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.

Natalia had been the one to ensure that lives of all these girls. Sure, twenty-seven of the group would die. But she knew it was how they would grow. And in the end, there would be another girl, the same as here. And perhaps they could reshape the world together.

"You like what you see?" Madame B asked Natalia with a smug smile that Natalia wouldn't be able to recognize. Why would Madame B need to be smug?

"I thought there was no serum left," Natalia said, amazed by the sight before her. Madame B smiled and walked over to two sparring girls.

"There isn't. We are letting them train without it. They will still be elite," Madame B explained. "Just not quite as elite as you."

Natalia watched in awe as a young, dark haired girl, possibly young twenties, wrench another girl over her shoulder onto the floor, knocking her unconscious. Absolutely brutal.

"This girl* is unnamed," Madame B explained. Then she lowered her voice. "She is amazing. This girl is you. She will be the winner of this group."

"What is the code name?" asked Natalia, thinking about her own.

"They shall get theirs later. They won't all die. And they all would work directly for the Red Room."

"What did you mean by 'this group'?"

"Oh," Madame B said excitedly as she held her hands behind her back. "You should be so proud, dear Natalia."

Natalia couldn't help but smile. "What is it?>

<There are dozens of group at this age going through the selective training process at this very moment,> Madame B revealed with a smile that told Natalia she should smile. <Now would you like to see the young ones?>

Happiness erupted in Natalia's emotions. Young ones? She nodded excitedly.

They walked through the halls of the Bolshoi, passing rooms of dancing girls or training girls. The atmosphere was emotionless. It was all business. Just the was Natalia remembered herself being.

"Those are the adolescent ages," Madame B disclosed to Natalia, pointing in one of the rooms where they were dancing.

"You're teaching them to dance?" asked Natalia. Madame B nodded.

"Now all the girls of the Bolshoi are part of this program," said Madame B. "They all have to dance in order to keep our cover up."

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. They all have to dance. Oh, how Natalia longer to dance with them. She missed the feeling of the hardwood floors under her en pointe feet. She missed the tight leotards stretching against her beaten skin. She missed the feeling of flying when she would perform her jumps.

"Soon these young ladies will be positioned all around the world," Madame B said proudly as they moved on to the girls who seemed to be preteen. They were working with handguns—Natalia's favorite. Madame B knew that.

She looked up to her pupil. "Would you like to show them how it's done?"

Natalia nodded, causing Madame B to grimace. "Do not nod at me. You shall use yes or no."

"Yes, Madame," Natalia apologized. Madame B smiled in satisfaction as she stood in front of the children, stopping them.

"Girls, this is Agent Romanova. The very first product of the Black Widow Program." The girls gasped and looked to Natalia with worshiping eyes. Natalia couldn't believe it. She felt like she was worth something. It had been so long since she had felt anything. "She is already doing massive things for Russia. Handguns are her best weapon. Would you like to see what you'll look like when you graduate?"

Natalia knew only one of them from this group would graduate. She also had the feeling these girls would never be able to use a handgun the way she can. She had the Serum. She also had the best trainer in the world, she remembered. So strange though. She felt like she should remember something else about him. But she couldn't put her tongue on it.

That's how all of today had been. Everything she wanted to think was on the tip of her tongue. And of she tried harder to think about it, all she felt was horrible pain coursing through her entire nervous system.

Natalia saw that the girls were holding the hand guns two handed, barely able to hold them up. They were using a Glock 19. Light and accessible. 4 inches shorter on the barrel and 7 inches shorter in  total than the common pistol. Yet it manages hold 15 rounds. Too easy.

Natalia smiled. She was about to show off. For this reason, she chose two M&P 9's. The guns were bigger and heavier. Harder to load. Much to her excitement. She remembered having contests with her teacher. Whoever loaded and expelled the shots first won. If Natalia didn't win however, he'd beat her. She shuddered at the thought. It didn't seem right to her though. It was about her on of those situations where something was on the tip of her tongue.

She didn't even know that memory was one of the many warped memories. The Soldier would have never beat her in his right mind.

But he was the reason she was going to show off so well. It was muscle memory now. She'd always be racing him. She wanted to smile as she stood in front of the table where eight empty magazines sat alongside her two guns of choice and their corresponding ammunition. But instead she grimaced. And in seconds she had the ammunition in the cartridges. All eight of them. And she wasn't even looking.

She was looking at Madame B the entire time. The she winked at the girls who were absolutely gawking as dove over the weapons table and tumble onto her knees in postion to shoot and kill the target— with absolutely no noise.

And with the guns in each hand, she destroyed the target. She stashed the cartridges in her sleeve for easy change when she ran out. Natalia tried not to smile when the girls gasped as she dropped the magazine and pulled a new magazine out of thin air, still continually firing off shots as she remained ready on her knee. When she finished off all her ammunition, she stood to her feet, looking the eldest girl in the eye and help up the two firearms, blowing off the gun smoke from the barrels.

"This, ladies," Madame B said pointing proudly to Natalia. "This is our goal here."

Natalia looked upon all the girls with pride as they looked up at her with awe. She was the reason all these girls were going to be legendary. She paved the way for this. And it was beautiful.

"Now, girls. Be glad that you got to see her. She is a very busy woman. She goes on mission that change the world. She keeps us safe. She keeps order. Long live Mother Russia!"

The girls tore their stare away from Natalia long enough to turn and listen to Madame B.

"Long live Mother Russia!" they chanted in unison. Madame B looked to Natalia expectantly. Natalia had never remembered doing this. But she was completely fine with it. She was proud of it.

"Long live Mother Russia."

Natalia was sure she had never seen Madame B smile so big in her entire life. It made her feel like she had accomplished something big. Her missions were a success and she was now beginning her solo ones. All these little girls had been saved from their poverty stricken homes and are being raised as hero's. All because Natalia succeeded.

She didn't remember ever feeling anything but this overwhelming pride. Natalia couldn't eat for her next mission.

So helpless was she. So unknowing. So violated. All this was a fabrication. Nothing good was to come from any of this. But she was happy.

And so was Madame B.

Long live Mother Russia.

Dont forget to vote/ comment ;)

*this unnamed girl will soon adopt the name: Dottie Underwood, who was a very important antagonist against America and even more for Howard Stark and Peggy Carter