THE DAY HAD COME.

It was finally the day that the plan would be put into play, and Peter Parker would fall into the hands of Inga and whoever she was working with. My big 'moment' was going to rise, where I would lure him in and spit him out into their arms so they could break him into a million pieces, leaving me to head back to Russia, victorious and a hero. He would die so I could live and shed even more blood.

At least, that was their plan; Inga already seemed sure of it. If only she knew of the pile of papers stacking up in hidden locations, or the way my heart beat faster than the largest train in the world, or the plans that crowded out any thought of listening to her. She was sure of herself, and I was sure of myself, but we couldn't be further from being on the same page.

"I can do this," I muttered to myself under my breath, hands shaking as they clenched the smooth black barrel. "I can do this. I must do this. I have to do this. There's no other way."

It wasn't about me, and it had never been. I was a foolish child in the beginning who had hope that this could benefit both of us, but that dream had been burnt out, extinguished and replaced with the cold truth of the situation. It was either him or I who would survive this and even if it cost me my life, I would choose Peter, the pure, heroic, sweet boy who just wanted to do the right thing. I had never known what the right thing was or how to do that, but it was never too late to start, according to the boy himself, and my task was hardly a difficult one. Not emotionally, at least - though, physically, there could always be difficulties. I knew what had to be done, however, and there were no strings holding me down, that time. It was going to work, even the entire world was against me.

I stole a look out of my room to where Inga sat, eyes glued to her computer screen, unaware of the tension that stood metres away. She would have no idea, I mused; the bullet could and would hit her head almost instantaneously, killing her in mere seconds done right. In a way, it would be the most humane to end her life, for she would barely feel pain before all light would fade and her body would collapse. Not that she didn't deserve a horrific death for the pain she had caused, to me and to many others. Really, she deserved a thousand deaths, and I wished to be the one to administer them to her, over and over and over again. I supposed not everyone got what was due, but such was life.

My fingers laced around the barrel, curling around the small trigger, itching to press and release the pressure. A single bullet, one stolen from the woman herself, had been locked into place hours before and had waited for the perfect opportunity to kill her. Ironically, her own weapon would be the cause of her own demise. The gun was powerful, and while it was far from the best, it would easily do the job.

My hand shook as it raised to point the weapon at her head. Perfectly poised in the exact position necessary to do my deadly job as quickly as possible, I could not hold it straight and bit back a scream of frustration at myself for being so weak. It was not that I felt remorse for killing her; the only emotion that I felt towards Inga was hatred and a deep bitter anger that resonated deep within my soul. Nor was it fear of the action, for the blood of many had sunk deep into my bones and would always haunt me and my decisions - no, I was not afraid of the idea of death. The only thing that kept me from sending the bullet towards her was the fear of messing up. If I failed, Peter would die and that blood would be staining my hands.

Still, I didn't have the luxury of doubt. I had one chance and that had to be perfect and would be perfect, as it was the only way. I owed Peter this. He deserved the life I had always dreamed of, and I would be the one to give that to him, even if it came at the biggest sacrifice one could make.

I could do this.

The trigger trembled in my fingers, urging me to release the silver bullet.

I needed to do this.  

My back straightened as I stood at my full height, eyes narrowing in on the target.

I would do this.

The image of Peter Parker flashed through my mind a thousand times; more specifically, the way he stared at me when he told me that I mattered to him, that I was worth more than a broken weapon discarded by so many once their play time was over. A slow tear threatened to slip at the memory, but I held my guard and breathed in deeply. The fact that he believed in me, or at least a part of me, meant so much to me. Even if he did not know the truth, he trusted in me so far back, and I would prove him right.

For Peter Parker.

I let go of my breath and released the pressure.

However, instead of the bullet flying towards her head, it remained in the gun, and the only sound was her bitter laugh and the thud of the weapon hitting the floor, shortly followed by a short cry. 

My cry.

"You're a fool, Freya."

I took a step back, fear now flooding full-force through my blood, racing up my spine and into my head. No words escaped from my mouth, though my lips trembled with the wish to speak, to defend my actions, to somehow explain my decision to murder my instructor.

"You're a fool," she repeated, drawing out each word like a dagger across my pale skin, "for believing your plan would work. Did you think I would just let you kill me without even noticing? You're not that clever, you know. You're not clever at all."

My nails scraped at the skin of my palms as they formed into fists, but the pain was lost in the torrent of anger flooding my head. It felt as though a thousand angry bees were flying around my ears and brain, breaking through any flimsy try at a plan and leaving me practically defenceless. "I-"

"-You know, towards the end, I had hopes about you." She stepped closer. "You were bright, brighter than some I have seen, and I thought that maybe, just maybe, things could work out for you. Of course, you've ruined all that now, haven't you? I thought you to be better then you were. I suppose I thought wrong."

"You won't stop me."

Once again, she laughed a cruel shriek that sent shivers through my entire body. "I am not the one trying to stop you - Freya, you're stopping yourself."

I didn't speak; I wasn't sure if I could speak.

"If you wanted to kill me, I would be bleeding out on the damn floor while you ran off to your precious boyfriend so you could save the day and this entire apartment building went into chaos. If you wanted that, this whole confrontation wouldn't be happening - you could be a good person if you truly wanted to. You're holding yourself back, and that is why you'll never succeed. Did you know that?"

"Stop-"

"-You've never been able to do what you thought you could, and that's why you won't be able to kill me. You think you want to, I can see it in your eyes, but you're a coward and you're an idiot who doesn't ever think before she acts. You do the wrong thing and then blame it on others when you could have stopped this before it begun if you realised sooner. You're the true villain in this story, and the real victim in your mind."

My tongue felt as though it weighed a thousand pounds, sinking deep in my mouth, and I struggled to form words. "He doesn't deserve to die - you're all sick, especially you. Don't preach about a villain when you're about to kill an innocent boy and act as though you're some sort of hero."

Inga just cocked her head to the side and stared at me, her emotions practically unreadable, the ability really only belonging to an expert Red Room agent. She didn't seem to be angry at me, or her fists would already be flying at my face - no, her tone was light and her eyes danced with thoughts I couldn't understand and she wore a smile that was scarier than any words or blows she had thrown at me. She wasn't angry, but she definitely had something planned.

"If you want to help your Peter," she drawled out, spreading her arms wide mockingly, "then do it. Kill me, and go to your Spiderman, and save the damn day. It's what you want, right? Do it and prove me wrong."

Her words didn't add up in my head; gone was the angry, demonic Inga that had terrified me this entire trip, and made me hate her more than most things in this dark world. This Inga was cold and calculating, like before, but she was calm, and stood smiling, like a perfectly placed porcelain doll, waiting for something - or someone.

Somehow, that was a thousand time more terrifying.

"Go on, Freya," she cooed, drifting closer, "prove yourself. Are you still the weakling from the Academy, or are you Freya Knight, precious protector of Peter Parker? Are you worth something? Or should I just grind your perfect face into the ground?"

Her words lit a fire under me, and I grimaced as the - really only - choice was thrown into the ring. Without saying a word, I fell into the same slow circling motions she did, bending slightly and not taking my eyes off her. The process, I mused, was not unlike the drills we did for training back in the Red Room, where we would prove ourselves and show that we were worth something. Only, this time, the fight was so much deadlier and over much greater winnings.

"You know, it's funny," she hissed, sneaking closer with every turn, "when you were recommended to me as the 'girl for the job', I laughed, for you didn't seem to be the girl that would fit any job - you looked too weak. I suppose I was right in the end, wasn't I?"

"You know nothing about me. Nothing."

"I know everything about you."

"Liar."

"Freya, you may think that your secrets are only your own, but you wear it all on your sleeve - you act tough, but really, you're just that same, shivering, tiny little girl who cried herself to sleep every night because no one loved her and no would ever want her!"

"Stop!" I cried, lunging at her clumsily, only to be immediately thrown off. My movements were sloppy and blinded by rage, leaving me to swing and push with little to no avail. "Stop it!"

Inga only laughed. "I remember you oh so well, you know - you were supposed to be dead all those years back, yet they took a chance on you. Do you remember that day, when you were brought in? How you thrashed and flailed around while we broke you into little pieces? They wanted to finish the job, yet they were soft and they saw something in you. I still haven't figured out what that is, because you're still the wretched little beast that fell all those years ago. You weren't strong then, and evidently, aren't strong now."

The memories fought to blind me, but I pushed them away, silver streaks of tears falling as I shoved and kicked as violently as I could. "Stop it!"

"I hope they know what happened to the 'little prodigy', I hope that when I return with your dead body they cry and realise that they made a big mistake because, you, Freya," she gritted, sliding a foot under me, "are worth nothing! You deserve to be dead!"

A single memory broke free and clouded my thoughts; the thoughts of me, bleeding and bruised, crying on the floor while they all circled around me. There were seven of them in total, with faces that remained blurred except for one; Inga, the only one I could remember clearly. Her gloating grin was terrifying for me and just seemed to press in the idea of death even more - in that moment, I thought I was going to die.

"You're wrong," I hissed, bringing my hands up to grip her throat, "you're wrong. Maybe it's you that deserves to be dead, huh?"

Her eyes widened, and though her shock at my words only lasted a second, it was enough for me to take over the fight and force the older woman to the ground, nails digging into the warm skin around her throat. The woman growled and kicked at me, but I held tight, watching her skin turn paler as the time droned on. I felt a wound reopen as I turned, but it didn't deter; I was finally gaining control and couldn't afford to lose focus.

"You don't know what you're doing," she gasped, spitting words mixed with gasps and saliva at my face. "You're not strong enough to kill me, you know that."

"I've been killing since I was five years old. I've killed people twice your size. I know exactly what I'm doing, and I'll do it again and again and again if I have to. I am stronger than you seem to think."

She glared, "you're weak, Freya. Don't try to deny the fact that you're not like the other girls. Just because they forced your hand all those times before does not make you a warrior - just because you know how to spill blood doesn't mean you can when you're on your own. Admit it; you cannot kill me, no matter how much you want to."

I stared down at her, taking in the look in her eyes and finally understanding what shone behind it; I saw a woman who had gone through decades of the pain my body and mind had been through; she had seen all of it and more and it had changed her, just like me and the twenty-eight girls who stood with me at the beginning of my journey, and like every single person who walked out of the Red Room alive. No one was ever truly okay after it, and Inga was just going through it the best way she could; it was how she stayed alive.

"I once believed," she panted, hands dropping from my waist and out of my sight, "that I could be a hero like you. I once thought that I could follow the path of the ever heroic Yelena or Natalya Romanova and break free, be worth something. But, then I realised that was a fool's journey and anyone who thought that was an idiot. No, I still think that - anyone who tries to do the right thing is an idiot, they allow themselves to become too wrapped up in the little things so they never seem to see what's coming."

"What-" my words were cut off by my own howl of pain, one I was sure broke through the sound barriers set around the room, and in a heartbeat, my body had collapsed in on itself. I let go of my small advantage over Inga and fell to the ground in pain. I glanced down and pressed a fist against the wound blooming on my lower torso, blood already seeping through my worn clothing. My thought had fled from Inga herself, and I peeled away the fabric, grimacing at the cut that slashed it and my skin.

In an instant, my hands were pinned and the cold blade was at my throat, Inga's eyes boring holes into mine as she finally gained back her advantage. I tried to fight back, but it was useless; in the state of pain she had caused, and the way she dug deeper into the wound with her claws, I was at a deep loss and she had won.

"You're...you're just going to kill me?" My words resembled sobs more than anything as I struggled to speak, all too aware of the pain and the knife at my throat. "That's...how you're doing this? Just going to...kill another and...be a bigger...coward?"

She didn't speak, just stared, her fingers tightening on me more and more through every second. The woman looked almost paralysed, with her face warped into an expression I had never seen her make before, one I didn't think she could make; one of pain. She looked like she was already guilty and as though she regretted her choice, which was almost scarier than her devoid-of-emotion grin often flashed or her spine-tingling glare. Inga looked human.

Still, that humane side of her revealed in her eyes didn't reflect in her actions; she was still about to kill me and then go to do the same to Peter Parker, probably without even a second thought. She was still the villain in this narrative and I was about to be dead.

"Please..." I hesitated, dragging my teeth against a bloody lip while thinking of my final words. "Just...don't do this...not to him, please. He doesn't deserve...more pain, please. Take me, not...him."

There was no response, and I closed my eyes, already flinching to accept the blade's piercing bite into my skin. That was the end, and there was nothing I could truly do to stop that or stop her -

"It's not a deep wound."

My eyes snapped to hers and I shook as I spat out my words, "what?"

"It's not deep," was all she repeated as she crept closer. Her hands, from which I flinched from, didn't seek to finish the job surprisingly, but sought out the wound and peeled at the blood-soaked top. "It's a surface wound, which is why it has so much blood, but you will be fine. Lay still."

I was in no state to resist her; the pain rolled through my body in waves as I watched her pull out white cloth and thread, followed by a needle. It was as though she had prepared them beforehand, as the way she pulled them out almost instantaneously - it seemed like we both had ulterior motives tickling our thoughts for this fight. "Why...why did you do that? How?"

She didn't look up, "I had a knife in my pocket, slipped it out while you were not looking."

"But...why?"

"The plan was to kill you." She chanced a glance towards me before immediately falling back to her task. "I was supposed to kill you, and when I found out about your stupid plan, it was easier to set up than ever before."

"Oh."

"Just know that you're not going to have long to get away - you'll have to work quickly."

I hissed as she stabbed carefully at the wound, barely breathing as the needle flowed through the severed bits of my skin. I wasn't sure why it hurt so much; I had been cut before, but not like this. Not so ruthlessly and so unexpectedly. "Get...away?"

She didn't answer my sloppily-mumbled question for a few moments, concentrating on the task in front of her. Finally, however, the woman looked up once more. "You care about this boy - more than your own life, it seems."

"Yes." My words, this time, didn't stutter out; there was no hesitation needed. I did care for him and he was worth more than my life and more than any other thing I held dear. "Yes, I do."

"Good people are idiots, which is why, I suppose, I'm helping you. You wouldn't make it far on your own, but with some help, you might actually get far enough to succeed with your task."

"What?"

Inga swallowed. "I know where the rest of your 'plan' is; I can take care of that much. You will have an hour to go do what you believe is right, and then I will have to stop you. If you do not finish this in time, I will kill you, and I will have no regrets doing so. I hope you know that."

My entire body shrieked as I peeled away from her, but that didn't stop me from staring in surprise, unsure what to say. "Why are you helping me? You just wanted to kill me - this doesn't make sense."

"Don't stop for speeches, go - your time is running out already." She passed me a small white pill, and I noticed how much her hands shook even from that tiny action. "This will take away the pain for that time. Your wound won't be a problem with that. The boy's location is over there on that little paper, read it and destroy it. I cannot give it to you, but it is there."

Though her voice was urgent and harsh and the stakes were rising at the second, still, I stalled and stared in complete disbelief, unsure of this sudden change of heart. "I don't understand. All this time you've hated me - you do hate me. Why are you trying to be a good person now?"

"I'm not a good person," she replied simply letting her hands fall to her sides and hang as though they were wilted leaves struggling to stay still in the wind. "I never said I was a good person - don't say I am. I just...it doesn't matter. You need to leave - if you don't leave I'll slit your throat right here and no one will even bat an eye."

"But-"

"идти! идти!" She hissed, shoving me away. Her hands almost seemed to shake as she touched me, and she was more gentle - her actions were not vindictive like before, but only done in an act of necessity. "Be careful, and hurry. You've only got a bit of time before this all ends."

I cast a single look back at her as I slid out from the large apartment window, hitting the fire escape with a thud. "Thank you."

Inga didn't respond, only answering with a terse nod, and I was left to fall out into the night to finally do the right thing.

Well, that happened [sort of badly] - was anyone expecting that? I've had this planned for quite a while and honestly, I cannot wait for you to see the next bit of this because Inga's character is going to come out a lot more and while she's still technically the villain, there may or may not be a change of heart coming to the table. Aside from that, however - she's going out to save Peter? Will this end well?? Will someone die?? Who knows - well, I know, and I'm grinning so hard thinking about the shock you guys are going to have when you find out, but other than that, nobody knows and I'm excited to finally reveal the end to this. Well, sort of excited. Mostly nervous. You'll probably hate me.

Thank you for reading, just four more chapters left.