𝔹𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝕋𝕠 𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕜𝕝𝕪𝕟 | Bucky Barnes (ON HOLD)

12 | Hydra

January 1943 - Austria: Nazi Territory

The white electrical wires that powered the exposed lightbulbs which hung from the ceiling made a soft buzzing noise. The lights themselves flickered, and each time they did, the whirring intensified for a split second.

One of the bulbs was dimmer than the others as it hung above the unconscious body that sat on an uncomfortable wooden chair in the middle of the dingy lab. Her wrists were strapped to the arms of the chair with thick ropes, and her ankles were strapped to the legs.

Her brown hair was long as it hid her face, her head bowed down, putting strain on her neck. Her clothes hadn't been changed since arriving at the unknown location, and her pant leg was still soaked with her blood from the bullet she'd been shot with in her own home in Brooklyn.

She wasn't in Brooklyn anymore - not that she knew that. Yet.

The metal door in the corner of the room swung open with a creak, and in entered a man dressed in some kind of tactical gear. He carried a gun in his arms, and wore a helmet on his head, a visor pulled down to cover his face.

"She's still out," he muttered, his German accent thick.

Following him inside was a man in a science coat, white materiel at that went down past his knees. The sleeves were rolled up, too long for his spindly arms. His glasses sat on his nose as he approached the young woman on the chair. The clipboard tucked under his arm, and his hands were clasped together behind his back.

He tilted his head as he stared at the top of the woman's head, grease and dirt gathered in her hair roots after the long journey, for which she was kept unconscious the entire time. He could see the tiny marks on her neck where she'd been sedated more than once. A sick smirk grew on his lips, as he felt more powerful than he ever had before.

This woman sat before him, completely at his mercy, with no idea what was happening, where she was, or why.

Oh, this is going to be fun, he thought to himself.

He looked over his shoulder, up at the solider stood by the door. "Wake her up," he ordered.

With a silent nod, the armed man walked over to the woman on the chair, standing behind her. His gloved hand made a fist in her hair, and he tugged back her head. On her face, was a long piece of tape which covered her mouth, preventing her from making a sound. The soldier slapped her face a few times, not super hard, but hard enough to leave a sting.

The woman groaned from the back of her throat, and her eyes flickered open, being blinded by the lightbulb that hung right over her head. Her blue eyes widened as she tried to move, finding herself paralysed in her seat. She tried to call out, finding herself unable to.

Pain was coursing through her body, radiating from her right shin. The area was sticky with dried blood, and she felt pressure around where the pain was shooting from, like something was wrapped around it.

Tears lined her eyes and immediately spilled out as she squinted, trying to look around the room. A low chuckle had her looking up and straight ahead, seeing the short man in the lab coat watching her with intent curiosity and something of amusement.

She was panting beneath the tape on her mouth, struggling her hands and feet, desperate to break out of the tight bonds keeping her seated. She felt tired, pained, nauseous, and downright terrified. More terrified than she ever though she could be.

"Good morning," the scientist uttered lowly. "Or should I say, good afternoon?"

She breathed heavily through her nose, her heart beating so fast, she could hear in in her ears, and feel the rise and fall of her own chest.