"𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙜𝙖..." 𝙋𝙞𝙚𝙩𝙧𝙤 𝙨𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙚𝙙, 𝙡𝙖𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜.
"𝙅𝙖𝙖𝙣𝙪," 𝙆𝙞𝙧𝙖 𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠.
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Kira Barnes, the younger adopted sister of Bucky Barnes, is forced out of the dark underworld of espionage and into the light of the new...
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The soldier woke to an agonising pain.
Everything hurt. That wasn't too unusual. Aching in the shoulders from strain, the stabbing pain in the left leg that never quite went away, the stiffness in the hands from overuse. That was normal. What wasn't was the burning behind her eyelids, the dull throbbing of her head, and that sense of impending doom. The mission.
The soldier finally opened her eyes, rapidly blinking to adjust to the harsh beams of the fluorescent lights. The burning didn't stop. The stark white lights made the unfurnished room look clinical, in a way that sat uncomfortably in her stomach. The singular bed she was lying on, covered by a thin sheet, and that sharp, unnatural smell weren't helping either. Nothing around her was familiar. It all felt wrong. The mission.
Her comfort, post-mission, wasn't exactly top priority, but it still didn't make sense. That was exactly why she had been beaten awake so many times for a debrief afterwards. But there was no one here. Not even Jamie. The mission.
"Two targets. Level Six."
It had failed. She'd forgotten. Again.
Everything was collapsing when Jamie had left her. She couldn't remember a thing between then and now.
The targets. They must've taken her. The soldier started to panic. In the brief years that HYDRA had the Winter Soldiers, they were treated just as badly as when Department X had had them. But at least she knew what to expect. She knew nothing about the targets. Just what they looked like. And that they were powerful. They could do anything to her. And she was all alone. She had to get out.
The soldier surged up. Just to be thrown back down. Pain radiated from her torso. She looked down. Pulled off the sheet. Restraints. Tight around her middle, keeping her on the bed, with matching, but unactivated, cuffs around her wrists and ankles. She couldn't even swing her legs onto the floor. She scrambled to rip them off. Unnaturally tough. Like they were built for her, or someone stronger. Both thoughts were terrifying.
She pulled at them. They wouldn't budge. Dug her nails in. Trying to rip it apart from the seams. Something. Anything. Her fingers started to bleed. Nothing.
The blood made her fingers slip. She wiped them off on her clothes. Continued tugging at the restraints. Eyes watering as the burning worsened. Dull throbbing becoming sharp. Wrists aching from the weight.
They must know she's awake. They'll be here any second. There was nothing in the room to use as a weapon. But she had to try something. Had to get out. Or at least up. Try not to be at a complete disadvantage.
