This story is a crossover between the Wizarding World and Marvel, where the famous Marauder Sirius Black has a daughter who was presumed dead but was sent to the Red Room Academy, a place where the deadliest weapons are created.
The story progresse...
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FILE LOADING___
Maya:- Property of KGB
𝐀 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍. Every turn and every move made them look like a picture of perfection. Synchronicity flows with the music. The sunlight fell in the room through the three giant windows making them look like angles. Angles dancing to the tunes of the devil. They danced until they broke. Shattered on the floor like glass. But the ones who didn't break continued to dance on the broken glass. Because they were made of marble, they didn't break but bleed. Their blood stains the floor red. Stains them red.
Young girls sat on the floor looking at the dancing angles, wondering whether they would shatter or dance until a bullet was put in their heads. They watched as these angles danced, knowing they would have to too. They would have to prove whether they are marble or glass. There is no place for glass in the Red Room Academy. Glass is weak and there is no such thing as weakness in the Red Room. The Academy creates statues of marble, not glass. Statues that made kingdoms fall and nations bleed.
These Statues were carved so that they hypnotized anyone who saw them. Anyone but the person who carved them. They were not humans, they were not the little girls collected from all over the world. The academy sucked their soul. Broke the glass and carved the marble into perfection.
Out of twenty-four girls, only six survived. Each girl had the blood of the other three girls on their hands. They killed to survive. They survived to kill. These six girls would become the hands of Dreykov, they would kill for him and would be killed for him.
Madam B had her favorite in every batch, she tested her favorite more than others, pushed her favorite more than others, and punished her favorite more than others. And in this batch her favorite is Maya.
Maya is made of marble. Maya is perfection. Maya is an illusion.
Maya's small, frail-looking hands stretched in the air as she moved to the rhythm. She felt the music flow through her body, from her toes to her heart. She felt the music change and she twirled in her place. She went on her toes, came back down, and twirled in her place. She held her head high. Her posture is perfectly straight. Her feet glided across the floor as her knife did on her target's neck. Pain. She felt pain running in her veins but she showed pride. Her steps showed pride. Because in the Redroom pride comes from pain. And pride is valuable more valuable than life.
