The Scorch || Marvel/HP

57 - Assassin Child

Harlow followed the sharp scream that echoed throughout the building, bouncing off the stained walls. Goosebumps grew on James' arms as he followed Harlow through the eery building.

Harlow and the four boys came to a stop, when she spotted a particular room. The training room. They walked through the door and watched the scene unfold in front of them.

Harlow was cowering in the corner of the room. She had finally woken up after being knocked out repeatedly during the journey, and found herself in this room. Her hands were tied together with weird looking bracelets attached to them.

"You will learn to be everything that makes a superior race." The man spoke, his English sounding a little funky, his native language clearly not English. "You'll become out little soldier." He added on, lowering himself to be closer to her trembling figure and letting his finger trial over her cheek.

"Who's that?" Remus questioned, not liking the look of the man. He was a burly man, built big. For a moment that distracted from his facial features, ones that had been deeply scarred. He had a squint nose, one that was clearly broken. There was also multiple cuts all over his face, large ones on his shaved head.

"I called him 'Тренер' which means trainer." Harlow answered, approaching the young girls figure. Just as Harlow was about to try and touch the younger version of herself she dissolved.

The area didn't change however. Loud clashing sounds caused Harlow to snap her head to the side, along with the boys.

Harlow's body went flying to the floor. Pain emitted through her body as she cried out. She had been struck by a pole right in the centre of her back. The girl landed with a thumb that made further pain emerge throughout her body causing the girl difficulty to breath.

"Вы снова потерпели неудачу" the trainer hissed aggressively, sending the girl a menacing looks as he spoke in Russia even though at the time Harlow didn't know much apart from one worded commands.

He yanked Harlow up by the back of her neck, squeezing harshly making her rasp for air. "You need to try harder!" The trainer demanded into her ear, tightening his hold on her neck.

"I-I." Harlow squeaked, trying to answer to prevent facing serious consequences. When she first arrived she remained silent for at least three weeks but eventually the organisation grew annoyed and started punishing her every time she refused to speak or do what they say.

"Shoot!" He demanded, passing her a gun and forcing it into the girls hands.

The boys watched closely as young Harlow tried to avoid touching the gun. They followed Harlow as she approached watching the tears dripping down the twelve year olds face.

As the group looked up they found that the dummy that had originally been there was replaced by a real person. Breathing, thinking and functioning.

"Стрелять! *shoot*" The instructor demanded, harshly hitting Harlow's back with the same metal pole as before which sent a loud slapping sound through the room.

Harlow's hand trembled as she raised it slowly. Her eyes were narrowed in on the live target opposite her. The training had been building up to this point. Harlow, still twelve years old, knew how to shoot a gun. She had been learning that skill for almost seven months now. It was easy to say her progress was quite impressive.

"Стрелять!" He repeated, screaming it in Harlow's ear, making her flinch in fear. The scream of her trainer played in her mind as she took the safety pin of the gun.