First position.

"Back straight. Your posture must be perfect."

She nodded. Plier. Élancer. Tourner. Arabesque.
She slipped, slamming onto the cold wooden floor.

"Sloppy." Mother said, her posture perfect. Hands behind her back. Blonde hair, wrapped into a stiff bun. Nothing out of place. Perfect. "Do it again."

She picked herself off the floor. Back straight, first position. Do it right.

Plier. Élancer. Tourner. Arabesque. Assemblé. Balancé. Back straight, hands must be strong, but not stiff.

Twirl, Jeté-

Her ankle twisted, sending her crashing onto the floor. She shut her eyes, forcing down the tears that were burning behind her eyes. She must not cry. Crying made it worse. Opening her eyes, she looked up at Mother.

Mother sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, she seemed more agitated that anything, before straightening herself again. Stiff, but flexible. The emotion was gone. Strong.

Not like her.

"Pathetic. Get up." Mother said, she never spoke with emotion. It was the same, clipped tone that betrayed nothing.

She stood up, wobbling slightly desperately trying to keep her back straight. Hands behind her back, squeezing her fingers. 'Stiff, flexible, strong.'

Mother stared at her, cold blue eyes meeting hers.

She knew what was coming before Mother even raised her hand.

Walking down the hallways, she was met with the usual stares when one was released from private training, with a red mark across their face.

The stares were all different, but she had manged to find a distinct pattern. There were one of three emotions that the girls would feel when one had been struck.

Sadness, the sort of quiet sadness that she did not understand, but made her feel sick to her stomach.

Happy, more accurately relief. That they were possibly going to survive another day.

Neutral. Nothing at all. The right thing to be, when in the Red Room.

Unlike many of the girls, who would bow their heads in shame, when receiving the mark. She did no such thing. Simply continuing on her way, head held high.

Another flash of deep blonde hair, taller than the sea of girls that parted as she walked past hurried by, simply glancing at her before disappearing into another room.

Yelena Belova.

One of the best successors of the Black Widow Program. She and Natasha Romanoff were something of great pride among the girls. Almost every girl either wanted to be them, be better than them or kill them.

There was no in between.

While she could appreciate their success and admired their skill, she had did not share in the common admiration of them.

She had her own demons to conquer and unlike the rest, they were untested waters.

Pushing the door to the room the girl's in her program shared, she walked to the end of the room. There were fifteen beds in their room. All with the same white sheets, thin mattress and pillow with the metal bed posts.

Sitting on her bed, resting right in the middle of the room. Giving her a clear of site of their trainers and mistresses, on her right and the small slit like windows on the left wall for ventilation.

The rest of girls in her program were probably training, one of them were with Mother meaning the room was uncharacteristically empty.

She liked it.

The peace.

It barely lasted a second, as the door creaked open. A flash of red hair half blinding her vision. Emily. She was the only one with hair like that in there program.

Thick, curly and blood red hair, pulled together in tight plaits. Emily smiled in greeting, walking to her own bed directly next to hers. She nodded in returned, the odd prick of agitation entering her. Emily. It was a pretty name. She always wanted a pretty name, like the other girls.

Unlike them who had joined the Red Room after being recruited at the ages of 12 and up, she had always been here since she was a child. An unnatural occurrence already and despite being here since she could remember the novelty had apparently not wore off.

"You okay?" Emily asked, sitting on her bed, looking over at her. Her Russian was appalling, but she was a good fighter and one of the few girls who could speak English fluently.

She was nice. Older than her, with extensive knowledge of the outside world. Having only been brought into the Red Room a few months ago. She was very popular.

Emily smiled again, relaxed by her silence. Slipping a hand under her mattress, pulling out a thin object, wrapping in silver.

"Here." she said, glancing around the room, before snapping a piece of the silver, opening it up, revealing a thin smooth piece of something she did not recognise.

"Chocolate." Emily whispered, opening her hand to hers.

She bit her lower lip. "But, we're not allowed eat things unless designated by Mother." she said quietly, staring down at the block in Emily's hand.

"I know." Emily said smoothly. "That's why I'm giving it to you." she said, gently opening her hand, placing the block in it.

Looking down at it, she slowly picked it up, giving it a small sniff. It smelt heavenly, far more pleasant than the bleach, blood and floor polish that she usually would breathe in.

Deciding to risk it all, she popped the chocolate into her mouth. "Mmm." she said, allowing the sweet creamy substance to simply melt on her tongue. It was heavenly.

Emily giggled quietly. "Yeah, it's pretty good." she said, breaking a piece for herself, eating it. "Back home, my Mum used to give me chocolate bars after lunch. Everyday." Emily said, tucking the silver wrapping under her bed. "You would have liked it, Mauschen."

"Mäuschen." She corrected in perfect German, tucking some hair behind her ear. "Why did you call me that?"

Emily rolled her eyes. "What else am I supposed to call you? Weirdo that sleeps next to me?" she replied, leaning back into the bed a smug look on her face.

"Mäuschen." She repeated, grinning. "Pretty."


Emily was nice. She said they were friends.

Mäuschen (something Emily called a nickname, until she could think of a good name) was a nice name. Far better than what Mother would her. Neposlushnaya devochka or simply devochka.

Mother had never given her a proper name like the rest of the girls, she said names must be earned. It was clear, she had not earned hers just yet.

"Devochka!" said Madame Adelaide, snapping her out of her thoughts. "She wants you. Emily, Charlotte, Sarai! Get back to training!"

Mäuschen nodded, setting down the staff following her, catching Emily's eyes as she walked past. She looked worried.

Walking down the hall behind Madame Adelaide, hearing Mother's heels approaching them. Madame Adelaide stopped next to Mother, the two sharing words while she remained back, arms behind her back.

Back straight.

Mother nodded, dismissing Madame Adelaide. Walking past her, Mäuschen instantly falling into step behind her. "Today, is an important day, Devochka." Mother began walking into the main grounds.

The dark cobblestone was slippery under she shoes, stained with too much blood that no one even bother to clean to up anymore.

They came here once a month. For lethal combat training. Two or more girls depending on progress, were to fight until one killed the other.

She had witness many of them and participated in more than three, lethal combat training. Usually it was something many of the girls tried not to think about. The only thing that really set off alarm bells was that they already had their monthly lethal combat.

The only reason for having another one for the same group, meant one thing only. Punishment.

"We have a guest. And I want a show." Mother said, walking to the side, lightly pushing her onto the mat.

She guessed she was the 'show.'

"Girls!" Mother called, Madame Adelaide leading in her programs girls. They lined up behind Mother. Mother walked back at forth, humming to herself, serving the group.

A few girls were shaking, two were crying. Emily just stared.

A cold sinking feeling entered her, she was one of the best fighters in there group. A pathetic dancer, but a good fighter. Mother usually 'saved' her, for a good fight.

Emily was the best.

Mäuschen shut her eyes. 'Please. No.'

"Emily."


She didn't want to fight Emily.
She and Emily were friends.
She didn't want to fight Emily.
She and Emily were friends.
She didn't want to fight Emily.
She and Emily were friends.

Emily stood in front of her, tears were sparkling in her eyes. Mäuschen didn't know what to do, disobey Mother they both died, fight and one of them died.

Either way, death was unavoidable.

"Begin."

At first, they didn't move.

Mäuschen wondering if she decided against fighting at all.

The red head launching herself at her.

Mäuschen took the hit, the two falling to the floor. Emily trying to get a good hit in. Mäuschen threw her off, sending her crashing onto the cobblestone, springing to her feet.

It was a stupid move, not well thought out. It was far too easy for her to pin her, and snap her neck.

Why did she do it?

Emily got up, facing her falling into stance. Mäuschen didn't bother to do the same, simply studying Emily's stance and the level of damage she had.

She was leaning move to the left, her right side far more ridged than her left. She hurt her arm. Possibly a sprain. Definitely a bruise.

Emily kicked at her. Mäuschen dodged it, punching her in chest. Emily stumbled back, kicked again. Mäuschen catching her leg, using her momentum to throw her to the floor.

The two girls rolled again, Emily delivering hit after hit. Mäuschen caught her wrists, curling herself up, pushing her off onto the floor again. Grabbing Emily by her plait, punching her in her face, then in the chest.

Emily kicked her back, picking herself up. Spitting out some blood from her mouth.

"Stop playing, Devochka." Mother chided. She was clearly enjoying herself. Mäuschen looked at Emily.

She didn't want to kill Emily.
But Emily…Emily wanted to kill her.

Emily swung at her, Mäuschen blocking the swing. Catching her right wrist, hitting her in the shoulder, kicking her to the ground. Choking Emily on the neck with her leg, her hand still gripping onto Emily's wrist.

Emily grabbed her leg with her left hand, trying to throw her balance off. Mäuschen snapped her wrist.

'Stop playing. Mother wanted a show'

Emily kicked her from the back, sending Mäuschen stumbling backward falling into a crouch on the floor.

Emily staggered as she got up, falling into stance again as she came at her.

Mäuschen sprung from her crouch, sharply kicking Emily in the gut with her knee, wrapping her legs around her neck, slamming her onto the floor.

Grabbing Emily's hair, wrapping her arms around her neck. Mäuschen pulled her into a choke hold.

Mäuschen looked up at Mother, Emily wriggling in her grip like a wounded animal trying to escape a trap.

Mother nodded.

Mäuschen snapped Emily's neck, dropping her to the ground.

Mother smiled, nodding her head. "Well done, Devochka." Mother said, clapping as she walked forwards lightly touching her shoulder. "You did very well." she said, slowly looking up at the balcony of the house.

MäuschenDevochka followed her gaze.

Standing there looking down at them, was a man with blonde hair than almost looked white. Dressed in a suit. Next to him, a man in full black, save the strange glint that came off his left arm.

Watching them.
Watching her.

"Very well indeed."

Translations:
Mäuschen- Little Mouse (German)
Devochka- Girl (Russian)
Neposlushnaya devochka-Naughty girl (Russian)

Another Marvel One-shot of sorts :)

Thoughts?

Till next time...