⧗ CHAPTER TEN ⧗

DAY 66

"Remember to keep your wrists straight!"

Dmitri threw his sister an exasperated look. "I know how to lift weights, Oksana."

She winced and smiled apologetically. "Sorry. You're doing really well, bratishka."

The three of them, Dmitri, Oksana, and Sabina, were currently sweating it out in the palace's weight room. The "weight" part of that was fairly minimal; though plenty of equipment, the weights remained small; dumbbells went up to a hundred pounds; the largest barbells were only thirty-five pounds, when Dmitri was used to forty-five, and of the few they had, all had fixed weights. Anything smaller was meant for children, which Dmitri had the exquisite humiliation of working with until he developed the strength to use the adult equipment.

The most beloved machine was, of course, the leg press, where one would find the most generous of weights. Dmitri was quite proud he could beat the lifts of other girls, only to be reminded he had a slight biological advantage. But compared to the progress of his arms, and the fact that Dmitri (and indeed, none of the girls) were allowed to overdo their strength training — to the point of "grotesque display of turgid, over-swollen musculature" as in the Madame's words — he had to take his wins where he could get it. Indeed, for just about all of them, girls and boy included, their leg muscles were the strongest in their entire body.

What the Red Room lacked in weights, it made up for with a variety of other tools to keep them strong and flexible. Resistance bands, parallettes, balance beams, TRX suspension straps, and of course, the ever-classic sandbag to work out some frustrations with your fists.

Oksana was currently bent backwards, supporting her weight with her legs and arms from a pair of suspended handles, while Sabina worked on her balance, standing perfectly still atop a balance board, arms crossed as she watched Dmitri.

His shoulders and biceps burned with exertion, but the usual pain Dmitri felt had changed. As a dancer, Dmitri was taught to always be aware of his body, any physical pain, and the different types; the sharp, shooting, electrical pain of nerve damage; the sudden hot flash of a pulled muscle or tendon; the starburst of an injured ligament, or the lopsided weight of a broken bone. A dull pounding ache could be the sign of something more serious, or possibly the simple growing pains of building muscle.

In this case, it was the latter. The pain felt good, if pain could ever feel good, the gentle ache of muscles properly exercised.

Only now, Dmitri understood, he probably learned that awareness here, in the Red Room.

The longer he lived here, the more he remembered.

"You think it'll be enough against Ksenia?" Dmitri asked, flexing and stretching his arms. He'd come a long way since he first got here; before, his right hand couldn't even flex his fingers, couldn't carry anything. Now Dmitri could easily hold a dumbbell without fear of his fingers suddenly giving way without his leave; ten pounds was all the stress his arm could take at the moment, but he hoped to have it even out with his stronger left soon.

Oksana and Sabina exchanged looks, grimacing. And Dmitri knew it was a long shot anyways, but still. "Really? You think I'm still a lost cause."

"No, of course not!" Oksana was quick to protest.

"It's not just about your strength," Sabina shook her head, the beads in her hair tinkling. "You could make yourself as big as the Red Guardian and you still wouldn't defeat Ksenia. Or any Black Widow. We're trained to defeat men. So you can't train or fight like one."

Well, that was easier said than done. It was easy for Dmitri to gain muscle, probably easier for him than the girls, but after two months of getting his ass handed to him again and again on the training mat (Comrade Kuzmina was only slightly less merciless than Ksenia herself). Dmitri had slowly improved against the less skilled girls, but it was still a coin flip, and Dmitri still felt it was down to luck or his opponent letting him win. Which he highly suspected of Oksana and Sabina doing, to help him save face in front of everyone else.

"Luckily for you, it's how you've been trained for most of your life," Oksana pointed out with a smile, before Dmitri could start beating himself up about factors that were never his choice. "It's more natural to you than anything else you know."

"You have a point," Dmitri sighed. Wish it didn't sound so creepy when she put it that way.

Dmitri had come to terms with what the Red Room was. Or rather, kept kicking that ball down the road to deal with later. He was still focusing on the day-to-day, on just trying not to get throat-punched by Ksenia, to really acknowledge that the Red Room may or may not be trying to kill him. Or at least, getting very close to it without actually being illegal. But definitely unethical, Dmitri knew. The kind of chemicals they dealt with in Chemistry was not something a student should ever handle, he thought; nor should he be looking forward to firearms training in the coming semester.

The Red Room had no off-season. No spring break, no winter holiday, no summer vacation. The students were present, full-time, twenty-four/seven, three-hundred-and-sixty-five days a year. The only time off you'd get is if you were sick or injured, and even then, as Dmitri knew personally, it wasn't time to just lay around doing nothing.

It was exhausting. But he supposed it had to be. This wasn't a boarding school. This was survival.

He couldn't leave. He could never leave. Dmitri knew if he stepped outside these walls, all of his father's enemies, from HYDRA to ex-KGB, to every self-important agent in Western countries, Dmitri was vulnerable. An open target.

Here, no one could find him.

And, despite all the secrecy and violence and questionable procedures, Dmitri felt safe in the Red Room. It was, for better or worse, his home. Even if he couldn't remember all of it.

"Come," Sabina dropped off her balancing board, light as a feather. She gestured for him to join her on the sparring mat available. To their right, the towering windows opened out onto the Siberian vista; today with blue skies and sun, almost like summer. Though Dmitri found, to his consternation, he couldn't remember the date, or the time of year it should be. "Let's see how much you remember, hm?"

Dmitri sighed, and could only heave his shoulders in resignation. "As long as you don't let me win like last time."

Sabina scoffed. "Did not!"

"It was your turn, sestra." Oksana pointed out, and when both threw her looks of betrayal, she flushed the same color as her hair. "What? It's true."

"So you are going easy on me," Dmitri turned a sharp look onto Sabina.

She just held out her arms. "It's so your numbers don't drop! Trust me, Dmitri, you do not want to be at the bottom of the class. Besides, it's not like the other girls don't do it. They trade wins all the time, for extra snacks, or shower time, or help in another class. The only person you never trade with is Ksenia. She never follows through."

"Does the Madame know about this?" Dmitri frowned. It seemed akin to cheating or plagiarism, in that its the sort of thing to get you expelled.

"I'm sure she does," Oksana replied, crunching up on the suspension ropes, down again, up. Her breath puffed with exertion. "But the Madame knows everything. Never assume otherwise. As far as we know, she doesn't care. You only get in trouble if you get caught."

"So don't get caught," Sabina said, punctuating her words with a light bap of her fist to Dmitri's arm, prompting him to respond. "Don't put it down in writing. You're only as good as your word here. And obviously some girls don't care about that as much as others do."

She jabbed at him again, and this time Dmitri deflected, swiping it away with the back of his hand. Sabina nodded in approval, and struck out again, faster. Dmitri parried once more, and the third time he had to take a step back in order to avoid a strike. Sabina was much faster than she appeared, and it was impressive how much control she could put into an individual move, measuring how fast or slow she acted. Her fourth blow was a fist that stopped right in front of his face.

"A Black Widow fights with control," Sabina told him, as he reeled away, still feeling the air from her halted punch. "Every woman knows if she ends up in a fight, it might be life or death. She walks through life knowing she's at a physical disadvantage to nearly every man she encounters; that's not always true, but rest assured most men believe in it. The cruel ones do. That's how they judge women. And other men, too. Men like you."

Dmitri didn't have to ask what she meant by that. He didn't cut an imposing figure. Liza had a running joke that his waist was enviably skinny, skinnier than hers. And he'd lived most of his life, in or out of the Red Room, hearing what a pretty face he had. Dmitri might not have doubts of his own masculinity if he hadn't been teased so consistently about it.

Faces he couldn't quite remember. Voices that echoed indistinct. Yet Dmitri was sure, it had happened. It had happened enough that Sabina's words resonated with him.

"So when you strike, you make it count," Sabina told him, again gesturing for him to come at her. "Look for weaknesses. Sometimes it's obvious. A man might have a limp. His crotch is always a winner. But every person, man or woman, has their stress points. Joints, fleshy hollows, the backs of their knees or their neck or their eyes."

"I can't hit you there," Dmitri gawked.

"Obviously not!" Sabina gave him a look. "Don't pluck my eyes out, thank you very much. You know the moves, Dmitri. You were the same age as us when you began to learn. Now you just have to remember where to aim. Come on. Look at me. Where would you strike first?"

His hands still up, Dmitri frowned, looking Sabina up and down. Like all the girls here, she was petite, a little over five feet, slightly stocky in the chest but with powerful thighs that could take down a grown man. Probably. They've definitely taken him down. After a moment of feeling stupid, Dmitri finally jerked his chin to her feet. "Inner ankle. I could step on your insole, try to unbalance you."

"Good," Sabina nodded, and gave him the opening to try. Dmitri didn't quite have the control she wielded, but he was careful not to put his full weight in bringing his foot done on her inside ankle, shoving his body into hers. Sabina gave way like a paper doll, allowing herself to drop to a kneeling position, her head down. "Now you have an opportunity here to knee me in the face, break my nose, do all sorts of wonderful stuff. A man might not have the time to react fast enough, especially if he's got a lot of weight to carry. But me? I can do this —"

She struck out with her elbow and nailed him on the side of his knee — a sharp burst of pain that had him also dropping beside her. Sabina raised her eyebrows. "Familiar, right?"

"Ugh — Yes." Dmitri grumbling, wincing and restraining an eye roll. He didn't have to remember the last time Ksenia knocked him out. He woke up in the infirmary, getting checked for a concussion.

"Sucks, doesn't it?" Sabina gave him a cheeky smile, and then asked, "So what do you do now, before I break your teeth?"

She took a light swipe, which Dmitri ducked. He rolled away to get back on his feet, which also earned Oksana's approval. She called out from her position, "Never be afraid to retreat! Winning the fight isn't the goal — not in the real world, at least. Your only goal is to survive. Which sometimes means running away."

"I definitely can't run from Ksenia!" Dmitri's words ended in a higher-pitch as he had to suddenly dodge Sabina's lunge, whipping back around to face her again. "I'm always backed into a corner with her."

"That'll happen, too," Sabina said. "You'll be trapped in a room with no exit route. You'll be outnumbered, or disarmed. You can't let that stop you. Don't let it get to your head. The most dangerous animal is a cornered one, yes, but the one that survives is always the quickest. Keep your wits about you and use the environment to your advantage."

"I assume this makes more sense in practice," Dmitri said, as they circled each other, trading a few glancing blows.

"Yes. In the field, you'll have plenty of things to use, whatever improvised weapons you can make. In our training, it's all on your wits. That's what it will be like against more formidable opponents, who aren't your regular brainless bratva bro or second-rate mercenary. People like Captain America, or any of the other Avengers."

"But they have superpowers, and we don't," Dmitri didn't want to think about Captain America. That just reminded him of Mia, who was similar in every way but one. At least Captain America wouldn't try to kill him. "Are they really our enemy?"

"Sometimes," Sabina shrugged.

"Anyone can become friend or enemy," Oksana said, letting go of one strap to snap her fingers. "At the drop of a hat. That's just how politics is, I'm afraid. Someone might be your ally in one sortie and your enemy the next. Everyone wants to get their hands on this superweapon or this giant block of radioactive gold, so someone's going to go home with hurt feelings. Never take it personally. That's the rule we live by."

Dmitri couldn't decide if that made him feel better or worse. Sabina answered his other question, "We're mortals in a world of super soldiers and aliens and magical beings far beyond our comprehension. It's not our job to understand what they are or how they can do what they do. It's our job to complete our mission, and live another day. They might be very good at killing us, sure. Which is why we tend not to fight them. That job usually goes to other people, keeping them distracted while we make out like the fox in the chicken coop."

That earned a laugh from Dmitri, which Sabina promptly tried to eliminate with a slap to his ear. He jerked his head away in time, and struck out on instinct. Left hand first, as he had taught himself, to save his right from too much impact stress.

He had meant to hit Sabina, sure, but thought she'd duck or parry before he struck her square in the face.

Sabina recoiled, head snapping back in a spray of blood; Oksana gasped, so shocked she let go of the straps and hit the floor with an audible thump. Even Dmitri was surprised he managed to land a hit, but he was more horrified than anything else, "O Bozhe, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean —!"

But as Sabina came back, covering her nose — she was smiling, even as blood stained her teeth and she swore. "Blin! Ah, blin! See, that's how you do it! We assume most people are right-handed, so left-handed strikes are less predictable."

"I'd like to see you do that to Ksenia!" Oksana called, even as she rushed to get the first aid kit.

It felt like a victory, yet Dmitri couldn't help but feel shame and worry, as Sabina groaned and flopped down on the mat. He kneeled down beside her, fists clenching in his lap. "I didn't hurt you too bad, did I?"

"It's nothing, it'll heal," Sabina waved him off, her voice nasally. "Not the first time I've broken a nose. The Madame always makes sure they heal right. Crooked nose just ruins the symmetry of our faces. You did well, Dmitri. No use crying over spilled milk."

"We're always taught to celebrate our victories, not rue other's losses," Oksana added, as she returned with a box, pulling out some gauze to staunch Sabina's nose. "We cannot afford to do so in the field. And especially not here. We can't all graduate. Only the best of us."

"What happens to those who don't?" Dmitri asked, and was surprised he didn't get an immediate answer. Just Sabina and Oksana exchanging another one of those looks, a silence so long that he had to ask, "What? Is it a secret?"

"No, it's just —" Oksana frowned. "Thought you'd remember by now. Some wash out. Some, the Madame reassigns. Not all girls are meant to be Black Widows, but they can be good at other things. The world has enough field agents, but they also need handlers and trainers and what-else. And some never leave the Red Room at all."

She said it with such finality, such grimness, yet Dmitri supposed that wasn't so bad. If he didn't make it, being stuck here for the rest of his life wasn't a terrible fate. Not many people got to live in a Czar's palace. "I know only a few of us can make it. And I know who I want those few to be."

"Aww," Sabina said, before wincing at Oksana's attempts at playing nurse. "Ow! Dmitri, if you keep being all soft on us, I might cry for real."

"You are crying," Oksana pointed out.

"Ugh, not because of that!" Sabina swiped her hand away.

"For what it's worth, брат," Oksana said, oblivious to Sabina's complaints as she turned a sweet smile towards Dmitri. "I feel the same way. I want no one else but you two to join me at graduation."

"I'm not gonna make it to graduation if you stuff my airways with cotton," Sabina grumbled.