Butterflies (Bucky Barnes Daughter)

FIVE

 Her papa hadn't returned for five days now. Mila was worried but didn't show it, she was told not to show any pain and that meant any emotion as well. After the second day they sent her back to her old room. Everyday there were people going in and out, taking blood and tissue samples. It was making her weak and sick. 

 On the seventh day the Old Man stormed into her cell, pulling her out of the cage and dragging her towards a training room. Mila was nervous and confused. Pushing her into a room, Mila turned back to look at the Old Man. He stared at her for a few seconds, pointed towards the man sitting at the back and said, "Behave. Or your Papa isn't coming home." He then slammed the door shut cutting off any sign of light in the cold room.

 She wanted to cry, she wanted to curl up into a ball and rock herself back and forth like her Papa would when she had a bad nightmare. She wanted her Papa, or even Yana. She didn't want to be alone in a room with a strange man.

 "Up!" the man spoke.

 Mila was confused, she was already standing up.

 "Up! Now" his voice grew stronger the closer he got to her.

"I'm already standing I don-" he cut her off by placing his hands on her hips and pulling her up so she was standing on her toes.

 "I am Viktor. Your trainer. I work with the Red Room. Now unfortunately you are not allowed to leave this base and train with your fellow students but, I was sent to train you, here" he removed his hands from her waist and moved them to her shoulders, pulling them back to correct her posture. 

 "I don't understand, why am I being trained" she spoke barely above a whisper. Her uncomfortableness showing through.

 He moved his mouth next to her ear quickly. "Because Mila, you are to be the new face of Hydra and one of the most successful Black Widows the world has ever seen". She shivered at his touch. His hands were hot, too hot for someone in an underground base in one of the coldest places in the world. But that's just how it works, if your heart is cold, the rest of your body compensates the heat.

 His hand moved closer to her chest. She felt it and immediately turned around, hitting him in the stomach and tried to kick him. He caught her leg and bent it in wards, moving closer to her.

 "I just wanted to see what your reflexes were like. See what I'm working with here. Good news for you, you are going to do wonderous thing for the world Mila" his hand went over his heart. "The people will love you".

***

It had been another full week before the Soldier returned to the base, and Mila. She had already achieved much progress in such a short amount of time. She was extraordinary, her balance, technique, her precision. Her ballet was one thing but her hand to hand combat and her marksmanship were unmatched. The way the cool metal of the gun just slipped in and out of her hands, the slickness of her knife handling. No one at Hydra expected her to be so good but with her DNA it was almost set in stone.

 He walked the halls with a horrifying strut. The blood in his body was boiling. He had no goodbye and then he was gone for two weeks, with no idea how Mila reacted to him being gone. She was used to people coming and going in her life. She didn't expect any different from her Papa.

 There was an eerie silence throughout the building. He tried hard to hear her, her breathing, her voice, anything, but he could hear a thing. 

The Soldier and the guards accompanying him walked down an empty corridor. There were windows that opened into a training room. He looked into the window and saw her. Mila's red hair pulled back into a slick bun at the nape of her neck, her green eyes sparkling in the light. A white leotard and tutu were placed on her body. She looked beautiful, peaceful almost. The Soldier moved closer to the window to see her better. He couldn't see the front of the outfit but he could see her face, her innocent face. Just as she had finished an emboité, Mila had thrown a knife into one of the practice targets to her right. It was graceful and powerful. She hit the center with the knife.