I'm posting these chapters at the speed of light it seems like. I have some sort of weird manic obsession with this. Major end of the semester existential crisis where I questioned the whole "spending my free time writing fanfiction" bit when I'm about to graduate high school and go to college. I feel like everyone's looking over my shoulder and asking when I'm going to write "real stuff" when I don't even want to be an English major. Undeclared for the win. Sorry about the rant. Anyway, here's another chapter!
We never will forget, and no, we will not forgive
We fought hard not to die, yet we don't know how to live
How do we change our world to what we want it to be?
How do we move beyond all of this misery?
-One Foot In Front of The Other Foot by Emilie Autumn
"I had two brothers." Natalia said once, "I barely remember them though. We'd race, but they never let me win. Not for a second. They told me I should just run faster. They died in a bombing. Germans."
"Mine too." Alexei took her hand in his, "But we cannot be bitter, darling. It is over. Now come to bed."
"What would you not forgive, Alexei?" She turned towards him, her eyes wide and sad. When had they become that way? Or had he never seen it, "Anything that would take you away from me. You?"
"Anyone who would take me away from you." Her hand clenched his so tightly that he wondered if she could crush his fingers.
Alexei Shostakov had many happy memories, but none came in the three years after his Natalia disappeared. In that time, he became an angry man, sustaining his life on vodka and whatever else he could find in his Soviet shithole of a country. When he drank so much to forget, he could only forget the bad things. Without all the fights, the screaming loud enough to wake the neighbors and the arguments over money, it was painfully sweet to be left with the happy memories of his young wife.
After three years though, he woke up from his drunken haze to realize that the world had moved on. The husbands and lover of the slaughtered ballerinas from that night pitied him because he never got the closure that burying a body provided. Two of them remarried. The lover hanged himself. Both options seemed out of the question for Alexei. Instead, he threw himself into his work and didn't look up until the Cold War ended, the country he worked for was dissolved, and the face Natalia loved was ruined.
The knowledge that she left him should have angered him, but all it did was bring him relief. All this time he thought she had been brutally murdered. She was alive. That's what mattered. He read the information about her that was leaked on the Internet and found it confusing due to the age thing, but it brought him a small explanation. That was until an angry pacifist, Captain America, and a Sokovian witch showed up. He followed them. The archer/sniper (he never got the name of the man hanging out on his neighbor's roof) noticed but said nothing. The angry pacifist—Bruce Banner—grew into the Hulk just like the footage out of Africa but he was calmed quickly and they made their way to the safe house. He waited at a hotel in town for their next move. They weren't the only one's trained for this. Even if he was an old, dying man who hadn't done anything tactical in thirty years, there were still things he never unlearned.
Dr. Yenin's favorite poem still wafted through her head long after he strapped her to the table and subjected her to the torture of being stronger and lasting longer in a cruel world.
Wait for me, and I'll come back
Wait with all you've got
Wait when dreary yellow rains
Tell you, you should not...
Natasha felt serene. She didn't like the feeling at all. It was a false euphoria that meant that Natalia was slowly taking over. Soon, she wouldn't be able to do anything at all, even as Natalia continued to experiment with a death that couldn't be contained. Then the old Viktoriya, long dead came to mind. It was a better trigger, one that actually mattered to Natalia. She knew it did. Natalia was once human after all, even if Natasha never was. She remembered the gun in Ivan's hand and the way Viktoriya simply walked into her death.
"Natalia." Natasha shouted at the door, "Natalia, listen to me!" She had no idea if the words would sink in, but perhaps their mutual pain and hatred could be beneficial. "The people that hurt you, the people here. They are the ones that you should tear apart. They hurt you, Natalia. They hurt us. Maybe you won't need what you took from the box. Maybe you won't need to see what else is in the box. They hurt everyone they touch. Without them, maybe the world would be bearable for you."
They hurt me.
Natalia heard him enter. She always heard, no matter how silent his tread could be. She tapped the side of the hypodermic needle, accidentally squirting the dull green liquid on the table. It sizzled and burned, dripping through the stainless steel counter. Ivan's hands rested on her shoulders as he leaned forward, glancing down at her work. "This is all from memory? Where did you learn this?"
"It's merely a theory." Natalia glanced up at him, placing the needle off to the side, "I want to test it."
Ivan smiled, tipping her chin up so that he could see her more clearly. They were both strange creatures, frozen in time. He had the appearance of a seventy year old, despite the fact that he was over a hundred. He was the only male subject that survived the serum injection. He was dying anyway when she did it anyway. Slowly, Natalia removed his hand from her shoulder and faced him.
"What does it do, my darling girl?"
Natalia cocked her head, "I chemically altered the serum. I simply need to test what it can do. What better subject than one who is practically immortal? You're weak, Ivan. Why did I never see that before?"
Ivan stepped back but it was too late. Natalia jumped him, stabbing his neck and pumping the poison into his system. He was dead before he even hit the ground. Natalia noted that someone with cells that reproduce faster than normal (thus extending his youth indefinitely and making him extraordinarily resistant to poison and illness) could die far quicker than a stab wound straight through the heart. An injection that could destroy cells at such a rate could be useful. She tested it on each of the handlers, both enhanced or not. The enhanced died at the same time as Ivan. Just a drop on the skin was enough to kill a normal person.
Once they were disposed of, she entered the dormitories where the girls all slept in their fitful, nightmarish sleep.
"Wake up." She only had to call it once before everyone's eyes blinked open, completely awake in an instant. Natalia walked to the first bed and unlocked the handcuff, then moved on to the next one and the next one as the girls rose and stretched, "Ivan and the other handlers dead."
They blinked, not knowing what response she wanted.
"This base has been compromised. You are no longer needed."
Inside, Natasha was smiling. The old Viktoriya worked after all.
The new Viktoriya rose steadily, wrapping her arms around herself, "What does that mean for us, exactly?"
"It means that I'm freeing you. The Red Room no longer exists. Everyone will take essential items for a long trek because I'm burning this hellhole to the ground."
Natalia sent the girls to a trainstop. She bought their tickets and told them what station to get off at. She gave them their hotel number and counted them, telling them that she would find and terminate anyone who made a run for it. They rode in silence. A woman asked Alisa if they were going on a field trip somewhere. Alisa looked to Natalia for guidance.
"Actually, we're on our way home. Nasty weather. The girls are all rather disappointed and tired."
"Oh you poor dears." She tittered, and offered Alisa a cookie.
The girl glared at her in return, shuffling closer to Viktoriya.
"Alisa's diabetic. We try not to eat sweets in front of her." Natalia whispered in the old woman's ear.
"Oh—I bet she's all bent out of shape then." The woman shook her head.
Natalia sighed, tipping her head back as exhaustion overtook her. Natasha's noise was starting to take its toll again, making her feel exhausted but she wasn't finished yet. She felt the caped syringe in her pocket. She would have to find a way to put it into a dart.
How do we bear this burden, far too much to carry?
How do we change our prison to a sanctuary?
We've been kept from the light, no one ever gave a damn
If I've no one to fight, how do I know who I am?
Usually I'm not a "post lyrics in a fanfiction type of person" but this song is more like a poem and it seems like it was almost written for Natasha Romanoff.