I AWOKE ALONG WITH THE OTHERS, gasping out of my dreams and into the cold reality of real life. I, along with everyone else in this room, suffered from dark nightmares that plagued each hour in the night. However, at the Academy, people learned to erase and forget about anything that went on in heads. What happened in real life was all that mattered here.
As the nurse walked around and unlocked our handcuffs from the beds, I gritted my teeth and rubbed my wrists, swiping off any dried blood onto my greying nightgown. My body was stiff and aching from the night before, but I ignored the pain; whining about it would only make things worse.
The bed next to me was still empty; Francesca's, lying cold and bare with the sheets still made up perfectly. She had not come back. Maybe she never would; chances were, I would never find out. She was probably dead - and if she wasn't, she would be soon enough.
It was a test, that much I was sure of. Madame didn't do anything without a clear purpose, and the fact that she was carried out just before I was in the ring was no sort of coincidence. It was all some sort of plan, meticulously set up to drive a point. That was always what Madame did; I just wouldn't know why.
My eyes met anothers straight across from me, a younger girl staring at Francesca's bed, not bothering to hide her look of distraught. I remembered her; they were always whispering together and exchanging stolen food. They were friends, I believed, as much of friends as two could be at the Academy. She must be torn up over the loss.
That was the girl's mistake, caring for another. She was much too human still, meaning she would not advance for a long time. At the Academy, you needed to learn to give up any sort of emotions carried for anyone else, only focusing on yourself and what is necessary for you to accomplish. Emotions needed to mean nothing to anyone here.
"Freya."
It was the nurse who had unlocked us, now standing beside me, holding a single folded piece of paper. Her face was grave, serious - but so was everyone's here. It told me nothing of why she needed me. She only held out the piece of paper, urging me to take it, no words including with the frantic movement.
I didn't say anything back, hiding the plain paper from the view of anyone else, scanning the words quickly before crumpling it in my hands and dropping it away from reach. I followed everyone as I was supposed to, dressing and preparing myself mechanically, just as we were taught. Everything was a system, and I followed it perfectly.
This time, however, instead of following the line to the large hall, I parted ways and turned right down another. The nurse and I exchanged a quick look of understanding before I continued; she knew what to do in my absence, for she had too read the note.
I had only walked up and down this corridor three times in my stay at the Academy. Once, when I along with 27 other frightened young girls were first introduced. Twice, when we were told to perform a drill in which we were under attack. Thrice, when I had disobeyed a rule - the only time I had actually officially gone against orders in the Academy.
This would be my fourth.
In the dull silence, my feet thudded against the wooden boards like large rocks hitting water, echoing up and down and hurting my ears. It was designed that way so that even the quietest of girls could not escape the buildings. I hated it.
Third door to the right; Madame's office, complete with a shiny plaque depicting her name and position. Shadows passed through the glossy window, telling me that there were two people in there, waiting for me to come in. I only wished that the note had told me exactly why - or that there was some way of knowing my fate before swinging the door open and finding out for myself.
Three raps on the door, just like we were instructed. My knuckles still stung from yesterday's match. However, I ignored it and stood stiffly, waiting, hoping that I had in fact been instructed here and it wasn't a mistake.
"заходи."
There were two people in there; Madame, and a harsh-looking woman, hair swept back into a tight braid and eyes as cold as ice. I had seen her before, many times as a child but rarely as I had grown; however, this distance kept between us only made me happy, as she was terrifying. She looked and seem like she could kill me before I could blink and not even move. Any ounce of confidence I had once held had evaporated into thin air, and I longed for this to already be done with.
"Sit down," instructed Madame, gesturing to the chair in front of her desk. Her eyes, while much darker than the mystery woman's, were still waiting to pounce on me like a hawk.
My eyes never left my teacher's, and neither did hers with mine. I had learned the art of confidence from her, and I wouldn't be the first one to look away.
She finally turned her gaze away and folded her arms on the ornate desk in front of her, adjusting the pile of papers in front of her. "You've been progressing well, Freya."
I knew that. I wasn't an idiot; I'd rather have her skip to the important things than her attempt at small talk. "Thank you."
Madame cleared her throat once, twice, three times in a row. She was nervous about something, more nervous then I had seen her before. The ring finger on her left hand twitched, like a worry tick. "There's an opportunity available, and through careful consideration, you've been called the best choice."
"I'm not sure I understand."
This time it was the darker woman who spoke, clearing her throat to reveal a raspy, hoarse voice that suited everything about her. "You've proven yourself to be an alright student, and your progress has been more than satisfactory. The Academy needs someone about your age and height and looks, and someone who wishes to prove themselves. You were one of the first people to come to mind - certain minds, that is."
My expression didn't change from the impassive stare, but inside, I was in the midst of confusion, worry, and nervous excitement. This was what I wanted; I needed a way to be noticed. I needed a way to be the best. I needed to stand out, and this seemed to be the best way. However, depending on what the mission was, that would all change.
"What do you need me to do?" I asked, fists clenching and unclenching in my lap.
Madame smiled; she was growing comfortable again. "It's a small mission of grave importance considering one Peter Parker."
The name meant nothing to me, as in the Red Room any chance of knowledge of the outside world was snatched away, hidden unless it held any direct meaning to us and our training. Peter Parker could very well be the King of a far-off country, and none of us would have any idea. "Why does he need me? For protection?"
"He doesn't need protecting; he needs to be...monitored. He's unstable, and after some recent events in history, we need to make sure he doesn't go rogue."
"Rogue?"
The other woman leaned forward, a dangerous smiling licking up her lips like a flame devouring pure ice. "It's our job - rather, perhaps your job - to make sure that young Peter Parker stays the little high school genius he is, instead of doing something that many will regret. You have to keep everyone else safe instead."
I frowned slightly, confused as to what both of these women were alluding to. While they were describing him as a child, someone who couldn't do anything, it sounded like this...Parker was capable of much more than originally thought. More than that; he seemed...dangerous.
I was no stranger to danger; my life had been a perilous path, jumping from trembling rock to rock each and every day in hopes of succeeding somehow. However, this was a different sort of danger; this was physical, something that this young boy could cause if he wasn't stopped. It was more than just a mission. If I accepted, I could prove myself in a case that could change how they all saw me. Forever.
My eyes met Madame's again, this time with hers more triumphant and without the nervous tick. "I'll do it, but...I have some confusion. What is this boy capable of?" I was normally not so bold when speaking to her, but this time felt less formal.
The strange woman pulled out a handful of photographs from her coat, passing them to me so that I could look them over. "He's an almost-sixteen-year-old loner who possesses strange inhuman abilities from a source we're not quite sure of. He was a part of the Avengers quarrel and has a brain that I've not seen rivalled at his age. Simply put, this child is a genius with spider-like qualities that if used negatively, could destroy the world. We simply wish to keep an eye on the child."
The pictures, though grainy at times, clearly depicted a young man going about his day; walking down a busy street, in a classroom examining chemicals, in his room fiddling with decrepit tech, doing what presumably a normal child did. However, the other set of pictures was very different; a masked red and blue shape, whizzing past cars and shooting webs out of a mechanism on his wrists. In one, he perched on a wall, staring out the world around him, waiting for his perfect moment to do, well, whatever he did.
I finished the pictures with even more questions then before, but I knew better than to barrage the pair with them. Instead, I carefully placed the portfolio on Madame's desk and folded my hands up once again. "I'm supposed to help this boy?"
"No," was her point-blank reply. "You're simply going to watch him and make sure he doesn't do anything against regulations. Think of yourself as a little spy, if that helps. You'll be the eyes and ears of those who cannot be there, and complete what is necessary for you."
"You're going to use him for yourself, then."
Madame's eyes flashed with a quiet anger, but she somehow kept her calm. "Your job is to make sure that Peter Parker remains a quiet high school student who does the right thing at all times. Your questions are not necessary for this cause. Do you understand?"
What she meant was that I was toeing a very fine line, and if I stepped much farther, I'd be cut. "Yes, Madame. I understand."
"Good." She opened the file folder in front of her, revealing more pictures of the boy throughout a day. "You'll be leaving for New York in a few days, so make sure that you're prepared. In the meantime you'll be brought up to speed with the American culture and how to perform to your top abilities, as well as become familiar with your new self."
The woman beside her smiled quietly, malicious eyes scanning mine. "I'll be helping you with that. Let's hope that you're a quick learner."
I decided I didn't like her attitude, a theme that had been constant when I was a child. She was belittling me and thinking that I was less than capable. After years of that treatment from peers and teachers, I was sick of being demoted to scum off someone's foot - I had not worked so hard to be broken down once more. "I'll be fine, thank you. I'll do more than keeping up with you."
Her hooded eyes glazed over, and her glare of hatred rolled into one of patronising and disinterest. She didn't bother to lower her voice or change from the mother language as she spoke to the other woman, "is she really the best choice for this? We need a girl who will obey, not play a rebellious hero."
"Все будет хорошо", was Madame's curt reply back, cutting off both of our hateful words even before I could bite back - which was no doubt smart, considering it could cause me to lose the position I had gotten in. "She is more than capable, and under the proper construction, she'll do the job we need for her to perform. I do not know anyone else that will do what we need without question."
I knew what she meant, and while it stung, I didn't focus on the obvious dig. Madame knew of my willingness and wish to succeed here, which gave me this opportunity. She had noticed my determination, and biting against her words would not do any good. It was better to be something than nothing.
She rolled her eyes, though the woman did not respond to Madame's reply. Instead, she sat back and stared at me through heavy lids, not speaking again. She did not like me, no, but that was alright. I didn't need her to like me; I needed her to respect me, which was more important than the former.
Madame handed me the folder, hands grazing over mine for a split second before drawing away. "In here is all that you need to know about your identity and your new world and your mission. Any normal classes you had will be set aside; this is more important. You will have more news later on, but for now, go learn your role and perfect it. In order for this to succeed, you need to have everything perfectly memorised."
I nodded and got up, on my way to the door, when I stopped in my place. Not daring to meet her eye, I spoke again. "Madame, what happened to Francesca?"
Her face immediately went white, mixed with anger and disappointment and a fleeting second of grief, strangely. "Freya, do as instructed. Теперь."
"If I am going to do this, I deserve to know-"
"-no, you do not deserve that. You will do this, or you will leave. This position is extremely flexible." Her eyes flashed with anger that resonated deep in my soul, stirring up emotions I didn't know I could still feel. "Francesca was never your business and isn't now. She was expendable, and so are you."
I nodded, understanding exactly what she meant. "окэй. я прошу прощения."
Once out, I leaned against the wall for a moment, holding back everything my body was trying to force me to feel. I had to have a blank space in my mind, forget it all. This mission was the most important thing I had done yet, and I needed to succeed, which meant no arguments. Madame and the strange woman knew best; it wasn't my place to butt in. I needed to do my best now. Especially now.
Still, as I headed out to learn my new role, one word stayed with me and repeated itself through my head, bouncing off other thoughts and not allowing me to stay neutral. Expendable. Expendable. Expendable.
Francesca was expendable.
And so was I.
Any words that I didn't translate and weren't understood are here:
Теперь: now
Все будет хорошо: everything will be fine
заходи: come in
в порядке. я прошу прощения - okay, i am sorry