Chapter 10


There was no bright and welcoming shaft of daylight caressing over her paled face; she felt no sense of contentment warming over her pounding her heart.

Everything had been abject to numbness that rippled through her bones, pulsating tremors of pain mixed with the feverish chills that had ran rapid in her blood.

She felt dead in sleep, and yet she was aware of the droning masculine voice humming in her ears.

Dread unraveled in her veins, emotions were chipped away from the desperation luring her back to a conscious state. She dared herself to open her eyes. Instead she felt the deep-seated ache tense in between her dark eyebrows, and the unsavory taste of metallic was slithering down the dry walls of her throat. It only grew worse as she shifted her tiny frame against the cold steel penetrating through her spine.

The fogginess of delirium began to lift and she groaned, feeling a touch of someone's gloved hand run over her bare and blemished flesh of her shoulder. Although she tried to react, her mind was still hadn't caught the concept of reality, with the return of her detesting imprisonment. Trembling, eyelashes unsealed against her cheeks and met the dimming grayness of unnatural light. She trembled against the cold steel, fingers curled over her wrists and leather straps bounded her to the table. Heart pounding, she lifted her head up slightly and glanced room the room.

The torture chamber was large, murky water leaked from a contortion of pipes above the lit area, and elevated tables were vacant and chairs with lingering horrors of inhumane punishment. She had been restrained on an operating table. The steel was tarnished with smears of blood, and the circular light hanging inches above her body flickered when she managed to open her chilled lips and whimpered out a faint cry as fear encompassed over her. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, but she struggled to protest when she brown eyes saw a clear sack of serum attached to a metal pole near the right side of the table.

"Come now, little one there is no reason to have fear. It hurts for a short time." The monotonous and sadistic voice echoed in her pulsing ears; she blinked and stared at a man in a white coat lifting medical tubing off the cart.

"You will get use to feeling pain. You will become numb to these sensations. Your body is going to accept it once we're done purifying your blood."

The girl felt the stirrings, red flags were going up in her mind as the length of the tube clutched in his white latex hands stretched and snapped. As in response, she jerked against the straps, breath was growing erratic and feverish sweat escaped from her pores. Her skin changed into a hue of ghostly white as she felt all the blood drain from her cheeks and locked her watery dark eyes on the needle.

"No..." She mustered up a strangled plea voice fading, shaking her head. "I don't want this..."

"The fear will pass. There will be no long term damage. Just perfection." a calming voice lulled her to turn head her head and threw the unwelcome presence a tiny, vicious growl, reacting to the tone as she felt the coldness of his words crawl over her tightening bones. She blinked and stared at a man dressed in business suit of gray with ginger colored hair. His voice hardened with wrinkles and his dark blue eyes displayed no empathy. To her young mind he was a monster.

A demon.

The director simply leaned his tall stature against the door, he moved in nonchalant pace towards the table, regal steps filled with purpose. He stood at her left side, and gently placed his large hand through her chopped strands of brown hair. She tried to surpass a chill that shot through the ridges of her spine when his fingers brushed coldness over her neck.

"You are doing fairly well, little girl, I have become impressed by you." he crooned in a light parental tone, soothing the tension bubbling in her veins; he knew how to calm the weak and manipulate his victims before the blood transfusions.

The director kept his grayish-blue eyes steady on her despondent gaze of caramel, and then he nodded curtly at the doctor to dab her arm with a cotton swab drenched with alcohol. The older man followed his orders, methodically, and applied the cold swab to the skin of the area where the intravenous would become inserted. When the skin had been coated with alcohol, he prepared the catheter for insertion.

Her head whipped backwards against the table a hard glare of caramel overcame her face. Her lips broke and a small whimper managed to crack through the heated barriers of her throat. She glanced at the intravenous drip and the tubes hanging to her side. "No," she slurred, grinding her teeth in confusion and distress, her heart rate was increasing and skin growing colder. The middle-aged doctor placed his hand on her chest, pinning her against the table as he made a slit in her left hand, pierced through the strong veins and attached the tube to the catheter.

The director stood beside the table and rested his palm atop of her forehead. A slow smile developed over his lips as he watched her drift with heaviness glaring in her brown eyes. She convulsed against the eruption of pain consuming her body, the serum dissolving her humanity with every ounce of it that pumped into her.

"Rest Avora," he whispered in a fatherly tone. "It will all be over soon."

Standing in the guarded cell, the Winter Soldier felt the anger claw in his veins as he settled his unnerved blue eyes on the tanned operative standing in the doorway of his enclosed cell. He didn't move an inch. He couldn't escape from the wrathful glare of dark brown eyes burying into his skull the moment their gazes locked. They refused to break eye contact.

He clenched his jaw hard, tensing as his face became obscured with resentment and disgust. He became absent from emotions, silently calculating his next engagement of attack.

His vacant eyes roamed over Rumlow's medium size and bulky frame, pin-pointing the weak spots that were exposed to his eye level. Olden scars from his past, fractured bones underneath his Kevlar and black leather arm. He knew all his faults. He knew Rumlow thought of he was a loyal lap dog because of his corrupted mind. The operative thought the Winter Soldier was indifferent, spoiled and defiant. That was a cover to hide his true morals. He wasn't a normal man.

His life was never a thought in the minds of his superiors. He created on an operating table, trained under the guidance of Armin Zola and Baron Zemo. His blood was cleansed with the serum and marred arm replaced by alloy plated limb that attached to his nerves and functioned as weapon during combat assaults. At one time he hated it. He wanted to rip the metal arm out of the socket, but after injections and mindless tortures he disowned himself from humanity and respected his commanders and followed orders.

The love he observed during missions was just a sense, not a feeling that he carried into his heart. He had no heart.

His mind and emotions were programmed not to feel, his mind alerted to harness the control of all emotions and froze his own heart. Zola created a weapon-an ultimate assassin to purge the disease from the world. The Winter Soldier's future had already been planned out since the day he came out of the ice. He was the equalizer of HYDRA's new order.

He was opposite symbol of Captain America. The red star painted on his left bicep represented blood. He had been trained to kill anyone who dared to stand in his way. It had always been necessary to rake away lives that were meaningless in his cold eyes. Innocent, weak and infer. Those types of people were targets-not humans or souls. In his inhumane glare they were already dead.

Stepping closer, Rumlow smugly smirked at him and kept his stance less hostile. His face was dark and twisted, creating the illusion of sadistic madness. For a long second he kept his stare evenly on the Winter Soldier. He spoke with a hiss of spite, "I have to admit that brat is very beautiful." he taunted, rubbing his lips. "I think when she's all done screaming I might play with her."

There was flash of black and gleaming silver in the dim shadows of the cell. The Winter Soldier was quick to react, he stalked closer to Rumlow's muscular form leaned against the wall. His metal plated twisted and contorted into a solid and unbreakable mass and thrusted his hand outward, grabbing the operative by the scruff of his neck and hoisted him inches off the floor.

Rumlow's dark eyes widen as he tried to claw at the bionic shoulder, but the Winter Soldier was merciless to the silent pleas of release. He squeezed his cold fingers over the other man's neck, moving the veins under skin and then spun him violently into the air.

Rumlow landed hard on his face, skin touched the cement as squishing noise followed. He rolled onto his back, grasping for breath with black splotches consuming his bleary vision. His upper lip was split from the impact, and blood dripped over his stubble covered jaw. He weakly tried to life himself up, but every bone locked when he felt the icy glare of the asset over him. He applied pressure onto his flank, holding his hand at the spot, and gritting his teeth as he lifted his hazed eyes to meet the lethal glower of the Winter Soldier.

"She won't survive." he spat out blood onto the floor. He still wanted to play the antagonist. "The brat's little body can only take so much pain."

Roaring out his rage, the Winter Soldier bit into his tongue, his blood sizzled and the urge to kill the arrogant mercenary was becoming unrestrained. He knew that his intimation methods were becoming invasive. He needed to unleash his anger and show no mercy. Instead of using his guns and knives, he used his body to wound the operative. He wanted Rumlow to feel his wrath and butcher him for the poisonous words he spoke towards Avora. His friend. His mission."I make you feel pain." he seethed, his voice harsh and vicious. "I will break your body." he gritted, his face morphed into expression of dangerous animal.

He stomped his boots close with encroaching steps towards Rumlow. Then, he paused for a second, looked down with darken stare, waited for his opponent to move under his shadow, and without a warning he raised his boot high, turning his leg into the position of a straight roundhouse kick. He chanced himself a glare to Rumlow's pleading brown eyes, but he didn't care. He was protecting Avora. With a fierce and abrasive growl erupting from the back of his throat, he kicked and missed Rumlow's skull by an inch, his boot just grazed over the spiked raven hair. He lowered his foot, and hunched his shoulders into a crouching stance. 'If you ever talk about her like that..." he breathed out lucid fire, "I will fill you up with lead."

Rumlow spat a gob of blood onto his boot, indignantly. "You better start pulling trigger now, soldier, because she is about to know what real pain really feels like..."

The Winter Soldier's blue eyes enlarged and shifted to the doorway. He clenched his metal hand into a trembling fist. He drew out sharp seething breaths with his jaw tightening.

Ire was brewing, red clouded out his eyes like as if blood dripped over his pupils, simmering beneath the surface. It was seeping out of his muscles, warming his skin with feverish heat as he raged across the floor.

Releasing a deep and wolfish growl, he rammed his fist through the wall, breaking the cement; it shattered into tiny shards on the floor, exploding and showering over Rumlow's face. He pulled his hand out, leaving a huge hole in the wall.

"Avora!" he screamed in livid rage, heart thumping with erratic beats and eyes welled with tears. He twisted around and stared angrily at the 9 mm attached to Rumlow's side hostler. Without rational thought, he became overwhelmed by a flood of emotions and lifted the operative up with one arm; disarming him and throwing his body into the wall.

The Winter Soldier checked the barrel, and held it into a tight clutch. Waves of carnage crashed over his heart as he paced to the door and headed to the direction of a child screaming out for him.

He followed her distressed cries.