Natalia gritted her teeth as she pulled the bullet out of herself with a tweezer. She'd had worse but it still hurted like hell. The way her head ached really wasn't of much help, and she glanced at the little bottle on her bedside table, the one with her Treatment pills in it. But she couldn't do it anymore, she reminded herself as she got into bed. The pills were indeed capable of making her forget the terrible things she had done for a couple of days or so, yet every time its effects wore off, the worse she felt. She was tired of it all, of running from her own thoughts and having them catch up with her every single time. She had heard of the rumours of what happened to agents who had skipped their medications one time too many, yet she was not afraid. She would rather die than continue living this life.
There was a time when she used to believe that everything she was doing was for a greater good. Yet as the years went by, she began to doubt it. There was no greater good burning down a village could possibly bring, nor could gunning down a family of government dissidents, along with their three year old son. She remembered the mother of that family throwing herself in front of her children. She could also remember shooting the woman in the head, kicking her dead body aside and completing the mission. The medication in Natalia's system had allowed her to complete the mission successfully. The multiple doses of pills had also given her an endless supply of nightmares throughout the years.
She heard a soft thump coming from the closet of her safehouse. She sat up immediately, crept towards it and flung the door open. The closet was full of corpses, eyes wide, dripping with blood, one stacked on top of another. The numerous girls she had killed during fighting sessions in the Red Room, the endless list of people she had killed for the KGB, the ones that had gotten in the way when she was trying to complete her mission. The tower of bodies began to wobble, and before she could get out of the way, it fell onto her, and the stench of blood and rot filled her mouth and nose. Desperately, she willed herself to claw her way out of this mountain of flesh, yet try as she might, she couldn't move. The walls of flesh pressed closer and closer and closer and it was getting harder and harder for her to breathe. Terror filled her and she began to scream and scream and scream.
She woke up with a start, panting and gasping for air. It was just a dream. It was all just a dream. She closed her eyes and forced herself to go back to sleep. Like it or not, she needed it before the next day began, for the SHIELD agent would be on her tail once again.
The next dream that came to her was her very first mission. It was during the Children's War and she was nine. She was the very first agent they sent out. She was given a metallic box and her mission was to attach that to the control room of the hospital. She was instructed to run away as quickly as she could right after the task was completed. She did not bother to question them, for she knew that she would not be given the answers anyway. She simply opted to obey and complete the mission.
Sneaking in was easy- she was a child after all and no one pays attention to children. Furthermore, kitchen raids had given her more than enough practice when it came to sneaking around undetected. Unfortunately, the control room was occupied. She whipped out her gun, took two clean shots, and the men within the room collapsed soundlessly. She had been given a treatment directly before the mission, and her remorse was swiftly drowned by a sense of success, power and control. She proceeded to attach the box to the control panel, then she turned and ran out of the hospital as quickly as her legs could carry her.
She concealed herself behind a building nearby, and began to speculate over what the box was capable of as she waited. Maybe it would kill off all the power within the building, or maybe it would be able to retain essential information for KGB. She felt proud of herself- proud for assisting her government in its quest for glory.
A loud boom sounded as the hospital crumbled and she finally realised what the box was. She looked on, unable to move, as the dust settled. She looked on at the little boy at the far end of the rubble as he tugged and tugged his lifeless mother's hand. She looked on at the old couple who had just been walking on the sidewalk outside the hospital just moments ago, their hands still tightly intertwined as they lay by the sidewalk, their faces oddly peaceful. She saw a father, his body spread- eagled over his pregnant wife in a futile attempt to save them. She also saw the less lucky ones, who were now nothing more than scraps of flesh and blood sticking to the little of what was left of the hospital. Her mission was complete, a cold voice informed her through her earpiece. And so she turned back and went back to their rendezvous spot.
She wakes up with a start once again, the pungent smell of self hatred and disgust in her mouth. She grabs the handgun under her pillow, pushes its cold muzzle down her throat. She tries to pull the trigger- she tries with all her might, but a wave of fear gushes up her throat and she vomits all over the floor, dropping the gun onto the ground simultaneously. Pathetic, she tells herself, you're pathetic.
And suddenly everything clears and she finally realises what she has to do. Her mission gifted themselves to her today. Now was time for her to pass that favour on to somebody else.