Meanwhile, Swedish Reservist Emily Karlsson is wondering what was that spy up to

A/N: Just wanted to take a moment to say that this chapter is kind of important in terms of implications and set up, so I hope you like it.

So, without further ado, let's explore a new POV back in the apartment complex.

Private Karlsson's POV

You stared at X-shaped double flare in the horizon that Sergeant Foreman had told you about and frowned, unable to stop yourself from wondering if Natasha had been using coded messages as well the entire time. Shaking your head, you felt the urge to growl again, frustration rising on your throat as you thought back on the letter that your team leader had allowed you to read. She had asked for your opinion on the matter. You had told her that you couldn't help but agree that Natasha was probably a Russian spy of some sort, before she had realized like they all had that they belong to Master Michael and are to follow his orders for the rest of their lives.

But the part of the letter about the other potentially dangerous Russian women she knew off? Particularly her underlined section in bold about “especially” Dottie? Your suspicions for that you kept to yourself.

You scowled, frustrated that Natasha had put you in a position where some of your most deeply held secrets could objectively do your group a lot of good if you were honest...problem was, you DIDN'T want to be honest. Not about such a dark and shameful family secret that you had been doing your best to bury.

You gritted your teeth as your face flushed in anger. "I choose to leave the military after my mandatory service expired despite knowing how good I was and how much they wanted me on that secret task **** precisely because I needed a few years to process and get away from it all,” You thought, bitterly. “I was probably going to return to the army eventually sure, given how much I enjoyed the experience and the camaraderie, but I needed a break after stumbling into that classified secret. There is only so much shock and shame a woman can take at once, after all...even if she is a skilled solider that also comes from stern, military stock."

You clenched your fists tightly, feeling your nails scratching your hands as you did so. "I even put nearly 9,000 miles between my home back in Stockholm and this city once I jumped at the chance to take a college scholarship that took me somewhere warm and very far away. And now, my past is coming back to haunt me while we are beset on all sides by danger before I was able to make my peace with my guilt and rage...and all because I decided to trust Natasha in a moment of kinship before realizing that she was a bloody spy!" You ranted in silence. "Of all the stereotypes to prove right..."

"Are you okay?"

Allen Jones' voice snapped you out of it and you turned to look at him. His eyebrow was raised, the question lingering in the air.

You took a deep breath and **** yourself to calm down outwardly as well before answering. "I will be," You replied, hoping on the inside that it will turn out to be true. "It's just...I left the military for a reason. I understand I am better off switching my mental gears and getting back into fighting shape. Plus, given the circumstances, my past training definitely helps. But, well, I guess I wasn't as psychologically prepared to deal with the mental baggage I was trying to put behind me. Not this soon, at least."

"Ah," The former construction worker said with a sympathetic nod. "That explains it."

They remained silent with their thoughts for a while as they continued with their guard duty, but the perimeter was clear and had remained so since they took down the herd of stray walkers that were trying to munch on that deer. So, eventually, the robust man opened his mouth again.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Honestly?" You said after a sigh of recognition. "No, but stewing quietly isn't helping, so I might as well."

He waited for you to formulate your words, while you decided how much to tell neighbor.

Before long, you shrugged. "My father was also in the military. More specifically, he worked in MUST, the Intelligence and Security division of the Swedish Armed Forces. And he used to run a classified task **** from a black site hidden in an island smack in the middle of the Baltic Sea," You admitted, knowing full well that Allen did not have the clearance to hear about any of that, but given the current state of the world and your need to vent, you couldn't find the will to care enough about it. "My mother also worked in MUST. In fact, they met there.”

“But...well..." Your voice trailed off, hesitating for a long moment before finding the nerve to continue. "Parents have a way of becoming less proud of their daughters excelling in the military when they try to trick their way past their security clearance to verify their suspicions."

Now Allen looked extra curious. "Suspicions about what?"

You sighed heavily as the memories resurfaced with the conversation. "Suspicions that my birth certificate was forged and that my parents were somehow secretly using their pull in the Intelligence Community to prevent me from getting an honest DNA analysist anywhere in Sweden that could help me make sense of my exams."

"Damn," The robust construction worker said with wide eyes.

You nodded at that; your face completely unamused. "Yeah, those were...a complicated few months, to put it mildly."

"So...what does that mean?" Allen asked softly but clearly intrigued. "Were your parents not really your parents? And if so was there a classified reason to keep you in the dark, even if it wasn't a good one?"

"Oh, there was a reason alright," You said with a sigh. "But no, they actually were my real parents. That wasn't the part of the DNA analysis that was throwing me off until I learned what it actually meant."

There was a moment of silence and Allen could sense the tension in your body language, you were sure. But soon, he turned back from staring at the horizon for more walkers.

"Alright, I will bite," He said. "What did it actually mean?"

You swallowed, knowing that it was a sensitive subject that had a way of making you feel guilty even though, objectively, you knew it wasn't actually your fault. But you had gone this far while trying to vent so you might as well cross the finish line. Still...

"Promise not to tell this to anyone else until after I tell our owner?" You whispered. "I would rather if he hears it from me first."

"Of course," Allen said with a firm nod. "I promise."

"Well, then here it goes," You muttered quickly, as if trying to rip off a Band-Aid. "Turns out, I was part of highly classified and probably illegal breeding program. And my parents were actually twins that were originally separated at birth."

As expected, the construction worker's jaw almost dropped to the floor, looking shocked. You sighed heavily at that, feeling self-conscious yet again.

"Well...that's something you don't hear every day," Allen finally said, after finding his voice. "But..."

"But why?" You asked in a tone of helpful sarcasm.

He nodded. You shrugged in response, not feeling ready to be completely honest with him yet. Still, you could not just leave him hanging after that, so you opted to give him something.

"I don't actually know all the details," You replied, which was true enough. "But I have figured out a few things. Turns out, when my...only grandmother was pregnant with both of my parents, she was near enough Chernobyl when the nuclear meltdown happened that spilled the radiation the immediate surroundings. But for some strange reason, they eventually realized that her kids were not only born healthy despite their proximity to the nuclear fallout but quite strong and fit. DNA tests on them were eventually made when they were back in Sweden and some higher ups from the Cold War era were apparently intrigued enough by their resistance to radiation that they found in their mutated genes that they decided to keep a close eye on them from afar and in separate environments, which is why my parents grew up without knowing they had a twin."

You gave Allen a moment to process your words. His eyes were wide. "Jeez, talk about stumbling into a secret plot," He said, shocked. "Why would they even want to do this?"

You sighed. "The ever-present threat and fear of nuclear war back in the Cold War gave governments and intelligence agencies the incentive to explore plans and possibilities that they normally would not have seriously entertained, all over the world. In my parent's case, it seems that they were initially trying to figure out why is it that my parents were born so resistant to radiation to see if it could be replicated on a massive scale. But while they found some promising data when studying their genes, they decided they needed to experiment even more to find a greater...combination of results," You added as your pursed your lips.

"So," You went on, "my parents were eventually set up by this classified faction in the hopes they would fall in love with each other. And since they did not know that they were actually twins that were separated at birth, that plan worked like a charm because they never developed the Westermarck effect that usually makes kids desensitize in terms of sexual attraction to family member they had grown up with. As a result, they succumbed to the process that some psychologists call genetic sexual attraction. And so...here I am."

"Whoa," The construction worker said slowly. "This is way above my paygrade."

You shrugged. "You wanted to know. And I wouldn't worry too much about that. If any of the Baltic states and their intelligence services remain intact after this onslaught of zombies, they will have way more important things to worry about that to hunt down classified leaks thousands of miles away."

"I suppose there is that." Allen finally said. "Still, that's quite the tale. No wonder you chose to leave the military behind after your mandatory conscription service was done."

"Hmph," You murmured simply and went back to watching out for zombies round the perimeter.

You found none though so you could not distract yourself from your own, lingering thoughts.

"I am going to have to tell this story to my owner," You realized quietly. "Along with...the rest of the tale. After what I told Natasha, it's the very least I can do."

Then, you thought back more on the unusual circumstances of your birth and soon, you could feel your expression harden.

"For even if I really am a freak of nature, I will do my best to defend my owner and his group," You vowed in silence. "And while nuclear war may not have been the cause of society's collapse, if the classified documents about me were right, then there is another mutation within me that could prove invaluable in the days to come."

You took one last look at the smokey, purple remnants of the flare of the was the contingency plan Sergeant Zhang executed and then focused back on guard duty.

"Let's get to work."

A/N: Well, that's it for now. For those that may be wondering what's up with this apparent tangent, the short answer is that I have been meaning to explore something I rarely see other branches in Written Ownership story tackle: the origins of the Ownership Marker. This chapter had one piece of that puzzle. The Russian spy side plot with Natasha another. As will the very next chapter, by that matter. And since the origin story I have outlined will allow me to take the story in a pretty hot and interesting direction that I don't usually see in a zombie apocalypse setting, I hope you enjoy the pay off. But for now, thanks for reading and please, remember to review.