Red Room

28: One- O'- Seven

The voice rang as a siren through your head. Who the hell is this?

Taking another scan of the room, bits and pieces of memories resurfaced. While there was no dead giveaway, but you weren't an idiot. 

"Oh when SHIELD finds me, it's over for you bitches." you growled, trying to emit some form of confidence. 

"But my dear, this is SHIELD."

Your eyes widened in realization- it all made sense now. The guy from the cafe, the agent who tried to kill you, the baby pictures, everything was coming together and fitting perfectly into a nightmare that you had only hoped would remain as just that- a nightmare. 

You always knew this was a possibility, but part of you wanted to believe that Hydra was your past and nothing more. It was so much easier to believe that it was rid from the world. 

"Okay, fine. When the team finds me." you corrected. 

The voice laughed, a malicious one. 

You tried to think of every single person that you could recall, just trying to figure out who's doing this. 

"Could you at least let me in on what your plan is?" you yelled, not knowing what direction you should be speaking to

"If you knew, it would ruin the entire plan."

You rolled your eyes, "lame excuse."

Their silence spoke for them. This was good though, they either don't have a plan, or fear me jeopardizing it. That was enough fear to use against them.

You heard the sound of a mic clicking off and assumed that you were probably still being watched in some way. 

"So this is that organization that Bucky was so afraid of." you muttered to yourself, taking in the simplicity and poor quality of the room. 

To be fair, Hydra did get flushed out of SHIELD fairly recently, so it was probably just getting back on its feet. 

You had no way of telling time, no clocks, windows, nothing. So, god knows how long you were sitting in the room alone. It must have been at least a day, because you grew tired at some point and eventually got hungry, so it was considerably long. 

----

Breakfast had been brought to you three times since then, which you assumed meant that this was day four. 

Four days, god it felt longer. You were beginning to get worried, at this point, the team probably realized that something was up, and no doubt Fury was pissed. 

Of course, you had made a few attempts at escaping, threatened to not eat, tried undoing the chains, it all ended with new scars and bruises which you'd rather not discuss. As if the injuries you gained prior to this shit,  your wrists were now beyond sore from the restraints, as were your ankles, a busted lip, and probably some internal damage could be added to the list. 

The strange part, however, was that there was no activity from the perpetrators. You were served a meal in the morning and one at night, but beyond that and the abuse, radio silence. 

Your patience was running thin and this was getting quite boring, so you decided to poke the bear a bit, "Do you plan on doing anything?" you called out. 

The mic clicked on and the voice spoke, "You never were known for your ability to wait."

"Look lady, I don't know if Mercy was different, but you don't know me. I'm not her, and I'm certainly not whatever monster you're supposedly waiting for." you sneered.

"Cocky, impatient, and hilariously naive. Project 107, those traits were adorable in your youth, but are rather annoying now. We aren't waiting for action from you, but if that team of self-proclaimed heroes cares about you as much as you believe, they'll find you soon enough, we left the tracker in for a reason."

Project 107, they weren't just a number on Bucky's dog tags. That was how you were identified.  The words "in your youth" spiraled through your head until finally- it clicked. 

"I- I know who you are." your voice cracked. 

"Well it took you long enough." the voice rang as the door cracked open. 

Your mother, no, not your mother. But, an older version. No significant difference. Hair was lighter, the creases at her eyes were more prevalent, but she was still the same shell of a lady you remember growing up with. 

"Mom?" you tried to speak, but your voice was frail and far weaker then you had intended on showing. 

She stood in the door frame, a devilish smirk, hands on hips and chin turned up, "That's what you used to call me."