𝗗𝗜𝗚𝗜𝗧𝗔𝗟 𝗦𝗜𝗟𝗘𝗡𝗖𝗘

Propagate the Killer (Eliminate the Youth)

A/N: My lovelies, I am SO sorry!! As a long-time user of ao3, I forgot that you can't copy things from Wattpad, and therefore you can't make your own translations when I write in different languages 😭 I'm ngl, screw Wattpad, but from now on, I'll include translations in the actual writing!! Sorry for the mishap!!

Anyhow, a happy father's day to my favourite homicidal father-daughter relationship <3

Dark, cold, empty.

The Winter Soldier feels completely hollow, like he is some sort of gutted machinery. A work of art, shut down long ago.

However, somewhere in there, there is a brain, and this strange, strange thumping noise. It starts in his chest, roars down to his feet, and then straight back up again to the white walls of his skull.

Is-a-bell.

The thumping comes in threes; foggy and soft around the edges. For the life of him, The Soldier cannot decipher it. They are words, but they don't process in his mind. It just feels like something is trapped. His body is a cage, perhaps, a haunted house, and there is a phantom howling behind his ribs. What does it want? Why is it plaguing him like this?

However, that is as much as the serum allows him to think. If he strains further, digging in the warm mess of his memories, something presses back. He winces.

He isn't allowed to think this, any of this. He is made for receiving orders and carrying them out. Anything beyond that is something lowly, something not worthy of his status. He is The Winter Soldier.

And so, when the man before him asks for information, he has no choice but to tell him.

The words roll from his tongue, leaden with secrets and purpose, and he feels a flicker of something wrong in his chest. He should not be sharing this.

Still, the thumping in his chest continues.

Is-a-bell. Is-a-bell.

What is that? What does it mean? Why is it important enough that he remembers it, and yet it won't surpass his murky mind?

Is-a-bell. Is-a-bell. Is-a-bell.

The man in front of him tilts his head. In this lighting, does he really look like a man? A creature, maybe, twisted like a serpent. He's handing him orders, insistent ones at that, and the words settle in The Soldier's head as if making a home there.

He doesn't understand them, but he knows he must act on them.

Is-a-bell. Is-a-bell. Is-a-bell. Is-a-bell.

The commands are harsh and dagger-like against the soft mush of his brain. Kill them, the serpent creature says. Kill everyone. Do not let them control you. Be what you are. A machine.

Unblinking, shaking, The Soldier registers one last order. Five words. They click into place in his head, grinding and whirring, and he swallows as they settle in.

"Oh, and eliminate the girl."

Eliminate.

The.

Girl.

Is-a-bell.

Oh.

Isabell.

ISABELL.

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