Over The Edge and Into The Hands of Evil (One-Shot)
(Bucky x Daughter!Reader, Steve x Child!Reader)
Author Notes: For some reason my account got deleted, and then it was returned to me. But all my posts have been deleted, so I'm reposting this series. Enjoy!
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Summary: At the age of 6, (Y/N) Barnes loses her dad to war. A few months later, she's captured by HYDRA to be their new weapon. To her shocking surprise, she isn't the only one being held hostage. But how long can she remember him for before he's wiped away? (Set after the first Captain America Movie).
MASTERLIST
Main Masterlist
Warning: Child Abuse, Blood, Vomiting, Self-Doubt, Implied/References to Depression, Unwanted Touching, Strong Language, Torture, Brainwashing, Murder, HYDRA being HYDRA, Possible Inaccurate Russian (I used Google Translate).
(Also, all Gifs are NOT mine)
(Y/N) BARNES WAS BORN ON FEBRUARY 23rd, 1940….)
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...Bucky would have fallen back in shock if it wasn’t for the small bundle in his arms. His ex-girlfriend had just said some words that he didn’t need to hear right now.
No it wasn’t, ‘Can we get back together? I made a mistake’.
Or It wasn’t, ‘The Baby isn’t yours’.
No it was-
“What do you mean you’re leaving?” He asked, disbelief etched in his words. There was also a sense of anger and betrayal.
She couldn’t be serious...
Right?
He watched the woman standing in front of him roll her eyes, snatching her purse from his living room’s couch while responding, “I don’t want her. I only had her because you wanted to keep the baby after finding out I was pregnant.”
He nearly doubled over when he heard the disgust in her voice. “So you’re just going to leave?” Bucky asked, seeing his ex now putting on her winter coat. “But our daughter needs a mother figu-”
“YOUR daughter.” His ex snapped. “That baby…” She points furiously. “That baby is a spitting image of you. All the way from the shape of her face to the way she smiles. Everything. Which is fine by me, I don’t want someone looking like me out in the world.”
Bucky opened his mouth to speak as he followed her behind as she walked towards the front door. Unfortunately, she beats him to it. “As for a mother figure, you’ve got three sisters and a mom. That baby can pick up skills from them.”
She swings the door open, letting in the cold breeze of February. Snow droplets flew in, sticking to her clothes. Bucky immediately stood sideways and drew you as far away as he could from the freezing air. Was she trying to freeze you?!
“Becky!” He called out, stopping her on the porch.
She wasn’t even going to look back at him, wasn’t she? Or even look at you?
He doesn’t know why but his voice cracked, and although he and his ex relationship was always rocky, and they both knew that whatever was between them wasn’t going to work out, but he still doesn’t want her to leave him alone with a one week old.
“Come on…” He continues, quietly. “At least stay for a couple months until I can do this on my own.” His lip quivered slightly. “Please?”
He felt you shift a bit in his arms, probably from the weather, and waited for her to turn around…
But she never did.
“Goodbye, James.” Becky said, before trailing across the snow covered path to the sidewalk.
Bucky watches her disappear into the night, his feet glued to the floor even when part of his mind told him to run after her. It would be a lie if he said that he didn’t want to go after her, thinking that maybe she’ll change her mind if actually begs, but the mere thought went out the door when you started to get fussy and cry.
Something deep within him kicked in, probably that parental instincts he’s heard about from his own parents, and all his attention was turned to you cradled in a lilac colored blanket.
“Hey…” He whispered, readjust his hold so that he could gently brush their-
No.
That’s officially gone out the window.
It’s his daughter.
He readjust his hold so that he could gently brush HIS daughter’s cheek. To brush your cheek like a soft paint brush across a canvas. “Hey. Don’t cry.” He says, soothingly.
He makes a soft shushing sound as he closes the front door with his hip, before carefully guiding himself to sit near the fireplace. He lays you cautiously in his lap, almost in awe as he sees your eyes peeking open for the first time.
(Y/E/C) eyes.
So beautiful like the world itself. He almost wanted to start taking pictures.
(Maybe later though)
He chuckles sadly, tears in his own as he brushes your cheeks again. “Don’t cry. Don’t cry, I got you.” He said, smiling. “I got you, sweetie.”
You cooed quietly, staring back at him with a bit of curiosity. The look you were giving him melted his heart, but it also made him feel like he didn’t deserve it.
“I’m sorry…” He croaks, sniffling. “It looks like it’s just going to be me and you, doll. I’m so sorry.”
You made the cute sounds that took his breath away again, and if it wasn’t for his military training, he probably wouldn’t have even heard someone tumbling down the stairs. Bucky glances at the living room entrance, finding a certain skinny blond man that was his best friend. He saw his chest move slightly, and could almost hear him panting from here.
“S-Sorry.” Steve said, leaning against the frame. “Your mom sent me down here when we heard everything go quiet.”
Bucky smiled a little. “She got worried?”
“Yeah.” Steve chuckles. “She wanted to make sure you hadn’t run off with her grandchild.”
The brunette shakes his head. “That sounds like my mother.” He turns his attention back on you, but from the corner of his eye he could see his friend shifting uncomfortably, almost hesitantly, in his spot. His smile grows. “Come here.”
“What?” The blond said, genuinely confused.
“Come here, Steve. You can see her.”
He stiffens up a bit, looking unsure. “Are you… sure?” Steve asked, pointing towards the stairs in the hallway. “I-I shouldn’t be the one seeing your baby first, shouldn’t I-”
“Get your ass over here, Rogers.” Bucky said, almost wishing he could free his hand up and drag him by the ear (he was always so timid and too cautious sometimes).
With a second thought to question his best friend’s choice, Steve wandered over and took a seat on the floor next to Bucky’s chair. He leans in close, examining the small bundle in the soldier’s arms.
Steve’s big blue eyes lit up with joy. “Wow, Buck. She’s adorable.” He said, as you scrunch up your nose to show off your cute, chubby cheeks.
“She is.” Bucky said, fighting back the stinging sensation in his eyes again. “Wanna hold her?”
He held his hands up in defense almost immediately after those words were spoken. “Oh, no. I shouldn’t.”
“I trust you.” Bucky holds you out a little, a reassuring look on his face.
Steve raises a cautious eyebrow. “You sure?”
“Yes. I’ll show you.”
Bucky then takes his time showing Steve how to hold you, giving him pointers and readjusting everyone once and awhile until he has a good hold on you. The blond’s nerves seemed to vanish into thin air when he started to see that you were looking at him with the same curious eyes you made at your father. Those eyes of yours could melt anyone’s hearts at this point.
Steve chuckles, and grins as he gets butterflies in his stomach from you. “What’s her name?” He asks, sparing a glance at your dad for a split second. “Did Becky ever give her one?”
Bucky shakes his head sadly. “No.” He said, his voice feeling rather small at the moment. “No she didn’t. I’m tasked with giving her one.”
“Well have you thought of any?”
“I have and I think…” He takes another good look at you, making sure the name was the right choice. “I was thinking… (Y/N).”
“(Y/N)?”
“Yeah. (Y/N).” Bucky tests it out his lips as other names start to form. “(Y/N)... Stevie Barnes.”
Steve looks up in surprise. “Stevie?” He asks.
He smiles. “Well, I heard Stevie is the girl version of Steve so…”
“Huh.” The blond looks back down at you, his smile returning. “(Y/N) Stevie Barnes. Not bad, Buck.”
Your father looked at him teasingly. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” Steve replies, holding back a laugh as he watches you start to drift back to sleep. “I’m happy for you, man.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
A few moments passed before you were carefully placed back in your father’s arms, where all he did was stare back at you as you pulled yourself to sleep. His happy face started to falter, and there was a heavy amount of doubt in his ocean blue orbs.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do, Steve.” He finally admits before swallowing the lump in his throat. He soon felt his friend’s hand on his leg.
“You don’t have to do this alone, Bucky. You’ve got your family and you’ve got me.” Steve said, honestly. “And you know this. However, don’t doubt yourself, you got this. You’re going to be a great dad.”
Bucky’s lip curled up a bit, not caring that he was about to cry again. “Steve Rogers. The man who always knows what to say.”
“What can I say? I try.”
“And you think I’ll be great? Even with me being a soldier and everything else that comes with it?”
“I know you’ll be great. I know you’ll do anything to make sure she’ll be okay. So don’t worry too much, okay? (Y/N)’s going to be lucky she has you.”
Bucky hums, truly grateful for a friend like him.
And without an ounce of hesitation, he bends down slowly and kisses your sleeping forehead.
“I already loved you so much, (Y/N). I hope you realize that.” He whispers. “And I’ll do anything to make sure you’re safe.”
He swears at that moment he saw you smile.
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(YOU UNKNOWINGLY LOST SOMETHING IN THE EARLY SPRING OF 1943…)
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...You dove around your grandparents and aunts’ legs as you made your way out of the house, ignoring how your father’s duffle bag was on the porch. You stumble around a bit on your four year old legs, before finding the person you wanted to see.
“Uncle Steve!!!” You yelled, throwing your arms up.
“Hey, Pumpkin.” He said, teasingly. He wastes no time to scoop you up, and carefully holds you close to him (it’s been years and he’s still afraid he’ll drop you). “Have you gotten smaller?”
You scrunched up your nose at him, shaking your head. “No.” You giggled at the silly nickname, and it all was because you were pocket size.
“No?” Steve said, tilting his head. “Are you sure?”
You giggled again. “Yes.”
He smiles. “Just checking.”
A sigh came from inside, before the two of you saw your father stumbling out of his parents house, all dressed in his neatly ironed uniform. He looked almost miserable as he gazed at his bag on the porch.
“Ready?” Steve asked, readjusting his hold on you as he frowned himself.
“Unfortunately.” Bucky mumbled, not ready for what’s yet to come. However, when he faces you his whole expression changes for the better. “And there’s my little girl!”
“Papa!” You yelled, holding your arms out. He takes you in his arms, hugging you gently. “Are you leaving, Papa?”
“Oh, baby doll, I am.” He said, pulling back to look at you. “But don’t worry, I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He taps your nose. “Okay?”
You nodded slowly. “Okay.”
“Good.” He gives you a big kiss on your head, before peppering you with some more making you laugh. “I love you, (Y/N).”
“I love you, too, Papa.”
He gives you one more kiss and one more hug before transferring you over back to Steve. They both give each other a strong pat on the back, smiling bittersweetly.
“Be safe, Bucky.” Steve said, trying to hide his concern.
“I will. You too. The both of you.” Bucky said, grabbing his bag and making sure his voice was stern.
“We will. I’ll keep an eye on her.”
“Thank you.”
He bid them goodbye, and you and Steve watched him walk down the path to the military jeep parked nearby. It was chilling almost to watch, and your four year old mind couldn’t comprehend the heavy feeling in the back of your mind.
“Uncle Steve?” You asked, prying his eyes away from the moving vehicle.
“Yeah?” He said, softly.
“I thought you told me you were going with him?”
His eyes look away from you, almost like he was recollecting himself before giving you his answer. “I am. But not yet.” He replies, honestly. His orbs finally meet yours again. “Not until I know you’re okay.”
“Really?” You asked, tilting your head to the side with curiosity.
“Sure am.” He smiles. “Now, what do you want to do? You want to see what Grandpa and Grandma are doing?”
Your eyes light up at their names. “Yes!!!”
He laughs at your enthusiasm. “Okay, okay. Let’s go see them.”
Till this day, you still couldn’t piece together the horrible feeling in your gut.
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(YOUR WHOLE WORLD WOULD CHANGE IN MID-JANUARY 1945…)
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...You were confused beyond words. You were just sitting in your room, doodling in a book one of your aunts gave you, when you heard someone come inside the house. You listen closely, hearing your aunts and grandparents filling up with joy, but then,
There were sobs and people bawling.
You were six years old and could finally understand what emotions meant. So when you heard pure joy turn into sadness, you knew something was wrong. Curiosity got the best of you, it always had, something that your father told you to express but with caution. However, you couldn’t help it, your family was in pain for some reason, and you knew you needed to know why.
So as quietly as you could, you navigate yourself out of your room, moving slowly so the floorboards wouldn't creek down the hall. With your hand on the wall for support, you stop at the corner where it meets the stairs to listen in.
Your family was most definitely crying over something, but all you could make out when you peaked a little was your grandmother’s feet, who seemed to be leaning on her husband.
Odd. Was all you could think. Especially when you heard the next few words out of the blue.
“What are we going to tell (Y/N)?” Rebecca said, choking up.
You furrowed your brows together, and took a step to see what was going on, only for the step on the stair to creek loudly. You quietly gasp, and quickly hide behind the wall again. You heard some of your family gasp as well as the air felt thicker.
“S-Son…” Your Grandpa begins, tripping over his words with a shake in his voice. You didn’t like the way he sounded so broken. It certainly didn’t sit right with you.
“I’ll handle it.” Steve said, surprising you.
You didn’t even know he was here.
No wonder your family was overjoyed.
Yet…
Why are they so sad now?
You only peek around the bend again when you hear footsteps coming up the stairs, and sure enough there was your Uncle dressed in an odd military uniform (seriously, why is it all red and blue?), and looking way more buff than you remember. You felt so happy that he was here, not seeing him for nearly two years, and was about to jump up and give him a hug when you saw his face.
Depression.
You’ve never seen that once on him.
“Uncle Steve?” You said puzzledly, as he made the last step.
Why was he here and not your father? Was your dad hurt and that’s why he was here?
Yeah, that must be it. That’s why your Uncle looks so sad.
He smiles bittersweetly. “Hey, Pumpkin.” He said, holding out his hand. “I need to talk to you, okay?”
You frown at the fake sounding joy in his voice, but still complied. “Okay…”
You take his hand, and he guides you back to your bedroom. You could tell by the way he slowed in his steps that he was taking in its appearance. But who could blame him? The last time he saw you was when you were four, and your room held nothing but little toys and dolls, and had little bows and dresses lying around. But now he saw that you were a little bit older, and sure you still have some of the same things, he now noticed you were in school with your bag, and your artistic skills seemed to have grown with the doodles all over your room.
The appearance hurt him way more than he thought it would have. Especially when he knew his friend wouldn’t be able to see this.
He sits on your bed, and you sit next to him with your legs crossed as you wait for him to speak.
“(Y/N)?” Steve begins, masking the fear in his voice pretty well. “You’re a big girl, right?” You nodded slowly, preparing yourself with the news that your father was hurt. “And big girls can handle big news, right?” You nodded again, more eagerly this time. Even if your dad was hurt, you could finally see him after all this time. You honestly couldn’t wait for those words to come out. “Well…”
You watch him suddenly stop, and swallow hard. Now you were officially getting worried. “Steve?” You said as you sag your shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
He seemed to have gotten paler the moment you said that. “(Y/N), your dad isn’t coming home.”
You froze instantly. “What?” You mumbled, and luckily Steve heard it with his enhanced hearing (although he didn’t like the tiniest break in it).
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but he’s not coming home.”
You knew what he meant without even saying it.
No.
There was no way that was true.
You start shaking your head. “No…” You stated, standing your ground.
Steve sighed. He knew this was coming. “(Y/N)-”
“No.” You start shaking your head even more. “No!! My daddy can’t be gone. You’re lying!! You’re really lying!!” You couldn’t stop from the dam breaking, staining your clothes and cheeks. “Please, please, tell me you’re lying, Uncle Steve!!!”
You started to choke and sob on your own, and you somehow ended up tangled in his arms. He held you so unbelievably close, gently rubbing circles on your back. Steve left his chin on top of your head, and you buried your own into his neck, suddenly clenching his uniform with your small hands.
“It’s okay, (Y/N). I promise, you’re not going to go anywhere without a family.” Steve whispered, staring at a familiar blanket tucked in a corner of your room.
“Did it hurt him?” You asked, sniffling.
Steve’s heart skipped a beat, recalling as he was in fingertips’ reach of grabbing your dad’s hand, only for him to fall in the icy ravine below. But he couldn’t tell you that. He couldn’t tell you that he died by falling from a train.
So he lied.
“No.” He replies, guilt eating at him. “No it didn’t.” He swallows again, mentally cursing that his mask was slipping. “You’ll be okay. Your father will always be with you in your heart.”
Your frown against his chest, starting to shake again. “But I don’t want him there, I want him here.”
Steve frowns too. “Me too, kiddo…” He whispers.
And the dam broke again.
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(AND IT WAS A FEW MONTHS LATER WHEN YOUR LIFE WOULD ‘END’...)
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...You twisted and turned in your bed for the millionth time tonight. You would curl up and then uncurl before clenching the covers for some comfort. Normally you would sleep with ease, but these last few months have been different. Your Uncle was away to finish the war, and out of desperation you made him promise to come back to you. You had given him your liliac blanket as a reminder of his promise, something that held a lot of meaning to you, something that helped fight nasty dreams away.
But now they plagued you and no one was there to comfort you.
Your Dad was gone. Your grandparents and aunts could barely look at you because of the resemblance. You may be only six years old, but you knew they were keeping you away. Long hours at school, along with long after school activities. It was no brainer what they were trying to do. So for comfort? That was something you couldn’t get right now as you continued to hope Steve would come through the door one day and make everything better.
You sighed quietly, and turned again. Why was it so hard to fall asleep?
As you tucked your head between your pillow and mattress, that’s when you heard a loud thug coming from downstairs.
You sat up in your exhausted state, but curiosity sparked you again. Which one of your relatives could be up at this hour? Furrowing your brows, and removing the covers, as you touched the wooden floor with your bare feet. You slowly walked across your room, opening the door to peak out into the hall. You saw nothing, and started trailing down it, only for your feet to get caked in something hot and sticky.
Frozen in fear, you peer at your feet, and with a slight squint in your eyes, you see the color red. Your breath caught in your throat, as you watched as the blood from your feet was coming from a bedroom next to the stairs.
Your Grandparents.
As nausea took over you, you took a few small steps back, ready to run away from whatever was going on. Where were your Aunts? Were they downstairs and that's who made the noise?
Yeah, that must be it.
You were ready to turn and head down, when you were met with two figures coming up. Two big, tall and scary looking men with guns in their hands. They gawked at you like a piece of meat.
“Другой?” One of them asked in a thick accent, and spoke in a language you did not understand. (*Another one?)
You stiffened when the man aimed his gun at you, but you seemed to be saved when his partner waved him off.
“Подожди. Я хочу, чтобы ты на нее посмотрел.” The partner said, calmly. (*Hang on. I want you to look at her)
“Почему?” (*Why?)
“Вы это видите? Сходство?” (*Do you see that? The resemblance?)
The man looked confused. “Какой?” He said, making a face. (*What?)
The other man sighed, and hit his partner in the shoulder. “Она похожа на Зимнего солдата. Это то, что мы ищем.” He explains, gesturing to you almost lovingly. (*She looks like the Winter Soldier. This is the one we’re looking for)
Now he seemed to understand. “О нет, я понимаю.” (*Oh, Now I see)
“Давай схватим ее.” (*Let’s grab her)
You backed away when they started approaching you again. And when one of them decided to lunge for you, you made a break for your bedroom. Heavy footsteps followed behind you, as you tried to slam the door shut, but one of the men ended up stopping it with his hand. He pushed it wide open, and you stumbled backwards into your wall, cowering in fear.
You ended up throwing anything you could get your hands on at them, but it had no effect as you started to get all teary eyed.
“N-No…” You whispered. “G-Go away…”
“Простите, красавица.” (*Sorry, Beautiful)
And then one of the men’s hands were around your throat, squeezing tight. Your tiny hands start clawing at theirs, as dark spots danced around your vision.
You couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t think.
And then…
The darkness came.
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(AND THEN YOU BECOME ‘REBORN’ OVER THE GRUELING MONTHS...)
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...You didn’t want to do it, but you had no choice. You obeyed the best you could to avoid the horrible touches the doctors and handler would give you, or the slaps and beat downs you would get intensely.
You obeyed even when you didn’t want to, because you were scared to lose your life in a place like this. You still had hope Steve would come for you like the hero he was, but a small part of you knew it wasn’t going to come true. Especially when they started the touture, and your mind became broken, and you slowly started to forget him.
You were only six and you knew how to hold a knife and fire a gun; You knew how to kill people in 40 different ways; You were brainwashed with trigger words, and were tested on constantly, something about some serum they wanted to put in you. But was it really a good thing that your body was rejecting it?
Training for hours, and testing you until you passed out, was that a good thing as well?
Sleep for a small amount of time, and given tiny portions of food, was that a good thing too?
Was it also a good thing that your mind was fuzzy, and you were slowly starting to lose who you are deep inside?
Was anything here at HYDRA good for you?
The very thoughts ran through your mind as you laid on the cold cement floor, bloody and bruised, worn out for wear as your arms were pulsing from all the needles they stuck in the flesh. You were an experiment, a weapon, they said. You had no time to cry, soldiers do not cry. You weren’t a child no matter how many times you try to remind yourself that you were.
A child whose life ended so shortly.
The man scoffed. “Еще один провал?” Her handler said, disappointed. The language that she once didn’t understand was finally making sense. (*Another fail?)
“К сожалению, сэр.” A scientist said, making your cloudy eyes look up at them as they spoke. (*Unfortunately, Sir)
“Проклятие…” (*Damn)
“Сэр, при всем уважении, то, что этот ребенок имеет ту же кровь, что и один из других наших солдат, не означает, что она будет работать так же, как он.” (*Sir, with all due respect, just because this child shares the same blood as one of our other soldiers, doesn’t mean she’ll work the same way as him)
“Фигня!” (*Bullshit!) The man throws his hands up in rage. “Он должен! Она будет работать идеально, как ее старик, может быть, даже лучше, если мы сделаем правильную сыворотку.”
(*It has to! She’ll work perfectly like her old man, maybe even better if we can make the right serum)
“Но сэр, мы только что создали Зимнего солдата почти год назад, поэтому мы так уверены, что он-” (*But sir, we just created the Winter Soldier nearly a year ago, how we so sure he’s-)
The handler scoffed again. “Идеальный? Потому что он уже.” (*Perfect? Because he already is)
Even with your fuzzy mind you still were confused on what he was saying. Were you related to a super soldier? You don’t even recall having any family, which is rather odd to say the least. So what did they exactly mean?
Suddenly the door opens, and a guard comes in, speaking in english. “Sir, the Winter Soldier’s ready for his exam.”
The handler smiled. “Perfect! Bring him in.” He said, before looking at the other guards already present in the room. “Bring her back to her cell. We’ll try again in a few hours.”
They muttered, ‘Yes, sir’, before you felt yourself being pulled off the ground. You let your head hang low and wobble back and forth, as they dragged you along. The cell actually sounded nice. Laying on your uncomfortable mattress with some hours of peace sounded heavenly to you (but made sure to never let them know). You only had stopped once when the door opened again, the room flooded with men with tactical gear and guns as they led someone inside.
And then your heart sank.
What you assume to be the infamous Winter Soldier you’ve heard for months now came in looking as empty as you. His hair went past his ears, his facial hair was coming in, and he showed off a silvery colored arm that was exposed like his upper body. Just like you, scars and bruises lingered in his form as he remained ghostly pale, or like the color of snow itself.
But that’s not what struck you.
That’s not what triggered something in the back of your head.
That wasn’t a reason a sudden memory was being revived.
No.
It was his face.
A face you knew even after not seeing it for nearly three years. You knew it was him.
All of HYDRA’s work to your mind suddenly went out of the nonexistent window.
Your eyes widened, and your body shot up in their hold as you yelled, “PAPA!!!”
The room got quiet and stiff, as the Handler started sweaty nervously when the Winter Soldier stopped himself. When his eyes met yours, you went crazy because it was him, your father, who was very much alive.
“PAPA!!! IT’S ME! IT’S (Y/N)! YOUR DAUGHTER!!” You screamed, hoping to get through, because he really was looking like an empty shell of a man. “PAPA! PLEASE, REMEMBER ME!”
The man tilted his head, and stayed silent, which made the enemy’s sigh with relief.
But even villains couldn't have their happy moments either.
You then saw the slight spark in his eyes, and the stern facade he had on fell only a centimeter, but you noticed it without any doubts.
“(Y/N)....?” He whispers, his voice sounding like it was coming from two different people (But it was enough to get everyone in the room on edge).
You felt your eyes start stinging with tears, because your father was right there. You wanted nothing else but to hug him like the world was going to end.
“Papa.” You said, trying to smile reassuringly at him, which seemed to do the trick.
His body became tense again, but it wasn’t from the programming they put him in, it was entirely from something else. “(Y/N)!!” He yells, sounding like your dad, sounding like your Bucky.
“Papa!”
“(Y/N)!!” Bucky says, again, trying to get past as the guards start to grab him. “(Y/N)!!”
“Papa!!” You yelled again, as the two men that had you in their grasp started walking away with you. “Papa!! Help me!!”
You cried and kicked, and screamed as your dad started doing the same. Serum or not, your dad didn’t know the full extent of his abilities yet, so when the guards started holding him and beating him up, he was left feeling useless. But he couldn’t give up yet, not when you were literally three feet away from him.
“God damnit! Leave her alone!” He yells, after getting kicked in the stomach. “She’s my daughter, you fuckers! You get your filthy hands off of her!!”
Your handler sighs yet again. “Не говоря уже об экзамене, его надо будет стереть с ума. Сначала сделаем его, а потом мы сделаем ребенка.” He says, to the scientists. (*Never mind the exam, he’ll need to be mind wiped. Do him first, and then we’ll do the child next)
“Сэр, не следует ли нам передать одного из них, чтобы это не повторилось снова?” (*Sir, shouldn’t we transfer one of them to prevent this from happening again?)
He sighs, and shakes his head. “К сожалению, да. Мы не можем рисковать, что они нарушат контроль. Давайте заморозим ее и перевезем в другое место.” (*Unfortunately, yes. We can't risk them breaking the control. Let's freeze her and transport her somewhere else.)
“Прямо сейчас, сэр.” A guard said. (*Right away, Sir)
Bucky tries wiggling out of their grasps, still screaming for you. But before you could scream at him back, you missed the way your handler gave your guards a nod, and before you knew it, you were slammed into the closet wall, hitting your head.
The last thing you remember was your dad calling for you, as you met the darkness some more.
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(YOU DIDN’T KNOW WHY THEY WANTED TO KEEP YOU AROUND, BUT EACH PASSING DAY WAS A GIFT FROM HELL...)
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...You didn’t forget your father’s face, even after time went on.
Was it days? Weeks? Months? Years? You did not know.
But you never forgot him once as they tortured you till your throat ran raw and you passed out. You took so many beatings physically. You had your brain put in the blender so many times. You were frozen and unfrozen at least a dozen times. You were drugged and tested on more times than you could count, and even when your memory of your earlier life slowly started to drift away, you still held onto a tiny piece of someone familiar.
Deep blue eyes that were nothing but caring and loving towards you.
The hair that was the color of the chestnuts you used to eat, or the hot coco you used to drink.
And the smile was brighter and warm. Comforting and calling towards you.
But…
You didn’t know who he was and why he made you feel that way, all you knew was that he was your only hope of hanging on the last bit of yourself.
So here you were again, feeling a little bit older as your arms ached from the needles, and the smell of vomit was all over you. Another failed attempt of getting the serum to react the way they wanted it to. And as always, somehow, it ended up being your fault.
You groaned quietly as you were curled up into a ball on the floor, tears pricking your eyes as your handler (Your new handler, apparently. They told you the other one had died when you came out of cryo) starting bitching and complaining to one of the head scientists.
“Почему это не удается? Объясните мне это !!!” Your handler said, shouting at the top of his lungs. (*Why does this keep failing? Explain that to me!!!)
“Сэр, она ребенок, а детское тело не может справиться с таким ужасным процессом, как этот.” The man explained while keeping a steady breath. He almost looked like he might vomit himself. (*Sir, she’s a child, and children’s bodies can’t handle a gruesome process like this)
You meantally scoffed.
You damn right. You thought, as your body started to flare up like it always does in these experiments.
Seriously, why did your body have to set itself on fire? While sharp nails ran through your bloodstream, and stab your fragile lungs?
“Не говоря уже о том, что вы только что заставили ее потренироваться восемь часов, ее тело, вероятно, истощено.” The scientist continued, trying to reason with his clearly psychotic boss. (*Not to mention, you just had her do eight hours of training, her body's probably exhausted)
Your handler looked like he was about to explode from the way his hands morphed into fists, and his face turned bloodshot red. “Мне все равно! Она солдат! Она должна уметь справиться с этим!” He spat, bitterly. (*I don't care! She's a soldier! She should be able to handle it!)
You wanted to roll your eyes, and curse at him, but there’s no way you could muster up some energy.
“Охранники! Преподайте ей урок.” (*Guards! Teach her a lesson.)
You froze.
Shit.
You knew what was coming and there was no way you could fight back. You suddenly found yourself lifted off the ground by a man, spotting a small glimpse at the boss who was torn between being pleased and disappointed (You even saw the scientist try to protest), before you entered another world of pain.
You were punched and kicked in so many different ways and in so many different places. You choked on the blood in your mouth, as stars clouded your eyes. You wanted to cry and tell them to stop, but your mind was just way too hazy.
Just stop.... You begged to yourself. Just stop… please…
Suddenly you were held up high, and you caught the familiar metal table that you were once lying on in your vision.
Shit…
You knew what was going to happen, and shut your eyes tight as you started begging again.
Don’t… not again. Don’t knock me out this way again…
You braced yourself as he was bringing you down on the table. You swear you hear your ribs crack when you hit the cement floor, and-
Wait.
Cement?
You heard them gasping, as you slowly started to crack open your (Y/E/C) orbs as you saw the bottom of the table was in your view. You come to an easy conclusion that you were on the floor, with the table hovering above you. But…
How?
What…? Was all you could think before you heard your Handler start cackling.
“Святая корова…” The scientist said in disbelief, his eyes blown wide. (*Holy Cow…)
“Это сработало! Сыворотка подействовала!” The boss yelled, laughing again. (*It worked! The serum worked!)
Serum…? You thought, as your body started to feel tingling, and there was a knot in your stomach. Fuck…
You rolled yourself to your side before vomiting out the acid in your empty stomach. You cried quietly again at how fucking bad your body was hurting right now. The burning and nails were ten fold.
“Наконец-то эксперименты принесли свои плоды. Наконец-то можно запустить фантом проекта!” (*The experimentation has finally paid off. Finally, project phantom can commence!)
You furrowed your brows together.
Project… Phantom…?
Before you can question it some more, you mind, just like always, blacked out into the abyss.
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(YOU WERE A WINTER SOLDIER, BUT THEY LOVED TO CALL YOU BY ANOTHER NAME...)
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...You were a Winter Soldier.
You worked for HYDRA.
You kill for HYDRA.
And slowly, you could see why.
You were fast. Faster than the vehicles you would see on your missions.
You were strong. Strong enough to flip over a tank.
You were durable. Although you could still bleed, and get bruised, and break bones, they would heal in a matter of a few minutes (depending on the injury of course).
But here was the other ability you had that set you apart from the rest of them.
You could phase. Go through walls and any other solid matter like a ghost. Or…
A Phantom.
‘Phantom’. That’s what they would call you. Dress in black like the grim reaper, a mask and hoodie to keep you concealed as you stab your enemy in their throat, or crack their neck in half, or make them taste lead.
However, the experiments and beating never stopped throughout your history with HYDRA. With every new handler, they would always cause you pain, and you knew why.
And that was because you weren’t perfect.
They’re ‘Project: Phantom’ still had its flaws, and it was because you couldn’t be a Phantom all the time.
You couldn’t phase willingly. It only happened at random, and neither you, nor them, could figure out why.
So they would scream at you, torture you in the chair, starve you for days. You were pushing the age of nine, and you started to feel like it was really your fault, even though you knew it wasn’t.
So they tested you.
Over and over.
Over and over.
Over and over again to see if they could get it right.
One a cold day in your ‘new’ base in Sokovia, you slouched in your retrains, listening to everyone around you argue and cuss at you. You felt your handler slapped you, but you remained unphased because that’s what you were trained to do. Take it, and leave it alone.
“Damn you, Soldat.” Your new boss (yes, new. Shocker, right?) said, straightening up again. He sighs. “No matter, we’ll have to try again. Maybe a few more years back under the ice will help your body learn to adjust, hmm?”
He touches your face with the same hand that causes you pain, and you learned not to flinch or smack it away. He starts stroking your cheeks, and rubbing your chin. He eyed you like a delicious prey.
He chuckles. “No matter, Soldat. We’ll fix you, won’t we?” He said, mischievously. He hums again at your emotionless face. “Won’t we? Мой красивый солдат?” (*My Beautiful Soldier)
His thumb brushes over your split lip before he pulls it away. He looks over his shoulder. “Let’s put her back under, and try again. Hopefully, she’ll be perfect the next time around.”
You didn’t even try to protest, because you realized this was your life. Getting tortured and triggered to do kill missions. So why even try to fight it now? Would the man you still see in your dreams be disappointed? Or was he a monster just like you?
You let them grab, drag you, and shoved into the pod as you waited for your body to freeze over…
And wait to see whoever is going to be your boss next.
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(TODAY WAS GOING TO BE DIFFERENT. WHY THOUGH? IT’S THE QUESTION YOU’RE DREADING TO KNOW...)
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...You felt the ice melt away from you, even though you were met with a cool breeze of the very same room you were last left in. Only this time, it wasn’t filled up with tables and chairs, and men of various fields staring back at you. No…
It was empty.
As you wobbled on your feet, you weren’t sure what to do because who was supposed to give your mission? You were ready for the trigger words, ready to comply, but for who? No one was here.
Although, your prayers (if you could even call it that) were soon answered when someone circled around to face you. Sandy blonde and dark brown, and eyes the same color, a man with a five o’clock shadow stared back at you with almost a sense of joy.
And something else you couldn’t quite place.
You also couldn’t understand why he was so neatly dressed, and not in a HYDRA uniform.
You were still with HYDRA.
Right?
You opened your mouth to ask what your mission was, but he beat you to it.
“Hello, (Y/N).” He said, surprisingly in English.
You were a bit taken back.
HYDRA rarely spoke in English, unless it was either serious or when they were taunting you with their unwanted touching.
You were confused.
Was this really your company anymore?
He smiles when he can see the wheels turning in her head. With a bit of his accent, he continues. “My name is Helmut Zemo, and I will be your new handler.”
(TBC in ‘A CIVIL WAR IN OUR MINDS)