Old Nightmares, New Places

  The girl falls to the floor.
  Dead.
  In complete indifference, the metal-armed soldier stares at the body.
  Then he looks up.
  His flat, emotionless eyes scan the silent onlookers' pale faces.
  Challenging them.
  A young girl with blood-red hair stands perfectly still among the others. Not a movement is made inside the cold underground chamber. Not a sound is uttered; no one is keen to incite the interest of the silent, unreadable soldier standing impassively in the center of the room.
  His powerful metal arm glints in the glaring electric lights from the ceiling.
  A drop of perspiration beads on the red-haired girl's brow, but she dares not wipe it away. The smell of sweat and death lingers ominously.
  Finally, two uniformed guards appear from their posts in the shadows. They march forward, their movements loud and ungainly in the horrid silence. The soldier with the vibranium arm calmly stands aside, allowing the guards to take the limp body of the girl and carry it away.
  The red-haired girl follows the unceremonious procession with her wide eyes. It's an unsettling sight. She tries to suppress the terror rising in her throat.
  She' s only 16.
  Too young. That's what the people said when they came to take her away. But they just shook their heads, took notes on their clipboards, and peered at her as she sat shivering on a dingy hospital bed.
  Now she's here. Witnessing things no child should witness. Being taught things, horrible things, that can take a man's life in one lethally timed move.
  She feels cold all over; her heart is pulsing unnaturally fast.
  It'll be her turn soon. She'll have to face that monster. It's simply part of her training. These brutal assignments are mandatory to her becoming what they want her to become. Her rights, her choices, her decisions...they don't exist in this world. All that matters to them are her abilities, and that they be perfected.
  "Natalia Alianova Romanova."
  The redhead looks up, frightened.
  The metal-armed soldier is staring straight at her.
  Natasha jerks awake.
  Dark gloom presses against her eyes. She lies perfectly still underneath the sheets, her pulse pounding.
  There's no sign of that wretched chamber. No glaring electric lights, no grimy concrete walls, no cries of pain. The soldier with the icy eyes and metal arm had vanished.

*to be continued*
Hi everyone!!! How do you like the
fanfic so far? Anything you'd like me to change? Your feedback is much appreciated!
~ Jiordan ~