Red Room

1: Caught

"Get the hell up, do you want to be the one sparring today!?" 

You were awoken by the scratchy voice an instructor fussing at one of your roommates. You heard her footsteps grow louder, followed by the sound of metal handcuffs hitting the hard wood floors. You instantly got up and began preparing for the day. 

She did the same to your roommates, unlocking their handcuffs, and slamming the door on her way out. You despised her. I wish I could spar with her. I think I'd actually enjoy that,  you thought to yourself. 

You had already gotten yourself mostly put together while your roommates were talking about God knows what. You didn't mind them, but you refused to get attached. Eventually, you would have to kill them. 

Lainey, the newest one, was still in bed. She was replacing Gracie, who was killed by another one of you roommates, Sophia. 

You walked into the insultingly small bathroom and slicked back your hair into a tight bun, splashed some cold water onto your face, and put a leotard and tights on. The same as every other morning.

As soon as you finished with that, you threw your ballet bag over your shoulder and walked out of the room. You avoided social interaction at all costs, saves time and energy, and makes your job easier. 

You walked into the studio and began stretching, the other girls came in and began making conversation with each other. Idiots. 

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Today's lesson was fairly easy. It began with an average ballet class, followed by being forced to watch the same few movies that you've already seen countless times. Snow White, Dumbo, basically every children's movie. You never understood this part. You were 17 years old, watching old Disney movies to the point where you could probably spit out the dialogue line for line. Once that was finished, you were given an early day.

You've been in the red room since you were 10 years old. Most girls don't last as long as you do. They either escape, graduate, or die. You couldn't wait for one of those to happen, you didn't even care which one at this point. 

You had "proven to be loyal", so on the rare occasion of an early day, you're allowed out of the academy, as long as you wear a tracker This luxury wasn't really given to anyone else, so you were thankful for it. 

Today, just like every other early day, you decided to go out to a dance studio and dance jut to dance, rather than to avoid torture. It was oddly refreshing. 

You arrived at a studio down the street from the academy and began to tie the ribbons of your pointe shoes when your instincts began to go crazy. Being that you were one of the biochemical experiments, your intuition began to act up. You ignored it, assuming that it was just that. 

About halfway through the class, you realized that you were mistaken. Looking through the window of the studio, were none other than Captain America, the Winter Soldier, Falcon, Scarlet Witch, and oh shit...Black Widow. 

You finished up class as normally as possible and thanked the teacher on your way out. As you walked to the door, your eyes darted around, searching for cameras, mics, anything that might be out of place that could be used against you. 

They were following me. Pick up the pace, or drop something. Seeming clumsy might throw them off.  To contrast from the fact that you were a trained assassin, you dropped your water, spilling it all over yourself. 

You were cleaning yourself off when Steve Rogers came up and offered to help. Dammit. 

"You're a pretty experienced ballerina, huh?" He asked, holding out some napkins. You noticed an earpiece in his left ear and instantly realized that this was a mission. 

"Thanks, yeah um, normally we only have audiences for performances, not class, though." You said, hoping he'd get the hint to just go away. 

"Oh, well Natasha danced here a little, before she escaped the red room and shut it down, so she just wanted to reminisce a little." He didn't get the hint. He was also lying, this studio was near brand new. She couldn't have danced here. 

Sound ditsy and fangirl. He's onto you. "Oh my god, that's sooooo cool! Like woah, I danced on the same floors as an Avenger!?" The soldier reached his hand down to help you up. 

"Do you want to meet her?" He asked, looking over to a group Avengers who were eyeing you down. So it didn't throw him off. 

"That would be so great, but I need to get back home, my mom would kill me if I were late to dinner." He cocked his head to the side, he found an inconsistency in your lie.  

"The schedule said that class was for adults? Adults don't have a curfew." Fuck. He's figuring it out. 

"Well, my mom is kind of a helicopter." You lied. Giving in, you took his hand to help you up, giving in would be less suspicious than refusing. 

"Your technique is amazing, where do you take?" Black Widow asked, holding her hand out to shake. 

"Thank you so much! That means so much coming from such a role model! I love your hair!". You had to restrain yourself from visibly cringing at the tone in your voice. You were also dodging her question. There weren't any other studios around here to lie about attending, other than the red room. You reached out to shake her hand in instantly wished you hadn't as you felt yourself slam into a brick wall. 

Within seconds, your face was pressed to the side of a building, and your arm was being held against your back by an equally skilled assassin. 

"Who are you?" She asked in a serious tone.

"Sandy Jensen. This kind of hurts." you said, refusing to blow you cover. It's not that you didn't want to escape, but you had been told countless stories of how much the Avengers despised you. 

"Your real name." She growled, pressing your arm further into your back. You should have known that the fake name wouldn't work on her. She was trained just like you, and has seen every trick in the book.

"y/n y/l/n." you said, rolling your eyes and dropping the high pitched voice. 

"Where did you come from?" She asked, keeping the same serious tone. 

"Where do you think?" you asked. She knew, or she wouldn't be holding you hostage in an alley. 

She released her grip and threw handcuffs around your wrists. "You're coming with us. We know what you've done."