Weapons | Bucky Barnes x OC

4. ANYA

Warning: blood, injuries, wounds, bruises, stitching, DID (dissociative identity disorder)

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1993. Two years after the serum.
6 floors underground.

An oval room full of guards, soldiers and scientists. Illuminated by neon lights hanging from the ceiling, perfectly in the center there was a square platform. 

One by one, soldiers were sent against her with the task of knock her out. Instead, her mission was to knock them out.

The motivation that pushed her to never lose was that if she'd lost, she would've died by the hands of one of them -or tortured by Karpov himself.

The girl's chest rose and fell frantically, she held a blood-soaked in her hand.
At her feet lay a dozen bodies and when the last one stopped writhing, the crowd let out a roar.

She had gotten away with only a cut on her leg and a few bruises on her face and body. Her classic white suit was stained with blood.

She was unstoppable.

"You're doing a really good job with her. She's got guts." said a short man with gray hair and thick black framed glasses pressed over his nose. On his dress jacket he had pinned a red hourglass. "Really elegant and efficient. Almost as pretty as my girls. What's her name?"

"Pretty, yes.." Karpov said, rubbing his jaw thinking about it for a moment. No one ever provided her a name. "Anya. Her name is Anya." he said immediately after. "The Winter Soldier is training her, shaping her just the way we want her." he explained proudly.

✪

That night Anya curled up against the wall between the thin sheets. She was having a very hard time falling asleep, more than usual. Her whole body ached, the dressing on her leg was getting dirty all the time from the blood that kept gushing.

She felt cold and at the same time she was sweating immeasurably. 
She had probably underestimated her conditions because of the adrenaline.

She jumped and turned as a hand suddenly landed on her shoulder. Then she tried to wriggle out of that grip, but her mouth was quickly covered by one hand and her movements were blocked by another one.

"Ssh.. It's me." whisper-screamed the Winter Soldier.
"Don't scream, nobody knows I'm here. I'm gonna let you go now, okay?"

Anya eagerly nodded and the man complied.
She was finally allowed to breathe.

"Winter.. What are you doing here?" Anya asked harshly.

"I was just checking." he said as his face was dimly lit by the moonlight.

"And why should you?" she replied exasperated.

"It's my duty. I'm your handler." he knelt at the foot of the bed. "Now let me check this out." he sternly said, grabbing the blankets and pulling them down, receiving several whines and grunts of disapproval from the girl.

The clothing she slept in consisted of a sweatshirt and soft pants, which the Soldier carelessly lowered to check the wound on her thigh, revealing Anya's simple black underwear.

While there seemed to be no emotion from the outside -always as cold as winter- inside, the Soldier could feel a fire coming to life. For a moment he wanted to slide the black material down her long, slim legs and make her feel better. However, he continued with his task.
At that moment it was more important to make sure she didn't bleed to death.