Annika grew up in the mysterious Red Room, the place where the all so famous Natasha Romanoff got trained. Except, back in Russia, she is known by a different name. Natalia Alianovna, one of the most successful assassins the Red Room ever had. One o...
AN: Okay, I'm not gonna say much, but, I personally do not know Russian, but I want to use a little bit for the sake of where she is from. So if its wrong, I apologize. I will also have translations at the end of chapters.
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Annika's POV:
I still lived in the Red Room building.
Being the young age of fifteen, they wouldn't allow me to get property outside of the school just yet, even though I had been graduated for two years.
It did not matter to me, Madame was seeing it through, and I did not say no to her.
I had a separate room, and was no longer handcuffed to my bed.
Another thing about being graduated, was that I had a key for the outside gates, and a few of the rooms inside the building.
Some were only for Madame, and some of the other superiors that ran the graduates missions.
She partially ran my missions, but mainly it was the people who came who do.
Madame would tell me what time I was leaving the next day, and I would meet someone outside, who would tell me what I had to do.
I would have around half an hour to get ready with what I deemed was appropriate, before they took me, where ever it was that I needed to go.
Sometimes they would give me a comms set, but this was very rare.
I never needed backup.
I got up this morning, like all the others, putting on my uniform of grey long sleeve, with my grey canvas pants.
They were fitted so that I could put my weapons over them, as they were simply used for training.
I had training this morning, a personal training session with Madame that I had once a week.
Putting my hair in its perfect ballet bun, I walked to the door of my plain room, where my shoes sat.
I had three pairs; my ballet shoes, my laced shoes, and my winter boots.
Nothing else was necessary.
The key ring that simply slipped onto one of my belt loops was already there, and once my shoes were tied, I left the room.
I walked down the quiet hallways, my even footsteps echoing.
About a week ago new girls were brought in, and I could hear their weeping as they started to train, their bodies not used to this new strain.
They had just finished one of their first lessons, and were taking off their shoes.
I opened the door, staring at the young girls.
"Quiet down. You will disturb Madame," I said, my cold gaze settling on one girl in particular who was crying the loudest.
"Help us. Save us," she whispered to me softly, plead in her young, innocent lives.
