liberosis
(n.)
the desire to care less about things

•••

"Killing Yelena was never easy. It was however, necessary."

•••

Surprisingly, Natalia awoke from from slumber naturally, feeling quite rested. James had done it. She could feel that her cuts and bruises had healed and she felt no pain from her leg. But her abdomen was still aching.

She opened her eyes and looked around seeing that the other girls were also awake and waiting patiently to be unlocked. She didn't have to wait very long for a staff worker to come in and unlock all of them.

The remaining three girls: Yelena, Natalia, and Valentina, silently made their way to the locker room. Usually Yelena and Natalia would have small talk at this time. But after what happened the previous night, she was silent towards the young woman.

As she walked, she could feel that her leg was still broken. But she barely had to limp. Her stomach still ached wildly and was so very sore. When she went to replace her shirt, she saw the impeccable stitches along the cut James created. It had bled a bit, but it had passed that point now. James was right. It would probably be healed in a couple more days.

As she was braiding her hair, Yelena approached her timidly.

"What happened to you?" she asked Natalia nervously.

Natalia took an impatient breath and smiled sarcastically. "I was beaten nearly dead for winning and being happy about it."

Yelena looked at her feet, embarrassed. "And what happened to the Soldier? He looked worse than you did."

"He voiced his opinion and Madame B made him pay," she said, tying the end of her hair.

"But what did that do to him?"

Natalia looked to the ceiling, aggravated at the fact that Yelena is asking all these questions and even more aggravated that James hasn't told her.

"I don't know," she said, still avoiding eye contact with Yelena. Yelena, nor Natalia spoke for almost a minute.

<You've changed, Natalia Alianovna,>  was all she said as she turned on her heel and began to walk out.

Natalia hurried after her and grabbed her arm. Yelena angrily turned to face her waiting to hear what she had to say.

<Maybe I have, Belova. But think: was it for better?> she asked, hitting a nerve with the girl.

<I am steady. My course is planned. I am prepared for my journey. I do hope you are prepared for yours.> Yelena snarled, pulling away from Natalia and stomping out of the locker room.

Natalia looked after her, dumbfounded by the girls change in heart towards her.

She had to kill Yelena as soon as possible.

She was alone in the locker room. Valentina could care less about either of them. But now, one of two people that she loved, hated her. She did. After these two years, she had grown to love Yelena. And now she had to kill her. Because in the end, even though she had had her fair share of doubts, Russia will always be her priority. She only wished it didn't have to be this way.

And before she could stop it, a tear fell from her eye onto the concrete floor. And though it was only water, all Natalia could see was red. The red was seeping, spilling, spreading. Filling up her vision. And even though she didn't technically exist, her ledger was soaked in the blood of the terrible things she had done. And it was only going to grow redder.

She wiped away the tear in denial of its existence and stepped out of the locker room ready to overcome her pain—both physically and emotionally—and prove to Yelena, to James, to Madame B that she was the best. That she was made of titanium. That she will not be broken.

She entered the training room to see all the trainers gathered around the ring as Yelena and Valentina were readying themselves to fight. And it was then that Natalia realized: Madame B didn't think she was alive. All she knew to do was to go and stand with them. She ended up standing in between James and Ivan.

Madame ignore Natalia entrance and continued to look upon Yelena and Valentina's duel, with a disgusting smirk. It was obvious Yelena wanted to win. The only question was how much.

"She didn't know you survived," James whispered to Natalia without breaking eye contact with the fight, or moving his lips.

"I know," Natalia said, amused, also not moving her lips.

Sooner than expected, Valentina fell to the ground with a thud. Yelena had killed her.

And it was then that Dr. Zola, Colonel Luchov, and the First Secretary of the Soviet Party entered and gathered around the ring as Valentina was carried out.

<We missed it?> asked the country's leader, disappointed.

<No, sir,> Madame B assured, a sour look on her face. <You are just in time.>

<Good,> he said.

Natalia began to step into the ring, but Ivan stopped her. <Natalia...> She looked upon him impatiently. <'Talia, this is going to be the last time I see you. I just want you to know I love you. I am sorry.>

She felt no love or sympathy towards him. None at all. But she was sorry that Ivan had forced her to think that way. There was no telling why he had shunned her these two years. Perhaps Madame B knew they had been close and warned him not to treat her accordingly. Perhaps he was mad at her for jumping the program when he had told her not too. Maybe both. But that doesn't matter. He still did it.

<I'm sorry,> she stated coldly, turning back to the ring. He stopped her again.

<There is a place in Hell reserved just for people like you and I, young Natalia,> was the sentence he left her with as she crawled into the ring to face Yelena.

How could she do this? Yelena had trusted in her for two years and Natalia wished she could have done the same. But she knew it would end this way. She had been preparing herself for this moment for the longest time. Natalia just didn't think it would come so fast.

But she had to die. Today. She knew Natalia's secret. And if Natalia was the one to die, then Yelena would spill and James would have to suffer.

And here they were. Yelena was warm. She was healthy. She was fired up. And Natalia emotionally conflicted. Less than 24 hours ago, she had been mortally injured. Two of the deadliest women in the world were about to go against each other and only the strongest would emerge and become the Black Widow.

But the difference? Natalia had fire. She had will. She had passion. She had passion for Russia. Passion for the physicality and mental strain. Passion for James. Passion for proving Madame B wrong. For avenging Alexi and her child. She was here to turn excuses to reasons.

Madame B stayed back to speak to the three men that had just entered, leaving James to control the brawl.

Natalia kept her eyes on Yelena, neither of them breaking eye contact. Yelena's stare was scary, yes. But it was nothing compared to Natalia's.

Yelena's stare was that of someone who was high on the excitement of their sport. She was only what you would call "fired up".

Natalia however, her stare was that of a deep seated passion. Deep seated fire. Piercing aggression. Her eyes showed that she wanted this. Her eyes showed that she was willing to put aside the pain she felt from the fact that she had to murder her best friend in front of an audience.

James recognized this look and smirked as he spoke the single word: "Begin."

There was no thinking in this because both knew that neither of them could outwit the other.

This fight was pure grit. Absolutely savage. To watch it meant that you would experience nightmares. Natalia's body ached and begged and pleaded for her to stop. But she was not going to.

They fought dirty. They threw elbows and knees. They bit and pulled hair. Poked eyes. It was truly scary.

But really, the most ominous thing how quiet everything was besides the light taps of their feet on the mats.

<Impressive,> complimented the First Secretary.

<Aren't they?> said Madame looking proudly to the monsters she had created.

<So why don't you just keep both of them. They are both obviously highly skilled. Why have them killed?>

<Well, First Secretary. Our system is impeccable. We choose the best, then they narrow themselves out to see who is the ultimate in the group. This is our first batch. If Belova—or Romanova—is a successful, then we will continue with our younger classes. If not... they all die and we find something else.>

He shrugged, watching Natalia and Yelena struggle against each other. <That is smart. What about the Winter Soldier? He is here, correct?>

Madame B nodded. <He is over there,> she said pointing at him. <Any questions about him go to Zola. He only speaks Swedish, German, and English, however.>

The First Secretary nodded looking upon James from a distance. He then turned to Zola. "Your asset is quite the specimen. Where did you find him?"

"He was an American Sergeant we had captured during the world war. He was already extraordinarily gifted, but we used him as a sort of guinea pig for Erskine's Super Soldier Serum. Captain America saved him along with over 200 other men from our base however. A few years later, he turned up on a river bank. The notorious captain thought his was dead. Turns out the serum worked."

"How do you get him to comply?" he asked, intrigued.

Zola tapped his temple. "Memory wipe and brainwashing."

"Amazing."

"It is, Mr. Secretary," he agreed, the four of them turning to look upon the Soldier.

"But that prosthetic. Absolutely enthralling."

"It is," repeated Zola. They were silent for a while until the First Secretary spoke again.

"That redhead looks like she's hurt," he spoke, amused.

"She's weak," Madame B added.

The first Secretary chuckled. "Madame, I think your wrong. This one is going to win. You can see it in her eyes."

"I just can't wait to see what the Winter Soldier and Black Widow can do together out in the field," Luchov said excitedly.

"I'll be looking forward to to it."

Natalia felt the blood seeping from her stitches. Yelena had rebroken her leg. Her lip and eyebrow were spilt. Her nose was broken. But Yelena was just as bad as Natalia was. The murderous, ferocious assault had carried on for too long. Neither of the were winning and the audience was growing bored.

Without warning, James threw a knife into the ring, sticking it just out of their reach. The women paused immediately, looking at the knife, then each other.

And in sync, they dove for the weapon, both trying to keep the other from grabbing it. They were now fighting on the ground, throwing elbows and rolling around. And finally Yelena found an upper hand and straddled Natalia, though unable to reach the knife. So to make up for that, she began to strangle Natalia.

Natalia was stuck. She couldn't move. But she knew she had too. She had to get out of this. She knew she could move, but she did come up with a more artistic approach. She spat in Yelena's eyes, causing her to loosen her grip. She rolled away from Yelena and grabbed the knife, spun around, and launched the knife into her heart all in one move.

She could see the surprise in Yelena's eyes. It broke her heart. She did love that woman. She did wish someone else had killed her. But this was necessary. She looked to James who nodded in secret pride. But he too could sense Natalia's liberosis. But it was over. There was nothing anyone could do to change that.

Natalia was finally Mother Russia's Red Room's Black Widow.

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