Russia
Late Fall 1996
She had gotten so used to disassembling, cleaning and reassembling the Makarov PM blindfolded, that whenever she was required to do so now, Nadya Ivanovna Rykova always did so with her eyes closed. Her fingers flew over the components, fitting them back together and a handful of heartbeats later it was ready to fire.
"Good." Nadya's eyes opened, glancing up to Madame B as she passed by the station Nadya had been working at. Sitting in front of her were several different firearms—a variety of handguns, Russian and American among others, a submachine gun and even an anti-personnel rifle—each cleaned, reassembled and neatly laid out for inspection. The corner of the older woman's mouth pulled a little, the closest thing to an approving smile she gave for the most part, before she moved on.
Around her other girls were similarly finishing up with their own batches of weapons. A thorough knowledge of firearms was merely one small component of their training, and their taskmistress was exacting to a tee.
"Faster, Natalia. Fast but not sloppy." Though the rules included ignoring any distraction, Nadya couldn't help but glance over at the sound of Madame B's almost casual admonishment. Almost as soon as their trainer had passed by the younger girl's table, Natalia glanced up herself to catch Nadya's eye, stressed green meeting grey. Nadya spared the girl a tiny smile before slowly shifting her gaze back to her own station. It was a trick long ago learned; slow movements were far less likely to catch attention.
"Nadya," but not today, it seemed, "again." Holding in a frustrated groan, Nadya complied.
It was no longer difficult work, stripping and reassembling the firearms they trained with, Nadya having mastered many of them long before she was Natalia's age, but that meant it was now tedious and exacting. The excitement of the challenge had long since worn off, and even Barrett anti-personnel rifle, the most recent addition to her personal arsenal given her particularly keen marksmanship, had become near second-nature. Even some of the old soviet weapons or the odd obscure ones from a variety of other countries they were sometimes given as a test were no longer a challenge. When it came to firearms, she was the best of every girl there whether it was handling or firing them, so that was no surprise.
Nadya was done quickly, outpacing not only the younger recruits—as was to be expected—but the older ones as well, including those at the same level as her. Not that there were many of them left, anyway. Of the eleven girls who started their training when Nadya did, only two others were left beside herself...that was unusual. Close as their group was to completing the program? Usually there would only be a single recruit left; none from the group ahead of Nadya's had even made it to their graduation ceremony.
Four of her groupmates had been killed by Nadya herself.
Training in the Red Room was hard, and their tests were harder. Only the elect few didn't break. Any who broke died.
To succeed was to live, and to live in this place meant others needed to die.
And Nadya was a survivor; those who weren't died quickly in the Red Room.
As they all stood, guns precisely laid out and pristine, Nadya caught Natalia's eye again, giving the girl another tiny smile. Nadya had been here a long time, and she had seen many, many girls die because they were not good enough. She had learned long ago not to allow herself to become attached to any of her fellow recruits. The last real friend Nadya had made among the other girls had not made it to her eleventh birthday. Nadya had been just barely ten years old herself. They were not here to make friends. They were training to be detached and untouchable. To become the most elite and efficient spies and killers in the world. It was easier when they didn't get attached to one another.
But Nadya hadn't been able to help but grow attached to the redheaded girl just about four years her junior, slowly but surely growing to see her as a little sister as the years passed. Especially when the younger girl had fiercely latched on to Nadya when the older groups had been instructed to mentor the youngers when they'd been moved into the Red Room program proper from the Nursery at age seven or so. Right from the beginning, Natalia was spirited and strong, and Nadya suspected that, of the girls in her recruit group, and possibly many of the others besides, Natalia would be the one to succeed and survive. Her will was too strong to be broken in this place. And she was smart, talented and driven. Already she was far ahead of the other girls brought in the same time she was. Yet she still managed to retain a sense of, well, humanity. She was still a young girl, despite everything they'd done to her so far to turn her into a ruthless and resourceful killer.
After their evening routines were rehearsed, their lessons reviewed and their dinner eaten, the girls, from the youngest—barely older than toddlers as many of them had been when they were brought to the mansion facility—to the oldest like Nadya, retreated to the dormitories. As the other girls settled down for the evening, some congregating instinctively like birds huddling against the cold, Nadya wove her way among the cots lining the walls of the dormitory until she reached Natalia's. The younger girl was sitting cross-legged on the thick wool blanket, her slight weight creasing the pristine folds.
Settling down beside her, Nadya bumped her shoulder against the redhead's, catching her eye. The younger girl only had a drained grin to return. Madame B had pushed her hard today, likely seeing the same potential that Nadya was beginning to glimpse in Natalia. Glancing surreptitiously to the nearest girls—one two cots down to the left, her back to them, a trio to the right looking at some American magazines and two more across the narrow aisle whispering together but not paying them any attention—a tiny conspiratorial smile curling her lips, Nadya reached beneath the bulky knit sweater she wore over the uniform they were required to wear for lessons. Natalia's eyes lit up at the clementine Nadya pressed covertly into her hands; the younger girls had received plums as their sweet with dinner, while only the oldest girls had gotten clementines as a treat, and Natalia loved clementines.
"Happy Birthday, lisichka," Nadya whispered as she gathered up the younger girl's vibrant hair, parting and braiding it into two neat plaits in preparation for bed as Natalia began peeling her treat.
When the younger girl had latched onto Nadya when Natalia's group had first been thrown into training from the Nursery, Nadya had been supremely unhappy about it. She had still been utterly resolved not to grow close to any other recruits since her friend Valerie had broken barely two years previous. That the tiny seven year-old all had all but clung to Nadya with fascination had severely irritated her, leading to her spitefully snapping out the nickname every chance she got in the hope that by simply being nasty she would lose her little shadow.
Of course, that had not happened, and eventually Natalia had managed to insinuate herself into Nadya's affections. The nickname had stuck though—and as it meant 'little fox' it was appropriate considering Natalia's bright fox-red hair, cunning, delicate face and quick, clever eyes—and reverted back to the nickname's more traditional, loving use rather than out of disparagement.
"Ladies." Every face in the room turned to Madame B. The older woman stood straight and cool in the doorway of the dormitory, surveying them all. Angling her body, Nadya managed to position herself so their supervisor wouldn't catch a glimpse of the yellow-orange peel in Natalia's hand. Nadya slipped her hand behind her back, managing not to grin when the cool peel was pressed into her palm.
Madame B's eyes scanned the room, picking out the two other girls from Nadya's group, the four from the group that had come after and Nadya herself. Discreetly, Nadya tucked the peel up into the waistband of her uniform skirt beneath her sweater; she would get rid of it later. She was hard pressed not to smile when Natalia's smaller hand reached out to help.
"Yanna, Maria, Inga, Elisabeth, Nadya, Lena, Katerina." That was all the Training Mistress said before turning and gliding out of the room again. But they all knew why she had called them. It wasn't the first time, and far from the last either. With a heavy sigh, Nadya glanced back at her younger friend, giving her an apologetic but reassuring smile before giving her hand a quick squeeze. Natalia's eyes were wary in her delicate face. While they didn't know why the oldest girls were being called away, the younger girls knew what was coming.
Screaming that echoed through the mansion complex.
But Nadya smiled softly and straightened the girl's fringe with a gentle ruffle.
"Don't worry about me, Natasha. I can handle it."
Then, straightening her spine and steeling her nerve, Nadya and the other six girls filed from the room.
A/N: Thanks for reading!
Be sure to vote and comment! I live for the feedback!
And don't forget to follow me! It's the best way to get updates on new chapters and new stories!!