya. I won't have it anymore." He gave me a hard look. "Do you understand?"

I couldn't answer. I was shocked. Here I thought he was maybe letting me in on a little secret, while in fact I was being chastised. "Goofing off, Sir?" I asked. I do admit that here, I allowed some attitude to creep into my voice.

"I don't recall requesting you to answer my question with another question. Do you understand or don't you?" Bradley was looking at me quizzically, which only angered me further.

"What Bradley? Do I have something on my face?" I shouted, ignoring Stryker's question once more.

"What- no…" he replied in a confused way.

"Right here Nadya!" Stryker barked. "This is what I'm talking about. Your attitude is unacceptable." I could feel myself getting more irritated by the second. And by now, the rest of the team was watching the exchange.

"Unacceptable?" I asked. "What do you mean? I do everything you tell me, you order and I follow. You're being completely unfair!" I cried. At this point, my anger was about to cross that narrow line into hysteric. "You don't yell at anyone else like this!"

At this point Logan stood up. "He's not yelling, Nadya," he explained, trying in vain to calm me.

"Yes he is! And you're taking his side too," I shrieked. Tears were now rolling down my face and I could hardly contain myself anymore. "You are all such assholes! All of you." I glared at each of the men who just watched me in complete confusion and slight nervousness.

"But Nadya," Logan tried again. I think Stryker had given up. He was rubbing his temples and glaring at the floor in anger. He liked to let Logan deal with me when I became upset.

"No!" I shouted. I could feel myself shaking. At this moment, I didn't even know why I was shouting. I simply couldn't stop myself. "You're the worst of all Logan. You pretend to be my friend, but really you're not. You're not my mother Logan! Remember? You took her away from me!" With that being said, I ran to the back of the plane and locked myself in the bathroom.

I proceeded to cry for the first time in probably three years for my mother. I must have made the team terribly uncomfortable, because they did not retrieve me for the mission and I did not reemerge until we had once more resumed flight. No one said a word to me, not even to ask if I was all right. Those assholes…