⨂Prologue⨂

27 2 12
                                    

January, 1945.

Blood streaked the snow as he lay in the snow, limp, unmoving, semi-conscious. The sound of the soft snow crunching was the only sound that could be heard for miles, the air was still and numbingly cold, and his body was numbening, skin turning paler by the minute.

He tried to turn his head over, tried to move, but his body refused to cooperate, his head limply falling to his side, vision hazy. And that's when he saw them, in the corner of his eye.

Four pairs of feet, slowly coming closer and closer, in heavy boots, yet they made no sound whatsoever.

'How can we be sure that this is him.'

'He should have the label on his jacket.'

He felt rough hands shift him around, barely on the edge of consciousness, so drained that he couldn't make a sound, forget managing to speak.

'Its him.'

'Good. Now let's get him back.'

And that's when he noticed it. The small little logo on their breast pocket. The Hydra logo.

Fuck... This is not going to end well..

He tried to move, but something was restricting him- it was like something was missing- something important. But before he could figure out what it was, his vision blurred, and all went black.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Blinding lights, and men in scrubs. That's all he saw when his eyes flew open.

'Well hello Sergeant Barnes. Remember me?' A familiar voice, with a heavy German accent, spoke.

He had no energy to speak, but his jaw clenched and he grudgingly nodded.

'Good, this makes it much easier for me.' The man continued. 'You have received the biggest opportunity of the century, you should consider yourself thankful. You, Sergeant, are going to become our first soldier.'

Soldier- what the hell does he mean by that-

He shifted around the best he could, tied down to a table, and thats when he felt it. Cool metal brushing against his arm.

'W-what-' He rasped out.

'That is a metal arm. The very first of its kind, specially crafted to your muscles, to be a perfect fit. Now don't worry, while the procedures might hurt at first, you'll get used to the pain.'

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Blank.

That's all he felt.

Blank.

Just, blank.

'Look at me.'

He raised his head, to look at the man in front of him.

'Your name is the Winter Soldier. You will only be addressed as such. You are not to speak to anyone unless spoken to. You are our weapon.'

He paused, thoughts bouncing through his head.

Winter Soldier.

That's my name.

Winter Soldier.

Weapon.

That's me.

Finally grasping onto the feeling that he knew something, he immediately nodded.

'Good. You're going to be our most successful project this century.'

Hιԃԃҽɳ Wԋιʂρҽɾʂ || B BαɾɳҽʂWhere stories live. Discover now