━━━━━━━ｗ ｅ ａ ｋ ｎ ｅ ｓ ｓ━
xxxAlmost every part of her was sore and aching, and she was bleeding and beginning to heartily bruise, but she had gotten the vital information required to complete her mission, and evidently the director of the organization had quite excellent taste in chairs. Under no circumstances was she supposed to rest, especially while reclining in a plush, supportive spinning chair by a fire with her feet up on a blood splattered desk as she flipped through the folders upon it, but who was there to stop her? The director certainly couldn't; his body lay lifeless on the other side of the desk with his arm bent at an angle it certainly wasn't meant to bend in, and any communication she had had with the Red Room had been brutally severed when that asshole with the shoddily done buzzcut bashed his gun against her head. His body lay at the entrance, neck snapped after she recovered from the ringing in her ears. She supposed he had done her a favor, but she wasn't going to give credit to someone with so little taste, or skill in cutting hair. How hard was it to even shave it all off? Things should at least be even. It looked like a child had committed the crime, but even children could do a better job than that. Regardless, there was no Leviathan, no Dreykov, Madame B., or Taskmaker to intimidate her and order her to return home with that they had sent her to learn and retrieve. They had no idea, and they could wait. She knew they certainly wouldn't give her the time to fully recover from the bullets that were gravely close to doing more than just badly grazing her left shoulder and side. They'd stitch her up, and get her back to doing whatever they needed her to do, as they always did. Everyone here was dead, no living left to whisper, and no one from their other bases would be able to get there for awhile, if they were even aware of what had just transpired. She had time, completely safe and alone, and she wanted to breathe, and feel the warmth of a fire that wasn’t going to kill her or leave a nasty scar, as fire and enemies alike were known to do. It was cozy, and she was going to bask in it for awhile, damn it.
xxxStretching, Talya turned her attention to the desk, and haphazardly tossed the folder she had been skimming through onto it, taking a moment to watch as it knocked two folders off and slid to the floor with them, before looking to the now only neatly placed one on the desk and picking it up. Whatever the information was, it was important, but that was all she knew. It was in code, one she couldn't decipher, one she wasn't meant to know. Which was bullshit, if she was going to put her life on the line for it, but as the Red Room had taught her time and time again, the information was more important, more valuable, than her, and if she failed, she could be replaced, just as she had replaced the one sent there before her, who had found out the key to the code, and then lost her cover as soon as she delivered it. Her mission had ended in her death, with traces of her blood probably still lingering in a cranny no one thought to try and reach, and she knew her own could have so easily ended in the same way, with no tears shed in goodbye, no tears for Anatalya, just as there had been none for Galina. She had completed all she had needed to do, and that was what mattered to them, and all they cared about with her now. They didn't care if she knew what it meant, it wasn't necessary for her to succeed. Another had known, and they didn't need her to know as well. In fact, they probably saw it as better she didn't, so there were even fewer who could risk tearing them down if someone squealed. She wasn't exactly fond of that thought, or being replaceable, so worthless she didn't even know, but what else could she do? Where else was she to go, especially after all she had done? Her graduation had only been a small few years ago, and she had already killed so many, so many that there was no dobut already a target on her back. There was nothing else for her, no place for her in the world, but at least she enjoyed some of it. She had very much been looking to a brief time of undercover infiltration, but Buzzcut had ruined that immediately, and it was insulting that someone with such horrible hair had screwed her and her dreams over like that, and he certainly was not going to be thanked for allowing her some time.
xxxWhen was the last time she had gotten to rest like this, leaning back in the luxury of such a chair? Probably a year ago, when she had been sent to kill some sycophantic dignitary who's existence posed a threat to the Red Room. He had also been a rather terrible person, but that hadn't mattered much, though it had felt quite nice to punch his lights out for good after he had called her things she did not want to repeat. That mission had required a few days, and an overnight stay in some other dignitary's manor where the party he was invited to would be held, but the bed had been stuffy, and too hard, and something in her room had smelled of mothballs and prunes. There had also been no one to have some fun with, so that instantly placed it low on her list of favorite times. God, she needed to have some fun for once, fun that wasn't playing dress up for a ball, fun that was alone, with another. Ugh, being alone with her thoughts was beginning to get boring now, and depressing.
xxxWith a groan, she turned her gaze to the computer on the desk, double checking that she had erased everything of the code she should even though she more than well knew she already had. At least if she had copied it over to a flash drive, she would have a progress bar to watch, but no, her orders had been to leave nothing behind but the folder, and if there was any trace left it could give someone else access to what they wanted exclusive- Oh, was that some blood left on the monitor? It didn't matter, it was already all over from her admittedly imperfect and slightly messy killing spree after her blown cover and discovery, but her free arm still instinctively reached out to carefully wipe any trace away so none of it could come back to her, only to have a jolt of splitting pain rock through her. "Jesus fuck-" The offending hand fell down to her side- with her eyes following-, covering it to try and stop the painful hum it gave off, and then pulling away with fresh blood on her gloved palm and bare fingers. Ouch. Maybe there was a soft, cushy bed like her beloved chair around somewhere that she could sleep in to ease the aches that seemed to bleed straight to her bones and then out her skin; she had always loved the more extended missions where she had somewhere to sleep that didn't include handcuffs, or the echos of the them in her mind. Well, strong echos. The echos of them followed her to every bed no matter the doorway she stepped in, the feeling of steel around each of her wrists like a cold warning, a reminder, a threat, haunted her no matter where she was, but they were always strongest at the Red Room. At least it was better than starving alone, unwanted and forgotten in an orphanage where no one else would ever come to take her home. She could still feel the fear of what would happen to her, a fear that blinded everything else, and how it felt to be so alone with her parents gone while she was too young to comprehend it.
xxxThe file fell to her lap with the hand that held it, and with a press on the desk's edge with her boot's heel, she pushed the chair a bit further from the desk, and let her other leg fall to the ground to guide it into a few spins. She pulled her legs up to her chest, doing her best to ignore the jolts of pain that ran through her, and this time used a hand to help the spin continue. The world spun around her for a few more turns, and then a leg jutted out to stop it, and found its place resting on the edge of the desk where it hadn't been before she decided to shake, or rather spin her unwanted thoughts out of her. If she kept the folder where it was tucked between the top of her thigh and her stomach, it would probably be more secure, but she wanted to see it again, now that her thoughts seemed determined to be taking a darker turn. Her fingers slowly and delicately clasped the edge and pulled it free, and she opened it easily with a shove of her thumb between the pages. Her head leaned bag, and she eyed the contents from the less than ideal angle. There were birds, and Latin names and classifications, and things she couldn't even understand that weren't in code. What the fuck even was this? A techniclogical advance? Some recipe for a new enhanced serum? She knew she'd never be allowed to know, but she still wanted to. She wanted to know what she had killed for, what the blood added to her hands had been needed for. What information hidden in symbols and words and somethings she didn't understand in the slightest, could be inside that was worth so much death? Everything had a price, and no piece of information she knew came without one, but she had found it was only ever the most ridiculous and worthless in the end, or the most vital to further or tear down a cause that could have a cost so heavily weighed down with lives, and a part of her deep inside she tried to shut out and hide that had already slipped through the barriers, wanted to know what it was exactly that she had killed so many for, and how many more would likely die for it still. She just hoped it wasn't the former, and that it in the end turned out to be worth her time of peace and alone with the chair.