CHILD | james b. barnes

| 10 |

Red Room

10

1960

"IS THAT THE WINTER SOLDIER?"

Vasily Karpov stood in one of the facilities of the Red Room, where the Winter Soldier and Angelika's cryostasis chambers had been transferred. Standing besides him was the head of the Red Room, Dreykov. To the left of him was Madame B.

Melanie Schmidt nodded at the two. She had grown older than she liked to admit, and Arnim Zola had left on a SHIELD errand. It had been many years since HYDRA had grown underneath SHIELD's nose, and they were still blinded.

"And the child?" Madame B asked, waving her hand at Angelika who looked exactly as the same as she was meant to.

"She is his gift. We once pulled the soldier out of cryofreeze, and he did not comply because the girl, Angelika, was missing." Karpov explained and Madame B nodded in understanding.

"Well, defrost them." Dreykov said, slightly impatient as he waved his hand at the two cryostasis chambers.

Several scientists started typing on a few screens. The Winter Soldier's chamber was filled with warmth, and for the first time in a while, he gained consciousness. His eyes were already open and he glanced around with uncertainty. The glass cylinder circling the Winter Soldier lifted, and he breathed silently.

Two scientists unhooked him from the machine. They pulled his arms over their shoulders, dragging the soldier towards a metal chair he was all too familiar with. He didn't understand why they needed to use the chair on him when he hadn't done anything wrong, but he didn't question it.

His mask was removed, and he was pushed back into the chair, metal clamps springing around his arms. A black mouth guard was pushed into his mouth as the machine whirred to life. He was too out of it to be afraid as the machine circled downwards.

Before he registered what the hell was happening, he let out a bloodcurdling scream. Electricity sparked through his mind and he trembled as his mind was fried once again. His metal hand whirred and clicked as he continued to scream. It seemed to last hours, but after a few minutes, the machine shut off, circling upwards and away from his face.

The frost from his eyelashes had defrosted and his face was wet with water and sweat. He breathed deeply, his eyes filled with pain as Karpov flipped open his trusty red book.

"Желание. Ржавый. Семнадцать."

Longing. Rusted. Seventeen.

Karpov said and the Winter Soldier's bottom lip trembled, his head jerking to this side as if he got slapped in the face.

"Рассвет. Печь. Девять."

Daybreak. Furnace. Nine.

He continued and the Winter Soldier's metal arm whirred and clicked, his fist clenching and unclenching.

"Добросердечный. Возвращение на родину. Один. Товарный вагон."

Benign. Homecoming. One. Freight car.

Karpov finished, shutting the book and placing it back onto the metal table it had been sitting on. The Winter Soldier breathed heavily, but he didn't speak.

"Доброе утро, солдат."

Good morning soldier.

Karpov said and the Winter Soldier stiffened before looking at him blankly.