BLACK WIDOW

fabrication

fabrication
(n.)
the action or process of manufacturing or inventing something

•••

"The evil that I'm battling more recently is something that is more physically challenging and seemingly larger. But this evil that I faced for all my childhood and into my adulthood... that was an evil like no other."

•••

Natalia stirred awake in the dry, cold room. She laid in a cot of sorts in a private room. She wasn't sharing anymore, she noticed. She remembered returning, but any memories of falling asleep were quite hazy.

The cold bit angrily at her porcelain skin and her bruised head throbbed in pain. Her muscles ached and groaned from the build of of lactic acids after her operation. Not only that, but she felt rocked to the core. Her bones even felt like they'd all collapse within her body. Her head throbbed behind her eyes and in her ears. She considered the possibility of being sick, but ultimately decided it was from the violent mission she had just returned from. She did remember getting beat up, however.

But out of everything, the cold was the most confusing. It was spring. The days were warmer. She remembered it. It should not be so cold.

She looked over to the dresser where she saw her always fully loaded black stealth suit folded on the surface, waiting to be put on. Despite her bodies violent protests, she got out of bed and let her feet hit the freezing concrete floor.

She bent and stretched, hoping to work out and spread some of the acid buildup that was trying to heal her broken down muscles and then changed from what seemed to be a pair of training clothes she used to wear in the Red Room and into her token suit. She then fixed her curly crimson hair—it was shorter than usual. Everything seemed so off today. It must have happened in Germany. She never did notice.

But something felt weird. Everything seemed so odd to her. She felt so vacant. Like something was missing. Something was wrong. The bruises, soreness, headaches, and lightheadedness was something that should not be affecting her right now. If it was from yesterday, then it should have healed.

Natalia head snapped towards the door when there was a knock.

<Hello?> called out Natalia. The door opened to a smiling Madame B.

<Do you have a mission, Madame?> Natalia asked, approaching her boss.

<No, dear,> she answered, motioning for her to follow. <You need to heal. From yesterday. Today I'm going to show you something.>

<I have one more assignment with the Winter Soldier and then I am on my own, correct?>

<No,> Madame B answered as she exited the room with Natalia. <Your superiors have decided that you were ready to act alone. The Winter Soldier has been returned back to his superiors.>

Natalia nodded and looked forward.

<Natalia, you have done an exceptional job so far. You have paved the way for so many girls in the program,> Madame B told Natalia as she moved her into the training room that Natalia hadn't visited in years. She remembered hours of constant training with the Winter Soldier. She remembered his hard punches and even harder glares.

But what surprised her was the twenty five or so girls training just as she did. She looked to each station and recognized all her old trainers minus the Winter Soldier. This was strange seeing that he was the main, most knowledgeable teacher there.

"Look fondly upon this sight, young Natalia. Be proud. For this is your legacy. All this was made possible because of you," Madame B told Natalia, her voice full of pride. Natalia couldn't help but smiled. All these girls... they were going to be the forefront of the world military.