Chapter 11
Focusing on the mission, it was always the one thought that consumed his disciplined mind; there were no alternatives to substitute choice and warring impulse that ravaged through his body.
He followed orders, obeyed the words the machines and high volts of agonizing torture had programmed into his brain. He became numb, and always felt the transfiguration of his morality harden into steel, recreated to serve one purpose-subornation.
After torturous operations, and dissecting the marred and broken bones of his left arm, the Winter Soldier remained silent for seventy years, never unleashing his defiance; afraid to feel the blow of death surge into his frigid veins.
In truth, he knew that he served a fate worse than death; his soul imprisoned into a weapon made of human flesh and alloy plating. He was a machine that switched on for a short period of usage, and then placed back into frozen storage for the next mission.
Inside the barriers of the Winter Soldier, the man who he once had known himself to have been, wanted to feel warmth, instead of coldness, and to take someone's hand without breaking their wrist. Avora, his only friend that he avowed to protect, she was his light out of the icy labyrinth, his freedom against the shackles that bounded to his sabotaged heart.
Making his way through the compound, in fervent strides, the Winter Soldier stalked in hushed and systematical steps down the darkened corridor of the compound. His piercing eyes gleamed in the thick shadows, revealing the swirls of molten blue behind steams of matted, dark chestnut. He froze in his ghostly steps, calculating his next plan of invasive attack.
Tension was flowing in the air, and the stench of fear hovered around him. He could smell the sweat pouring out of the sentinels guarding the steel bars of the 'subornation room' and he acutely listened to the rapid pulses of their blood, watching their regal stances change with uneasy balance.
He waited with patience as a hunter, crouching down on to his armored knees, shoulder blades tightened underneath his garb of restricting leather, and his metal hand gripped over the cement. The game of risk wasn't an option, not when Avora's life was in the clutches of HYDRA's control. He had to be efficient and quick with his assault, and not allow himself to let his guard down, and take out everyone that stood in his way.
Inhaling a deep breath, the Winter Soldier leveled his luminous blue eyes at the door, inwardly cringing as the screaming protests of his friend invaded his ears. His heart dropped into the pit of his stomach, blood ran cold as he barred his teeth, and seethed out a rumbling growl that chortled up raw walls of scratchy throat.
His muscles began to constrict with abrasive thralls of pain. His vision darkened, turning everything into hues of blood red, threatening to engulf him with livid blindness of pure and merciless rage.
'Avora,' His unspoken words etched over his heart, and he pulled out his knife from a left pouch at his hip, gripping the handle firmly, as the blade twirled with a slow movement of his fingers. Thoughts of staring at her mutilated body strapped to the chair plagued his mind, distracting and consuming in him with dread folding over his jostling bones.
The hardness of anguish ripped through the steams of his soul that made him feel sick. Quickly, he straightened to his full, intimating height, sucking back another gulp of air, and then advanced closer to doors. Anger and fear pervaded over his menacing face, darkening his blue eyes into slate, causing his muscles to coil with burning sense of remorse.
Advancing in slow and methodical steps, he became abruptly interrupted by Rollins standing inches from the door, with a semi-automatic held in his taunt gloved hands.
He knew his comrade and teammate; he knew the weak points and the areas of battle scars. It was all too easy for him, taking down the American operative, Rumlow's partner, and loyal shadow was the first strategy of his attack. His fleshed hand curled into a fist, and intense glare focused intently on the other man's armored torso.
"You're not permitted to enter this area, asset, it's off limits." Rollins discharged out in a gruff voice, cracking his unshaven jaw and glaring downward at the Winter Soldier. He squinted against the dark, dimly lit corridor.
Rollins felt his thinned lips tightened into a firm grimace of disgust and arrogance, and then the powerful urge to take the master assassin was becoming unrestrained to control.
"Return and wait for further instruction. That's an order." he grumbled, withholding his strides as the heart shattering screams amplified around them, intense.
The Winter Soldier knew that he had to seize the moment, listening to Avora's painful howls of torment drove him to the edge. He felt his blood pumping faster, waves of feverish heat lapped over his skin and the metallic flavor of blood consumed his throat. Instinctively, he positioned his body into an attacking stance, his legs parted and the knife flipped in the stale air, intimating the operative.
"I'm not going anywhere," he hissed, his lips twitched with irritation. Livid resentment sharpened his dark pupils like diamonds made of black ice, and his fleshed hand curled into a tight fist, and he felt his fingernails dig into the softness of his palm as the bones of his knuckles cracked and snapped.
"Oh, I know that look all too well, Soldier." Rollins chuckled tartly, dropping his gun to the gun, a loud clang echoed after the metal hit the floor. He twisted his thick neck, a few cracks and he was muscles locked, his pipe like arms raised and fists readied. "Do you want to do dance, old man?" he spat, missing the assassin's right boot. "If you want to see your little friend, then you're going to have to go through me..."
"Fine by me," the Winter Soldier barked at him, feeling anger surge in his veins, bubbling in his gut. He bent his knees, right arm jutted outward, while his metal arm was a fraction of inch to his torso, the tip of the serrated blade was pointing downward, threatening to twist with the fast movement of his hand.
He waited for a few seconds, giving Rollins a chance, a small chance of a quick counter attack. Once he found his opening, he lunged at the towering operative, slashing the knife close to the man's scruffy face, barely slicing his slick jaw. His right flipped, grabbing Rollin's thigh, and squeezed pressure, making the muscle burn under his strength.
Rollins thrashed wildly, jabbing his elbow into the Winter Soldier's hip, but the metal hand clasped over his wrist, bending it upward, the blade shadowing over his lips. "You can't save her. It's too late...She belongs to HYDRA." he yelped out, feeling the circulation in his leg become defeated by a tingling feeling of numbness.
"She is now our little pet to abuse...a worthless pup. If you kill me then she will experience more pain, and that brat will become a lifeless husk and have no damn memory of you. Either way, she will be harmed. Those screams you're hearing, well, that's just the beginning. We both know what comes next."
He pressed his finger over the red star, "It won't be long now until she's on the operating table..." Rollins jeered, smirking at the blank expression shrouded over the assassin's darkened face, relishing the damage of heart ache that was clearly held in the other man's blue eyes.
Gnashing his teeth, the Winter Soldier clamped his jaw hard, feeling his gums burn as he seethed out vicious drove his blade into Rollin's left thigh, ripping open the flesh as it dragged and sliced through leather and skin. He wanted to see the muscle of HYDRA's band of loyal soldiers bleed out his words. "You're lying..." he roared, breath shot out of his lungs, and his face paled into a unhealthy white.
Then, the Winter Soldier heard the horrific sound of medical saw switching on, and his heart ceased to beat and plummeted to the floor.
It was all too familiar.
Breath grew erratic, and pulled the knife out of Rollin's leg, and he stomped his boots to the door, leaving the operative to attend to his deep, bloody wound. Halting at the door, he brought his ear close to the steel, and tuned in the cries of the child harboring him to engage his rescue mission.
"You go in there...My men will fire." Rollin's warned, limping with one hand pressed on his injured leg. "Can you risk that?"
"Yes," He answered, without hesitation, and barricaded his senses from the wafting smell of spilled blood. Her blood.
His pulse elevated, the sharp clenched of his jaw fastened into a hard set of flesh, and eyes watered as he unleashed a scream, ripping the air out of his lungs. It happened so fast, flashes of red followed the pounding of his skull. He used his metal fist like a battering-ram, punching through the steel, and the circuitry and alloy chrome of his arm constricted into a solid mass as he penetrated the door, ripping it off the hinges.
With a feral eruption of a deafening and crackling roar; he violently tossed the steel into the other direction and accessed the room in heavy, dangerous strides.
Shifting his hardened blue eyes; ignoring the weapons aimed at him, the Soldier came to a halt when he stared at Avora strapped to the medical table with rubber tubing attached to both wrists. Her beautiful face was growing pale with every ounce that taken out of her. They were draining her.
"AVORA!" he screamed, pure horror folded over his face. His glistening eyes leveled to the tears rolling down her blemished cheeks.
He saw the circular bladed saw plugged in, near a pair medical scissors, and a couple of different sized syringes filled with unknown substance he couldn't comprehend. His chest rattled, he was breathless, and felt the unbearable urge to spew out bile. "YOU'RE KILLING HER!"
"Stand down, soldier."
He whipped his head around, dark tresses lashed over his eyes and face contorted into a beastly glower. His chest heaved, and animosity submerged out of his veins. He was slowly entering a killing rampage, his eyes moved over the operatives and assistants.
Calculating, he threw the blood stained knife into one man's throat, slicing the vein, as the target staggered backwards, holding his neck, and choking on his breath. However, the other armed agents had him marked, and safety locks clicked aback.
Undaunted, the Winter Soldier took a step forward, locking his intense blue eyes at the director standing next to the table. His lips morphed into a scowl, and metal hand pointed at the clear sack of blood wired to an EKG machine. They were performing a blood transfusion. He saw it happen a few years back, with another agent, but never a young child. He had to stop it. "Free her...Hook me up instead..." he swallowed down his plea, smoldering tears filmed over his eyes. His drumming heart was breaking into pieces as he listened to her pulse decrease in levels. "Don't let her die."
The director smirked coldly back at him, stroking his fingers through Avora's chopped brown locks. "I'm surprised with your resilience to the programming. I thought we made the alterations of your mind to feel nothing, but I guess we made a small error." He caressed the girl's face with a fatherly touch, and sighed calmly, "We have no intention of killing her, but perfecting this life into the new face of the new world order. You see, sometimes when the world falls into ruin, you have to tear the old foundations down and start rebuilding with the smallest of stones."
The Winter Soldier furrowed his eyebrows; he choked out a sob and narrowed his eyes at Avora.
"Avora is no ordinary stray, she is our salvation and carries the blood of our supreme leader." he smiled contently, wiping the tears off her cheeks. Then, he revealed the hidden truth, "This girl carries the bloodline of Red Skull...His granddaughter...The sole heir of HYDRA."
All color from his flushed skin drained when the shocking revelation slashed against his heart. His knees wobbled, balance unsteady and he crashed to his knees, and felt everything dissolve around him.
The orphaned child he saved from bitterness of the cold was now a treasured memory; he knew within the coming hours, she would surrender her humanity fully to HYDRA...A emotionless vessel to fulfill her grandfather's reckoning of inhumane crimes and destruction.
He lowered his head, and listened to her weakened voice carry thorough out the room as she repeated the words the director whispered into her ear.
"...Hail...Hail HYDRA."