“If you are here to ‘make friendships along the way,’ then the red room is not for you. This is a competitive world, not a flower field. But again, you girls can’t leave..unless by death.” James voice boomed in the ballet room, a stern and harsh look on his face. A wooden stick in his hand, for disciplinary action, two hard hits per hand was the result.

James Barnes was one of the most renowned ballet instructors and assassins. After all he did go as the winter soldier for a reason. His classes often brought more ballerinas in tears than confidence just like the red room usually did. But he also taught the girls how to fight, a mix of boxing, wrestling, Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, and Wushu.

So, the girls usually saw him twice..every single day.

He firmly believed that if you didn’t fix your mistakes at that very moment, you’d be better off throwing the pointe shoes in the trash then a gun to your head to end your life in the red room. It was either pass and be a black widow, or die.

If you were given a second chance, it was because he saw something worthy in you — though he’d never tell that to your face. You had to find it within yourself to get back up and keep going if you wanted to stand a chance, not only at the red room , but as a successful ballerina. To become a black widow. Ballet was important in the red room, it taught the girls to be light on their feet and stealthy during missions. But also to be in more control of your body.