oblivion. ▷ captain america. [1] •••DISCONTINUED•••

xi ▷ the first session.

E L E V E N

11. | the first session.
humans can be robotic

genevieve.

•

"LONGING. RUSTED. Nineteen. Daybreak. Black. Nine. Benign. Homecoming. One. Plane." The words ring through my head. Each one is like a puzzle piece being locked into place inside my brain, making me whole and completed, like I have purpose. "Soldat?"

"Ready to comply," I reply.

Zola grins happily at my words. This is the first time that I have responded. He closes the red book shut, showing the black star on its front cover. My brain has no thoughts inside because of the words inside, making me a blank slate that sits in front of an inked quill.

"You shall fight off this soldier with the new tactic that you learned," Zola orders. "Go!"

Puzzle pieces shift in my mind. They form the words in my mind that are as clear as day. Soldier. New tactic. Kill.

I shift my eyes to the nearest table to my left. There is a blade on its bottom shelf, one that is sharp and good for quick punctures. I scoop it up, glancing for my partner, who attacks the man using his strong metal arm. It has definitely come in handy for him. After a few blows both of us throw at the man, he is weakened slightly. I finally decide to slide underneath my partner's superior arm, but the soldier finally decides to retaliate, kicking at my partner, forcing me down with him. I end up laying on top of my comrade, who wheezes underneath the impact of my bodyweight on top of his ribs, with the blade sliding across the floor after escaping my grasp.

"Pathetic. Weak," Zola mutters. "I expected more from you both, considering that you know each other's bone structure added along to each other's fighting styles by heart."

I roll off my comrade, lying with my back against the concrete floor. I pant heavily, closing my eyes.

"And you both do so well in your individual courses. My emerald" — he glances at me — "you are the fist of Hydra with him— he shoots my partner a glare — "by your side. Granted neither of you have had all of the serum required for the exceeding abilities I hope you will gain yet, but that is already a wonderful start."

Zola clasps his hands together, glancing at the soldier who always stands by the door with a gun ready by his side. "Take him to the station. Leave her."

The soldier gains the help from a few others to drag my partner out of the room, leaving me alone with Zola and the soldier I was going to ambush just moments ago. Just as the door slams shut behind the crowd surrounding my comrade, it is dead silent in the massive room. I feel Zola's eyes scan me thoroughly, his head shaking side to side with his thin lips curled into a sour expression in distaste.

"I am so disappointed in you," he sighs. "You are so much more coordinated than that. You can do so much more than what you just did with him by your side."

I glance back up at him. He is making his way slowly towards me, still analyzing me. I'm still kneeling on the floor, trying to catch my breath after the strong defeat. I stare down at the floor. Shame engulfs me.

Zola's calloused hand snatches my chin, and forces me to look up at him through his small spectacles. He tilts his head slightly, brushing a lock of my long brunette hair out of my face with his thumb. I see my face reflecting inside the lenses of his round glasses. It is hollow and pale, like my comrade's. My eyes are dead, not the slightest glint of hope left in them — just clouded orbs that hold a soul that no longer has purpose. They glow a deep green, a color that I have never seen them before. Zola gazes at them, like they are the most prized and beautiful things he has ever laid his eyes on.