"I think she's well enough to meet my father," I heard Trish say to someone over the phone.  She thought I was sleeping, but really I was eavesdropping.  Lying on the couch with my eyes closed so she wouldn't suspect a thing."Why the hell would he make her do petty errands?  Trust me, Tobias, I have a way with my dad to get Elissa into the ranks I want."

A pause, indistinct chatter on the other side.

"She's fucking eleven and managed to survive days in that blizzard in Russia with no food, bleeding all over the place, and barely any winter clothes!  I think she can handle herself among us, Toby." Trish assured.  Throughout these past few weeks I heard Trish mention a Tobias, obviously someone in Crimson Night with her.  Maybe she trusted him, and he her, but they always seemed to be arguing.  Anyway, I decided that I had heard enough and sat up and asked, "Trish, what's going on?"

Trish looked startled, but quickly replied, "I thought you were sleeping!  Look Tobias, I gotta go.  Bye."  She hung up and came over to me, saying, "Elissa, tomorrow you have an outing."

"What do you mean?"

"You're going to be meeting my father, and become an official member of Crimson Night."

Where to begin with the whole "initiation" I went through?  How could I describe becoming a member of Crimson Night?  Thrilling.  That's the only word to describe it.  It was such an insane, exciting experience; I was showered with attention, and I basked in it.  Trish dressed me up in a red shirt with a black dress to go over it, along with matching black fishnet stockings and red boots.  She said I looked smart, I felt smart, but also felt ten years older.  Makeup did little to cover the jagged line across my left cheek, and my hair heavily contrasted with the darkness of the outfit.  Nevertheless, Trish told me I looked beautiful, and I couldn't keep a grin spreading from ear to ear.

We left in another sports car, but this time Trish drove.  I sat in the passenger's seat and stared at the city.  The trees were bright hues of red and orange, the buildings straight silver bullets, and there were so many people.  Some were dressed fancily, others casual, some on their phones, some on bicycles.  I had never seen so many ordinary people!  As tears of joy formed in my eyes, Trish warned, "Don't.  You'll ruin your mascara,"

We arrived at a house at the edge of the city.  It was a nonchalant looking house, fairly old with weathered bricks and wood, but it was extremely big.  Trish ushered me out of the car when a young boy opened the front door for us and gestured for us to go in.  I believed it was the same boy who I saw in Russia, but I wasn't sure.  We walked down a flight of stairs into a long basement cluttered with a weird assortment of furniture.  At a black couch facing three large televisions and a miniature bar, there was an older man.  He was bald, but had the same copper skin and bright eyes as Trish.  On his neck he wore a gold a gold chain with a deep, red ruby in its centre.  "Daddy!" Trish squeaked, which sounded so unusual for her, and she flung herself into his arms.

The man laughed and said, "How's my daughter?  Tobias tells me you have a new recruit- I hope they're useful at least."

Trish nodded and ordered, "Elissa, come here."

I stepped in front of the man as he looked me up and down, judging me.  Nervous, I tried to smile and be charming, but the man said sharply, "Don't do that child, you look stupid."  My hands reached to my scarred face and I frowned.  Trish's father grunted, "She's awfully small.  And young.  What use is she for us, Patricia?"  Patricia...?  Oh, Trish, I thought.  

Trish said, "She was able to survive that blizzard in Russia on her own, and escape from Hydra."

"Don't give me that bull!  Hydra's dead, they died in the forties, for Christ's sake!" laughed Trish's father.

"No." I said, startling everyone in the room.

"What did you say, child?"

Moving towards Trish's father, I spoke with a voice as cutting as a knife.  "Hydra is not dead." I said,  "They live on, Alexander Pierce is their leader.  They killed my father and my best friend, they use magic for evil.  They don't die because they're a hydra- if you cut off one head, two more will take its place.  But, I escaped them and I would do anything for Crimson Night because they saved me.  Trish saved me."

"She'll help us, Dad," Trish pressed.  

Finally, the man straightened his spine and stared into my eyes.  "I'll give you a chance, Elissa.  I will grant you safety in return for your service to us, only if you can prove your worth."

Nodding, I replied, "I'll do anything,"

And so that led to me firing guns at mannequins scattered in the basement.  After that were knives.  The dummies had marks and bullet holes on their torsos, from previous target practice.  I did not miss a single shot, Hydra trained me well; I have to give them credit for that.  The other men in the room were impressed at my accuracy, bobbing their heads with respect.  That made me feel overjoyed and dignified, it made every time I shot a bullet or threw a knife much more confident.  For the hell of it, I even showed Trish's father the ballet I was taught, it amused him and he said with a smirk, "You'll be good for entertainment."

"Daddy," Trish scoffed, rolling her eyes.  But, at the end of my spectacle, Trish's father applauded, and two men came out with a red jacket.  

It was leather, a crimson colour, with a black half-crescent moon and an arrow shot through it sewn on the left sleeve.  Putting it on, the material felt heavy and the sleeves sagged beyond my arms.  Trish's father stood up and placed a large hand on my shoulder.  "This is your jacket, Elissa.  It symbolizes your loyalty to Crimson Night, the power and security that comes from the group.  Make yourself worthy of Crimson Night."

Trish piped up, "Does that mean she's with us now?"

Smiling at his daughter, he answered, "Yes,"

All of a sudden I was lifted up in the air.  Trish hugged me tightly, laughing and saying, "I knew you could do it, Liss!"

Liss.  Oliver called me Liss.  I started to cry, such a bittersweet moment as Oliver should've been with me.  But, here was Trish whispering to me, "Don't.  You'll ruin your mascara,"  Later, Trish was about to drive me back to her apartment when her father beckoned me over, excusing everyone else in the room.  "Sir?" I said meekly, hugging my jacket.

"Sit, Elissa."

I sat on the ground; if I chose the couch it would seem like I was trying to be equal with the man.  Trish's father drew in a breath and said, "I run things around Crimson Night, just like my father.  Trish is my heir, she's been learning how to run a business all her life.  She's been firm and isolated from the rest of Crimson Night, her own comrades.  Yet, my daughter sees something in you.  You, a clear outsider."  

There it was again:  Outsider.  

"You may be a part of Crimson Night now, but you are still an outsider," he continued, "You're the only one who's waltzed in here and have gotten to a high position, some of the men and women who work for me will not be pleased.  They've worked very hard to get to ranks."

"And I am grateful for this opportunity, sir," I said.

Trish's father looked amused.  He sniffed and said, "And once again you look stupid.  That fake smile across your equally fake gaze in your eyes, anyone can see through you.  You're conflicted, Elissa, your thoughts are elsewhere.  You do not look like an eleven year-old girl."

"Sir?"

"I've never seen my daughter so happy since Anastasia... That is the reason I will let you stay with her.  But, you will still have to prove yourself to earn my respect."

A part of me wanted to ask who Anastaisa was, but I didn't need to.  Trish's father continued for me, "Anastasia was my youngest daughter, Patricia called her 'Stacey.'  They were very close."

His eyes bore into mine, as if prodding me to question further.  "Was?" I asked, "What happened to her?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D. managed to find Anastasia and took her from us, hoping to find out our locations and ways to shut us down.  But, something happened- a S.H.I.E.L.D. accident back in 2012- she died in their headquarters."

"I'm sorry, sir," I told him, trying not to look stupid.

He folded his arms and replied, "Anastasia was eleven when she passed, maybe Trish sees a bit of her in you.  Maybe that's why she's so attached to you."  Then, Trish's father walked over to the bar and one of his men poured him a shot.  I could tell that I was no longer needed, so I left out the same way I came in.  And there was Trish; it was obvious that she had eavesdropped on the conversation, but was trying to pretend like she didn't hear a thing.  As she guided me back to her car, she asked, "Did he tell you about Stacey?"

I nodded.

Trish muttered, "S.H.I.E.L.D.'s a place of fucking evil bitches,"  However, I couldn't tell if it was directed to me or herself.  When we arrived home, Trish was quiet and had a faraway fog in her eyes.  She poured herself some bourbon, and asked if I wanted some.  I told her no, but she insisted.  Then, she began calling people on her phone.  Soon enough, a bunch of young men and women showed up in the apartment.  Each of them clad in a red jacket, like mine.  They showered me with praise for getting into the gang, and I got drunk on pills, alcohol, and attention.  

As years passed I became well-known throughout Crimson Night.  I was respected on the streets, and for the first time in forever I could walk freely without the worry of someone kidnapping me from behind.  I had power.

Crimson Night became my home, my family.