She's laying down on her cold and stiff cot. It has yet to soften with use as she's just recently been moved up here to the cells with less security. This is all she knows. Train mostly all day. Shower with cold water. Return to her cell. Eat. Sleep. Repeat. Sometimes she'd skip a day for them to stick some more needles in her or to mess with her collar.
Her fingers lift from her side and she traces her finger over the collar. She's had one ever since she was born, she believes. She remembers that anytime she'd cry after training when she was younger or anytime she'd fail or mess up, they'd shock her with it.
At first, they only needed a little zap to force her to stop crying or acting out, but as she kept getting shocked more and more for things she didn't understand, she built up a tolerance. When she was in her thirteenth year they had removed her collar for the first time in a decade.
She remembers feeling great relief and confusion. Her neck had felt weird without the constant pressure. They had always had it on a little tight and she had gotten used to the restricted air flow, so when her collar was removed for a total of seventeen minutes and twenty-seven seconds-she counted-she had finally felt what it was like to take in a full deep breath. She had nearly coughed at the strain on her throat but didn't dare to in fear of them sticking it back on her.
They hadn't ended up sticking that particular collar on her. They had given her a new one. The old one was pure metal with some leather around it. It was also pretty thick and one part of it had a big box on it where the electric shocks came from. The metal would make her throat sting as it shocked her.
The new collar, she finds, is much more painful, but thankfully, it is much smaller. If she had to guess, it's approximately a centimeter and a half thick. The other one had been over an inch thick. The collar is a pure dark silver color and the inside has thin prongs that stick into her neck and cause even more pain when she's shocked. She estimates that the prongs are no longer than three millimeters in length.
She removes her hand from the purely metal collar, not daring to touch the small thicker section on it. She knows that part is where the shocks come from and one time she had touched it, only for it to shock her so bad that her finger had burns on it. She's learned her lesson.
She jumps off the cot and stands near the metal door as the alert sirens begin to ring. She's positioned with her feet shoulder-width apart and her hands by her side as she waits for the Commander to come to tell her her orders.
They've drilled it into her that should the sirens to ring, that she must wait until someone with authority over her tells her what to do. Her face is blank though she's secretly annoyed at the constant blaring and the flashing lights flooding through her door window.
She blinks her eyes at the light and shrugs her shoulders gingerly, aware of the still tender lacerations running up and down her back and shoulders. Like she had thought, she was punished for the one soldier that managed to get a hit on her. She hadn't forgotten what the Commander and the scientists would do to her when she failed, but she sure as hell didn't expect them to whip her over twenty times and then stab her with a needle. They'd usually just shock her a few times, mostly until she was brought to her knees and nearly crying out in pain-she rarely does that.
She stands there, tense, as the lights begin to flicker. She can hear a commotion upstairs and her guard had run as soon as there was a large bang from upstairs, but she still stands there, waiting for her orders.
She's not necessarily pleased with being ordered away and doing everything they say, but it's all she knows. She doesn't like these people. She knows that they cause others pain as she's seen other soldiers being experimented on. None of them made it.
She listens to them and barely cares to ask for the finer details on her missions. They're usually to take out enemies of Hydra. They told her that those people were bad people. That they were spreading evil. She believes them and thus she didn't bat an eye when she drove her dagger in their throats. Her specialty is daggers, not guns. That's not to say she doesn't know how to use the weapons, she's just been trained in using blades and her body instead of a firearm.
Her heart spikes a bit as the shouts of the Hydra agents on the upper levels begin to quiet. She knows what that means but she can't bring herself to care. These people like to hurt her or antagonize her and then she gets punished when she retaliates. She doesn't like them, but she listens to them anyway. They have kept her alive over the past twenty-four years and therefore she must show gratitude towards them. That doesn't mean she's loyal to them, however. She just listens to her orders and completes them. She doesn't care.
She slinks backward into the shadows of her cell, knowing that whoever's attacking the base will come down here for her. She knows that the Commander would have escaped by now and she suspects that an agent will be sent down here to retrieve her. This has happened before. She's used to it.
She presses herself to the cold concrete wall, barely flinching as the cuts on her back open and warm blood begins to pour down her back. They'll close within the next ten minutes or so and she can't really feel the pain-she's been conditioned not to-though they ache.
She can hear guns going off and she has a feeling nearly every single bullet hits their mark. She doesn't bother counting the bullets. She doesn't care about the casualties. She just has to wait until one of her handles come down to retrieve her.
She tenses as the door at the end of the hall is slammed open. She knows it's not one of her handlers. They have keys and they wouldn't have had to break the door open. These people are not Hydra, she thinks to herself, her eyes narrowed.
She keeps her eyes trained at the small barred window at her door. She can hear the people, two males by the deep baritone of their voices, and she can hear them breaking through every single metal door. She presses closer into the shadows near her cot in the corner, knowing that they'll open her cell door soon enough. As they get closer, she can hear some of their conversation.
"...think she's here?" she hears one of the men ask in English. She's suddenly glad that she had been forced to learn many different languages, English being one of them. She tilts her head to the side at the seriousness in his voice, but she can detect another emotion in his voice. She can't tell what it is, however.
"Don't know, punk," the other man with a slightly higher pitch says. It's still deep, though not as smooth as the other man's. It's rough and it sounds like he doesn't speak much. "Just gotta find out before we blow the place up." She blinks in shock. They're going to blow the base up?
She frowns. While she may not like the place. In fact, she hates it, but it's been her home for years. She was moved here when she was young, though she doesn't remember her age. She knows it was under her tenth year, though.
She prepares herself for a fight, as she's sure is going to happen, as the cell door across from her cell is slammed open. All of these cells are empty as all of the testing subjects have been killed and the scientists haven't been able to get new ones for a few months. She stares up as the one man with the smooth voice slams her door open.
She doubts he can see her as there was little light in the hallway, to begin with, and she's hidden in the darkest place of her cell. She holds still as her breath is caught in her throat. Please don't look at me.
The man, from what she can see in the dimmed lights, is dressed in an odd red, white, and blue tactile uniform. He's got a helmet covering the majority of his face with an A at the top, and a shield, which she's pretty sure he used to break the lock on her door, which has red and white rings and a white start in the center with blue surrounding it.
She eyes up his uniform. She can see two guns in his belt, though she suspects that he usually doesn't bother with using them. His suit has stripes on the stomach area with the rest being a dark blue. He's got a white star in the center of his chest as well.
He squints through and looks over her cell, eyes lingering on the wall with her blood on it, before shaking his head. "Clear," he mutters to the man behind him. She barely gets a glimpse at the man behind him before her eyes widen. He's got a mask covering the bottom part of his face and his uniform is black. It looks like it's made of the same material her own mission uniforms. But that's not what made her eyes widen. It's his metal arm. The Winter Soldier. Why is he here? He's left Hydra.
The man in the obviously American influenced suit steps back, preparing to take out the door on the cell right next to hers. The Soldier doesn't step back, though, as he tilts his head to the side. She swallows and ignores the urge to breathe. Shit.
"Steve..." the soldier says, his eyes directed at her. She knows that he can't exactly see her, though he somehow knows she's here. She doesn't waste a second and launches herself off the ground and into him. He had foolishly stepped into the cell to get a better look, but that made him closer her.
He falls back in surprise, but he easily rolls them over and she ignores the pain in her back. She has a feeling the back of her white shirt is crimson and sticky. She hears a surprised sound escape the two soldiers as she kicks him, knocking the Soldier into the other man-Steve. She brings herself to her feet within half a second and stares at them with cold dead eyes, positioning herself into a fighting form.
Steve immediately puts his hands up in what she assumes is meant to be a comforting gesture, but all it does is make her eyes narrow on him and her body tense further. The two men share a glance before turning back to her tense form. She doesn't try to fight them or run, and that confuses her.
She eyes up the Soldier with suspicion and he's doing the same, a pistol aimed at her. Steve hits his arm, gives him a look, and he lowers the weapon but doesn't put it away completely. He's smart, she observes. Making sure he can easily pull the weapon on me just in case.
They stand there in tense silence as the firefight continues upstairs. She can hear muffled voices coming from both of their comms. "Hey, there," Steve says in a settling calm voice. "We're not here to hurt you." She frowns and stares at them with suspicion. They always want to hurt her, not that she'd show she's in pain. "Why don't you come with us?" She blinks at him slowly and the Soldier snorts.
She hesitates a few moments as she thinks it over. She doesn't like Hydra, but they've been so gracious as to keep her alive. They are all she knows. And she doesn't know these men. She shakes her head slowly, not backing out of her fighting stance. She can tell that the two men noticed her hesitance.
"You don't have to be here anymore," Steve mutters lowly, taking a slow step forward, his hands still held open to show her that he's no harm. "You don't have to do what they say. We won't hurt you. They won't hurt you." She can sense no lies in his voice and that makes her conflicted as she loosens just a bit. She swallows and ignores the urge to pull at her collar. It doesn't do anything, anyway. Their eyes trail over her form before stopping at her feet. She knows that they're seeing. The blood that's dripping from her back.
"We can heal you," the Soldier says, causing her to tense up again. She doesn't want to be near any men with lab coats and he seems to understand that. "No scientists to experiment on you. I promise." She keeps her face blank but she can feel a foreign emotion bubble up in her. Hope?
"Will you come with us?" Steve says, looking at her with bright blue eyes. She stares into his eyes for a few moments, conflicted. Will Hydra find me? They'll hurt me again. But on the other hand... I can finally leave. I don't have to follow his orders anymore. "Come with us," he implores.
She eases out of her fighting stance but keeps herself ready for a fight. She sees the Soldier lower his gun all the way, but she keeps herself tense. Steve squints his eyes as he listens to his comm and she can tell that the Soldier hears as well. He presses the side of his comm, keeping an eye on her. She ignores the urge to wince at the burning pain in her back. She can feel the wounds begin to close up again, though.
"She's agreed to come with us..." he says, tilting his head to the side as he listens again. "No, we didn't threaten her... No, Tony, she won't kill anyone. Just stay away from her and you'll be fine. I have a feeling she's uncomfortable around people." You bet I am, she thinks to herself, but her face is still held neutral. He nods his head once. "We'll be right up after we check the rest of the cells."
"No one else is here," she says without thinking, immediately tensing as she realized that she spoke out of turn and without permission. Her voice is airy and scratchy and cracked once with disuse. Both men immediately look at her and she swallows, her face paling slightly.
The blonde nods at her but the Soldier keeps staring at her as Steve relays the message. "You will not be punished for speaking without permission," he says lowly, easily reading her. She stands tense and waits for the punishment anyway. "You are allowed to speak." She doesn't hear a lie in his voice and she settles slightly at the allowance. He's not the Commander, but he is of high authority. She nods her head in a sharp nod before Steve turns his gaze back to the Soldier.
"They've rigged up the place and have taken the living agents and scientists into custody," he says, his voice serious again. She's familiar with this tone of voice, so she doesn't turn away from it. He locks eyes with the Soldier and then her. "Let's go."