IT WAS UNUSUALLY WARM in the courtyard, especially for Northern Russia, where there was always a brisk wind or a chill running down the streets and into people. It felt wrong, in a way, as if it was some sort of omen gesturing that something bad was going to happen. Considering we were lined up, facing another student, waiting our chance to fight with no rules or form, that very well could be true.

I was the last one, placed due to my height and weight. My 'opponent' was Anita, someone with a stockier build but a smaller frame, leaving us with a somewhat even playing field. She, along with me and a few others, had been at the Academy the longest and were to soon be considered for graduation if we could pass through the extensive ceremonies following. 

I didn't bother to hide my scrutinizing stare, and neither did she; we were both examining each other, trying to find some way inside, some sort of vantage point that would help us win the fight. 

Anita was well built and indubitably stronger than me, but that meant she would be clumsier, less sure on her feet. I was lithe, agile, meaning if the opportunity presented itself, I could get inside her shields and win the fight. That was if the opportunity presented itself. These competitions were like a game of chess; one wrong move of the other opponent and someone's plan would be ruined. In order to succeed, you always needed at least five ways to win.

"начать", Madame announced, watching the two girls in the ring with her usual calculating glare. 

Begin.

It was as if in that moment, a switch had been flicked in the two's heads, immediately morphing them from meek, obedient students to wild beasts, ripping and biting and tearing at each other as if they were locked in their own war. It was scary, watching; not because of the girls themselves, but how much they - we - wanted the recognition. No one wanted to be left behind, for although going forward was a difficult path, it was better than anything else being offered to us.

Madame stared with a sort of sick fascination, cruel eyes glittering as she watched the two girls, ripping at each other with every ounce of strength in their small bodies. She didn't say anything, but she didn't need to. They would not stop until one had won; that was the way it was.

It was sick, really, the fact that this was a thing; forcing girls to watch their own peers tear at each other like beasts, while the girls fighting were forced to go as long as Madame wanted, even sometimes ending in death. It was even more sick, however, that Madame enjoyed it, more than I thought was possible for a human being. For although it was her job to train us, to make sure that we were as stronger as possible, anyone could see in her eyes that this is what she lived for. Every swipe, every scream, every groan of pain and sorrow - that was why she was here. To make girls lose every inch of innocence possible, to turn them into the machines necessary.

The fight was only five minutes, though it felt more like five centuries. In the end, the blonde, Clara, was pinned down, denounced as the loser. It would be much harder for her to advance from there, for once someone loses a round, they carry that with them for the rest of their time at the Academy. I would know; I had only failed once, in the beginning, but it had set me back several years in training, and I had to push twice as hard to continue down my steady path.

"достаточно," Madame announced, causing the two girls to break apart and morph back into the quiet little girls they really were. She stepped into the ring, gesturing forward the next two girls. "начать."

Begin.

We watched, each of us standing as still as stone, as each pair fights until they are battered and bruised, some girls faces' unrecognizable in the end. And each time that someone else stepped forward, and the lineup got shorter and shorter, my heart beat faster and faster until I was sure it would fly out of my chest and into the ring instead of me.

A hand touched mine briefly before letting go just as fast; the girl beside me, Francesca. She was next, after the two girls currently sparring, and fear shone in her eyes along with unshed tears. Francesca was not a fighter, and although she was good at it, I knew that she hated it more than anything else she was forced to partake in. Her gentle heart had not yet been broken by the Red Room yet -  though I feared any day, it would be.

Francesca and I were not friends; I had no friends here. It was discouraged, and I avoided becoming close with anyone here, for fear of feelings that would consume the mind of a moral-less soldier. Still, out of all the girls in our group, I was closest to her, from years and years of training side by side. She had once slipped me a piece of bread when I was punished in the beginning, and I had not forgotten that. In my now robotic, one-mission mind, I did not view her as an enemy. Far from it.

I couldn't say anything to her, for fear of getting in trouble, but I hoped that the comforting glance I sent to her was, well, comforting enough. Though, in the end, it would not matter much; she would still be sent out to fight her new opponent, and there wasn't anything I could do to help her.

"Next!"

A small whimper sounded from her throat, but she stepped forward as due and faced the girl in front of her. Almost against my wishes, my heart beat faster, worried for her and winning her match. Although she was more than able, I knew how much she hated fighting. This might not turn out well.

Madame watched the girls circle each other, one hand tapping against another folded arm, watching every move made, her eyes darting back and forth as things got more serious. A small smile licked her lips; there was something about the fight that excited her, more than the other outcomes of sick battles before her eyes, and it sent shivers down my spine to even think about.

I turned my gaze to Francesca and her opponent, a girl three times her size. Each girl was a strong, valiant fighter, and the former was wily and fast beyond comprehension, but Francesca was already sweating and shaking before the match wasn't even tense yet. Something was wrong. 

It was not a normal fight.

Something was wrong.

One lunge was all it took to overpower Francesca, and the fight was over. Her opponent knocked her to the stone floor and beat her down, holding her down in a hold that I could tell wouldn't be easy to break out of, even if Francesca was trying. However, the smaller girl seemed to have given up; she wasn't moving, and she simply allowed herself to be thrown around like she was nothing but a rag doll. As much as I knew I should not care, my heart rate quickened and I didn't disguise my stare of horror as the closest person to me in this academy was broken, ripped to shreds before my eyes.

The girl, who I could not remember the name of, finally gripped Francesca's throat and began to squeeze, showing no mercy. None of us made any move to stop her, as it was unallowed and we would be punished, but everyone had a face of pure shock, including me. While death was far from uncommon at the Academy, it was rare that there was a murder of such a valuable student on a sparring day. 

Madame did nothing, and simply watched one of her students squeeze the life out of another, eyebrow raised and a small smile flickering on her face. I wanted to kill her myself for what she was doing; I hated her for this. She shouldn't be allowed. Forget whatever she had done; this was murder. This was -

"достаточно," snapped Madame, stepping forward and separating the girls. Her sharp heels, almost like daggers supporting her feet, clacked against the stone floor as she knelt down to check her pulse. 

We all watched Francesca's body be dragged off, droplets of deep red blood staining the ground. I didn't make a single move or sound, but my heart felt like a solid weight, pinning me down and causing me to lose all of my holds on my emotions. I wasn't even sure what to make of what happened.

Something wasn't right in that situation. Francesca wouldn't simply 'give up' like that, even from fear. She was strong, and feisty, and wouldn't go down without a fight. I wasn't sure what had happened, but this was far from the normal fight. This was planned.

"Freya."

My eyes snapped back up, meeting Madame's. It was my turn.

I stepped into the ring, fists tightly clenched and sweating up a storm. Before, I knew I could do this. Now, I wasn't so sure; the fall of Francesca was now worrying me, and I wasn't sure what to do anymore. Any sort of strategy had fled my body, leaving me only drawing blanks as to how to win the fight - something that never happened before.

Breathe. 

I need to do this. 

Breathe, rise, fall, repeat. 

I cannot lose now.

Anita, poised and seemingly collected, lifted her fists and stared me down, raising her fists so that she was ready. That would make one of us; my calm cover was blown, and it was a struggle to keep it together.

Breathe. 

I can do this. Francesca means nothing to me. 

Just another soldier. 

I am better; I will not fail.

I could smell Madame's thick perfume, even though she stood a few feet away. It stunk of roses and fear, two things that she loved with a passion. She used the scent as a fear tactic, for it was said if you could smell those two things, you would lose your life in less than minutes. However, in this situation, it inspired me. 

I will do this.

A small smile flickered on my cheeks, and I sprung forward, taking Anita by surprise and forcing her to the ground. I ripped and tore and punched, following every procedure I had been taught in my long years so that I would win. I had to win.

However, though I made up for it with agility and anger, Anita was still stronger than me and she quickly flipped the odds and dropped me to my back. She landed punch after punch on me, a maniacal grin licking up her face. She was confident now, knowing that she was winning.

This was my opportunity.

I allowed my body to fall limp as if I had given up just like Francesca before me. If this was going to work, Anita would have to believe that I was done, which would mean this was going to hurt, but it was the best strategy that came to mind. My breathing slowed, and I made my eyes flutter closed and open, over and over again, acting like I was losing consciousness.

It worked. Anita's eyes widened in surprise, and she immediately froze up for a split second, not sure what to do - especially after what had happened just before us. That split second was all I needed.

I slid out from under her and gripped her arms, twisting them back and holding her in a tight grip of steel that she would not break out of. Kicking her legs out from under her, she laid on the cold pavement, unable to move and clearly defeated. Anita struggled for a few seconds, but she gave up quickly; it was taught to realise when the fight was lost and give up immediately. I had won.

"достаточно," Madame called, eyes full of stormclouds. She forced me to let go of Anita and to head back, doing the same to the girl on the ground. "достаточно."

Enough. Enough. ENOUGH.

Breaths escaped me in short, shallow gasps, but I didn't give in to the exhaustion flooding through my blood. Instead, I stood tall and unforgiving, returning Madame's glare with a calm, steady one. I had figured out what she had wanted, and why Francesca was the bait. It was a test - a test for something I wasn't sure about, but a test nonetheless. And I had passed with flying colours.

Anita and I were both bloody and bruised, droplets from both of our blood staining the pristine floors, but it was clear that I had come out victorious. That information stopped any sort of sting of my wounds, working as a numbing effect, only allowing adrenaline and pride and defiance to flow through.

I was the first to look away from Madame; it was best to know when to stop and when to take it further, especially with her. Instead, I fell back into line and stood still as could be, watching the next pair step forward and take their turn. My wounds would have to wait until later.

I loki feel this chapter sucks, but I really wanted to start uploading these again (even though it's not even been a week whoops). I'm not the best at writing 'fight' scenes, which is why it sort of brief, but i hope this is alright. Also, yes, this is supa descriptive and less dialogue; there is going to be more 'dialogue' later on, but at the Academy, there will be more thoughts from Freya - which sort of sounds like a weird Disney channel sideshow. Thoughts With Freya? The name's a work in progress I guess.

The beautiful poster above was made by the darling demonlust!!!

  достаточно - Enough

 начать - begin