Save Me || Bucky Barnes

22

Five Years Later

No matter how much she twisted and turned, she couldn't get the better of the man fighting her. 

"Я больше так не могу(I can't do it anymore)!" she cried out in shaky Russian. She collapsed to the floor with her head in her hands as quiet sobs racked her body. 

"Вставай, девчонка(Get up girl)!" the guard watching her progress snapped in perfect Russian before he grabbed her by her loose braid and yanked her to her feet.

"Слезами делу не поможешь. Так что заткнись и дерись(Crying will get you nowhere. So shut your mouth and fight)." the guard quietly threatened her before he effortlessly tossed her back on the concrete floor. A look of permanent fear was etched into Charlotte's face. Slowly, she got to her feet, ignoring her screaming joints.

She had no clue how long she had been here, only that while she had been here she had gone through several unsuccessful attempts at washing her brain. She had also been trained in several forms of combat daily, ranging from hand to hand combat to heavy machinery. Two times a day, she was pulled into a dark room and was taught several different languages, such as Romanian, German, Dutch, French, and the most common type used at the facility she was held in, Russian.

She had quickly picked up on the French and German languages, but the other three languages proved difficult. As did learning such rough forms of combat. Charlotte wasn't built for this, but everyone here seemed determined to mold her into a fearsome weapon. She could see it in everyone's eyes. She was the one thing that mattered most in this facility. 

She shook her head to clear her thoughts before she resumed a defensive stance in front of the man she had been instructed to fight. 

"Убей его(kill him)." the guard instructed her. Charlotte's head whipped around as she stared at him with shock evident on her face. She had never been told to kill anyone before.

"Прежде чем он убьёт тебя(before he kills you)." the guard spoke with a certain malice that sent shivers up Charlotte's spine. She turned around just in time to be caught off guard by the man she had been instructed to kill. The two of them crashed to the floor, a dull thud echoed throughout the room.

Charlotte's head had taken the brunt of the force. She now had to deal with a throbbing headache while she tried to save her life. She scrambled to her feet and stood in front of the man with shaky hands.

"Go on then, kill me." the man taunted Charlotte in English, thinking she didn't have the guts to do it. But she did. She harbored hope that if she did everything they asked, she would be allowed to leave. That she would get to see Steve and Bucky again.

Charlotte bounced on the balls of her feet for a moment before she ran forward towards the man. As she neared the man, she slid onto the ground and rammed into him with her feet. As he fell forward over Charlotte, she stuck an arm up, landing a blow to his stomach. 

They both got to their feet at the same time. Charlotte waited for the man to make the first move, which he did. He hurtled towards her at an alarming speed, but Charlotte was ready. When he was near enough to her, she jumped into the air and landed on his shoulders as he tried to stop his forward motion. 

Charlotte's legs wrapped securely around his neck before she twisted her body towards the ground, pulling both the man and herself to the ground. Before her body could hit the floor, Charlotte stuck her hands out onto the floor and released the man's neck from her legs. She effortlessly completed what any stranger would have thought to have been a back handspring if they happened to look in the room just then.

Before the man could steady himself, Charlotte's arms were already wrapped around his neck in a choke hold from behind. 

"Please! Let me go!" the man gasped. Charlotte glanced at her guard. He sent her a solemn nod, to which Charlotte responded by grabbing the man's head with her hands and twisting her arms. The sounds of bones and joints breaking was like music to the guard's ears. However, to Charlotte, it was the worst thing in the world.

Sure, she had just killed a man. But that's not what scared her the most. What scared her was not feeling remorse or guilt. Her guard strolled over to her, his hand on his gun the entire time.

"Хорошая работа(well done)." he praised her as he stepped over the man's body.

"Now what?" Charlotte asked in English, forgetting that she was supposed to talk in Russian for a moment. When the guard ignored her question, she silently cursed herself and tried to remember how to say it in Russian.

"И что теперь?(what now)?" she spoke after a few quiet moments.

"А теперь, дорогая, ты сделаешь это снова (now, my dear, you do it again)." the guard's smile was something Charlotte would soon become accustomed to. It appeared on his face every time Charlotte successfully, and efficiently, killed her next victim. They made her use a variety of ways to kill each of her targets.

Some, she had to use her bare hands. Others, she had to use a set of knives. Once she even had to use a couple grenades to get rid of her target. Eventually, Charlotte began to get acclimated to this daily routine. She even began to look forward to it. She thought it was a good way to get rid of all her stress and anger.

Eventually, the rare moments of remorse and guilt she felt for killing all those people faded. It turned into a process for her. She knew how to look for her victim's weaknesses, and how to use those weaknesses against them. Slowly, she learned how to use her new metal arm as both a shield and a weapon.

She learned when to use her arm as protection from a storm of bullets and when to use it to overpower someone stronger than her. Her guards also learned that she worked better with some form of incentive. Most often, they offered her five minutes outside in Siberia's frigid, winter air. 

She had no shoes, and the only clothes she had to wear were a pair of slacks and a loose white t-shirt that had since become dirty and covered in blood. She had never once gotten a fresh change of clothes since she had arrived at the facility. But, Charlotte still looked forward to her time outside.

The soldiers were quick to learn that she only preferred going outside if there was snow on the ground. If there wasn't, she refused to do anything productive. This, and her rapidly growing reputation as a fearsome soldier, earned her a nickname that would inspire rumors and cause chills to run up and down people's spines each time they heard the name. Her nickname?

The Winter Soldier.