-March 1995-
The Soldat punches the bag into the other side of the room, watching as the Asset waits, his eyes tracing over her form, sometimes he comes over to correct her form silently. He's always silent, a mask on his face. The Soldat looks up at him when he comes over again, her arms hanging to the side, stepping back slightly, letting blood drip onto the ground. She reaches for the mask, unbuckling it from his face and throwing it to the ground, tracing his lips with her finger, not minding the slightly greasy feeling that it leaves on her index finger.
The Asset's eyes look at her, tilting his head slightly in confusion. He goes to reach back for his mask when she takes his hand, intertwining her hand in his, shaking her head slightly with a sly smile on her face. She strokes his fingers carefully, leaning her head towards him before moving back when he doesn't react. His eyes follow her movements when she backs away, standing near the door, her hangs going back to hang, subconsciously fidgeting with her fingers. She opens her mouth but quickly shakes her head. Her eyes drift away in thought before looking back at him.
"Do you…" She hesitates, her voice just above the normal monotone that they both know they should always have. "How did we get here? Why are we here?" She asks, looking the man in the eyes, her eyes plane and dark, just like they always are, just like his always are. "I mean… we never get told." She looks at his expression, coming slightly closer. She looks in his eyes, at his plain face. "I know what you're gonna say, that weapons don't ask questions, but you're not a handler, so I assume it might be safe."
His eyes widen, realising she's speaking in English. They aren't meant to speak in English. "Вы говорите по-английски (Russian: You're speaking in English)." He comes closer and takes her hand, bringing them closer to his body, stroking the knuckles of her hand.
"We're not Russian." The Soldat replies, closing her eyes, a headache forming as visions flicker through her mind. She shakes her head, pushing them away. "You have an American accent and I'm black. Russian's aren't black." She grips his hands tightly and securely, as if letting go would cause her to slip through. She smacks him in the face, causing him to stumble a few paces backwards. "The other agents…they have names. We don't. Does your mind not realise how that could be wrong?" She grabs his head. "People have names. Not Asset or Soldat, proper names like Ivan or Vladimir."
He sighs, rubbing his head. "We are not people." He replies in English, and for some reason it seems easier on his tongue than speaking in Russian was. He's confused at that but he doesn't let it show. He looks away, thinking, trying to think back to understand what she might mean with what she is saying. "Weapons don't have names. We are weapons."
She huffs, standing back in frustration. "No we aren't." She picks up a gun from the table that they had been practising with earlier. "This is a weapon. A tool, it isn't a living thing. Weapon's aren't living organisms. Your name is Bucky, you are a person, please." She sounds desperate. "You said the shallows wouldn't kill us, and the deep can't swallow us. But you're letting it swallow you, don't. We are not weapons." She's almost shouting but the Asset grabs her arms tightly, pushing her back against the wall.
He looks her in the eyes. "No, you're malfunctioning, we need to fix that." He grabs her arm tightly as she protests, forcing her out of the training room and down the hall, into a more lab-like room. He drags her as she kicks and screams to a metal chair, like the one from before, strapping her in and backing away. She looks at him in betrayal and fear, panting, her eyes looking at the contraption above her. "You need help, the doctor will be here momentarily to give you that help."
She panics slightly, shifting in the restraints in panic as a man in a white lab coat comes up to her. "Please." She begs. "Please don't wipe me again, you won't win. My mind fights back."
The doctor sits in front of her on a stool, leaning on his elbows on his knees, looking apologetic. He pushes her back, placing the bite-guard in her mouth and turning the machine on, not reacting when she screams and begs for him to stop, her body twitching on the chair from the sheer amount of electricity flowing through her body. After a few minutes her body stops shaking and the halo is taking off, her head falling forward.
The doctor grabs her head and tilts her head, looking at her features. With a satisfied smile he sits back as Karpov comes walking into the room, the Asset automatically standing beside the wall, his head bowed down slightly in respect. "Солдат (Russian: Soldier)." Karpov says firmly. "Смотри на меня, когда я говорю (Russian: Look at me when I talk)." He orders and she looks up at the man, her hands gripped tightly, but her face back to the expressionless tone that Karpov has only wanted to see.
"Ты разочаровал меня в последний раз, поэтому я попросил об одолжении. Приедет человек по имени Дрейков и заберет вас; вы будете помогать обучать его рекрутов, прививая вам некоторую дисциплину (Russian: You have disappointed me for the last time, so I have asked for a favour. A man named Dreykov will come and collect you; you will help train his recruits, instilling some discipline in you." He informs her. He looks down slightly, placing a file on her back, opening it to show a description of a different program. He looks her in the eyes. "Программа «Черная вдова» нуждается в дополнительных тренерах (Russian: The Black Widow Program is in need of extra trainers." He explains. "И поскольку они уже помогали нам раньше, мы любезно предоставляем им дополнительную возможность обучения (Russian: And because they have helped us before, we are kindly giving them you to give them that extra bit of training)."
He gets up and unbuckles the Soldat, forcing her up and placing her back in her cell, locking the door tightly, the hydraulic clamps engaging, sealing the room. He steps back and walks away, leaving her alone. She walks the cell, her eyes darting around the room, looking for an exit she already knows isn't there. She was about to try and brute force the door when she hears footsteps and a strange man walked to the door, opening the viewing window and looking through it at her. He's average height with grey-ish hair and a receding hairline, square glasses perched on his nose.
"Ты, должно быть, солдат. Один из Зимних солдат Карпова. Приятно знать, что наша информация помогла (Russian: You must be the soldat. One of Karpov's Winter Soldiers. Good to know our information helped." The man, Dreykov, informs her, placing his hands behind his back. "Ты собираешься прийти добровольно? (Russian: You going to come willingly?)" He asks but he gets no response, just her cold eyes staring back at him. He nods slightly, "Конечно. Я знаю вас, суперсолдат (Russian: Of course, I know you super soldier types)." He backs away from the door, closing the viewing window and sealing it.
She watches as he closes it, backing away from the door. She listens as he fiddles with some controls on the door, pacing the room in confusion. Before she even has time to think, a white-tinged mist starts to enter her room from the ceiling vents and she covers her mouth and nose with her top. She bangs on the door, trying to get out, her body forcing her to breath in the gas, becoming groggy. She stumbles back, shaking her head, her hand dropping from her mouth as she breaths more in. The floor starts to swim beneath her feet before she blacks out, crashing to the ground.
Dreykov enters into the room after the gas has cleared, seeing her sprawled out on the ground. He nudges her body with his foot and she doesn't move. He smiles slightly before removing her from the room and taking her into the hangar of the base, putting her into an aircraft, buckling her into a seat securely and getting into the pilot's seat. He gets it ready before taking a glance at the girl. He sighs before he takes off, the ship flying up and into the dark sky.
After some time, a craft could be seen housed in the sky. The facility was raised high above the sky, with long halls stretching out from the centre, dark windows dotted down. As the helicopter rose, the clouds started to part and the true extent of the facility was shown. They docked and he helped the woman up. He takes her through the halls before entering into a large open space that is graciously decorated. There is a group of girls, no older than 12, standing in rows wearing black catsuits. Dreykov looks at them and they all automatically stand up straight, the Soldat standing by his side.
"This is Asset 03, or Soldat." He informs them. "She is a member of the Winter Soldier Project, and she will be in charge of your training. You will do as she says unless I tell you otherwise. If she gets confused, you tell me." He looks at all of their reactions. "Soldat, these are the Black Widow candidates you will be training, any questions?" The Soldat shakes her head at him before Dreykov walks away, leaving Soldat with the little kids.
Most of them walk away back to their rooms but a taller one, probably 10 or 11, with red hair walks up to her and takes her hand, stroking the cold metal. She plays with the fingers slightly, her childish mind filled with curiosity. "I'm Nat. My hair's autumn red." She holds the arm up and Soldat looks down at the silver fingers. "You're Winter."