Surprise (:

- PART THREE-

- INSTINCT -

Chapter Twenty-Four
✭

Pierce didn't understand until he, too, turned around. "What the hell —"

He did a double-take at the sight of the Winter Soldier, lurking in the background. Pierce threw up his hands and said, "I thought I told you to stay back!"

The Winter Soldier blinked at him, silent. Only the gleam of his eyes could be seen in the darkness.

Then there was me, who barely registered any of this. For a few long seconds, I could only stand there, frozen, my brain racing but unable to react — trying to decide between running and fighting, fleeing or protecting Alexander Pierce, who just stood there, calm as could be.

In the face of the man who killed his best friend.

The man who was staring straight at me.

Then Pierce's last words finally hit me, and something clicked. I didn't understand what he said, what he meant, not then — not with the panic racing in my blood. But somewhere, someplace in my brain finally pieced together that this was wrong, that my life was my first priority.

So I ran.

I shoved past Pierce and took off down the hall to my left, away from Pierce and the Winter Soldier.

I probably should've gotten my shield first.

But it had been resting against the bed behind me, too far away, and by the time I even thought of it, I had already placed both Pierce and the Winter Soldier between me and it.

Couldn't go back.

"What are you waiting for?" Pierce's voice echoed behind me. "Go get her! You started this mess, fix it!"

I almost didn't believe it was him. The impatience and anger sounded like it came from a different man entirely.

This is wrong. This is completely wrong.

I tried to remember where the exit was — where any exit was. But I couldn't remember. Pierce's home was huge; a mansion, really, with different modules interconnected by a series of hallways. Somehow, I managed to make it to the kitchen. From there, it was only a straight shot to the front door.

I didn't see the body before I tripped on it.

Looking down, I barely restrained a cry of shock. Renata. Her blood, pooling on the floor. Staining my socks. Still warm.

The answer to the gunshot.

Swallowing my rising nausea, I stumbled and kept going. I turned down the next hall.

The Winter Soldier stood there, waiting for me.

I gasped, skidding to a stop. Only I had taken my shoes off, leaving me with only socks. Socks on smooth marble floors. I had so much forward momentum that when I tried to stop, my feet slipped out right from underneath me, and I hit the floor hard.

Landing hard on my hip, I was already scrambling backwards, trying to get back onto my feet. I didn't even see the Winter Soldier lunging for me.

A metal hand snatched my ankle. I fell before I could even get up. My chest landed on the steps leading up to the kitchen, and the small table set nearby. Just close enough to reach.

Straining, I snapped my arm out, grabbed the leg of a chair, and swung back. Wild, unfocused, just throwing a big piece of furniture behind me. The Winter Soldier ducked, and the chair shattered across his shoulders. He released me and I kept going.

I wished desperately that I had any of my weapons on me. Shield, gun, knife. All of it was left behind.

Behind the table is one of those wide windows. Large enough for a grown man to jump through. Seeing my escape, I grabbed another chair and threw it at the glass.

Only to watch the chair bounce away, glass unharmed.

Bewildered, but too terrified to sit and wonder, I decided to risk it and threw myself at the glass, too, thinking it was a fluke. A few cuts wouldn't matter if I could get out of this alive.

But the glass didn't give. I bounced right back as if I'd hit a solid wall.

I crashed into the table behind me, both sides of me now aching from the impact. My headache had increased tenfold.

"Remember what I said about state-of-the-art security?" Pierce called out, appearing down the hall from which I'd came from. He seemed deeply amused by my failed attempts. "Shatterproof glass. Strong enough to block a rocket. And a super soldier."

Gritting my teeth, I spun around, facing the Winter Soldier. For some reason, he didn't come after me immediately, despite the amount of time I'd wasted just trying to break the window. His eyes flicked to Pierce, then back to me.

When he looked at Pierce again, possibly confused by something, I dove for the kitchen counter.

The sudden move kicked the Winter Soldier into action, and he brought up his arm just in time to block the butcher knife I'd whipped out of the stand. It clanged off and I swung again, but he caught the offending hand, twisting my wrist until it hurt too much to hang on. I tried to resist, but the metal grip didn't yield, absolutely crushing. I hissed, letting the knife clatter to the floor.

At the same time, my other hand was reaching for another weapon.

Just as the Winter Soldier yanked my wrist back up, I brought the cast iron pan down on his head. His metal arm too busy holding mine, the Winter Soldier didn't see it coming, much less block it.

The blow connected with a satisfying clang and it set the Winter Soldier off-kilter. He grunted and let go, and I swung again.

Blam!

A bullet knocked it out of my hands.

I whirled around, alarmed. Pierce, still standing there, only with a gun in his hand. Raised towards me. "You're making this a lot harder than it has to be, Amelia."

For a split second, I thought I was done for. Pierce had me dead to rights with that gun on my chest. I had nothing, no shield to protect me, nothing to hide behind.

Until the Winter Soldier recovered and stood up again, completely oblivious as he stepped right in front of me.

He reached for my shoulder, or my throat — didn't matter because he never touched me. I was just a little bit faster. Leaning back on the counter, I braced my back against it as I lifted up both legs and slammed my feet into his chest.

The Winter Soldier fell back — honestly it wasn't as strong as I'd hoped. He caught himself before he could fall off the edge of the steps, not even knocked off his feet. But it startled Pierce, who jumped back, which was enough for me. With his aim thrown off, I darted left. A bullet ricocheted off the wall as I pivoted on my heel and tore down the hall.

A beeline for the door. I was there.

I was almost there.

As soon as it appeared, my heart soared. I had a head start, I could make it, I just had to get this damn door unlocked first —

My hands shook trying to unlatch the door, undo three locks that must have been part of the whole "state-of-the-art security" thing. In the back of my mind, I knew it was taking too long. But I couldn't smash my way through the door any more than I could through a window. It was thick and heavy, and without my shield I wasn't getting through that with time I didn't have.

Still, I managed it. Under ten seconds, and the knob turned in my hand. The door swung open. Cold air greeted my face.

And then two hands slammed onto my shoulders and yanked me backwards.

Thrown through the air, I had no control over where I landed. All I knew was that behind me was a kind of living room, couches and chairs. But it was the glass coffee table that broke my fall.

Glass cut into my back and arms, slicing through cloth like butter. My back hit the table stand underneath, bruising. Head snapped against the floor beneath. Stars flashed in front of my eyes, and I was slow to recover.

Ears ringing, I just barely made out the bang as the front door was slammed shut again. Freedom, denied. So close…

I didn't have time to get up before a fist grabbed me by the hair and lifted me up by the head. My vision was still blurry — I couldn't see much, but I knew by the strength and the presence above me was the Winter Soldier. I had one hand trying to pull his off, while the other scanned the floor for a weapon.

Tiny glass slivers cut into my hand, and my blood smeared against the pristine white floor. My hand caught against a shard large enough to grab onto. My fingers clenched.

I slammed the jagged glass upwards, as close as I could figure the Winter Soldier to be.

It connected, but not as well as I would've liked. A good bodily stab would've been preferably, but I only grazed him on the side. The arm, maybe. I knew I cut into flesh when I heard the exhale, the only indication of pain the Winter Soldier would give.

It also wasn't enough to let me go, but enough to loosen the grip. I was clenching the glass so hard it eventually broke in my hand, useless. Throwing the pieces away, I grabbed the offending arm, shifting my weight upwards, the pressure away from my head. Using it as leverage, I lifted myself back onto my feet. Not quite standing, but enough to deliver a good kick to the side of his knee.

I wasn't sure if my bare foot would've done much harm past the armor he was wearing, but his knee gave way just a tad. His weight shifted and I finally twisted out of his grip, delivering my knee to his sternum at the same time.

It knocked him back a few inches but the Winter Soldier was hardly dazed. In an attempt to establish dominance, and maybe work out a few issues of my own, I followed up that kick with a jab of my left fist — which he caught with his other hand, yanking my arm away and nearly throwing my head over heels.

I gasped, managing to roll through the fall, but the Winter Soldier still didn't let go of my arm. I ended up on my front, but with my arm horribly twisted behind me.

The pain was immense. The muscles in my left arm screamed at me, and I could barely move my hand through the tension. Tears sprain into my eyes as a hand was braced against my back, preventing me from retracting my arm.

My options were limited now. Either I caved, or I thought of an exit fast, because I couldn't last long like this.

Growing desperate, I squeezed my eyes shut, sucked in the pain, and spun to the left, free fist swinging.

It was not a good move. In fact, it made my arm hurt even worse. But it was the only direction I could go in that wouldn't dislocate my shoulder entirely. It also pulled away from the bracing grip.

And, with a stroke of luck, my fist connected directly with the Winter Soldier's jaw.

There was enough force behind it, from all the fear and anger I was feeling, that I actually managed to knock him back. The Winter Soldier's head snapped away, and he recoiled sharply. My knuckles bled from impact.

I wrenched away, and his fingers only caught against the bracelet. The thin string broke almost immediately. Bottle caps scattered across the kitchen floor.

But my arm was free, hanging by my side.

As I scrambled away, feet slipping across broken glass, leaving blood footprints in my wake — it occurred to me that the Winter Soldier hadn't actually struck me. Hadn't tried to hurt me… well, aside from throwing me into a table. But I knew the way he fought. If I were some random punk he wanted to kill, I'd be dead four times over now.

But he wasn't trying to kill me, wasn't he? Pierce didn't order him to kill me.

That truth hit me hard. Pierce didn't order that. Pierce controls the Winter Soldier.

Which meant it wasn't the Chairman who controlled the Winter Soldier. He had nothing to do with Fury, or Diana. This is why he wanted to know.

Pierce had been in control this entire time.

I was a fool.

And still, my mind drew back to the first question. Why wasn't the Winter Soldier giving as much as he took? He was keeping up just fine, but I was not as hurt right now as I expected to be.

Until I made a mistake.

I had just turned away, sharp and fast, when the Winter Soldier lunged again. He didn't catch me. But he did catch the compass hanging from my neck.

The cord went taut, catching against my throat. I choked, falling backwards, trying to grab the improvised garrote, wriggle my way out, anything, but it was already too tight.

Now behind me, the Winter Soldier twisted the cord, pulling it tighter and drawing me closer. Throwing myself away from it only had me gasping. He was using the cord, forcing me back and down. If I hit my knees, I was done for. Every effort I made in my struggle was just to keep stranding, to keep fighting. And I was losing.

I couldn't breathe. The stars were in my eyes again.

"Прекратите драться," the Winter Soldier said — a demand, a whisper. Just loud enough for me to hear.

Stop fighting.

I grit my teeth, wishing I had the air to respond boldly. "I-if you insist!"

With no other choice, I decided to follow the motion, instead of resisting it. In a last ditch attempt to get some air, I threw myself backwards, into the Winter Soldier.

We both went down with a mighty crash.

The cord snapped in the fall. I hit the floor, gasping and coughing, clutching at my freed throat. I tried to get back up again, tried to get out of there while I still could, but my body was wracked with sudden coughing and hacking, the blood rushing to my head. I was dizzy as soon as I tried to rise to my knees, and fell back again, the world spinning around me.

Oh, god, this is it, I thought.

Head against the floor, I watched as the room danced. A few inches in front of me, the compass spun across the floor, rolling in increasingly smaller circles before finally drumming to a stop.

And I watched, still dazed, a metal hand picked it up.

My eyes followed the action, up as the Winter Soldier, kneeling next to me, took the compass. His eyebrows furrowed quizzically, left cheek bruised. He wasn't wearing a mask, I realized belatedly. This entire time, his face had been completely open. Only now I finally registered it, looking up at the man as he decided to look over this compass, rather than finish the job.

What's he doing?

I didn't get it, until it hit me. It wasn't just the Winter Soldier. It was Bucky Barnes. He knew that compass. He'd seen it before.

Unable to help myself, I gasped, "Recognize it?"

The Winter Soldier's eyes flicked to me, cold and still. He studied me silently for a long moment.

"No." He finally said, and dropped the compass.

I caught it in midair. "You should," and slammed my fist — compass inside — into his face.

My blow caught against his nose, my fingers hardened by the metal clutched in my palm. The Winter Soldier grunted, and it gave me enough time to rise to a stand — my knees quivered beneath me, still shaky with dizziness. My footing was halting, unbalanced. The world still swirled around me. My feet and hands bled from walking across glass and bottle caps.

My back hit the wall behind me. Nowhere to go.

The Winter Soldier retaliated almost immediately with a blow of his own; a metal fist landed into the wall a split-second after I ducked.

Still braced against the wall, using it for support as I regained my bearings, I jabbed out again, nailing the Winter Soldier under his outstretched arm. But my hand only hit metal. I hissed in pain, caught by surprise. I had no idea the metal prosthetic extended so far into his torso.

Great. Now my hand was really bleeding.

Deciding not to waste the opportunity, I struck again immediately, aiming a little lower. This time I hit flesh.

At the same time, the Winter Soldier yanked down a photo frame from overhead and smashed it down on me. I barely had time to raise my arm in defense before the glass hit. My left arm, already weak from the previous turnabout, almost gave out under the blow. I stumbled back, wincing.

My leg bumped into a side table, the lamp on top of it.

As the Winter Soldier advanced, I picked up the lamp and threw it. Instead of running away, however, I used it as a distraction. Darted to the right, coming in for another feint.

And then I saw the knife sticking out of his belt.

Seeing an opportunity, I grabbed for it, but the Winter Soldier must have been anticipating it. Not a second before I had grabbed it before he swung his arm and knocked away my hand — the knife spinning away into the air, far out of reach.

My eyes followed its arc, watching another hope dashed away — when I should've been paying attention to the Winter Soldier's other fist as it came for my face.

I never saw it coming. A strike across the face, sending me back across the floor.

I went down again, falling against a couch, head spinning. This dizziness was going to be the end of me, I just knew it.

But I didn't stop. I still had my eyes on the knife. It lied on the floor across the room, just beyond the couch. If I could make it —

The Winter Soldier coming up behind me. Raising my foot, I kicked him back and lunged forward, fighting against the dizziness as I half-crawled, half-stumbled for the one thing I could use to protect myself with. I came across the twin to the lamp and threw that behind me, too. Buying myself as much precious time as I could.

And it worked.

I climbed over the end of the couch, dropped to the floor, and lunged for the knife.

My hand wrapped around it just as the Winter Soldier grabbed my ankle and dragged me back.

I spun around on the floor, lashing out. The Winter Soldier took the blow on his metal arm, blade clashing uselessly. His other hand still had a hold of me, too far away to touch. So I used my forward momentum and launched myself at him. The best defense was a good offense.

My aim was a little off. The dizziness was making it hard to judge distances. I aimed for his jugular but the knife hit the air just beyond that, grazing only his skin. The Winter Soldier caught me, hands clamping around my torso, before lifting me up and slamming me down, away from him.

I hit a chair and knocked it over. I ended up rolling across the floor, knife still in my hand — compass in the other. I wasn't letting go of that if I could help it.

When I got to my feet, the Winter Soldier was directly across from me. A knife in his own hand — I didn't see where he got it from, but I had no doubt he had more in the arsenal that was his own body.

In the dark room, I was hit with a feeling of deja vu. This was just like in the Crucible.

Only this time, I wasn't here to learn.

My breath was heaving. I didn't know how much I had left in me. I was already exhausted from two days of running. A full meal and a few hours of fitful sleep hadn't done me as much good as I wished.

Trapped in a house with my enemy, facing off against the man who trained me, I knew I didn't have a lot of hope.

But I'd rather die than surrender.

The Winter Soldier waited for me. Maybe he thought I'd make the first move.

I did.

Lunging. A flash of steel. He parried the first blow and blocked the second. A fist followed up a missed slash and I took a blow to the ribcage. It left me winded but I was still standing.

Stab, thrust, feint. Moves I'd learned. Moves he'd taught me. I made them with confident ease, but too desperate. The Winter Soldier deflected them with practiced efficiency. I'd say there was a grace to it, but he wasn't trying to be good. It wasn't an artist performing, but a machine functioning.

The best I managed were a few nicks. Nothing punishing, nothing that the Winter Soldier could probably feel. We went back and forth — I used an ash tray as a distraction. He swiped me onto a couch.

I rolled off and used a cushion as a hasty shield to catch a falling blow.

The knife tore it to shreds, almost taking my hand with it before the Winter Soldier ripped it out of my hands.

As I tried to retaliate, I slipped on the floor. At first, I didn't understand, how could I slip, why was it wet — until I looked down and realized the floor was covered in traces of my blood. The glass had cut my feet to ribbons.

I didn't notice the pain until then and my knees nearly collapsed beneath me. But I grit my teeth and fought on, deflecting a blow before I earned a puncture wound to my shoulder.

The Winter Soldier knocked me back with another shove of his arm. I ended up pinned between him and the wall — knife grinding against knife, just under our chins. He was so much stronger than me, it was like pushing back against a mountain. My own breath was being crushed out of me. Even as my own blade inched closer to my neck, I wondered if I'd suffocate first.

Our faces were inches from each other. Even still, the Winter Soldier was so contained, so disciplined that I couldn't even feel his breath. Then there was me, gasping for air as I tried to stay alive.

Through the inevitability of our position, I ended up staring too long at his face. And it hit me, even in the dead eyes, the stoic exertion, that it was the same face as the one I saw in the museum. It was Bucky Barnes.

My father.

Something caved in my chest, then. The last stronghold, the last piece of myself willing to fight, crumbling. If he had just been another fallen hero trying to kill me, I might've felt differently about it.

But not my father. Not the man my mother had been in love with once, a long, long time ago.

This couldn't be him. I didn't want it to be.

How could it be?

My eyes burned, my chest aching and tightening with a sudden level of fear and vulnerability I didn't expect. I never knew this man, I never knew what he was like. I never had a real father who was there for me.

But it wasn't horror I felt.

It was despair. It was betrayal.

My own father was trying to kill me.

A strange sound left my throat then. A weak cry, like a wounded animal. A child abandoned.

"Why you?" I whispered, my voice breaking, wincing in pain as I felt a rib crack. "Why did it have to be you?"

It wasn't even directed at him. More at the universe, for this cruel twist of fate.

The rise of emotions overwhelmed me, breaking my resolve. The Winter Soldier blinked, his eyes scanning up and down my face, as if realizing I was watching him, too. For a split second, I thought I saw confusion. Maybe even uncertainty.

It was gone a moment later.

My arm gave way. Knees buckled, I dropped just in time for the knife to embed in the wall behind me. I slipped away, gasping for breath, chest aching, coughing and trying to push away the dizziness as it returned.

The Winter Soldier just kept going. Ripped his knife out of the wall, advanced. I tried to scramble away, choking on air and tears.

I saw his hand reaching for me and panicked. I tried to duck out of the way, but I slipped again. This time hit my head. I saw the metal edge of the side table just before it struck my temple.

The world went black.

It came back fast, but not fast enough. By the time I regained consciousness, there was a metal arm around my throat, the point of a knife just under my chin.

I tried to fight back but found my arms pinned. I seized, struggling, but the Winter Soldier didn't budge. He had me in an unbreakable headlock. My knife was missing. The compass, still clutched in my hand, the metal cutting into my skin.

Across from me, on the half ruined couch, sat Alexander Pierce.

He had been entirely absent until now. I wasn't entirely clear on how much time had passed, but Pierce just sat there, checking the clip as if he had all the time in the world. As if shooting people were just another thing on his list of objectives.

Although he looked the same, wore the same clothes as earlier this evening, he appeared entirely different now. The way he carried himself was straighter, yet also more relaxed. A sly, subtle confidence that wasn't there before.

"Awake now?" he asked, not glancing up at me. "Good. You're no use to me unconscious. Or damaged."

He cast this last word with a hard look at the Winter Soldier — whose face I couldn't see. But I felt a slight catch of his breath, the halt of his chest. It was unexpected, and I was so disoriented that I didn't know how to interpret it. Was that… fear? Trepidation?

The Winter Soldier was never afraid. He wasn't afraid of anything. Or anyone.

Or so I thought.

"You've led quite the adventure, Amelia," Pierce continued, clicking his tongue, at once both disapproving and impressed. Unflinchingly cold in his tone, in the cool expression of his eyes as he regarded me. "But I'm afraid that's coming to an end now. You had your chance at life. I wish I could say things could've been different — but this is, in fact, inevitable. It's what you were designed for, after all. To let you be anything else would be a poor waste of resources."

I just stared at him, uncomprehending. Partly because I was still too rattled to make sense of the words, and partly because it sounded so wrong coming from what I had first believed to be a kind old man, just trying to do his best. But now alll that remained was the unflappable air. Everything else, replaced by a different nature. He had hidden it behind feigned humbleness, the character of an average man placed in an unaverage life. A snake in the grass pretending to be salt of the earth.

I trembled, my knees aching, bleeding against shattered glass. I gave one last tug before sagging. It was no use. The Winter Soldier was too strong. I didn't have enough fight in me left. Something had broken me, inside and out.

It all happened so fast — less than five minutes ago I'd just woken from a nightmare. And now I was really in one.

The urge to cry returned with a force, but I held back as long as I could. I didn't want to cry. Not in the face of someone who couldn't care less.

"W-why?" I asked, my voice strained and raspy, barely a whisper. Confused, bereft, forsaken.

"Why? Why am I doing this?" Alexander Pierce asked, frowning at me as he slipped the magazine back into the gun. I thought he might aim it at me, but instead he set it on the floor between us. Almost like a taunt. A weapon to stop him, just inches from my reach. "Do you want the philosophical reason, or the practical one? All organizations, even ones like ours, have noble goals. But for me, personally, the reason why I'm here? Because I'm the only one willing to do it. There are terrible things in this world, Amelia. Things that are out of control for the common people. Things they're helpless to fight against. And then there's people like me, who have the power, the ability to stop it. Why shouldn't I?

"Some would consider it my duty. I know I do, and I won't take fault for my methods. Others can complain all they want, but sometimes you have to get your hands dirty in the mud trying to build something better. I want that better world, Amelia. I know it's possible. Project Insight will help make it happen. You will help make it happen. All these deaths, all these murders, they're for a reason. Everyone has this terrible idea that HYDRA only spreads chaos and destruction — when our ideals are the exact opposite. Maintaining order is the only way to fix this world. Absolute power and control. And sometimes that means taking away freedom to keep everyone safe."

My eyes widened. "H-HYDRA? What — how? It's not dead?"

"Oh, you didn't know?" Pierce asked, sounding mildly surprised. Then, from his robe, he pulled out the blue notebook. Diane's notebook. "I guess Hawkins didn't find out as much as I thought. Shame. She might've been of use to us."

With that, he tossed the book aside, casting it into the darkness.

"HYDRA never died, dear. Sure, the war ended, but you can't kill an idea once its been sown. We survived, in pieces, first, seeding ourselves into the very organization that wanted to destroy us. And over time, we grew — until SHIELD was no longer SHIELD anymore. Until they became the very thing they wanted to destroy." Pierce smiled a rueful smile. "Ironic, isn't it?"

"So, then, the KGB —?"

"Still exists." Pierce waved his hand dismissively. "Consider them a small section of our organization. Lev has high hopes for his little group, but it's too… Soviet for my taste. HYDRA was founded on the ideals of purity and homeland. I don't intend to change that any time soon. All you have to do is keep them busy, make them think they're important, and they'll do what they're told. You were my idea, after all, but I let Lev take the lead on everything else. He still thinks you're his creation. What a fool."

He just chuckled to himself, shaking his head as if it were all just a joke. "I will give him the boy, though, he was clever enough to pull that one off. But I'll have that matter fixed soon enough."

The world shifted beneath my feet, and I was starting to feel nauseous. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be happening. All this time, I was worried about the Chairman, when the real threat was right in front of me. "So, everything else you said to me, that was all a lie?"

"No, not everything," Pierce said. "I may have held back a few times, led you to come to your own conclusions, but no, I never lied to you, Amelia. I wouldn't do that. I was telling the truth that no one knows you're here. In fact, no one will even know you're missing at all. It'll be like you simply vanished into thin air. Much like the last time, only no faked deaths this time."

"You're insane."

"Ah, typical," Pierce just scoffed, not impressed in the slightest. "Maybe one day you'll understand. But I'm not going to make you. To be quite honest, I don't really care. It's not your job to understand."

My heart started to race at the implication. "A-and why are you telling me all of this?"

"Because you won't remember." Pierce said, his eyes meeting mine again, the amusement slipping from his face. "Бунтарь."

Buntar. Rebel.

I seized against the chokehold, eyes widening. No.

"Колумбия." Kolumbiya.

Horror, panic, filled me anew. Briefly, I forgot about my exhaustion, struggling against the Winter Soldier's grip, trying to get my feet under me, trying to free my hands — just something that could help stop this.

"Стремящийся". Eager.

"No!" Now, now the tears started to spill. "P-please no!"

It was happening. It was happening again. And I couldn't get away. I couldn't close my ears. I couldn't do anything.

"Девяносто." Ninety.

That's when I remembered the knife at my throat.

"Баюкать." Cradled.

I didn't know what else to do. Anything was better than being their soldier. I was too panicked, too scared to think of anything else, anything less permanent.

But I pressed my neck against the knife anyway.

"Mарионетка" Marionette.

The sharp edge burned against my skin and for a sharp, almost blissful second, I felt blood drawn.

"Четыре." Four.

But the Winter Soldier jerked his hand back, alarmed. He tossed the blade away, and for a brief second I could breathe normally again, warm blood dripping down my neck. I fought again, writhing in my newfound freedom of movement, but it was already limited, and the hand returned just as quick. Metal fingers gripped my chin, forcing me to be still.

"Начало." Threshold.

Still, I struggled, hoping the Winter Soldier would squeeze tighter, trying to choke myself in the wild, reckless attempt to render myself unconscious before the protocol was finished.

I could feel my arms start to weaken. Starting to resist me.

"Золото." Gold.

The world, growing thin.

The Winter Soldier struggled to keep me still. I couldn't breathe anymore. Stars flashed in front of my eyes.

"Завод." Factory.

By the time he was finished, my world faded to black. The stars vanished. All fighting ceased. The last tears dripping off cheeks. The room was quiet, filled only with the sound of breathing.

Pierce tilted his head slightly, raising one eyebrow. "Are you ready to comply?"

No response.

He leaned forward, repeating in a harder tone. "Are you ready to comply, soldier?"

With no more resistance, the Winter Soldier let go. No reaction. Body sagging on knees. Head hanging from shoulders, hair falling limp.

Then, slowly, rising to my feet again. Face, blank. Eyes set forward, open, but unseeing.

Opening the mouth, a dull sound coming out.

"Ready to comply."