I woke up to the sound of men arguing. I could feel the cold, damp floor below me. When I opened my eyes, it took a minute for them to adjust to the darkness that surrounded me. The cell I was in, if you could even call it that, was almost completely shrouded in darkness. There was a small opening at the top though, and minimal light shone through.
"She's Tony Stark's sister, you fucking durak." I heard a man speak in a Russian accent before I heard a thump and a cry of pain come from another man.
That's right. Sokovia. I was in Sokovia. Our commander had sent us to a small church. Our mission was to secure the Winter Soldier, but we had failed. I couldn't leave any survivors behind.
We had begun our mission with eight troops. By the time we had left the church, nothing remained standing. We only had four troops when we retreated. But we were too late to draw back.
I remembered the voice of one of my troops, yelling out, "Grenade!" before I threw myself to the ground. I remembered the feeling of the shrapnel piercing the flesh around my thigh, making it difficult for me to maneuver myself so I could check my squad for any survivors. I also remembered the pair of black boots that came into my line of vision as I was checking the last man for any sign of a heartbeat, and staring into the barrel of a gun before I was knocked out.
I groaned as I tried to sit up from the hard ground, my back aching in protest. I could hear the men speaking again. "You don't think they'll be searching for her high and low, sooka?" I could only understand half of their conversations, by brain was too tired to decipher the Russian.
I could hear the other man speaking, now. "She has some kind of ability, sir. She was able to take out our men before they could even get their guns up. Some of them were even in hiding!"
As I finally maneuvered myself into a sitting position, I brought my hand to my head, feeling at the stinging area behind my ear. I could feel the warm, sticky blood. I had been hit by the shrapnel in more than one area.
As I remembered the shrapnel, I tried to shift my leg, only to be greeted by a searing pain. I gasped and shifted my leg back to it's original position. The shrapnel was still in my leg, albeit broken off so that it wasn't protruding anymore.
I looked around for something, anything that I could cover my leg with if I were to remove it, but the cell was empty save for myself. I quickly removed my jacket, inhaling sharply as the cold hit my shoulders and my leg shifted involuntarily. I only had a tank top on underneath my jacket, it had been too hot to wear anything else, and now I was regretting that decision.
I tucked the jacket beneath my knee before situating it so that it was below the part of my leg with the shrapnel in it. As I reached for the metal lodged in my leg, I took a deep breath to prepare myself. It didn't help, though. I yanked it from my leg, letting out a shout of pain and throwing it to the side before tying my jacket around the wound, trying to stop the blood flowing from it. That seemed to catch the attention of the men shouting at each other.
I heard the loud, heavy footsteps as they made their way down the darkened corridor, and I couldn't make out their faces when the stopped in front of the old, rusted bars that held me in the small space. The larger one, whom had been yelling at the other, laughed as he saw how I had removed the shrapnel.
"She's got guts," he said, his Russian accent thick, "I'll give her that much." The other didn't say anything but laughed under his breath. The man reached behind his back, pulling out a small radio and speaking into it. "Zaklyuchennyy bodrstvuyet." (The prisoner is awake).
Another voice responded, and the man turned to the soldier behind him, barking orders before pulling out a key ring and opening the door to my cell. As he approached me, I stiffened. He yanked me from the floor by my arm, and I couldn't help but groan at the pain that shot through my leg at the rough movements.
"Keep quiet and answer any questions we have, and we might just let you live long enough to see your brother again." He spat the words out, forcing my hands into a pair of silver cuffs and yanking me through the door of the cell, heading down the corridor.
I refused to answer. Our Sargent Major Allen had already warned me that this may happen, and I knew what I was facing. It seemed as though they knew I was prepared, though. They wouldn't be taking it easy on me.
I was pushed into a new room, this one only had a chair and a large tub of water. I knew what was going to happen. The large man locked the door behind me before speaking again. "The doctor will be with you soon, Ms. Stark." He laughed, the sound itself giving me chills because of how dark and evil it sounded.
"It's not Stark," I said, mustering up as much sarcasm as I could, just to spite him, "Nice guess, though." My response only made him laugh again, and I decided to take a seat on the floor, knowing I was going to despise the chair within minutes of my arrival.
I only waited for around ten minutes before I heard more footsteps coming down the hallway. I closed my eyes and rested my head on the wall behind me. When they entered the room, one was wearing a lab coat. The other, however, was wearing all black. One of his arms, though, was sheathed in metal. It was the same man who had pointed the gun at me as I checked my soldiers for any survivors. His arm wasn't just sheathed in metal, it was metal.
