She was lying on something soft, and everything around her was vibrating slightly, almost as if she were on a plane. That was definitely not what death was supposed to feel like. she opened her eyes. She was in a holding cell of a helicarrier, and the SHIELD agent was staring intently at her at the foot of the bed.

'You were supposed to kill me.'

'I chose not to. That was a stun gun.'

'Why?'

'You wanted to clear your ledger, not die.'

Oh.

'You're bringing me back to SHIELD.'

'Yes.'

No. To her, SHIELD was no different from the KGB. They would have her do the only thing she knew, the thing she was created for. She would not adhere to that. She would make them kill her before she allowed them to pour even more red over her ledger. It was then that she realizes that there was a handcuff binding her to the bed. A chill ran down her spine and she stiffened. She gestured at it, 'What's that for? I surrendered.'

'SHIELD protocol, just in case you change your mind.'

She snorted derisively. 'I won't. Take it off me.'

'Sorry, not an option.'

'Fine.' Her eyes darkened, and she flexed her hand, exhaled, and slipped her hand out of the handcuff. Throwing it aside, she lay back down, resting her hands at her sides.

'You don't just dislike handcuffs,' he observed, 'You're afraid of them.'

She allowed the silence to linger between them. There was no way in hell she would tell him the reason behind all that. She really should work with hiding her fear of handcuffs chained to beds, she mused. But never had she encountered handcuffs in her former ops (gangsters preferred to use rope) and never had anyone been considerate enough to give her a bed. To her relief, he didn't follow up on that, and after a few more minutes, he stood up and left them room silently.

She was twelve when it happened. The Red Room used to handcuff everyone to their beds every night to prevent them from escaping. But all that changed within the span of one night.

She was woken up that night with the stifling smell of smoke. She opened her eyes and sat up, her hand twisted awkwardly behind her due to the constraints of the handcuff. The girls around began to wake up, bleary- eyed and confused. 'Fire!' a girl near the doorway yelled as she looked out into the corridor. Everyone began to tug frantically at their handcuffs. Two matrons came by respectively and threw their key at the row of girls they were in charge of and proceeded to run away swiftly (the locks differed for each row of girls and different matrons were in charge of different rows). Keys were thrown around, and the ones who managed to free themselves scampered out of the room immediately. There was one who stayed though, a girl whose twin, Yulia, slept to the right of Natalia. Both Yulia and Natalia's matron did not come for them, hence they were still chained to their beds. Inna pushed and pulled at Yulia's handcuff as Yulia shouted at her again and again to leave when she still could. Inna eventually gave up, pecked Yulia tearily on both cheeks as a final goodbye, and ran out of the room.

The fire had gotten worse, and it was getting harder and harder to breathe. Natalia pushed and pulled at her handcuff, yet it refused to budge in any way. She yanked and yanked at her hand, but to no avail. Screams of desperation and fear echoed through the room, and she was on the verge of screaming herself. She didn't want to die. She inhaled deeply, desperate for any trace of oxygen that might still exist in the room. The smoke choked her and she began to cough and cough and cough. She felt something loosen around her wrist and she realised that she had somehow slipped her hand out of the handcuff. She got to her feet. Yulia shouts at her next to her, Natalia how did you do that. Please, please help me. She responds with the truth, I don't know. I don't know what I did. She swiftly began to make her way out of the room. Please Natalia, Yulia shouted after her, please tell me how you did it. Please, I don't want to die. Gradually, others join in. Please Natalia. Natalia. Natalia. Natalia. She tried, with one of the girls nearby. Yet despite how hard she pulled and pulled, she failed to loosen the handcuff. A burning plank crashed down right outside the door of the room. The fire was closing in. She had to leave. I'm so sorry, she told the girl as she stepped back helplessly. And she ran as quickly as she could, out of the room, out of the building, shouts of why Natalia why please Natalia no Natalia please don't leave me here echoing behind her.

She joined the other survivors in the courtyard. There were twenty- eight other girls and most of the Red Room staff. They looked on silently as the building burnt down. Inna was crying softly, yet she stopped when a pale- faced Ma'am threatened her to shut up unless she wanted to end up with the same fate as her sister's. The fire eventually reached the bedroom and the screams of fear turn to yowls of pain until they finally broke off and deafening silence washed over everything.

The last 29 were sent to the backroom of the Bolshoi theatre where the Black Widow training program continued, while the existence of the others who died were removed from all government records. Natalia never saw any of the Red Room staff after that. Not Ma'am, not the cooks, not any of the matrons. She knew that they were dead. They had failed their mission, and death had always been the punishment for failing one's mission.