The Ghost [Marvel | Steve Rogers]

Chapter 10

Russia

Winter 1996/97

As Nadine lay back on her narrow bed, eyes sliding shut, the aches and pains she'd been ignoring all day returned in full force. It was bad enough that as she forced herself to relax, a pained whimper was startled out of her before she could manage to swallow it back.

Her entire body ached. It had all day. It had taken almost every ounce of concentration she'd had to make it through her dance routines first thing, her leg muscles trembling and cramping, muscle memory virtually the only thing getting her through the complex sequences. Her mind had felt like little more than mush as they'd gone through the day's chosen language tutoring; German today. Even their weekly session on Stealth and Covert Operations and Detection Avoidance Techniques was a struggle, and it played to many of her strengths; it was a good thing today hadn't been the Psychology, Dissembling and Interrogation Methodologies session—one of her weaker areas of study—or she might have been in serious trouble...certainly in more pain.

It had been the same with the training that had taken up the rest of the morning. By the time midday had come around, she'd already felt worked to the bone. Her head had been pounding in time with her racing pulse and that left her feeling dull and hazy, fighting back shivers that threatened to shudder across her skin. And the additional abuse her body had suffered during the daily sparring matches against first the other girls and then the Winter Soldier had only intensified it all. Bruises and abrasions littered her body, patches on her arms and legs quickly turning a deep, vibrant purple-black, their development accelerated by her faster than normal healing. Her cheek itched and ached, a deep scrape painted across her cheekbone from a particularly vicious kick from her remaining group-mate Katerina.

But all of it was nothing compared to the bone-deep ache suffusing her entire body with a brutal persistence. Even her throat still throbbed, the metallic taste still coating her mouth that always followed screaming her throat nearly to shreds.

But the Treatments were no excuse for not performing during their training. During her sharpshooting session early that morning, two of her shots had gone slightly wider than her typical pinpoint accuracy when her hands had spasmed; one of the many lingering after-effects, like her raw vocal chords or cramping muscles. It had earned a disapproving look from the old veteran KGB sniper the Red Room brought in to train the girls in distance sharpshooting. Nadya was his star pupil, even when fighting the after-effects of the Treatment, but that also meant he judged her against a far higher standard for it.

Later that afternoon, Madame B noticed Nadya falling short of her usual standards as well, and subsequently it meant she got to face even more pairings during the sparring that afternoon. She had faced the Winter Soldier alone three times, the last match earning an actual frown from the Training Mistress despite Nadya managing to hold out against him just as long as she usually did—though, in retrospect, perhaps that was precisely why—but it was going to take more than a simple beating to break her.

Regardless, Madame B had not been pleased when she'd called Nadya aside to review her performance report that evening, though she had mercifully ceded that the Treatment had been a higher dosage than was typical; it was as close to letting Nadya off the hook for not living up to her regular standards as she was likely to ever get.

Thankfully, the after-effects would fade quickly enough, likely by morning. But for now, it just left Nadya feeling miserable.

Next to her, Nadya felt the edge of the thin mattress of her narrow bed depress. Without even bothering to open her eyes she shifted, making room for the slight girl settling herself next to her. She didn't even have to look to know who it was. There was only one other girl in the Red Room with a close enough relationship with Nadya to do such a thing.