Hιԃԃҽɳ Wԋιʂρҽɾʂ || B Bαɾɳҽʂ

⨂Prologue⨂

August, 2000.

The air was infused with the smell of vanilla, from the candles that had been lit, the lively sounds of chatter filling the house.

'Who's my baby girl~ yes its you!'

There was a sound of happy babbling coming from the three year old on the floor, beaming at her mother next to her. The woman smiled widely, eyes crinkling up at the sides with joy.

'My darling little baby' she cooed, the words laced with a heavy Russian accent 'My darling little Verena'

The little girl just smiled 'Mama!'

'Yes- its me- its mama!'

The house was filled with joy.

That was, until the front door came crashing down, and the men in black suits surrounded them.

'Up. Now.'

'No- please- we have a daughter-' the mother pleaded, as the father ran in front of them, grabbing a pistol.

'I said, up.'

Not one of the parents moved, whether it was due to obstinance or fear, that is unclear.

And then the first gunshot rang through the air, and the father fell to the ground, a scream ripping from the mother's throat.

'YOU KILLED HIM!'

'And I will kill you too.'

And before the mother could utter another syllable, she too was limp on the floor, a bullet through her skull.

'Mama-' but the child's voice was no longer happy 'Mama-!'

The sweet smell of vanilla had now been replaced with the strong, unwanted smell of gun smoke.

'Take the child. She goes to the Academy until she's old enough.'

The girl was picked up off the floor, and a flame was lit on the wooden flooring, burning up what remained of her parents, and destroying everything that remained of her old life.

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'Higher, Ivanova, higher. You were chosen to make us proud, not be an utter disappointment.'

The Red Room Academy.

Located somewhere in Northern Russia, the Red Room was not your average boarding school. Instead of teaching young girls things that they should know, they taught them things they shouldn't.

How to resist torture.

How to torture.

How to wound.

How to maim.

How to kill.

Not the type of things a little girl should know, but nonetheless, that's what they were taught.

How to steal.

How to infiltrate.

How to spy.

The place where they taught you how to use your femininity, as a weapon of destruction.

'Да Madame.'

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Her screams echoed through the room, and all she could see through her blurred vision were the two tall men infront of her, and the large, black, Hydra logo on the wall.

'S-stop- pleas-e-' the 17 year old rasped out, no longer being able to muster enough energy to yell.

'Stay still, or else we will make you, Ivanova.' The man in front of her growled.

He strapped her bloodied and battered body down to the table, and more men walked in, this time in scrubs.

'She's ready for the procedure.'

'What- what procedure- what else could you possibly do to me now-' she said weakly. She knew she would be made into a Soldier, but nobody said anything about experimentation- no one told her they'd be making her into a monster.

'Oh you have no idea.'

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She entered the large, empty room, and came face to face with a tall man, flanked by two superiors.

She knew exactly who he was, immediately.

'Ivanova. Meet your new mission partner.'

She looked up, to look him in the face, and met his steel blue eyes, filled with cold determination- what for, however, was unknown to her.

'The Winter Soldier.'

She tilted her head a little, hearing the familiar name, eyeing her new partner carefully.

'Soldat.' The authoritative voice said, and Winter looked at him, then her again.

'Meet The Winter Reaper.'