Chapter 7 of Not The Only One - A Winter Soldier Story
Rating: Teen to Mature
Word Count: 3.4K
Warnings: Canon-typical violence (with more specifics in the tags) and discussion about a traumatic real-world event towards the end.
June 26, 2016
No one slept well, but I had a feeling it had to do with more than just the poor bedding situation.
Steve got up and left the apartment at dawn. Once the door closed behind him, I cautiously opened one eye.
"Doll, are you awake?" Bucky whispered.
"Yeah?"
He rolled over to face me and gave a small smile. "Morning."
"Morning," I returned the greeting. "Do you know where Steve went?"
Bucky shook his head and we both went quiet for a couple minutes as the early morning stillness wrapped itself around us.
"Bucky?"
"Mmhm," he grunted in acknowledgment.
"Was I a good fighter?" I asked quietly.
His first response was a sad laugh and a wistful smile. "You were the best."
I waited for him to continue.
"You handed my ass to me more than once, including yesterday."
Frowning, I asked, "I fought you yesterday?"
He nodded. "Nearly beat me to death."
"Oh my God! I'm so sorry! I don't remember doing that."
"Listen, it's okay," he assured me. "You were scared and confused. Could've happened to anyone."
My shame and embarrassment shut me up while I berated myself. How could I have come so close to taking the life of someone who has shown kindness to me?
As sunlight steadily crept into the apartment, I saw the damage that had been done to his face—the damage I had caused.
"Bucky, I'm so sorry," I breathed.
"Don't worry about it." He tried to comfort me by saying, "You didn't do all of this. I was already pretty beaten up before you got a hold of me."
I had not only hurt someone who was trying to help me but also injured a man with one arm who had recently been assaulted.
Angry with myself, I began violently picking at my fingernails. The light brought my attention to the dirt and blood that was caked under them. Even after last night's shower, a red tinge clung to the skin around each nail.
I asked suddenly, "Do you have any nail clippers?"
"I assume Steve has some in his hygiene kit," Bucky said as he got up and went over to the bags in the corner of the room.
After a minute of rummaging, Bucky handed me the desired item.
"Sorry, I got my blood on you, Doll," he apologized once he saw my left hand.
"It's not just yours," I thought to myself.
I remained silent, unsure how to respond to someone apologizing to me because I had wrongly attacked them.
"Oh, I almost forgot," Bucky murmured before pulling something else out of Steve's things. "Little soap on the nail brush and some scrubbing, and everything should come right off."
"Uh - thanks," I faltered and then made my escape to the bathroom.
I made quick work of cutting off my five fingernails. After running the nail brush over my bar of soap, I scrubbed my fingers until they burned with pain.
I was able to breathe easier now that there literally was no blood on my hands. After splashing cold water on my face, I looked up into the shabby mirror. Common sense told me that the face that stared back at me was my own, yet I did not recognize it.
Steve and Bucky were both standing around the small kitchen island when I came out of the bathroom.
Steve called out cheerfully, "Good morning! I have breakfast!"
"Sandwiches?" I asked with a raised eyebrow after looking at the food laid out before the two men.
"Breakfast sandwiches. I would have got coffee to go with them, except these were kind of expensive," he replied.
I unwrapped the wax paper from around the bundle Steve handed me. Generous slices of warm whole grain bread, tender cuts of dark roast beef, thick pieces of juicy red tomato, and rich slices of creamy white Swiss cheese made an appealing and hearty combination.
After sinking my teeth into the sandwich, I told the two boys, "I have a lot of questions."
Steve nodded. "I'm sure you do."
"First off, where are we?"
"Odesa, Ukraine," was the answer.
I asked, "Okay. How did you two find me?"
"Steve and I got you out of a facility in Siberia two days ago," answered Bucky.
Steve added, "A man named Zemo came there to kill you."
Bucky's sad blue eyes met mine as he said, "You've been frozen for nearly 25 years, Doll."
"W-what? Frozen? 25 years? The hell are you talking about?" I choked out.
"You are a Super Soldier just like us. And for the past 25 years, you have been in a Cryostasis Chamber, which kept you in a state of suspended animation by lowering your entire body temperature to absolute zero," Steve elaborated.
In barely a whisper, I said, "So, I've been unconscious for the past 25 years?"
The pair nodded simultaneously.
"Then what year is it?"
Steve replied, "It's 2016."
"20? 2016?" I stuttered the information I could hardly comprehend.
"I know it must be a shock to you. There's a lot you need to catch up on," Steve told me. "But we'll get you up to speed."
Turning to Steve, Bucky asked, "Are you going to start with the Avengers or -"
I cut him off. "What's the 'Avengers'?"
Bucky chuckled, "You are probably the last person on Earth not to know who the Avengers are."
"It's sort of an 'Earth's Mightiest Heroes' type of thing," explained Steve.
"That's not overtly arrogant at all," I muttered.
Steve laughed. "I'm just on the team. I didn't come up with the name. Fury did."
"Fury?"
"Nick Fury, former director of S.H.I.E.L.D."
Steve's answer only left me with more questions.
"Who is Shield?"
"S.H.I.E.L.D. was the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. It was an American-based extra-governmental military counter-terrorism and intelligence agency tasked with maintaining both national and global security. It was founded after World War II and was the most powerful and secret military intelligence agency on Earth for decades."
"Oh."
Steve continued, "Nick Fury was the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. and founder of the Avengers Initiative. His goal was to form a team of 'Earth's Mightiest Heroes' to protect the world from whatever threats it might be faced with."
"Was he able to do it?" I asked, curiosity welling up inside of me.
Steve smiled. "Yes, he was. Six members were recruited. Tony, Thor, Natasha, Clint, Bruce, and myself."
The way he said the names told me these were obviously important people, but I did not recognize any of them.
"But you wouldn't know who any of those people are. So I'll just go through the list and tell you about each of them."
I nodded in agreement and continued eating my sandwich.
"Tony Stark was the very young and extremely successful C.E.O. of Stark Industries, which sold advanced weaponry until 2009 when he was kidnapped by a terrorist group in Afghanistan. They wanted him to make them a weapon and held him captive for three months. He did build a weapon, only he used it against them to escape to freedom instead of handing it over. Eventually, he perfected the design and became known as 'Iron Man.'"
Steve handed me a small, flat device with a screen. There was a picture of a well-dressed man with a unique goatee and a flashy smile. Steve swiped to the right, and then there was a picture of a red and gold armor suit with a hand extended out in front of it. A circle of light came from its palm, and another light was set in the center of its chest.
"He wears a suit of armor?" I asked.
"Yes," Steve confirmed.
"What's he like?"
"Eccentric genius, outgoing perfectionist, cocky billionaire, showy playboy, sarcastic pragmatist, and a brave fighter. Tony is a lot of things. He has his flaws and demons, but he is a good man and a good friend." Steve paused. "We just don't always see eye-to-eye."
I could tell that Steve and Tony had a close bond, but for some reason, right now, they were far from being on good terms with each other.
Talking about Tony unsettled something in Steve, so he moved right along, saying, "Then there is Thor Odinson. He is strong, blond, royalty, a few thousand years old, a mighty warrior, and has this hammer that lets him control lightning and thunder. You might know him from Norse mythology."
My mouth hung open for a moment until I remembered my manners. I swallowed my bite of food before blurting out, "Mythology?! He's a god?!"
"No, he is an Asgardian. Centuries ago, when he came to visit Earth, the Norse people mistook him for a god, and that is why he and his family are in Norse Mythology," Steve corrected me kindly.
"Oh... What's an Ass-guard-again?" I hesitated.
Bucky tried to hide his laughter but failed.
"Someone from Asgard," Steve stated.
"Ass-guard?"
My question drew more laughter from Bucky; even Steve was having a hard time keeping a straight face.
Steve replied, "It's one of the Nine Realms."
"The Nine Realms?"
These answers to my questions only confused me.
"It's a little complicated. He's not from Earth. Sometimes, he can be out of place here and have a temper, but ultimately, he wants to do what's right and keep things peaceful."
Steve swiped again at the little picture box, and a picture of a tall, muscular man with a beard and long blonde hair wearing an interesting maroon sports blazer appeared.
"No wonder they thought he was a god," I said under my breath.
Bucky and Steve chuckled before the latter changed it to another photo. In this one, the blond man was wearing a red cape and a set of armor unlike any I had ever seen. He was holding a large silver hammer in his hand like it was nothing.
"Next is Natasha Romanoff, aka the Black Widow. Raised from infancy in a Russian-run 'academy' called the Red Room, the girls there were made into the best spies and assassins possible. She graduated top of her class, and because of that, the K.G.B. recruited her, but fortunately, she ended up switching sides and defecting to S.H.I.E.L.D."
Steve showed me a picture of a beautiful red-headed woman wearing a formal suit.
Running my finger along the image, I felt a connection with her.
"And her Russian name?" I asked in a whisper.
For once, Steve did not have an answer to my question.
"You must mean 'Наталья Романова,'" I corrected him. "'Романов' is the male form of the last name. 'Романова' is the female form."
["Natalia Romanova."] ["Romanov"] ["Romanova"]
Bucky just shrugged.
"What is she like?"
Steve changed the screen to a picture of her in a black full-body tactical suit before answering, "She's smart, funny, strong, and a huge flirt, but once she trusts you, she will always be there for you."
"I wish I could meet her."
"I hope that you will get to very soon," Steve said with a sad smile before moving on.
"Couldn't forget Natasha's best friend: Clint Barton, aka Hawkeye. He was an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., or I should say assassin of S.H.I.E.L.D. and still is a master marksman. Clint can do more with a bow and arrow than anyone else I've ever met can do with a gun," Steve told me before showing me a picture of an unassuming man in jeans and a long-sleeved flannel.
Confused, I asked, "So he's just a regular guy who is good at archery?"
Steve chuckled, "No. He is also a skilled martial artist, acrobat, and spy, not to mention a very valuable member of the team."
The next picture was of the same man wearing a black sleeveless uniform and holding a bow loaded with three arrows.
"Clint is brilliant, humorous, very competitive, extremely loyal, a caring friend, and a loving family man," Steve stated.
"Finally, there is Bruce Banner, the most gifted scientist of this century."
"A scientist?" I asked, unimpressed, looking at the picture of a very average man who wore glasses and a purple button-up.
In response to my question, Steve pulled up a picture of a huge, green, muscular monster.
"Holy crap! What is that thing?!"
Steve said, "He's the Hulk, a strong and primitive-minded creature who is fueled by rage. Bruce was exposed to high levels of gamma radiation, which changed his body and mind. Bruce and Hulk are both always in there; it's just a matter of who is in control."
"So he can turn into that whenever he wants?"
"He has to be triggered to transform into the Hulk," Steve explained.
Concerned, I asked, "But every time he gets angry, does he change?"
"Not necessarily. Bruce has gained considerable control over the Hulk and is still learning about him. Bruce is very intelligent, sometimes shy, and always kind."
"In 2012, Thor's adopted brother, Loki, entered the Joint Dark Energy Mission Facility in the Mojave Desert via some kind of portal; used a Scepter to mind control several agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., including Clint Barton; stole the Tesseract; and destroyed the facility and the surrounding area," Steve recalled.
"The Tess-er-act?"
Steve explained grimly, "It's a blue cube with unmatched power."
I nodded, and he continued.
"Fury met with the World Security Council, and they told him to forget about the Avengers Initiative, but he went through with it anyway."
"Natasha recruited Bruce, Fury recruited me, and Agent Phil Coulson of S.H.I.E.L.D. recruited Tony."
"Natasha, Bruce, and I were brought onto S.H.I.E.L.D.'s first Helicarrier, which is a flying command center and an aircraft carrier. We found Loki in Germany, forcing a crowd of people to kneel before him. Tony and I were able to bring Loki into custody."
"That was the first time Tony and I ever met," Steve said quietly, reminiscing over the memory.
He ended the moment by resuming his story.
"Anyways, Thor boarded our Quinjet and took Loki with him. Tony and I followed. It took a bit of convincing, but Thor agreed to join us."
"When we returned to the Helicarrier, Loki was put in a cell and we discussed what Loki's plan was. Natasha interrogated Loki, while Tony and I separately but simultaneously discovered that Fury's 'Phase Two' was using the Tesseract to create weapons. We all had a big argument." Steve shook his head at this recollection.
"Clint and the other brainwashed agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. attacked the Helicarrier and took out one of our engines. It took a while, but Tony and I fixed the engine. The attack triggered Bruce to turn into the Hulk, and Natasha had to flee for her life. Thor stopped Hulk from hurting anyone until they were able to get him off of the Helicarrier, and he turned back into Banner unharmed."
"Loki escaped and then tricked Thor into his former cell. Agent Coulson tried to save Thor, but Loki ended up killing him."
I noticed a tear slide down Steve's face.
"Loki then ejected a still-trapped Thor from the Helicarrier. Fortunately, Thor was able to escape uninjured, but Loki got away."
"Fury told Tony and I that Agent Coulson was dead, and he also came clean to us about how his true plan was the Avengers Initiative, not Phase Two."
"Natasha had to fight and restrain Barton until he was finally free of Loki's control." Steve paused after saying this, as if the weight of his own words would not allow him to speak.
A moment later, he carried on, "Tony and I discussed Agent Coulson's death and realized Loki planned to open up a portal above Stark Tower in New York City."
"I found Clint and Natasha, and we took a Quinjet, which is an advanced piece of S.H.I.E.L.D. aircraft, and followed Tony to New York City."
"Tony tried to talk to Doctor Erik Selvig, a renowned astrophysicist and also another one of Loki's personal puppets at the time, about shutting down the portal device he had created using the Tesseract, but it didn't work. So Tony took off his suit and faced off against Loki mind to mind."
"It didn't go well. When Loki couldn't control Tony with the Scepter, he just threw him out the window. Tony was able to get into one of his suits and not fall to his death, but the portal had opened, and Loki's alien army had already arrived."
"Thor took his turn at confronting Loki, but to no avail. Loki took out one of the Quinjet's engines, and we were forced to crash land."
"Sirens were going off everywhere. The police officers and firefighters were doing all they could. Debris dust was thick on everything. The aliens just kept coming. Seventy-four civilians died, along with several NYPD officers and National Guard members, though I don't remember the numbers for them," Steve said quietly with a faraway look in his eyes.
No one spoke until Bucky gently said, "It's okay, Steve. What happened next?"
Steve blinked a couple of times. "umm- Thor and Bruce joined us. Bruce turned into the Hulk. I helped Natasha catch a ride up to the top of Stark Tower."
"There were a bunch of civilians cornered in this bank. The aliens had this bomb. It went off and blew me out of a window. I think I ended up landing on a car," Steve laughed dryly.
"Selvig was free of Loki's mind control when Natasha finally made it to the top of Stark Tower. He told her how to shut down the portal. And Hulk beat Loki down."
"The World Security Council decided to nuke New York City as the solution to the alien problem."
"I'm sorry! They decided to 'nuke' New York City?!" I interrupted.
Steve nodded and continued, "Tony took the nuke up and into the portal even though it was a suicide mission. When Tony hadn't come back out, Natasha was forced to close the portal. His suit had run out of power, but thankfully he free fell back to Earth before the portal fully closed. Once Tony came to, we finished our business with Loki."
"Thor took the Tesseract and Loki back to Asgard. We all went our separate ways after that. The world has never been the same since that day," Steve finished.
"Why would someone attack New York like that?" I asked soberly.
Steve and Bucky looked at each other.
"Actually, this wasn't the first time New York has been attacked since you were put under," replied Steve.
"On September 11, 2001, nineteen members of the terrorist group al-Qaeda hijacked four commercial airliners. One plane crashed into the World Trade Center North Tower. The second crashed into the World Trade Center South Tower. The third plane was flown into the Pentagon."
"The fourth plane's target was either the Capitol building or the White House, but it never made it to either. The crew and passengers of the flight fought against the hijackers after they had learned about the fates of the three other hijacked planes. When the hijackers realized that the passengers and crew would likely overcome them and gain control of the plane, they rolled the plane and intentionally crashed it, which killed everyone on board."
"Both of the towers ended up catching on fire and came down. Nearly 3,000 people were killed, over 25,000 were injured, and we will probably never know how many got sick or even died because of all of the contaminants and carcinogens that were in the air," Steve said, his voice filled with nothing but sadness.
I had no words. I could not even cry. I was in so much shock over the tragedy.
In a firm tone, Bucky said, "I think that's enough history for today."
I do not remember much about the rest of that day.
Steve went out again and did not return until after dark.
Bucky made himself a peanut butter sandwich around noon and offered me one, but I declined.
Steve brought back three thrifted sleeping bags, some basic groceries, and three takeout servings of okroshka. The cold summer soup was good, but I only ate my portion to appease Steve and not because I was hungry.
As I crawled into my sleeping bag that night, so many thoughts churned in my head.
- I had hurt someone and had no recollection of it.
- Someone had tried to kill me.
- I had missed 25 years of living.
- A beautiful city and the innocent lives of its people had been devastated by evil men.
Chapter 6 of Not The Only One - A Winter Soldier Story
Rating: Teen to Mature
Word Count: 5.4K
Warnings: Canon-typical violence (with more specifics in the tags)
June 25, 2016
As the morning sunlight sifted into the Quinjet, the two super soldiers began to stir.
"Good morning," Steve whispered in a gentle tone.
Bucky groaned groggily.
"There should be a way to make coffee somewhere. Clint always had a pot of it," murmured Steve to himself as he got up to make breakfast.
Upon finding the coffee machine, Steve put it to work. The final product did not taste great, but it was strong, and that was all that really mattered.
Their breakfast of a cup of coffee, a slice of bread with peanut butter on it, and an apple each was soon ready.
After eating a bite of his peanut butter bread, Steve said, "Do you remember the ban-"
"on sliced bread?" Bucky finished.
Steve nodded and took a sip of his coffee.
Bucky rolled his eyes. "That was the dumbest thing! All it accomplished was making every housewife in America mad!"
Steve shook his head. "They were trying to save metal and paper, but people just couldn't seem to go without their sliced bread."
"Yeah, no one else had any problem buying and eating the 'illegally' sliced bread except you," Bucky pointed out.
"It wasn't legal! Not to mention unfair to the places that did stop selling sliced bread," Steve defended himself. "Plus, they were always talking about those 'stern measures' they were going to use against the bread slicers."
Bucky laughed lightly. "Gosh, that was a long time ago."
Steve hated to kill the lighthearted moment they were sharing, but now was just as good a time as ever to ask Bucky about her.
"Speaking of a long time ago, what's the history between the two of you?" Steve asked, motioning to the girl.
Bucky's entire demeanor changed along with the new topic. He took a deep breath before slowly beginning to speak about her.
"After the Starks' 'accident,' I went to this workshop to get her. She was a scrawny little thing but ran like the devil when she saw me. She ended up tripping on a cord, and this huge saw fell on her. She tried to free herself by pushing against it but accidentally flipped the switch and turned it on."
Bucky's voice was hoarse as he said, "The blade went completely through her arm like it wasn't even there." After collecting himself for a moment, Bucky continued. "I pulled her out and brought her back to the base. The next time I saw her, she had the metal arm and was bigger because of the serum. I taught her how to kill others and not get herself killed. Then they made us spar with one another. After that, we fought each other with no holds barred, and she beat me."
"The next time I saw her, she was in a paper gown with her legs spread for a doctor. He talked about getting her pregnant. But Karpov told him to remove her ovaries, which would sterilize her. I don't know which one they did to her if either." Bucky's tone made it very clear that his lack of knowledge in this area bothered him.
"And I was there when she was put under. Only Karpov and I knew where her cryo chamber was. Unless he used her for his own personal reasons between then and now, she's been on ice since '91," Bucky finished.
Steve sat there in stunned silence, trying to absorb all he had just been told.
"Do you think she's gonna be alright? Or will she be comatose forever?" Bucky asked anxiously.
"I think she's fine. I slept for a few days after coming out of the ice," Steve replied with far more confidence than he truly had on the issue.
Relief flooded Bucky's face but was soon replaced with worry. "What if she is pregnant?"
Steve knew he could not pretend his way out of this question. "I don't know, Buck. Whether she's pregnant or not and whether this possible baby is still alive or not, I'm going to do everything I can to make sure that she's taken care of regardless."
"Thank you," Bucky said softly. "She was just a kid when I pulled her into all of this. I made her into the same monster they made me..."
"Buck, you had no control over that, and even if you had, they would have sent someone else to grab her or had you get another girl. We can't change what happened in the past. All we can do now is make sure we help her in every way we can," Steve explained gently.
Bucky nodded solemnly. "What's the plan?"
"We need to find somewhere safe to hide out. Sam, Clint, Wanda, and Scott are most likely in custody, and we're the world's most wanted fugitives. I'm going to reach out to some contacts of mine to see what they know," Steve replied.
"What about Natasha?" Bucky asked.
Steve chuckled. "They would only have Nat if she wanted them to have her. Plus, she signed the Accords. Since T'Challa learned the truth, I doubt he will be reporting what she did to him so we could escape."
The pair finished breakfast in silence until Steve stood up and announced, "We've got a lot ahead of us today."
~
"Not exactly first class," Bucky commented as he walked into the apartment Steve had found.
"I didn't know it needed to be," Steve replied from behind him.
Bucky turned around and raised an eyebrow. "My place in Bucharest was better than this dump."
"It's off the radar and within our budget, which is pretty much nothing."
"Why here, though?" Bucky questioned.
"Ukraine and the US don't have an extradition treaty, plus there's Ukraine's status with the UN. With all the unrest regarding Crimea, looking for us is not a national priority. And there's the fact that Odessa speaks predominantly Russian, and you know the city. I did my research, Buck. This is the best place for us right now," Steve concluded.
Bucky gave a resigned shrug.
"The Quinjet is well hidden. We have a place to stay. Our few belongings are here. Now, we need to secure her." Steve motioned to the unconscious girl he held in his arms.
Bucky's voice broke as he said, "Steve, tell me you're not going to lock her up."
"She might be combative when she wakes up. I just want to make sure that we're all safe when she comes to," Steve tried to assure him.
"She was handled like this by HYDRA," Bucky argued. "If we treat her the same way, how will she know that we are any different than them? If we don't trust her, how can she trust us?"
"Neither of us are in top shape right now. You told me yourself that she can overpower you at your best. We have to be smart about this," Steve countered before laying the girl down on the floor. "I'll be back soon. Keep an eye on her, will you?"
Bucky sighed angrily as the door shut behind his best friend.
How could Steve not see what was best for her?
With nothing but time and solitude ahead, Bucky allowed himself to study the girl. Even unconscious and in the ugly cryosuit and muzzle, she was beautiful. The steady rise and fall of her chest comforted him. Bucky felt if he quit watching her breath she would stop doing it entirely. The thought of her not waking up hurt him too much to even think about.
"Please don't die," he whispered to her.
Almost as if she had heard him, she groaned slightly and stirred.
~
Slowly opening my eyes, I blinked a few times, trying to pull my surroundings into focus. I seemed to be lying on the floor.
Someone else was there with me.
A man.
Zimniy Soldat.
Rushing to my feet, I prepared myself to fight him. A closer look showed that he had recently been injured. His face had several cuts and bruises, plus his metal arm appeared to be missing. None of this mattered, though. He was my enemy, and my mission was to defeat him.
I landed a swift punch with my right, followed immediately by my left. He managed to block the second one, but poorly.
"пожалуйста, я не хочу драться с тобой," the Soldat said.
["Please, I don’t want to fight you."]
My response to his mind games was three sharp uppercuts into his gut.
Despite that, he managed to gasp out, "ты знаешь меня."
["You know me."]
Driving my knee into his crotch and simultaneously slamming my metal elbow into his throat, I displayed my anger at his words.
"я не сделаю тебе больно," he moaned.
["I’m not going to hurt you."]
I jumped up and used both my feet to kick him squarely in the chest. The air was knocked out of his lungs as he fell back. To make sure he stayed down and I did not lose my advantageous position, I got on top of him and straddled my legs over his torso. Grabbing his clothing with my left hand, I repeatedly pounded his face with my metal fist. The Soldat coughed up a mouthful of blood and looked up at me with fear and sadness in his blue eyes. I continued beating him until he lost consciousness.
"Bucky!?"
I turned my head around to see a tall, muscular, blond man behind me. He pulled out a gun and shot me repeatedly.
"I'm sorry," he said with a sad grimace.
Pain tore through my body, and then everything went dark.
~
Steve rushed over to his best friend. Rolling the girl's limp body off of Bucky revealed his bloody and bashed face.
"Buck." Steve gently shook his right shoulder. "Buck!" The second shake was less gentle.
Bucky opened his eyes slowly as if even that small movement was painful.
Steve gave a small smile, but concern was still deeply etched on his face.
Unable to fight against the powerful pull of drowsiness, Bucky's eyelids slid close.
"Hey! Talk to me!" Steve said in a loud, panicky voice.
A startled pair of blue eyes stared back at Steve. After a moment, Bucky asked, "Where is she?"
"She shouldn't be causing any more problems for a while," replied Steve vaguely.
"What did you do?" Bucky breathed softly.
"Administered a sedative."
Bucky hesitated. "What?"
"I put her back to sleep," Steve clarified.
"You drugged her?!"
"All I did was pull the trigger. The dart gave it to her."
Indignant, Bucky asked, "You used a tranq gun on her?!"
"I had it just in case things went off the rails!" Steve defended himself.
"She finally wakes up, and you put her back to sleep!?" growled Bucky.
"She would have killed you!" Steve retorted.
Anger twisted Bucky's face. "You don't know that! What's next? If I act a little crazy, are you going to shoot me?"
"Of course not!"
"Why? Because I only have one arm? Because I'm not a threat to you anymore?" Bucky raged.
"Because you're my friend," Steve said softly. "You're my best friend, Buck."
"You're my best friend, too," Bucky whispered. "Treat her like she is your friend too."
"We hardly know anything about her," remarked Steve.
"I know." Bucky paused. "But we are the only friends she's got right now."
Steve nodded understandingly.
"It's a good thing you brought the first aid kit with us from the Quinjet," Bucky said half jokingly as Steve carefully helped him sit up.
"You're just lucky you don't need stitches," Steve informed him.
Bucky quipped, "Maybe next time."
"I hope you're not going to make a regular habit of getting beat within an inch of your life," Steve teased as he began cleaning his friend's bleeding face.
"If I recall correctly, that was your pastime back in Brooklyn, not mine," Bucky replied sassily.
Steve laughed and finished fixing up Bucky's wounds before a thick veil of silence fell between the two friends for several minutes.
With a voice full of concern, Bucky said, "You do realize there are things she is going to need now that she is awake, right?"
"Like what?" Steve asked absent-mindedly.
"Well, I don't have any clothes or toiletries for her."
"I grabbed Natasha's backup outfit when we packed up the emergency clothes from the Quinjet."
Bucky commented, "That's a start. There are a lot more things she is going to need, though."
Steve pulled out a pen and piece of paper and wrote down toothbrush and toothpaste.
"How about a hairbrush?" Bucky suggested.
Steve scribbled it down along with shampoo.
Bucky added, "Probably needs conditioner, too."
Conditioner and soap joined the list.
"Lotion and lip balm?" Bucky requested.
Steve shot a questioning stare at him.
"What? I noticed her skin was dry. Siberia isn't the kindest place to stay," Bucky explained himself.
After raising an eyebrow, Steve put down the desired items. He also wrote razor but then scratched through it.
"On second thought, giving her that might not be the best idea," he said aloud.
"I think that's good enough for now," Steve remarked as he put the list away. "She is probably going to wake up soon."
"What are you going to do to her?" Bucky faltered.
"Restrain her in about the same way as Sam and I did you in Vienna. She's going to be okay, Buck," Steve assured him as he picked up the girl.
Steve laid her down again. "Almost forgot, this is for you." Steve handed Bucky a flip cell phone.
"Already has my number in it. I'll call you when she wakes up," Steve promised.
As the door closed behind Steve and the girl, Bucky stared at the phone and wished it would already ring.
~
I opened my eyes to a tall, muscular, blond man with broad shoulders sitting before me. He wore jeans and a blue shirt with a black jacket over top. I felt like I had seen him before.
"Hey!" His face lit up, and he seemed pleased that I was awake. He then introduced himself, saying, "My name is Steve Rogers. What's your name?"
I stared back at him blankly.
"It's okay if you don't know the answer." He smiled comfortingly.
I made no response.
"I'm here to help you." His face was soft, and his eyes kind, but they were likely not genuine or trustworthy.
"Do you understand English?" Steve asked. "Maybe you only know Russian?"
When I did not answer, he pulled out a device and looked worried as he spoke into it. "She's awake."
"How is she?" a muffled voice asked anxiously.
"She looks alright. I've tried talking to her in English, but she doesn't seem to understand..." Steve's voice trailed off.
"So you want me to come over and speak Russian with her?"
"No, not really."
"Why not?"
Steve clenched his jaw tightly together. "The last time she saw you, she nearly killed you. That's not a chance I'm willing to take."
"This is my choice, not yours. Besides, unless you speak Russian, how else are we going to find out if she understands it?"
Steve's facial expression showed that he knew that whoever was on the other side of the device was right, but he was still not happy about it. "Okay. I'll text you directions. See you in a few."
While Steve was typing away at his device, I began to analyze my surroundings. It was some kind of abandoned industrial building. My metal arm was held tightly in a huge piece of machinery that smelled of fish, and I sat on an old wooden slat crate. After a few attempts to pull my limb free, I realized it was futile.
Several minutes later a man with shoulder length brown hair came in. This man was missing his left arm. He wore jeans and a maroon shirt with a flannel on top, which were all a little too small for him. I knew him. From the shape of his face to the lilt of his voice to the way he moved, I knew him.
"Меня зовут Баки. Баки Барнс," he introduced himself with a sad smile.
["My name is Bucky. Bucky Barnes."]
I did not know him by this name. So he is using an alias, a wise decision on his part.
"Я знаю, ты умеешь говорить."
["I know you can speak."]
My silence challenged his claim.
He leaned in closer to me. "Я знаю, ты тоже знаешь английский."
["I know you know English too."]
The fact that he knew both of the languages I spoke disturbed me, but I did not give him the pleasure of seeing my discomfort.
"Вы помните меня?" he asked inquisitively.
["Do you remember me?"]
I wondered what angle he was trying to work by, seeing if I remembered him.
"Тебе сложно вспомнить, не так ли? Это просто кусочки и кусочки, разбросанные тут и там, и вы не знаете, что реально, а что нет?"
["It's hard for you to remember, isn't it? They are just bits and pieces scattered here and there, and you don't know what is real and what is not."]
I questioned whether or not this man could actually read my thoughts.
"Плохие люди сделали тебе плохие вещи. Ты помнишь это?"
["Bad people did bad things to you. Do you remember that?"]
Grimacing, I tried to get rid of the horrible images that came into my mind.
His voice broke with emotion when he said, "Те же самые плохие люди сделали и со мной плохие вещи. Они забрали мою память и заставили делать плохие поступки." Tears ran down his face.
["Those same bad people did bad things to me, too. They took away my memory and made me do bad things."]
Removing the long sleeve of the flannel from his left shoulder and pushing up the shirt's sleeve showed what was left of a metal arm just like mine. It even bore the same blood-red star.
"Они сделали это с нами обоими. Мы такие же, как я и ты."
["They did this to both of us. We are the same, you and me."]
His sad blue eyes met my own. "Я с тобой честен. Можешь быть со мной честным."
["I'm being honest with you. You can be honest with me."]
Somehow, I believed him.
Gently, he asked, "Как твое имя?"
["What's your name?"]
"Меня звали Солдат," I told him soberly.
["They called me Soldat."]
"She doesn't even know her own name. When I asked her, she said it was Soldat. All she remembers being called is 'Soldier,'" Bucky told Steve.
"We can't call her that. She needs a name," Steve replied.
Bucky countered, "We can't just give her a name either. She's a person and already has one."
"How about a nickname then?" Steve suggested.
"Doll would work and she could use Dolly if she has to give her name," Bucky offered.
Steve agreed. "That's fine by me."
"Мы достаточно долго продержали эту шараду, не так ли? Я знаю, он хотел бы понять, о чем мы говорим," Bucky said as he motioned to Steve.
["We've kept this charade going long enough, don't you think? I know he would like to understand what we're saying."]
"Отлично," I conceded.
["Fine."]
Bucky turned to Steve. "She knows English, apparently."
Steve frowned at me and then said, "Doll, you need to know some things before we let you out."
"You are a fugitive. If you go outside, you will be spotted and reported to the authorities. Every law enforcement agency in the world is looking for you and has orders to kill you on sight by any means necessary," Bucky disclosed.
"How do I know you aren't law enforcement?" I asked Steve pointedly.
He replied, "We're international fugitives."
"Ah. So you will turn me in to gain your own pardons. Smart."
"No, it's complicated," Bucky answered.
Sarcastically, I said, "Don't tell me. You're all innocent, right?"
"There was a disaster. Because we were not able to save everyone, people died. So, the United Nations drew up a document to prevent another such tragedy from happening. Only in doing so, they took away our rights as human beings and our freedom of choice. We chose not to sign the document. A lot of people weren't too happy about that and now here we are," Steve explained.
"Nice story. I need proof," I said skeptically.
Steve handed me a newspaper with the heading "КАПИТАН АМЕРИКА ОТКАЗЫВАЕТСЯ ПОДПИСАТЬ ДОГОВОРЫ СОКОВИИ И ТЕПЕРЬ НЕУДАЧА" and a picture of Steve on the front.
["CAPTAIN AMERICA REFUSES TO SIGN SOKOVIA ACCORDS AND IS NOW A FUGITIVE"]
"Captain America? The World War II hero?"
Steve smiled. "Yes, that's me. Steve Rogers."
"That's impossible. He's dead," I stated matter-of-factly.
"Well, not exactly," he chuckled. "I was in the ice for almost 70 years and didn't die because of the Super Soldier Serum."
"That can't be true," I remarked incredulously.
"You can look it up for yourself later, Doll. He's telling the truth," Bucky reassured me.
"There is also some personal incentive for you to stay with us. A king is going to contact us and extract us," Steve announced.
"What king?"
Steve said, "His name is T'Challa, and he is the King of Wakanda."
"Then why don't I recognize the name or nation of this said 'king'?" I asked dubiously.
"He just became king. His father, King T'Chaka, was killed in a terrorist bombing three days ago," Bucky explained.
"Hmm. Tell me about Whaka-na-da."
"It's a small, landlocked, third-world, isolationist, African kingdom. Landscape is mountains and dense forest. People are shepherds and farmers. Known for its textiles and cool outfits," Steve informed me.
"Perfect," I muttered.
"At least that's what they want the world to believe. We have reasons to believe that they have something incredible that they are not telling us about," Steve added.
"So I'm just supposed to take my chances with a pair of international fugitives and the promise of an African king whose nation is impoverished?"
The duo nodded.
"I don't like those odds, but there are also not many offers on the table." I sighed. "I'm in."
Steve came over and released my metal arm from the piece of machinery. Freedom tasted so sweet, but it was not long-lived.
"You need to get in there so we can safely get you back to our apartment," Steve told me as he pointed to a large black bag.
I reluctantly climbed into the duffle bag and watched Steve and Bucky disappear from view as it was zipped closed.
To say the duffle was cramped and stuffy would be beyond an understatement. I could not move at all, and every breath I exhaled only added to the rising temperature and increasing staleness of the air around me.
There was also the fact that I could see practically nothing. Steve could drop me at any minute without warning, and there would be nothing I could do to anticipate or break my fall. I was extremely vulnerable and completely at the mercy of these two men right now.
We proceeded quietly for several minutes before Bucky's voice broke the silence. "What about all those things on your list?"
List? What list? What is he talking about?
"Shoot! I forgot about that! Do you think that you can take her back while I go get this stuff?" Steve asked.
My mind reeled as to what the "list" and "all those things" could possibly be.
Bucky agreed. "Sure."
"Here are the keys," Steve offered, and a light jingle followed his words.
Steve then set me on the ground, and Bucky put the duffle's strap over his good shoulder and lifted me off the ground.
"Be back soon!" Steve said as we started moving again.
Bucky walked differently than Steve did. He balanced my weight against his right hip instead of slinging me diagonally across his back. I felt safer with him carrying me, which was completely ridiculous. He only has one arm, so logically, I should feel less safe with him carrying me. It was almost like Bucky could feel my pain, and he quickened his pace so as to end my suffering sooner.
We must have climbed several flights of stairs because his gait morphed into a rhythmic upward motion a few minutes later.
I heard him fumble to get the keys out of his pocket and unlock something. The creak of what sounded like a door followed behind it. We walked a short way before the creak happened again followed by two very different sounding clicks.
I was set on the ground again. Bucky unzipped me from my prison. I sat up and took in a long, deep breath of fresh air before getting to my feet.
A quick survey of my surroundings showed it to be a run-down apartment. There were two doors and a couple of dirty windows. A few bags were over in one of the corners, but otherwise, the place was bare.
I turned to Bucky. "So Steve is 'Captain America,' but who are you?"
"A friend," he replied softly.
I frowned. "That's vague. What's your story, Bucky?"
He laughed nervously. "My story. I don't think you want to hear about all of that, Doll."
"I want to hear it."
"Trust me, you don't want to hear it right now," Bucky told me.
"Yes, I do," I insisted.
"Okay," he said with a resigned sigh. "I was born on March 10th, 1917, in Brooklyn, New York. Met Steve and we became best friends as kids. Joined the Army in 1941 and fought in World War II until I was captured by HYDRA and experimented on. You know how Steve was also experimented on, and fortunately, he came and saved me. Steve and some of our friends and I ended up making this group called the Howling Commandos and we fought against HYDRA and the Nazis. On February 1st, 1945, we were on a mission, and I ended up falling off of a train into the river gorge below. Everyone thought I was dead. But I survived the fall because of the experiments HYDRA had done on me. Or most of me survived; I lost my left arm. HYDRA found me and gave me a metal arm just like yours. They brainwashed me, and I became their puppet. I did whatever they wanted me to do. After every mission, they would freeze me until they needed me again. I was theirs for almost 70 years. Two years ago, they sent me to kill Steve, and I almost did. But seeing Steve triggered my memory and broke the brainwashing. I've been hiding for the past two years trying to get all of my memory back until Steve found me and everything went down."
I stood there dumbfounded, trying to take in everything he had just told me. "uhh....wow...."
The poor man looked down at the floor anxiously.
Suddenly, a thought crossed my mind. "Bucky, do you know my story?"
He looked up at me with pain on his face. "I know part of it."
I nodded slowly to encourage him to go on.
"HYDRA used you to test an experimental form of the Super Soldier Serum. They gave you the metal arm and brainwashed you. Eventually, they made us fight each other. Do you remember that?" Bucky asked gently. "Do you remember me?"
I knew what he was telling me was the truth, but it felt like there was more.
"Not really," I confessed. For a moment, my eyes met with his. "But I want to remember you."
Bucky turned away from me like I had slapped him. An awkward silence took hold of the apartment until my stomach growled.
Having been given the chance to try and change the subject, I ran with it. "Do you have any food? I'm starving."
He pointed to the bags in the corner. "There's apples, peanut butter, and bread in that top backpack. Help yourself."
Rummaging through the bag, I found the desired items. I did not realize how hungry I was until I started to eat.
A knock at one of the doors made me jump a few minutes later.
Bucky went over to answer it. "Это кто?"
["Who is it?"]
Steve's voice called out from the other side of the door, "Buck, it's me."
Bucky unlocked the door, and Steve came in with two plastic bags on his arms.
"How was shopping?" asked Bucky.
"Alright."
"Well, I think you're going to need to go to the store again tomorrow because Doll has done a number on our food supply," Bucky informed Steve.
I grinned sheepishly and stopped eating. What had been a partial loaf of bread was now completely gone, along with three apples and a good deal of peanut butter. I was not full, but at least I was not as hungry as I had been before.
Even though doing something as exposed as taking a shower is probably not advisable when you are staying in a strange place with two men you hardly know, I felt so gross that I did not care about the risks.
"I want a shower," I informed the boys.
Steve handed me the two plastic bags and gave me a towel and a wad of clothes from the bags in the corner.
"That should be everything you need," he told me.
"Thanks. Where's the bathroom?" I asked. Steve and Bucky pointed to the other door.
Before I got to set my things down in the bathroom, the lights flickered and then cut off. I readied myself for an attack. Yet Steve and Bucky both seemed calm in the darkness.
"The power here really does suck," Steve laughed.
"Hold on, I have an idea," Bucky offered from the other room. He entered the bathroom with a lit candle.
"It's not great, but you should be able to see enough to shower." Bucky set it on the high built-in ledge at the far end from the shower head.
"I'll leave you alone now," he said, closing the door behind himself.
I turned the lock on the flimsy door even though I knew it would not do much if someone really wanted in.
Peeking in the plastic bags showed a toothbrush, a tube of toothpaste, a hairbrush, a bottle of shampoo, a bottle of conditioner, a bar of soap, a bottle of lotion, and a lip balm. So these were the "things" they had been talking about.
My clothes were soon in a pile on the floor. My blonde hair was greasy and matted. I should probably be thankful that I can not see myself well in the cracked mirror above the chipped sink.
Turning the tap on, I tried to recall the last time I had bathed aside from the bloody shower that I could not forget, but nothing came to mind.
I grabbed the shampoo, the conditioner, and the bar of soap before stepping into the shower. The water was colder than I would have liked, but I made do with it.
As the water ran over my perfectly formed muscles, I had the strange feeling that my body had not always been like this. Uncomfortable with this thought, I tried to think of something else.
The candle Bucky had brought me was just a plain emergency candle. There was nothing special about it, but the gesture of him getting it for me made me feel special.
The drops of water on my skin sparkled like diamonds as the flame danced about. It was beautiful in a strange way. Water intermixing with fire. I watched the ring of wax around the wick grow as time went by.
I squeezed a bit of shampoo into my hand and rubbed it on my head. Scratching my scalp, I lathered up my hair. After rinsing out the suds, I worked a squirt of conditioner from my tips up to my roots.
Since I had no washcloth, I ran the bar of soap over my body. It had a light, clean scent that I could not quite identify.
I rinsed the soap off of my skin and the conditioner out of my hair. My skin was left smooth, and my hair felt like silk.
After turning off the water, I stepped out of the shower and put the candle on the sink.
Not wanting to be naked outside of the shower any longer than I had to, I patted myself quickly with the towel and pulled the clothes over my still-damp skin. The tight-fitting black tank top and comfortable grey sweatsuit were short on me. Whoever's clothes these were was also bigger chested than me, but a large bra was better than no bra at all.
I put the towel over my hair and twisted it up onto my head. After brushing my teeth, I put some lip balm on my chapped lips and exited the bathroom with the candle in hand.
I found Steve and Bucky both lying on blankets on the floor.
"It's been a long day for us. We're going to bed," Steve said sleepily.
I whispered, "Good night."
An extra blanket was spread next to Bucky. I put the candle down next to the blanket and lay down. I could feel the cheap, uneven, wood-like floorboards through the thin blanket. Trying to get more comfortable, I made the wet towel and my hair into a little pillow. I blew out the candle and closed my eyes, but I already knew I would not be able to sleep.
Chapter 5 of Not The Only One - A Winter Soldier Story
Rating: Teen to Mature
Word Count: 1.9 K
Warnings: Canon-typical violence (with more specifics in the tags)
June 23, 2016
Bucky lifted his head up stiffly and slowly opened his eyes. His metal arm was held tight in a large vice, keeping him trapped in place.
"Hey, Cap!" a voice echoed in the large abandoned warehouse.
A moment later, Steve and another man jogged in.
Bucky groaned slightly. "Steve?"
Steve's face was tense with worry. "Which Bucky am I talking to?"
Bucky blinked. "Your mom's name was Sarah."
"You used to wear newspapers in your shoes," Bucky chuckled at the memory.
Steve gave a small smile. "Can't read that in a museum."
"Just like that, we're supposed to be cool?" the other man questioned incredulously.
"What did I do?" Bucky asked, his voice hoarse with emotion.
"Enough," Steve replied frankly.
Bucky moaned. "Oh. God, I knew this would happen. Everything HYDRA put inside me is still there. All he had to do was say the goddamn words."
"Who was he?" asked Steve.
"I don't know," Bucky whispered.
"People are dead. The bombing, the setup, the doctor did all that just to get ten minutes with you. I need you to do better than 'I don't know,'" Steve explained gravely.
Bucky hesitated, then slowly said, "He wanted to know about Siberia."
"Where I was kept." His blue eyes moved around as things began to fall into place. "He wanted to know exactly where."
"Why would he need to know that?" Steve inquired.
Bucky clenched his jaw. "Because I'm not the only Winter Soldier."
The shock on Steve's and the other man's faces betrayed the fact that this was new information to them.
"Go on," Steve encouraged gently.
"There was a girl," Bucky said, his eyes clouding over at the memory.
"Who was she?" Steve probed.
Bucky shook his head. "I don't know. Just some experimental subject for the serum. An innocent."
"Why would they need to experiment with it? And why not on someone who was part of their organization?" Steve asked as he freed Bucky's arm from the huge piece of industrial machinery.
"They needed to know if this combination was right. Plus, it had never been given to a female before. HYDRA wouldn't risk testing on one of their own." Bucky continued, "When it worked on her, they gave it to five others as well."
"Who were they?" asked Steve, arms crossed over his chest.
"Their most elite death squad. More kills than anyone in HYDRA history. And that was before the serum."
"They all turn out like you?" the other man asked sarcastically.
"Worse," Bucky replied, raising his eyebrows.
"The doctor, could he control them?" Steve asked.
Bucky looked down. "Enough."
"Said he wanted to see an empire fall," remarked Steve.
"With these guys, he could do it. They speak thirty languages, can hide in plain sight, infiltrate, assassinate, destabilize. They can take a whole country down in one night, and you would never see them coming," Bucky informed them seriously.
"This would have been a lot easier a week ago..." the other man's voice trailed off.
July 24, 2016
Steve helped Bucky up and laid his friend's remaining arm over his shoulders. They limped off, leaving a defeated Tony Stark and a scarred vibranium shield behind them.
"She-she's still alive," Bucky managed to rasp out.
"Who?" asked Steve.
"The girl." Bucky paused. "H-he didn't keep her with the others."
"Where did he keep her?"
Bucky groaned. "A separate room."
"Do you think you could find it?"
Bucky nodded, and they picked their way through the rubble. After several minutes of walking through the ugly green and white hallways, they came to a large metal door.
"This is it," Bucky announced.
Steve unbolted the door and pushed hard. It moved with a metallic moan. Steve turned to Bucky, and their blue eyes met. After exchanging a long look and drawing strength from the other, the two men entered the room together.
Inside was what was left of a lab, and in the far right corner rested a Cryostasis Chamber. It was smaller than the other ones, but the eerie yellow light, soft, steady beeping, and icy whoosh sound indicated that it was functioning.
Through the Chamber's haze, they could make out the form of a girl. She was dressed in the same specialized suits as the others and looked very young. Her right arm was metal with a red star, and her long blonde hair hung down her back. Her eyes were closed, and her expression was obviously pained, even though part of her face was covered with a muzzle.
"What are we going to do?" Bucky's question ended the solemn silence between them.
"We can't wake her up. Not safely. That could end with any one of us dead."
"Steve, we can't leave her here. Not with Tony and Zemo."
"I don't know, Buck. I don't know…"
~~~
Steve and Bucky stumbled through the base's thick metal doors. The Black Panther stood out strikingly against the snow. Upon seeing him, the two super soldiers prepared themselves to fight.
T'Challa put a hand up. "I am not going to hurt you. I know now that I was after the wrong man."
Steve's entire stance relaxed in relief that T'Challa, too, had learned the truth about the bombing. "We could use your help. There is a girl, one of the Winter Soldiers, still inside. We need to wake her up and get her out of here."
T'Challa motioned towards Bucky. "He is in no condition to help with this."
Bucky started to protest, but Steve gently cut him off. "He's right, Buck. It's best if you wait in the Quinjet."
After boarding the craft, Bucky sat down in defeat.
Steve rested his hand on his friend's shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry. It's gonna be okay, Buck. We'll get her. She'll be alright. I promise."
Bucky gave a half-hearted smile, which faded away to nothing as Steve disappeared behind the closing Quinjet door.
"Captain, do not worry about Zemo. He will not be going anywhere." T'Challa nodded towards his jet where the Sokovian was bound.
"Thank you, Your Highness."
The two men entered the HYDRA base together and Steve led the way to the abandoned lab.
"She will most likely be hostile," T'Challa commented.
"Waking up after being frozen for the past few decades will do that to you," said Steve dryly.
T'Challa spent the next few minutes clicking away on an ancient computer. Finally, the Chamber's glass moved up with a whoosh, and white icy fog flooded out.
Steve and T'Challa removed the girl from her prison. Even though she held some level of consciousness, she was unresponsive and unable to walk. Steve tenderly picked her up and carried her in his arms, bridal style. Her eyes slipped shut, and her body went slack. She reminded Steve of the last woman he had carried like this. She also was a Russian trained killer, but had red hair instead of blonde.
After returning to the Quinjet, Steve secured her as best he could. Rescuing a HYDRA trained assassin had not exactly been on the agenda for this mission and there were not many supplies on board to provide aid in this unique situation.
"I must deliver Zemo to receive the world's justice for his crimes against the United Nations," T'Challa informed Steve.
"Bucky and I have a few last loose ends to tie up ourselves. Thank you for everything, Your Highness," Steve said gratefully.
"I could be of more help than you realize, Captain," added the king of Wakanda before the two men parted ways.
"I still have a hard time trusting that a machine can fly itself without any help from a human," Steve admitted aloud before putting the Quinjet on autopilot.
Bucky made no sound of acknowledgment, but Steve knew he likely shared the same sentiment.
"Let's get you fixed up, Buck."
When there was no objection made, Steve grabbed a large first aid kit. Brushing the dark strands of hair out of Bucky's face revealed that his hair was stiff with dried blood, and his face was more beaten than Steve had realized. Gently wiping the caked blood off Bucky's face with an antiseptic towelette, Steve began to clean up his lifelong friend.
"You know, I used to be the one fixing you up after you got in fights," Bucky tried to joke.
"Where do you think I learned how to do this so well?" Steve replied with a small grin.
Once Bucky's face was free of any remaining blood, Steve carefully cleaned his long brown hair with a damp cloth.
"Does it hurt?" Steve asked, motioning to what was left of the metal arm.
Bucky stared blankly ahead. "Just as much as if it were skin and bone."
Steve shuddered as the memory of when Bucky lost his flesh arm flashed across his mind.
"Is there anything I can do for you?"
Bucky only shook his head.
"Alright. If that changes, let me know," Steve said as he began washing his own wounds.
The combination of physical exhaustion and emotional distress caused Bucky to doze off.
~~~
Aware of someone touching his right shoulder, Bucky woke up sometime later.
"Hey, hey. The Quinjet is cloaked, so no one should bother you. Make sure the girl doesn't do anything crazy. I'm going to go get some supplies. I won't be gone too long," Steve explained, and Bucky nodded.
The stillness of the Quinjet said that it was parked on the ground. While curious as to his current location, Bucky decided that he did not care to know where they were and he would rather remain ignorant as to their final destination for the time being.
Turning to glance at the girl, Bucky caught sight of his metal nub. This was not the first time the arm had been destroyed, but now there was no way to replace it.
"Without it, I'm not as dangerous, and I am less likely to hurt anyone," Bucky told himself.
But the U.N. bombing, the airport fight, the battle at the HYDRA base, the disbandment of the Avengers, and Steve now being a war criminal were all his fault, though.
Hell, the literal physical manifestation of all the wrong he had ever done lay unconscious behind him right now. She was yet another innocent life ruined by the Winter Soldier.
The longer Steve was gone, the deeper into the darkness Bucky let his mind go.
"I'm back! Did you miss me?" Steve teased upon his return.
Bucky replied completely deadpan, "Oh, you were gone? I never noticed."
Steve laughed before pulling out two rectangular red and white checkered paper dishes and handing one to Bucky.
"Sorry, they're a little smooshed," he apologized.
"Hot dogs?"
Steve smiled. "Believe it or not, these were the best ones I could find, and I didn't even blow all of our money on them."
Bucky chuckled faintly, remembering their collective remembrance of that adventure from the '40s before entering the HYDRA base earlier that day.
"There's also two loaves of bread, a dozen apples, and a jar of peanut butter if you get hungry again," Steve informed him proudly as he drew said goods out of his knapsack.
Bucky nodded in approval, and the pair ate their hotdogs in silence.
Afterward, Steve piloted the Quinjet back into the sky and put it on autopilot for the night.
The day had taken far too great a toll. Despite rarely sleeping well and having already had a generous nap, Bucky's eyes slipped shut, and sleep overtook him.
Chapter 4 of Not The Only One - A Winter Soldier Story
Rating: Teen to Mature
Word Count: 2.1K
Warnings: Canon-typical violence (with more specifics in the tags)
The jostling of the shipping container woke me up. With nothing else to do, I ate the unappetizing combo of canned meat and ration crackers. Once I finished them off, I was left feeling restless like a caged animal.
In a few hours, the container came to a full stop. Slipping down to the ground, I made my way through the train yard until I found the Lev Tolstoy and my target's train car.
When the train started to move, I punched out a window with my metal arm and came in through the now-open space.
The next moments were a blur as I sprayed mothers and their children alike with bullets from my submachine gun, bashed their heads, slit their throats, and threw knives into their bodies.
Eventually, there were only two people left. The woman leaned forward and her brown hair cascaded over her face and the baby daughter she clutched to her chest.
A few bullets later, my targets were eliminated. Now, I was the only one alive left in the car. I sat down, surrounded by bodies and covered in blood, waiting to pass the Vyborg train station.
When we neared my destination, I jumped off of the train, tucking my body into a ball before the inevitable impact with the ground. I lay stunned for a moment before getting on my feet.
I managed to find my way to the back of the train station without encountering anyone. Two soldiers stood waiting for me. After grabbing my arms, they put the black bag over my head and led me away.
I was completely numb. The world rushed around me without me being conscious of it.
The first thing I saw once the bag was taken off of my head was the man in the beret. He sat at a desk in a large green and white hallway.
"Отведите ее в душ и приведите в порядо," he ordered gruffly after taking a look at me.
["Take her to the shower and get her cleaned up."]
The two soldiers took me into a small locker room with a tiny shower. A crude brown bar of soap and a rough grey towel lay on a bench in the corner.
I stripped out of my blood-covered clothes and unbraided my hair, which was dark and crusty with dried blood.
One of the soldiers said something about hair being thick on my legs and elsewhere. The other replied that he would mention that I needed to be waxed.
Turning the tap revealed that the water was lukewarm at best, but I did not mind. It just felt good to have it flow over my dirty body. I leaned my head back and let it rinse over me.
As the water ran over my perfectly formed muscles, I had the strange feeling that my body had not always been like this.
Rubbing the bar soap on my head, I worked up a lather. I scratched my scalp deeply to get my hair as clean as possible.
Even though the soap was harsh, I scrubbed every inch of my skin with it. Who knew when I would be allowed a luxury like this again?
Stepping out of the shower, I grabbed my towel and quickly dried myself. A sports bra, a pair of underwear, a tank top, and a pair of cloth drawstring shorts were tucked into my towel. I put the all black outfit on and was led away by the two men.
We walked down a long hallway until we came to a room with a thick metal door. Inside, there were various pieces of medical equipment, cabinets, counters, and such, but what caught my attention was the bed with a tray on it.
My supper was a piece of still warm fish, a serving of canned pickled salad, and a slice of bread thinly spread with butter. The food quieted my stomach, but it could not quiet my mind.
When I finished, the men told me to lie down on the bed and fastened me to it. They flicked off the light as they left, closing the large door behind them.
Alone in the dark, I closed my eyes, waiting for sleep to take me far from the horrors the day had brought.
~~~
"Как она?" the doctor asked.
["How is she?"]
"В таком же состоянии, в каком она уехала," Colonel Karpov answered without looking up from the papers on his desk.
["In the same condition as when she left."]
The doctor breathed a sigh of relief. "Хорошо. Все наши тесты указывают на здоровую беременность и безопасные роды. А завтра мы проведем осеменение, если вы согласитесь."
["Good. All our testing indicates a healthy pregnancy and safe birth. And we will perform the insemination tomorrow, if you approve."]
To this news, the Colonel gave his phrase of highest praise. "Отлично."
["Excellent."]
After dismissing the doctor, Karpov dialed the Major General's number. "Женщина-солдат вернулась."
["Zhenshchina Soldat has returned."]
"Лично мне бы ничего не хотелось, кроме как стерилизовать ее и повесить вас, но это не подошло бы высшим силам," his superior snapped.
["Personally, I would like nothing more than to sterilize her and hang you, but that would not go over well with the higher powers."]
The Colonel hated to ask, but after a comment like that, he felt he must. "Сэр, а как насчет Детей Зимы?"
["Sir, what about the Winter's Children?"]
The Major General laughed. "Вы имеете в виду программу разведения? Полковник, у нас сейчас кризис. У нас сейчас нет времени вынашивать и рожать ребенка. Так вы действительно думаете, что у него будет время, чтобы он вырасти и обучился?"
["You mean the breeding program? Colonel, we are in a crisis right now. We don't have time to bear and birth a child right now. So do you really think there will be time for it to grow up and be trained?"]
Karpov took a deep breath. "Сэр, я думаю не только о сегодняшней битве или завтрашней войне. Я думаю о будущем."
["Sir, I'm not just thinking about today's fight or tomorrow's war. I'm thinking about the future."]
"Тогда вы должны знать, полковник, что будущего не будет, если мы не выиграем сегодняшнюю битву и завтрашнюю войну." He paused a moment. "Что заставляет вас поверить в то, что Дитя Зимы - это хорошо?" Major General asked in a tone that was almost sincere.
["Then you should know, Colonel, that there will be no future unless we win today's fight and tomorrow's war."] ["What makes you believe that a Winter's Child would be a good thing?"]
"Зимний Солдат и Женщина Солдат хорошо восприняли сыворотку и были ценны для нашего дела. Логично предположить, что их потомство поступило бы так же, если не лучше," Colonel Karpov replied.
["Zimniy Soldat and Zhenshchina Soldat have taken the serum well and been valuable to our cause. It is only logical to assume that their offspring would do the same, if not better."]
"Они оба были агрессивными и нестабильными. Зимний Солдат имеет долгую историю. А еще я слышал, что твоя любимая маленькая Женщина Солдат тоже недавно убила одного из наших лучших врачей. Что, если бы их ребенок унаследовал двойную часть этих качеств? Мы создали бы монстра для собственного разрушения, а не мощное средство для продолжения нашей работы. Действующая немедленно программа Дети зимы прекращена. И если вы попытаетесь пережить это, морская свинка Женщина Солдат не будет единственной, кто умрет в наказание," the Major General warned before the line went dead.
["They both have been aggressive and unstable as well. Zimniy Soldat has a long history of that. And I heard that your beloved little Zhenshchina Soldat killed one of our best doctors recently, too. What if their child inherited a double portion of those qualities? We would be creating a monster to bring about our own destruction, not a powerful asset to continue our work. Active immediately, the Winter's Children program has been terminated. And if you try to go through with it, the guinea pig Zhenshchina Soldat won't be the only one who dies as punishment."]
~~~
I woke up to the man in the beret and two soldiers opening the door. After undoing my restraints, the soldiers locked their arms under my armpits and dragged me into a room with metal railings and some type of device in the center.
I was fastened into the strange metal chair. Machinery whirred, and two metal pieces made contact with my head. A painful electrical zapping forced horrible screams from my throat...
~~~
I was held in some strange type of metal chair. Men with guns surrounded the railed area around me. A man in a military uniform with a crimson beret stood in front of me.
A dark red book held the words he read aloud to me. "Создание. Убегая. Принуждение. Мать. Огонь. Вечер. Второй. Разрушен. Рейс. Лезвие."
["Creation. Fleeing. Duress. Mother. Fire. Evening. Second. Shattered. Flight. Blade."]
He closed the book and set it down. "Доброе утро, солдат."
["Good morning, soldier."]
After an undersized breakfast of a bowl of porridge and a small cup full of sausage, the man in the beret led me down a long hallway until we came to a room with a thick metal door.
Inside, there were various pieces of medical equipment, cabinets, counters, a bed, and such, but what caught my attention was the man in medical scrubs.
"Вы готовы, доктор?" the man in the beret asked him.
["Are you ready, doctor?]
The doctor replied, "Я думал, что программа Детей Зимы свернута."
["I thought the Winter’s Children program had been terminated."]
"Я не вижу необходимости в том, чтобы продолжать работу по плану," explained the man in the beret.
["I see no need for us to not continue according to plan."]
Shifting his weight uncomfortably, the doctor said, "Я не хочу попасть в беду из-за этого, полковник."
["I do not want to get in trouble for this, Colonel."]
"У вас не будет никаких проблем. Даю слово. Вы будете отмечены, когда поможете вывести на свет первого чистокровного суперсолдата," the man in the beret assured the doctor.
["You will not be in any trouble. You have my word. You will be celebrated when you help bring the first purebred super soldier into the world."]
The man in the beret then turned to me. "Сегодня для тебя радостный день. Вы безупречно выполнили свою первую миссию. Теперь вы готовы к следующей миссии, чтобы ввести в мир больше суперсолдат."
["Today is a glad day for you. You completed your first mission flawlessly. Now you are ready for your next mission, to bring more super soldiers into the world."]
"Я буду смотреть, как Зимний Солдат тренирует остальных," the man in the beret informed the doctor before leaving.
["I am going to watch Zimniy Soldat train the others."]
The doctor had me take off all my clothes and put on a flimsy gown made of paper that tied in the back. He made me lay down on the bed and spread my legs for him. Apparently pleased with what he saw, the doctor went over to one of the counters and began busying himself with the items over there.
Several minutes later, the man in the beret burst in, holding a gun to a man who had a metal arm. The man in the beret's eyes revealed how deeply terrified he was. Even the cold, steely face of the man with the metal arm showed he was shaken. They had met Death and barely managed to escape.
"Я думала, мы собираемся искусственно ее оплодотворить. Или вы хотите, чтобы он делал это по старинке?" the doctor asked, motioning to the metal armed man.
["I thought we were going to artificially inseminate her. Or do you want him to do it the old-fashioned way?"]
The man in the beret shook his head. "Ни один. План изменился. Удалите один из ее яичников."
["Neither. The plan has changed. Remove one of her ovaries."]
~~~
I woke up to seven men in SWAT gear opening the door. After undoing my restraints, two of the men locked their arms under my armpits and dragged me into a huge room with five golden chambers along the outside and metal railings around some type of device in the center.
The man with the metal arm was fastened into the strange metal chair and the man in the beret stood nearby. Men with guns surrounded the railed area around them. Machinery whirred and two metal pieces made contact with the metal armed man's head. A painful electrical zapping forced horrible screams from his throat as I looked on, unable to do anything else but watch him writhe in pain.
A dark red book held the words the man in the beret read aloud to him. "Желание. Ржавый. Семнадцать. Рассвет. Печь. Девять. Добросердечный. Возвращение на родину. Один. Грузовой вагон."
["Longing. Rusted. Seventeen. Daybreak. Furnace. Nine. Benign. Homecoming. One. Freight car."]
He closed the book and set it down. "Доброе утро, солдат."
["Good morning, soldier."]
"Я готов отвечать," the metal armed man answered and was released from the torture chair.
["Ready to comply."]
The man in the beret ordered, "Зимний Солдат, обезопасьте ее."
["Zimniy Soldat, secure her."]
Zimniy Soldat came from behind me and grabbed my left arm with his left arm, making it his metal against my flesh. I knew somewhere deep down inside that I could overpower him, but I did not-
Before I finished my thought, he pressed a gun to the nape of my neck. It was as if he could read my mind and was challenging me to give him a reason to pull the trigger. I bristled at having a weapon turned on me like this, especially by him.
"Полковник, разве вы не хотите, чтобы некоторые из нас пошли с вами?" one of the men in SWAT gear asked.
["Colonel, don't you want some of us to come with you?"]
"В этом не будет необходимости. Зимний Солдат обеспечит меня всей необходимой защитой, пока ее не казнят," replied the man in the beret.
["That will not be necessary. Zimniy Soldat will provide me with all the protection that I need until she is executed."]
So, I was to be executed. Somehow, this thought filled me with relief rather than dread. At least it would all be over soon.
Zimniy Soldat followed the man in the beret as he left the huge room. We walked through a series of hallways until coming to a room with a large metal door. Inside was a laboratory, a man in a lab coat, and a sizable machine in the far right corner.
"Зимний Солдат, отпусти ее," the man in the beret commanded and Zimniy Soldat let go of me.
["Zimniy Soldat, release her."]
The man in the lab coat handed me a bodysuit made of a specialized material.
The man in the beret barked at me, "Надень это."
["Put it on."]
After removing my old outer clothing, I suited up in the new garment.
The man in the lab coat directed me to lie down on the table in the far right corner. He typed away at a computer making thick metal clamps come around both my arms and my legs. This man then came over to me, sweating and trembling. He struggled to put a mask on my face and attach wires to various places on my bodysuit. The man in the lab coat returned to typing at his computer, causing the table to begin tilting upwards until I was vertical.
"Спасибо за службу и счастливого Рождества. Я надеялся, что все пойдет иначе," the man in the beret stated before shooting the man in the lab coat twice in the head.
["Thank you for your service and Merry Christmas. I had hoped things would go differently than this."]
A moment later, a large glass and metal tube came down around me. Frigid white fog descended, and everything went dark.
Chapter 3 of Not The Only One - A Winter Soldier Story
Rating: Teen to Mature
Word Count: 2.6K
Warnings: Canon-typical violence (with more specifics in the tags)
I woke up to the man in the beret and two soldiers opening the door. After undoing my restraints, the soldiers locked their arms under my armpits and dragged me into a huge room with metal railings and some type of device in the center.
I was fastened into the strange metal chair. Machinery whirred, and two metal pieces made contact with my head. A painful electrical zapping forced horrible screams from my throat...
~~~
I was held in some strange type of metal chair. Men with guns surrounded the railed area around me. A man in a military uniform with a crimson beret stood before me.
A dark red book held the words he read aloud to me. "Создание. Убегая. Принуждение. Мать. Огонь. Вечер. Второй. Разрушен. Рейс. Лезвие." He closed the book and set it down.
["Creation. Fleeing. Duress. Mother. Fire. Evening. Second. Shattered. Flight. Blade."]
"Доброе утро, солдат. Вы готовы ответить?" His cold eyes never left mine.
["Good morning, soldier. Ready to comply?"]
"Я готов отвечать," I answered, for there was no other choice but compliance.
["Ready to comply."]
"У меня есть для тебя миссия. У вас есть два дня на его выполнение." The man in the crimson beret picked up a manila folder and pulled from it a photo of a happy family with three school-age children.
["I have a mission for you. You have two days to complete it."]
"Они живут в конспиративном доме на окраине Горького, а точнее Нижнего Новгорода," he told me and showed a photo of a large but unassuming house with an address handwritten at the bottom of the picture. "Казнить женщину и детей. Без свидетелей."
["They are staying in a safe house on the outskirts of Gorky, or rather Nizhny Novgorod."] ["Execute the woman and the children. No witnesses."]
He put away the two photographs and brought out a new one of a red shipping container. Flipping it over revealed a series of numbers and an address on the back. "В этом транспортном контейнере вы проведете ночь. У него есть запасы еды и оружия. В ночное время контейнер будет отправлен в Москву."
["You will spend the night in this shipping container. It has food and weapons supplies. Overnight, the container will be shipped to Moscow."]
The man in the crimson beret presented a photo of an older couple. "Она готовится покинуть свой дом в Москве," he informed me and produced a photo of a large, beautiful building. A formal embossed gold font disclosed the address of the mansion. "Казни ее. Без свидетелей."
["She is preparing to leave their home in Moscow."] ["Execute her. No witnesses."]
"Вы вернетесь в транспортный контейнер, и он будет отправлен в Ленинград или Санкт-Петербург, как его сейчас называют."
["You will return to the shipping container and it will be shipped to Leningrad, or St. Petersburg as they are calling it now."]
He then displayed a photo of a smiling couple with a tiny infant daughter. "Женщина и ребенок будут прятаться среди других женщин и детей в плацкарте в поезде Лев Толстой, который курсирует из Москвы в Хельсинки с остановкой в Санкт-Петербурге. Казнить женщину и ребенка. Без свидетелей."
["The woman and child will be hiding amongst other women and children in third class on the train Lev Tolstoy, which runs from Moscow to Helsinki with a stop in Saint Petersburg. Execute the woman and the child. No witnesses."]
"Ваша точка эвакуации - вокзал в Выборг." Finished with his discourse, he snapped the manila folder closed.
["Your extraction point is the train station in Vyborg."]
After a rushed breakfast of a bowl of porridge and a small cup full of sausage, two of the men with guns took me down a series of hallways and ushered me inside a room. Shelves of various types of clothing lined the walls and many sizes of boots sat mated up together on the floor. A middle-aged woman with pursed lips stood waiting for us. Her neatly pressed skirt and suit jacket, along with her tightly pulled-back bun, were a perfect example of how her military uniform was to be worn. This woman's spotless appearance told that she was the one who kept this room orderly with such precision. Her flashing brown eyes glared at me with contempt.
"Сними одежду," she ordered. A moment later, I stood before her without anything on. Handing me a black sports bra and underwear, she said, "Наденьте это." Soon, I was also wearing a pair of black pants and a black tank top that she gave me.
["Take off your clothes."] ["Put these on."]
The woman walked over to the far wall and returned with a black leather top which had no right sleeve. She muttered something about, "это лучше подошло бы ей после всех этих переделок." After putting the top on me and tightening each of the straps on my chest, she ran her hand over my hair.
["This had better fit her after all those alterations."]
Visibly irritated, she stormed out of the room, leaving me alone with the two armed men. The brunette woman returned a few minutes later with a stepstool and a hairbrush. Standing on the stepstool, she undid my disheveled braid and began tackling the host of tangles with the hairbrush. Once my hair had been painfully brushed out to her satisfaction, she began rebraiding it. Her small hands pulled the groups of hair harshly into place.
A pair of boots and a thick pair of socks were then selected for me, and I put them on. The woman now stood back and inspected me. Frowning, she grabbed a handkerchief and rubbed it along my metal arm. When the limb was finally polished enough to meet her standards, she put a pair of black leather fingerless gloves on my hands. Standing back again, she resumed her scrutiny. The woman now wore an expression that was almost not disdainful of my appearance.
After a long sigh, she turned to the two armed men and said, "Я сделал все, что мог, учитывая то, что вы мне принесли. Теперь она твоя."
["I've done the best I can considering what you brought me. She's all yours now."]
Each of the men grabbed one of my arms and marched me back out into the hallway. We walked for several minutes before entering another room. This one was filled with weapons: assault rifles, pistols, machine guns, grenade launchers, every type of combat knife imaginable, and things I could not even identify.
"Скоро здесь будет полковник Карпов," a young man in military fatigues informed the two armed men.
["Colonel Karpov will be here shortly."]
The man in the beret arrived a few minutes later and ordered, "Наденьте на нее оружейный пояс."
["Put the weapons belt on her."]
From that command, a long series of others followed. The man in the beret dictated a lengthy list of various weapons, which the young man would then locate and put on my person. I soon wore a vast array of holsters and weaponry.
A uniformed man entered the room and announced, "Самолет готов к работе."
["The plane is ready to go."]
After nodding that he had heard, the man in the beret began walking around me slowly. His calculating eyes examined every part of me.
"Наденьте на нее маску," he directed before leaving the room with the uniformed man.
["Put the mask on her."]
Once half of my face was hidden behind the mask, the young man put a dark-colored sack over my head. A hand grabbed each of my arms, and my lack of vision forced me to follow their lead. Walking blindly was not hard, but navigating stairs presented challenges. At one point, we must have ridden in an elevator because I could feel the floor haltingly moving upwards.
A few minutes later, a loud metallic groan gave way to a cold, shrieking wind whipping all around me. What I could only assume to be snow crunched beneath my feet until the texture of the ground changed and began sloping upwards.
After the ramp leveled out at the top, the hands let go of my arms and sat me down. The drone of roaring engines now drowned out the wind's howls. As we began moving, I wondered what type of vehicle I was aboard. The breakneck taxiing speed and slight bump of leaving the ground all pointed to a plane. The next several hours were silent other than the sounds of the aircraft.
A swift descent gave way to the impact of landing. When the plane had reached a full stop, the two hands again grabbed my arms and led me down the ramp. The ground here was concrete with only light snow on it. As we continued walking, the snow disappeared, and my footsteps echoed back to me.
When the bag was finally removed from my head, I stood in an empty warehouse with two armed men and an IZH motorcycle in front of me.
"Добро пожаловать в Нижний Новгород, солдат."
["Welcome to Nizhny Novgorod, soldier."]
~~~
Having arrived at the safehouse, I flipped down the kickstand and turned off the powerful machine that rested between my legs.
I was going to kick in the front door, but trying the doorknob revealed a simpler option. Pistol clasped in my hands, I entered the house.
The front room was empty, and I proceeded to clear the house. In the kitchen, a woman stood at the sink with her back to me.
"Мамочка?" a child's voice called out from another room.
["Mommy?"]
When the woman turned around, I shot her three times in the chest before she could draw in enough breath to scream.
"Мамочка?"
["Mommy?"]
A small head of brown hair rounded the corner. I fired three more shots, and the boy met the same end as his mother.
Now, I heard another child's voice and followed the singing outside, where a little girl was playing on a swing set. Wrapping the swing's chain around her neck, I held it tight until she was no longer living.
The backyard was empty, so I returned to the house. Clearing several rooms revealed no one. After entering the master bedroom, I heard soft sobs coming from under the bed. I snatched a pillow from the headboard and then knelt down. Grabbing the older boy by the ankle, I dragged him out from his hiding place and straddled my legs over his torso before pushing the pillow down onto his face and holding it there until he had taken his final breaths.
My first four targets were successfully eliminated with no witnesses.
I closed the front door behind me and returned to the motorcycle. The snow was falling fast now and made me anxious to get to the shipping container for the night.
After arriving at the shipping yard and searching for several minutes, I located the container. It was red and bore the same set of numbers I had seen in the photo earlier. Opening the right door revealed a flashlight on the floor. Clicking it on and shining it inside showed that the walls were lined with weapons, just like the room I had been in earlier.
I walked the motorcycle into the container and cut off the engine before closing the door shut. Shipping containers only open from the outside, but this one had been modified to open and close from the inside.
There were two large chests, one against each wall. The chest on the left was filled with ammo and knives, while the other chest held an old sleeping bag, a case of water bottles, packages of ration crackers, and little tins with some type of meat in them.
After spreading out the sleeping bag, I sat on it and ate a package of crackers along with a tin of the strange meat substance. When I finished my little meal, I replenished my ammunition and selected a few knives to add to my collection.
Crawling into the sleeping bag, I turned off the flashlight and tried to fall asleep, but a cold, dark metal box was not the most conducive place for rest.
Over the next few hours, the container was moved several times in multiple ways. Eventually, the steady motion of travel lulled me to sleep.
~~~
Bolting upright, I drew in short, sharp breaths. The memory of the shipping container reminded me of where I was. The flashlight showed that everything was fine, but I was still spooked.
My stomach growled hungrily, distracting me from my fear. I was soon scooping meat out of a tin with some stale crackers.
Once finished with my impromptu meal, I lay back down. My body was still too tense to sleep, so I lay there with the light on until I dozed off.
The lurching container startled me awake. With no way to tell time, I could only guess how long I had been out. After washing down another pack of crackers and a tin of meat with a bottle of water, I realized how painfully uneasy both my mind and body were.
When the container finally came to a complete stop several hours later, I took off on the motorcycle for my target's mansion.
Three uniformed men with handguns told me to leave when I pulled into the long driveway in front of the building. My assault rifle silenced them permanently.
Bursting through the enormous, ornate front doors, I met an old man and a young woman. Once both of them had a knife in their chest, I moved on.
Two men with boxes descended a grand staircase. Shooting them down, I kept searching for my target.
On the second floor, a plump middle-aged woman crossed my path. In return, I promptly snapped her neck.
After climbing another set of stairs, I encountered two women decorating a giant Christmas tree. Their bodies hit the floor with a dull clatter after bullets tore through their flesh.
The next person I saw was a woman with an armful of towels. She screamed when I threw her over the railing but went silent upon hitting the granite floor two stories below.
Two men rushed out of a room to investigate the sound. I choked one with my metal hand and used my flesh hand to stab the other in the heart with a knife.
Turning down a hallway, I saw a woman with clothes draped over her shoulders. She was heading towards the large double doors at the end of the hall until I shot her in the back. A moment later, a man carrying suitcases walked out of the room with the double doors, and one of my knives lodged itself into his neck.
I threw open the pair of doors to find my target, a woman with a clipboard, and a small white dog inside a luxurious master bedroom suite. After taking out the clipboard woman with my assault rifle, I pulled out my pistol and held it to the target's head as she whispered a prayer.
When my target was eliminated, the tiny furry animal whimpered and nudged at his dead mistress's body. I wondered whether or not a dog counted as a witness. Putting two bullets in him answered my question.
The shatter of something delicate drew my attention to the young woman in the doorway. Colorful shards of what could have been a vase lay around her. She still wore a face of shock when I slit her throat on my way out.
I returned to the shipping container since I found no one else as I left the residence, apart from the bodies of those who had been disposed of.
I ate another meal of tin meat and ration crackers before sitting on my sleeping bag. My mind was full of questions, and the more I asked myself, the more I realized how little I knew. Who am I? What is my story? When did I become a killer? Where did I come from yesterday? Why do these people have to die? How much longer will I have to do this? And I struggled with these questions until a fitful sleep finally overcame me.
~~~
"Сэр, на линии генерал-майор, и он хочет поговорить с вами."
["Sir, the Major General is on the line, and he wants to speak to you."]
Colonel Karpov groaned at this news. An expensive long-distance call from his superior officer at this hour would be nothing positive, but the chain of command forced him to pick up the phone anyway.
"Говорит полковник Карпов."
["Colonel Karpov speaking."]
"Полковник, у вас не было разрешения на создание оружия из гражданского лица без подготовки и опыта!" the Major General barked.
["Colonel, you did not have permission to create a weapon out of a civilian with no training or experience!"]
"Сэр, она была передана мне на попечение, чтобы я мог проводить эксперименты и испытания. Это все что я делаю," Colonel Karpov replied calmly.
["Sir, she was put under my care so I could run experiments and testing. That is all I am doing."]
The Major General yelled, "Ее передали вам, чтобы убедиться, что сыворотка Старка безопасна для передачи нашей главной команде активов! Ее не должны были отправлять на несанкционированные убийства!"
["She was given to you to ensure that the Stark serum was safe to give to our top team of assets! She was not to be sent out on an unsanctioned killing spree!"]
Karpov bit back a scathing remark. "При всем уважении, сэр, она ценна не только как лабораторная крыса, и она активно доказала это на практике."
["With all due respect, sir, she is valuable as more than just a lab rat and has actively proved it out on the field."]
"Ее никогда не следовало выставлять ни на какое поле! Вы вернете ее и оставите здесь! Это приказ!"
["She should have never been put out on any field! You will bring her back and keep her here! That is an order!"]
Colonel Karpov gritted his teeth. "Да сэр."
["Yes sir."]
"Позвони мне, когда она вернется." and the line went dead.
["Call me when she is back."]
Chapter 2 of Not The Only One - A Winter Soldier Story
Rating: Teen to Mature
Word Count: 2.1K
Warnings: Canon-typical violence (with more specifics in the tags)
I woke up to Polkovnik and two soldiers opening the door. After undoing my restraints, the soldiers locked their arms under my armpits and dragged me into a huge room with metal railings and some type of device in the center.
I was fastened into the strange metal chair. Machinery whirred, and two metal pieces made contact with my head. A painful electrical zapping forced horrible screams from my throat…
~~~
I was held in some strange type of metal chair. Men with guns surrounded the railed area around me. A man in a military uniform with a crimson beret stood in front of me.
A dark red book held the words he read aloud to me. "Создание. Убегая. Принуждение. Мать. Огонь. Вечер. Второй. Разрушен. Рейс. Лезвие." ["Creation. Fleeing. Duress. Mother. Fire. Evening. Second. Shattered. Flight. Blade."]
He closed the book and set it down before saying, "Доброе утро, солдат." ["Good morning, soldier."]
After a meager breakfast of a bowl of porridge and a small cup full of sausage, the man in the beret led me to a large room with a huge barred-off area, like a cage, in the center of it. Four men in full SWAT gear and two men with clipboards and lab coats were inside the cage. There was another man inside, one with a metal arm. As I stood there taking him in, he came at me swinging. He got in a few good blows before I regained myself and retaliated with my own punches.
In a fraction of a second, he was behind me and had caught me in a chokehold. My vision started going fuzzy, and I gasped for air. Throwing my metal elbow back into his gut and then my metal fist against his crotch loosened his grip enough for me to wriggle free. Snatching a knife from his belt, I clutched it in front of me and put some distance between us.
While I kept coughing and trying to recover, he charged and knocked me down hard. The man mounted me and began battering my face. Knife still in hand, I brought my arm up to defend myself. Yet somehow, he got the blade away from me and pushed it to my throat.
"Будет," the man in the beret said, and then the metal-armed man got off of me. ["That's enough."]
So he is not trying to kill me, but this is not a game either I deduced.
One of the lab coats came over to check my vitals and give me water. In my peripheral, I noticed the other lab coat was doing the same to the metal-armed man.
Afterward, the metal-armed man and I resumed our nearly lethal sparring session. The only reprieves we received were when the beret man called the metal arm man off when he beat me, and then the lab coats would check us.
I do not know how many hours passed until the man in the beret had one of the men in SWAT gear take me by my left arm and lead me out of the cage. We walked down a long hallway until we came to a room with a thick metal door.
Inside, there were various pieces of medical equipment, cabinets, counters, and such, but what caught my attention was the bed with a tray on it. A small piece of bread and a pitiful bowl of rassolnik soup were waiting for me. The food was soon gone, but it did not banish my hunger. When I finished, the man told me to lie down on the bed and then fastened me to it. As he left, he flicked off the light, closing the large door behind him.
As I drifted off to sleep, I wished for two things: that my bruised body would stop aching and that I could make that miserable metal-armed bastard feel true pain.
~~~
I woke up to the man in the beret and two soldiers opening the door. After undoing my restraints, the soldiers locked their arms under my armpits and dragged me into a huge room with metal railings and some type of device in the center.
I was fastened into the strange metal chair. Machinery whirred, and two metal pieces made contact with my head. A painful electrical zapping forced horrible screams from my throat…
~~~
I was held in some strange type of metal chair. Men with guns surrounded the railed area around me. A man in a military uniform with a crimson beret stood in front of me.
A dark red book held the words he read aloud to me. "Создание. Убегая. Принуждение. Мать. Огонь. Вечер. Второй. Разрушен. Рейс. Лезвие." He closed the book and set it down.
["Creation. Fleeing. Duress. Mother. Fire. Evening. Second. Shattered. Flight. Blade."]
"Доброе утро, солдат."
["Good morning, soldier."]
After a lean breakfast of a bowl of porridge and a small cup full of sausage, the man in the beret led me to a large room with a huge barred-off area, like a cage, in the center of it. Four men in full SWAT gear, two men with clipboards and lab coats, and one man with a metal arm were inside the cage.
"Одолеть его," the man in the beret told me and motioned to the metal-armed man.
["Overpower him."]
I came at him with a hook punch, which he blocked easily. He took my left arm and twisted it hard behind my back.
After he pinned me against the cage's bars, I kicked my left heel into his crotch. His grip weakened, and he released my arm completely after I spun around and punched his face with my metal fist.
The man swung his own metal fist at me, and I hooked my calf behind his knee, bringing him down in front of me. Grabbing his throat with my metal hand, I flung him behind me into the metal bars. He hit the floor with a satisfyingly painful thud.
"Отлично," the man with the beret said. Then he barked out, "Забери его и приведи предателя."
["Excellent."] ["Take him away and bring in the traitor."]
The lab coats checked my vitals as the SWAT men took the metal-armed man away. A few minutes later, an underfed woman with butchered short brown hair in a grey jumpsuit was thrown into the cage.
The man in the beret handed me a combat knife and gave the order, "Убей ее, солдат."
["Kill her, soldier."]
The woman backed away from me on her hands and knees, crying out, "Нет нет! Пожалуйста, не убивай меня! Сжалься!"
["No, no! Please do not kill me! Have mercy!"]
A good kick thrust her hard onto her back. While the woman's resistance was weak and short-lived, she desperately tried to fight against me. Slashing her throat and stabbing her multiple times, I unflinchingly completed what the man in the beret ordered me to do. He only nodded his head in approval as two of the SWAT men removed the corpse from the cage. Only a pool of her blood was left behind.
"Принеси следующий," the man in the beret ordered.
["Bring the next one."]
The lab coat-clad men again checked my heart rate, temperature, and breathing.
The SWAT men brought in a man in a grey jumpsuit with a black sack over his head. They sat him down and handcuffed him to the chair.
The man blubbered nonsense. "Пожалуйста? Куда-? Не делай ей больно. Я ничего не знаю. Вода."
["Please? Where-? Don't hurt her. I know nothing. Water."]
The man in the beret motioned for me to sit on the floor. Then he handed me a gun. "Это Beretta 92FS Inox. Вы будете разбирать и собирать его пять раз. Ваша последняя сборка займет менее 30 секунд. Тогда вы прикончите никчемную жизнь этого преступника с помощью пистолета."
["This is the Beretta 92FS Inox. You will disassemble and reassemble it five times. Your final reassembly will be under 30 seconds. Then you will end this criminal's worthless life with the gun."]
I disassembled the pistol and took note of where each piece went. Reassembling it took longer than taking it apart. More familiar with the gun now, I shaved off a few seconds on the second attempt. The next time was even easier. By the fourth sequence, I knew the firearm. It was reassembled in less than 25 seconds the fifth time. The man in the beret handed me a full magazine, and I inserted it into the piece.
After standing up, I loaded the bullet into the chamber, pulled the hammer back, and flipped off the safety. I found my stance and wrapped my flesh hand around my metal hand, which tightly held the grip. Bringing the sight up to my eye level, I steadied myself and squeezed the trigger. Without blinking once, I shot him twice in the head and five times in the chest.
The man in the beret wore a very pleased look on his face. "Уберите его отсюда. Тогда принеси арсенал," he instructed.
["Take him away. Then bring the arsenal."]
The SWAT men removed the body and the chair, but not before some of the man's blood ran down onto the floor. There, it joined the woman's blood, crimson red and forever inseparably mixed together.
The men in lab coats descended upon me. As before, one prodded and measured data from my body while the other violently scribbled this information on his clipboard.
The SWAT men returned with a full array of weapons. Pistols, assault rifles, machine guns, knives, grenade launchers, the works. They also brought three human silhouette targets.
The man in the beret told me, "Ознакомьтесь со своими новыми игрушками."
["Make yourself familiar with your new playthings."]
After disassembling and reassembling the multiple firearms, I unleashed them on the targets. The bullet-ridden victims were then subjected to more wounds as I perfected the throwing aspect of my knifework. I spent most of the day practicing with the extensive arsenal.
I do not know how many hours passed until a man in a lab coat came to the cage and said, "Врач готов ее осмотреть."
["The doctor is ready to see her."]
One of the men in SWAT gear took me by my left arm and led me out of the cage. We walked down a long hallway until we came to a room with a thick metal door.
Inside there were various pieces of medical equipment, cabinets, counters, a bed, and such, but what caught my attention was the man in the beret and a man in medical scrubs that I had never seen before. Two men in lab coats and a man in SWAT gear were also in the room.
The man in scrubs had me remove my boots and stand against the wall as he placed something on my head to determine my height.
"Сто восемьдесят пять сантиметров," he told his assistants, who then wrote the number down on their clipboards.
["185 centimeters."]
He made me step over to a scale and measured my weight.
"Восемьдесят два килограмма."
["82 kilograms."]
I was instructed to sit down on the bed, and he looked at my eyes, nose, mouth, and ears with a little light. The man in scrubs had a type of tool hanging around his neck. Placing two pieces of it into his ears, he pressed the cold metal end of the tool against my left breast. He held it there for a long moment before moving the piece to the center of my chest.
"Вдохните, затем выдохните," he instructed me, and I did as I was told. The man put the circle on the upper part of my back. "Сделай это снова."
["Inhale then exhale."] ["Do it again."]
Once finished there, he wrapped a rubber cuff around my flesh arm. Rubber tubing ran from the cuff to a gauge and a rubber bulb. The man in scrubs put his cold circle piece on my arm and squeezed the bulb. The part of this device on my arm inflated and tightened as he kept pumping the bulb and studying the gauge. Eventually, he stopped and removed the deflated cuff.
The man walked over to a counter and returned with a small rubber hammer. He tapped the inside of my left elbow and then the outside. Moving down to my wrist, he tapped it in the same manner. The scrubs man pushed my pants up to expose my knees, which hung over the side of the bed. After striking both of them with the strange little hammer, he proceeded to do the same thing to the backs of my heels.
The man in scrubs pinched the skin of my neck, poked my abdomen, and ran his hands over my major muscle groups. Seemingly satisfied with his examinations, he stuck a needle into my left arm and extracted several vials of my blood.
Looking briefly over some papers, the man in scrubs said, "У нее прекрасное здоровье."
["She is in perfect health."]
"Хороший. Мы отправим ее завтра," the man in the beret responded. "Иди принеси ей еды," he ordered one of the lab coats.
["Good. We will send her out tomorrow."] ["Go get her some food."]
Several minutes later, the man in the lab coat returned with a food tray. The man in scrubs, the man in the beret, and both the men in lab coats exited the room, leaving only the two men in SWAT gear.
After I finished the small meal of stewed cabbage and sausage, one of the SWAT men told me to lay down on the bed and then fastened me to it. He flicked off the light as the two men left, closing the large door behind him and his co-worker.
As I fell asleep, I wondered what the man in the beret meant when he said, "Мы отправим ее завтра."
["We will send her out tomorrow."]
Chapter 1 of Not The Only One - A Winter Soldier Story
Rating: Teen to Mature
Word Count: 2.1 K
Warnings: Canon-typical violence (with more specifics in the tags)
December 16, 1991
20:05 [8:05pm]
With the small heaters now turned off, a bitter chill crept into my uncle's workshop, and the cold urged me on. Shivering, I returned the broom to its corner and mentally counted the minutes until I could go home and get—
Baam! The storage room's outside door flew open and a man with a shiny metal arm rushed in. His sweat-drenched hair clung to the dark stubble dusted across his sharp cheekbones. Every piece of his clothing was black and bore a weapon of some type. A living omen of death stood before me.
"Can I help you?" I asked, making my voice gruff, hoping to mask how much this stranger scared me.
The man said nothing as he began walking towards me. His countenance was cold and merciless. His piercing blue eyes were feral and devoid of any humanity. It was almost like he had been hollowed out and a machine was placed inside him.
As panic set in, only one thought was clear in my mind: I am here alone and my knife is on a table across the shop.
Terrified, I bolted out of the storage room and into the workshop.
"All that matters is getting my hands on that knife."
I had a decent head start, but the dark man was closing the distance between us incredibly fast. My knees slammed into the cold concrete floor. I cried out in pain before I even realized what had happened. My heavy work boots had caught on an electric cord. The owner of the cord, a massive band saw, tipped over and fell on top of me. My right arm was pinned between the saw blade and the frame of an adjacent saw.
My left hand grabbed pitifully at the sharp blade, trying to free my trapped right arm. The effort was only rewarded with several bloody cuts. I attempted to hoist the heavy machine off of myself but only managed to raise it a little.
The saw came crashing back down onto me, and the power switch toggled on. Roaring to life, the saw's sharp teeth tore through my flesh as I screamed for help and watched as the strange man pulled me out before I lost consciousness...
~~~
The stranger
The chase.
The accident.
I could see it all as if it were a bad dream. If I woke up, I would escape this nightmare.
Forcing my eyes open revealed that reality had dealt me a stinging blow. My arm was nearly mutilated beyond recognition. It bent into sickeningly unnatural angles, and the raw, butchered flesh bled profusely.
Seeing the space between my shoulder and the limb made me realize that my arm was not connected to me; rather, what was left of it was lying next to me. A cry of terror involuntarily escaped my lips before the dark man stabbed me with a hypodermic, and unconsciousness claimed me again.
~~~
"Я хотел ее целиком. Это затруднит мою работу."
["I wanted her in one piece. This will make my work more difficult."]
"Я думаю, с ней все будет хорошо. Жизненно важные признаки сильны, и она всего лишь эксперимент," someone else replied.
["I think she will be fine. Vital signs are strong, and she is just an experiment."]
I could hear the voices clearly, but their words did not make sense. Briefly opening my eyes showed a man in a military uniform with a crimson beret and another man dressed in medical scrubs standing over me.
A gloved hand touched my left arm, and the man in scrubs stuck an IV needle into me below the crease of my elbow. My eyes followed the tubing up to an IV bag holding a bright blue mixture, which was now dripping into my veins.
At first, my arm felt prickly, and then my torso was stinging. The sensation found my legs and worked its way down. The uncomfortable, burning feeling grew into an unbearable, searing pain. Every second that passed compounded the agony. My whole body writhed in pain, and I cried out. The suffering only increased, and my screams no longer sounded human. Convulsing violently, I begged for anyone or anything to end my torment.
~~~
A soft, steady beeping pulled me from my drugged haze. I kept my eyes closed, remembering the horrible image of my arm. Even though I was afraid to know the truth, I attempted to move my arm. It took significant effort, but my fingers moved stiffly, and my muscles could tense and relax. My arm seemed to be alright other than hurting like hell. Opening my eyes revealed I could not have been more wrong.
My arm was gone. What was attached to me now was cold, hard metal, not soft, warm flesh.
I lost my arm. My right arm.
A tear slid down my cheek. I tried to wipe it away with my left hand but could not. I was strapped to the bed like some wild animal or a violent criminal.
Sadness, confusion, and anger became a toxic mixture and flooded every part of my mind. The metal arm tore free from its restraint and quickly ripped off the other straps.
My whole body felt...different. Taller, maybe? Upon examining my physique, I noticed I was wearing an unfamiliar black sports bra and cloth drawstring shorts of the same color. My jeans and long-sleeved shirt were nowhere to be seen.
"она не спит!" someone called out.
["She’s awake!"]
A man in green scrubs came over to me. I leaped off the bed and grabbed him by the throat with my metal arm.
"What did you do to me?" I screamed, shoving him against the wall.
His only response was something between a choke and a gasp.
"Что ты со мной сделал?" I repeated, but this time in Russian.
["What did you do to me?"]
My grip was now nearing lethal strength. A voice called out for me to release him, or I would be shot. Closing the metal hand fully produced a sickening crunch from his neck, and I watched his lifeless body drop to the ground before a painful and paralyzing shock knocked me out.
~~~
The man in the beret stood in front of me. "Поздравляю, солдат. Вы первая женщина, получившая сыворотку."
["Congratulations, soldier. You are the first female to successfully receive the serum."]
My voice was breathy and hoarse. "Кто вы, черт возьми, люди?"
["Who the hell are you people?"]
"Я полковник Василий Карпов, ваш создатель и командир," he informed me proudly.
["I am Colonel Vasily Karpov, your creator and commander."]
A million questions screamed in my mind. "Где я?"
["Where am I?"]
"Твой новый дом, солдат, Сибирь."
["Your new home, soldier. Siberia."]
Before I could fully process this information, he called out, "Вытри ее!"
["Wipe her!"]
Machinery whirred, and two metal pieces made contact with my head. A painful electrical zapping forced horrible screams from my throat.
~~~
I was held in some strange type of metal chair. My head throbbed painfully. Men with guns surrounded the railed area around me.
A man in a military uniform with a crimson beret stood in front of me. A dark red book held the words he read aloud to me. "Создание. Убегая. Принуждение. Мать. Огонь. Вечер. Второй. Разрушен. Рейс. Лезвие."
["Creation. Fleeing. Duress. Mother. Fire. Evening. Second. Shattered. Flight. Blade."]
"Что вы от меня хотите?" I screamed angrily.
["What do you want from me?"]
The man in the beret called out "Еще раз!"
["Again!"]
Machinery whirred, and two metal pieces made contact with my head. A painful electrical zapping forced horrible screams from my throat.
~~~
I was held in some strange type of metal chair. My head throbbed painfully, and I nearly vomited. Men with guns surrounded the railed area around me. A man in a military uniform with a crimson beret stood in front of me.
A dark red book held the words he read aloud to me. "Создание. Убегая. Принуждение. Мать. Огонь. Вечер. Второй. Разрушен. Рейс. Лезвие."
["Creation. Fleeing. Duress. Mother. Fire. Evening. Second. Shattered. Flight. Blade."]
"Кто ты?" I demanded with all the strength I could summon.
["Who are you?"]
The man in the beret called out "Еще раз!"
["Again!"]
Machinery whirred, and two metal pieces made contact with my head. A painful electrical zapping forced horrible screams from my throat.
~~~
I was held in some strange type of metal chair and drenched in sweat. My head throbbed painfully, and I nearly vomited. Men with guns surrounded the railed area around me. A man in a military uniform with a crimson beret stood in front of me.
A dark red book held the words he read aloud to me. "Создание. Убегая. Принуждение. Мать. Огонь. Вечер. Второй. Разрушен. Рейс. Лезвие."
["Creation. Fleeing. Duress. Mother. Fire. Evening. Second. Shattered. Flight. Blade."]
"Где я?" I asked haltingly.
["Where am I?"]
The man in the beret called out "Еще раз!"
["Again!"]
A man in a white lab coat came over to him saying, "Мы не можем продолжать лечение. Это убьет ее."
["We cannot continue treatment. It will kill her."]
The man in the beret replied, "В отличие от Зимнего солдата, у нас нет лет, чтобы сломать ее. Время против нас. Ее надо быстро сломать." Then he called out, "Еще раз!"
["Unlike with the Winter Soldier, we do not have years to break her. Time is against us. She must be broken quickly."] ["Again!"]
Machinery whirred, and two metal pieces made contact with my head. A painful electrical zapping forced horrible screams from my throat.
~~~
I was held in some strange type of metal chair. I felt like I was dying. Everything ached. Men with guns surrounded the railed area around me. A man in a military uniform with a crimson beret stood in front of me.
A dark red book held the words he read aloud to me. "Создание. Убегая. Принуждение. Мать. Огонь. Вечер. Второй. Разрушен. Рейс. Лезвие." He closed the book and set it down.
["Creation. Fleeing. Duress. Mother. Fire. Evening. Second. Shattered. Flight. Blade."]
"Доброе утро, солдат."
["Good morning, soldier."]
A man in a white lab coat helped me out of the strange chair and handed me a pair of dark military-issue pants, a snug long-sleeve shirt which zipped up in the front and had no right sleeve, two thick socks, a set of black military-issue boots, and a belt.
The man in the beret told me, "Одеться."
["Get dressed."]
I promptly stripped off my sweaty cloth shorts, quickly slid on the pants, and zipped up the shirt. I put the socks on my feet, jammed my feet in the boots, and threaded the belt through my pant loops.
Two men in lab coats approached me and started taking my pulse, measuring my temperature, checking my breathing, and drawing my blood. While this was happening, one of the armed men addressed the man with the beret as "Polkovnik" and spoke with him briefly.
Once the lab coats finished, a soldier shoved a food tray into my hands. It held a bowl of porridge, a small cup full of sausage, a spoon, and a glass of water.
"Ешь," Polkovnik instructed impatiently.
["Eat."]
The food was lukewarm and bland, yet I hurriedly ate it and gulped down the water. The scant meal did not fill me, but it dulled the hunger pangs a little.
When I finished, Polkovnik motioned for me to follow him. He led me to a large room with a huge barred-off area, like a cage, in the center of it. There was a man inside, but I could not see him well.
"Он будет вашим тренером и научит вас всему, что вам нужно знать," Polkovnik told me and ushered me into the barred room. ["He will be your trainer and teach you everything you need to know."]
Four men in full SWAT gear and two men with clipboards and lab coats entered the cage along with Polkovnik.
As if alerted to start by some silent queue, a man with a metal arm pulled out a knife and came towards me. I locked my arms against his wrist and kept the blade far from my body. Unable to force him to release the knife, I settled for managing to pull him closer to the ground. A half-second later, he was on top of me with the knife at my throat.
He then dismounted, allowing me to scramble to my feet before he came at me with the knife again, only this time from above, not below. I performed the same lock as before but twisted his arm over my body and thrust the knife towards his torso. He deflected it harmlessly with his metal hand.
Without taking a breath, he pulled a gun, aimed it straight at my face, and pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened.
The gun was not loaded.
I finally understood. He was not trying to hurt me. He was teaching me. This was my training. Experience is the greatest teacher.
We continued this for hours. Attacking one another, but never hurting the other. Learning without a single word ever being said.
One of the lab coats would occasionally stop us to check various vitals and give us both water.
Eventually, Polkovnik crossed his arms and exchanged a few words with the other men in the cage. One of the men in SWAT gear came and took me by my left arm. He led me out of the cage and down a long hallway until we came to a room with a thick metal door.
Inside, there were various pieces of medical equipment, cabinets, counters, and such, but what caught my attention was the bed with a tray on it. A small piece of bread and a bowl of now cold potato-based soup with a stingy amount of millet and canned meat in it were waiting for me. I inhaled the food, which silenced some of my stomach's growling. When I finished, the man told me to lie on the bed and then fastened me to it. He flicked off the light and closed the large door behind him as he left.
Before sleep claimed me, I thought about the man with the metal arm. Zimniy Soldat they called him. Who is he? What is his story? When did he get here? Where are we? Why does he have a metal arm? How long will we be here?
