He didn't know me. The sheer disgust and affrontedness etched onto his features made my intestines knot and my heart palpitate. The one soul I had come to count as a companion didn't recall me. 

"Natalia!" Karpov's going exploded like a shotgun, his bullet voice ricocheting off the enclosed walls. 

I departed and was quick to correct my stance; I wiped my face of expression and held parade rest. I could feel my heart pounding within my ribcage and my pulse throbbing in my skull. Every breath rasped a little too loud and my unperfected facade was craggy.

The man, the one who had been so kind to me, now had his eyes trained sternly on me; reprimanding me for my disobedience in the form of affection.

“Now we can get down to business...”  Karpov growled and started to prowl like a tiger, eyes ravenously raging and the tap of his shoes on the floor resembling the rapping of claws and paws. “We need you in the field, Natalia. It has come to light that the Americans have crafted a plan to arm nuclear weapons... We need you to steal them. And Natalia, since you're falling behind in your combat, your partner is the most lethal combatant we have. Perhaps Winter here can teach you a thing or two about fighting. See, ordinarily we'd have you killed, but it seems that you're doing that yourself in fights. And your resilience is an admirable quality.” Karpov pivoted and trained his mahogany insincere eyes on my comrade. “Winter, since you seem to be struggling with obedience and linguistics, we've paired you with our most articulate cadet, her aptitude of mind far supersedes that of her age group. It’s a simple retrieval mission, no room for mistakes, do you think you can handle it?”

Karpov cocked his head jauntily and his brazen gaze managed to seep through the tiers of my soul and send a shiver skating across my skin. I could feel my pulse ringing like alarm bells installed into my body, and my mouth went bone dry; in my panic I frivolously nodded. The Winter Soldier was next to receive the silent chastising stare, he was far less paced with his assent.

The Winter Soldier was my guardian angel; entrenched in his shadow, he guided me through the facility with light taps to either hip to indicate the direction wordlessly. His gaze was unflinching, but somehow his vigilant tendencies served to soothe rather than agitate: had it been anyone else, I would’ve felt vulnerable.

We reached what resembled a submarine hatch and a metal hand ghosted over my head. There was a clunk as his mechanical metal digits curled like talons around the pressure seal ring. He untwisted it with one powerful yank of the hand. The wheel whirled, then rattled violently as it unlocked.

The door opened, and I was ushered over the threshold into the recesses of darkness. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I had tasted fresh air. It was revitalising, refreshing, resurrecting. I was reinvigorated from head to toe; the icy taste heady in my lungs. My body had been deprived, my mind dulled by the lack of exposure to the outside world. For the first time in ages, I felt alive. Life was breathed back into my body, my skin was ventilated, my blood was replenished with oxygen.

We emerged in a forest of alpines, bushy green needles suspended in spiny bunches above. Craggy tree trunks reared from the ground like gravestones and seemed to spear the night sky. A light smattering of snow was blanketing the ground like a wine woven sheet of silk, dulcet white, pure and innocent. The earthy, damp aroma of the landscape was laid thick in my nostrils and sat on my tongue in the most hallucinogenic of scents.

The sky, I’d never before paid such attention to just how far it spanned. It was the great beyond, the arms of the galaxy spread out in pinpricks of light, piercing the night with their rebellious enclaves of light in a realm of darkness. Clouds, they were painted across the jet black satin sky above, thin wisps of gossamer, unleashing an army of balletic snowflakes.

Freedom. It was mine. It was all around me. It occurred to me for the first time that there was something beyond the facility I had been haunting for-

I’d lost time. I’d lost track of... The days... The weeks, months... God only knew there had been years. Old memories, woven into my brain, surfaced like torpedoes once chained to the ocean bed. When I was born... There were omissions: gaping holes torn into my mind. I desperately tried to scrape together scraps to make sense of the empty depositories of my brain.

Firm hands were planted on my back and I stumbled forwards through the fluffy white snow, tripping over stones and roots of the ancient trees cloaked by the slushy forest carpet. Out back, waiting for my comrade and I was an armoured vehicle, matt black, muscular with chunky tires to negotiate Siberian terrain.

“Winter, I can trust you to look after the child? Though her fighting skills are yet to be honed, Tsarina is a relic and her aptitude of the mind will take her far. Make sure she fares well. It would be a shame to see her eliminated...” Karpov alarmingly threatened, hands buried deep in his pockets; rocking back and forth in his unscuffed dewed leather shoes.

“Yes, sir,” my guardian promised.

The ice cold soldier helped me up into the raised vehicle before clambering in on the other side. I hauled the heavy door closed and sat twiddling my thumbs in the seat alongside my silent companion.

“Draw your seatbelt,” The Winter Soldier instructed monotonously.

I didn’t have the nerve to debate and wordlessly strapped myself in; the clicking of the clip ringing out in the car. Karpov loitered at the tunnel at which we exited the facility; assuring we got away safely without any qualms.

The engine was like the purr of a panther, the quiver of the petrol valves, the rumble of the gasoline and the pumping of the pistons rattling the beast of a vehicle. The blinding headlights flicked on, full beams carving a hollow of light out of the erroneous darkness.

I felt the wheels spin on the ground, kicking up a hurricane of dirt; running a ditch into the sludgy forest floor before we were propelled forwards. I didn’t know what to expect of the half robotic, half animalistic mess of a man seated next to me; but I remember noting that his driving was particularly erratic.

I felt a spark of relief electrify me as he headed through the beaten path – a clearing – where a cathedral of slanted windswept trees hung over like a roof. I felt unchained. For so long I had been confined to what felt like a kennel. In all honesty, though I feared being honesty even in the walls my own skull, they’d never treated me well. I suffered from an anxious disposition most of the team, paranoid that eyes were constantly on me, testing me and scrutinising my performance. I was malnourished, my stomach used to growl at me with complaint, my own body giving up whilst my mind didn’t. I was suspended in almost constant pain; hyper-extended muscles, broken fingers and toes and knotted muscles. Not to mention the rare beatings.

Growing up, I was told to isolate myself from emotions. They told us we’d be punished if we allowed emotions to cloud our judgement. It was another offence, a sign of weakness. It was thought. Thought they feared. They drummed their indoctrination into us through lashes of the whip, hand-to-cheek and screamed words, stocking our minds with poisonous propaganda to stop it straying. See, the issue is, you can’t stop people thinking. And it’s hard to tell what someone is thinking. And emotion is us bleeding through, developing beyond the programming. Freedom of thought was inevitable, but they tried to set parameters for expanse. They tried to limit tangents of thought before the doubt crept in. But the moment we reached the border of the facility, that doubt kicked it. At first it was only a flicker, like a spark from a fire, a crackle. But a spark is the catalyst for a bonfire.

The gates were surpassed, the iron gates parting like the red sea, the swirls of barbed wire atop no longer looking daunting or un-breachable. We weren’t challenged by checkpoints or outposts, it seemed easy.

“You speak English, kid?” The American Soviet finally spoke as he traversed the gritty road.

“They want us to learn it to defeat the capitalists in America...” I recited like a poisoned youth, tainted with their regime. If you had doubts about the Soviet supremacy, to vocalise those internalised rebellious feelings would have your tongue carved out. Or your heart. And I was almost certain his loyalties sat with the motherland. “A bit.”

“Good, because my Russian is... subpar. How old’re you, kid?” He questioned.

“Twelve, sir,” I spoke, precisely.

“Right...” He mulled it over with a sniff. “’M not, sir, by the way. That’s just Karpov,” he gave me an amused snarky smirk. “Gee, you don’t talk much for a kid...” His smirk withered.

“Sorry, sir. I am supposed to speak when spoken to.” I hung my head in shame.

“Please, drop the sir. And speak freely with me. I might look like I’d bite your head off, but I’m not that kinda guy... The arm does a lot for the whole ‘murderer’ look. You’re my mission partner, I’m not your boss and I ain’t gonna hurt you. Even if you were my enemy, I wouldn’t. You’re only a little one...” There was something strangely human about the man; his expression. “If you wanna talk, you ain’t gotta seek permission to do so. Any questions, pop ‘em.”

I made a whiny noise akin to a dog in the back of my throat, the noise dying weakly. My mouth snapped shut and I shook my head.

“Speak up, squirt,” he prompted, giving me a weak smile.

“It’s not appropriate...” I refused to reply, staring out the window at the Siberian landscape.

“Just ask it. I doubt a twelve year old such as y’self has it in you to inappropriate,” he encourage.

“You’re American,” I blurted. “Your voice. It’s American. They tell me it’s American. I’ve never met an American. How come you’re American?” I twiddled my thumbs and cursed my motor-mouth.

I saw his metal fingers clinch on the steering wheel, indenting the steel. He looked like a deer in the headlights as I asked the question; like it was the first time it had occurred to him. He swerved, pulling us off the road. He unstrapped himself in a frenzy and clambered out the car. I remember sitting by as he collapsed onto his knees and vomited up what seemed to be the entirety of his stomach. He had clutched his head, writhed in agony and heaved up wave after wave of bile and sick.

I didn’t speak for the rest of the journey. I’d known I’d done wrong. I didn’t speak until we reached the town.

We were looking for an American; an agent who had infiltrated the country in hopes of retrieving information from a mole within our ranks. He lead me by my hand, both of us disguised as the ordinary humans on the street.

I was seeing people. Ordinary people. People who weren’t like me. People who could choose what they wanted to do. People who lived in the daylight, ate nice food and didn’t train like I did. It all felt like a bit much to comprehend. It had been so long since I’d exercised my free will that I found it hard to comprehend. I was starry eyed, enthralled by every bright coloured sight, tantalising smell and melodic sound. Everything beyond the steel walls was utopian. But I felt alienated. I was a spectator. I wasn’t allowed to interact. I had a mission. I had a set of rules to abide by. But of all the things that caught my eye: a bluebird perched on a snowy roof, daffodils sprouting in the park and the smell of cinnamon coming from a cafe; it was the newspaper stand that lured me like a siren to a sailor. Black and white print.

WAR IS OVER. IS THERE PLACE FOR THE LEAGUE OF NATIONS? WHAT THIS MEANS FOR EUROPE?

And said war wasn’t the only curious thing. It was the date. Nineteen forty-five. I caught my reflection in the window of a cafe, still but a child; chicken legs, rosy cheeks, a button nose and pocket sized. I was born in nineteen twenty. Twenty five years had passed and I was in the first flush of youth. My memory was patchy. Awareness. It dawned on me. Something had gone terribly wrong. I’d lost time; my body hadn’t aged, my mind had. Glimmers of memories scathed me.

The Winter Soldier dragged me by my hand even when my feet had stopped, not showing care for my insubordination.

“Now is not the time for resistance, Natalia,” he hissed to me.

I kept my mouth shut again and played along, but my mind was well and truly ripped from the mission. I replayed the date over and over until my ears were ringing. And at some point in my stupor – trying to do the sums and get a sense-making answer – I was sat down opposite the winter soldier and given a drink.

He’d said something to me. Something about distraction, but I’d been deaf to it. Until he was finally hissing to me across the table and slapping my hand to get my attention.

“He’s there! In the green raincoat. He’d heading to the alley for the exchange. Distract him. Do it! Go! Go now! Before it’s too late! Before the person he meets arrives.”

My feet carried me in a jiffy and I toddled out of the cafe, trying to get myself into the correct headspace. I was so lonely. In the field given the responsibility of handling something I was clueless about. I hadn’t been listening. I hadn’t understood the briefing. As I rounded the corner, I didn’t even have to act. I was so confused, addled by my new discovery that floods of tears was the only natural reaction.

And who can ignore a child crying? It wasn’t polite, or quiet, or honourable. It was blubbering, bawling, hyperventilating and waterfalls of tears.

“Hey?” A voice crooned in a badly faked Russian accent. “Hey, child?” I looked up, eyes wide and glassy. “What’s wrong sweetheart?” He was ignorant enough to approach me, walking into my woven web.

“I’m lost...” I beseeched honestly.

“Lost, sweetie?” He crouched to my level, approaching me, his hands sensitively placed on my shoulders.

As I looked him in the face, seeing the sympathy that I hadn’t seen for so many years, it almost felt like it was Ivan. In a moment of weakness I threw myself at him; burying my face in the crook of my shoulder. A simple stranger, a target. He’d shown me kindness. In a world were everything was hopeless and remorseless, I’d found a singular good spirit.

I’d almost forgotten about the Winter Soldier until I heard a squelch and a gargle. It was a crackle of bones and a sputter. I felt a splattering of warmth on my neck as he choked up blood over my shoulder and then went lifelessly lax atop of me. I fell to the floor, screaming, wriggling to get out from underneath the scarlet gushing body. The winter soldier gunned down the man the target had made an appointment with and all I could do was look on in fear, weighed down. I scrambled away, still sobbing like a lunatic I dashed away down the street, and it the heat of the moment, seeing my last chance to save a shred of the outside world, I grabbed a newspaper as I rushed past the stand.

It was seconds later that I was swept up by the soldier and he pressed he into the next alley.

“Calm it, kid. Calm.” I couldn’t look him in the eye. He was a murderer. He’d killed a man. He did what I couldn’t do. A file was under his arm and blood stained his jeans where the blooded knife in his pocket soaked up the liquid of life. “You did great.” And the praise for the impure deed was the thing that sickened me the most.

A/N - Look what the cat dragged it! Motivation, ideas... A plot that is in a new format after drastically editing the rest of the story fml. The word count is all over the place, but I promise when I have the time I will make up for irregularity in chapter lengths. 

So yeah, little Natasha isn't so little. That serum they injected into her slowed her aging. Also she'd been mindwiped. And wiped about the mindwipes. She's coming to self-awareness, thoughts outside of the regime; questioning authority. And she's decided perhaps she's more emotional than she would like and she doesn't want to do what she does. 

Dedication goes to ThePoisonOfGotham! x