The sensation of waking up from a dark, wintry slumber is like crawling out from the depths of darkness. My senses begin to awaken, slowly bringing me back to life. The air is frigid against my skin. I'm not in the same place. A dim light flickers through the cracks as the world materializes around me. I try to move, to stretch my arms, but a jolt of panic courses through me as I realize that my arms are still tightly strapped in by unforgiving restraints.

          The chamber is devoid of comfort and humanity. The yellow hue lights around me, engulfing me entirely. The walls around me are cracked and damp, the structure crumbling down like a forgotten empire. Years of neglect have led this place to become nothing more than a faint memory to those who knew it. This place resonates with me, faintly remembering the days where I was subject to countless experiments and manipulations. A place where I thought things couldn't get any worse; a place where my humanity died and my soul was stripped from me like it was sacrificed to the devil himself.

          The door hisses open, the cold air sending a shiver down my spine. The sensation is harsh, a reminder that I'm no longer in the cocoon of my eternal slumber. My body feels heavy, the reawakening aspect has always been the hardest to adapt to. I pull at the restraints to free myself, but the cold, metallic exterior of the chair doesn't budge. The more I pull, the tighter they get. They knew who they were dealing with when they brought us here. The voice in my head always speaks the loudest when I'm alone, but yet again, am I really ever alone?

          I strain my ears, listening for sounds of movement or other voices. The silence is deafening, the static in my ears gets louder. The only sounds are the soft hums of machinery in the distance, where I cannot see. I can't shake the feeling that I'm being watched, monitored on every angle of my being. That sensation has become all too familiar, a constant reminder that I am not in control.

Just ahead, I can hear a door opening, the hinges screeching. With a few deep breaths, I pull myself together, knowing that soon, I'll be free from the bounds that hold me. Two figures step into the dimly lit room. My heart races, a mix of apprehension and curiosity coursing through me. I can't see their faces clearly, but I know that this encounter could be the turning point in my journey.

"Red," Pine's voice fills the silence in the dark corridor. "Sorry for the relocation. We need you here, in Siberia."

I stare back at him with an impassive gaze. "Bringing me back to my roots, I see."

          As they draw closer, the low light reveals a man's face. His features are rough with the weight of past experiences, a mix of determination and sorrow. My eyes narrow slightly, assessing him carefully. This man carries his own motives, and I can't afford to undermine him. I don't recognize this man, yet there's something about him that commands attention. His presence alone carries an air of authority, and his piercing gaze holds a depth of experience that speaks volumes.

"Red Ghost, you have created quite a reputation for yourself," the strange man addresses me, intrigued by my presence.

I stare back at him, balling my fist. "And who might you be?"

He offers a slight smile, only revealing a fraction of insight into who he may be. "You can call me Zemo, a friend."

"Zemo. I like that," I compliment the man's name, easing the tensions between us. "What brings you to me?"

He takes a few steps forward, his face lighting up by the yellow hue of the chamber. He looks like a man who's lost everything. His shoulders relax, his gaze filled with curiosity. "An opportunity, Red Ghost. An opportunity to change the course of history."

I raise an eyebrow at him, skeptical. "And how do you plan to do that?"

The smile remains plastered on his features, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "Because Red, we share a common enemy. Those who have taken everything from us."

My defenses remain high, his words rolling around in my head as I clarify them. "And you think I'm the key to your plan?"

He nods, his gaze still locked on mine. A common enemy, huh? That's a new one. "You possess a certain set of skills that can't be ignored. But you've been misguided. I offer you a chance to make those choices align with your true desires."

          I remain silent. His words consume my mind as I try to comprehend them. I've never been one to work well with others, only with Winter, but maybe this time, it will be different. Maybe this time, I rule my mind, my choices, before someone else decides to rule me. Zemo's presence unsettles me, his motives a mystery I'm hesitant to embrace. Yet, beneath the surface, I sense an opportunity to rewrite my narrative. A chance to take control of the chaos that has defined my life. A chance to wield my own future before someone else writes it for me. To make our own choices.

I study him closely, looking for a fault in his composure. "And what do you want in return?"

Zemo's smile remains enigmatic. "Cooperation. An understanding that our goals are aligned."

I take a deep breath, the gravity of his words sinking in. A chance for change, for redemption – it's a tempting proposition. But can I trust him? What if I want to be bound to these chains? No you don't. Don't say that. I like the danger of this profession. The adrenaline. All of it. But I wish to make my own choices on the matter.

"You ask me to believe in your cause," I say, cautiously. "How do I know this isn't some manipulation to allow you to control me?"

His composure doesn't waiver, his confidence showing. "That is up for you to decide. This is an opportunity to allow yourself to make your own decisions. You would be in control with what happens here."

I glance over at Pine. This seems too good to be true. Hydra would never allow me to gain such autonomy without strings attached. The offer tugs at the edges of my consciousness, tempting me with the prospect of liberation from Hydra's grasp. Yet, the price of freedom is never as simple as it appears. Just go with it.

"I'll see you through on this one," I say, my words skeptical. "But don't take my curiosity as blind trust. You have one chance with me."

Satisfaction glints in his eyes. He and Pine step forward to unbound me from the chair that keeps me still. "Let our mutually beneficial partnership commence. I only need you for this."

           I study their faces, seeking any hint of deception or ulterior motives, but I cannot find one. The expectations placed on me weigh on me, but beneath it all, determination slowly seeps through my being. If this partnership is about to begin, it will be on my terms. I am not a pawn, I move at my pace and on my authority. You know best, Red. We always have.

"Understood," I say, my tone measured but stern. "But now, I play my own game. I'll work alongside you, but I have my own expectations for myself. I'll live up to my own expectations. Not yours."

          Walking away from the chair, my strides are purposeful, carrying the weight of my newfound determination. The landscape ahead is uncertain, laced with danger and intrigue, but I walk forward willingly, ready to seize the opportunities that await me. This partnership will test my resolve, challenge my loyalties, and perhaps even alter the course of my destiny. But one thing is certain – I won't be a mere weapon in their hands. I will be a force to reckon with.

"What's my mission?" I ask, putting each of my weapons in their designated place on my person. They were laid out nicely on a table in front of me. How thoughtful!

Zemo's shoulders relax, running his hand through his hair before placing them in his pockets."Help me dismantle the Avengers from the inside out. They aren't expecting you."

***

          In this desolate, wintry location, I see the other super soldiers–my former acquaintances–sit dormant in their chambers. Pine brought me here? When Zemo could've awoken them? With them alone, he could've taken out his enemies–the Avengers–in literal minutes. They are a testament of the horrors, the power in which they could harness. But they have chosen me to create chaos by my lonesome. Zemo's lost opportunity to harness their power infuriates me.

          His refusal to use them gnaws at me, igniting a fire within me. It's a chilling reminder of the power that could be unleashed if only they were awake. They made these life choices themselves. They knew the risks of getting into this business. But this will be their last day. You know that's the only way out. Pine's decision to bring me here was his motive; he knew my awakening would anger me when I found out they remain dormant. A lost cause. Zemo's plan to create chaos and dismantle the Avengers with their assistance would've expedited the process. But it seems as though his motive is not what he says. We murder, he wants to destroy from within. We are not the same.

"Why?" I mutter, frustration laced in my voice. I walked by each chamber, wondering how long they've been here, isolated. Just as we have been. "Why keep them in stasis when they could be beneficial to us?"

My gaze lingers on the sleeping figures, my memories flashing back to the camaraderie we once shared. My comrades and allies are frozen in time, unable to change the world they could have shaped. Why us? Why are we chosen for a battle that is not our own?

Zemo's voice brings me out of my thoughts. "Because, Red, our mission doesn't require their involvement."

Pine chimes in before I can put in my two cents. "Although you may not remember your time with them, your ties to the Avengers are strong. We are depending on you to ignite that fire."

Their words linger through the frigid air. It's a strategic plan of manipulation and their own personal agendas. I just happen to be in the middle of their calculated moves.

"You have the ability to take out your target. Why would you take it?" I retort, annoyance filling every ounce of my being. I start to pace, my eyes looking at all five chambers. Do it. "You're too cautious."

"Their power would be unpredictable. We would have dire consequences. For us and for them," Zemo states, trying to prove his point.

"Consequences? You're afraid of a little chaos?" I question his motives, not agreeing with his inability to get the job done. I am bitter and I'm letting them know that I am. "You're playing it safe. Like they all do. What we do is show them that we are not to be trifled with. Prove that we hold the power."

He raises a brow, not following what I'm saying. "And what do you propose that we do, Red?"

          With a fierce determination, I raise my gun and unleash a barrage of bullets upon the slumbering super soldiers. The chamber echoes with the sound of gunfire, the echoes of my defiance. And as their bodies slump lifelessly, I turn to face Zemo once more, my eyes burning with a newfound intensity. "There. Now, they're no longer a threat. Now they can't be used against us."

Zemo's gaze holds mine, a mixture of surprise and acknowledgment. "Impulsive, but effective," he concedes.

I lower my weapon, putting it back in its holster. A mix of exhilaration and satisfaction coursing through me. "Control comes from asserting dominance, from showing that we won't be manipulated any longer."

Zemo's lips curl into a faint smile. "Perhaps there's more to you than meets the eye, Red."

          As the dust settles from my impulsive act, I feel a spark of defiance that refuses to be extinguished. In this pivotal moment, I've proven that I won't do what is expected of me. I will do what is necessary to keep myself alive. The super soldiers' slumber may have been their last, but it's my awakening – an awakening that sets the stage for a new kind of power and a new kind of control.

***

           A familiar feeling enters into my heart, a calmness that embraces me like a warm blanket. The air feels charged with invisible tensions before I can see it. He's near. A tingling sensation creeps up my spine, sending shockwaves throughout my body. It's a feeling that I've come to recognize after all these years. The Winter Soldier, the ghost of my past, lingers in the back of my mind like a ghostly presence.

Though I cannot explain the uncanny connection that we share, I've always been able to detect when he's near. It's a connection that defies all physical grounds. It's like an invisible thread ties us together, tugging at my senses and alerting me of his presence. It could be a survival instinct, one that Hydra themselves created when creating us. In the distance, I hear footsteps approaching, and by instinct, I step behind one of the chambers, completely isolating myself from the naked eye.

          Zemo retreats, his figure melting into the protection of the thick, steel walls designed to withstand formidable forces. Pine disappears within the darkness of the chamber, leaving me alone in the shadows. Be silent. Be smart. Make your own decision. Gradually, the footsteps get louder with a sense of urgency in every step. They stop abruptly, causing a momentary hush that echoes through the air. They're here.

          I cautiously peer out from my concealed position, straining to catch a glimpse of the individuals who infiltrated the chambers. A glint of light catches my eyes and that's when I see him. Winter. His figure stands tall amidst the dimly lit surroundings, slowly making his way into the room.The familiarity of his presence consumes me, but I hold my ground, waiting for the right moment to make my entrance. He scans the room, eyes moving cautiously, fueled by his own determination. His finger rests on the trigger, waiting for his moment to strike.

"If it's any comfort," Zemo's voice comes across the loud speaker, drawing everyone's attention to him. His face is seen through a window with a yellow hue overhead. "They died in their sleep. The Red Ghost tended to that."

I hold my breath, their awareness of my presence beckons loud. Winter's expression, once filled with determination and focus, now holds a glint of confusion. His gaze darts around the room, trying to pinpoint my location, but like a ghost, I remain hidden in plain sight. He knew we were here. Don't be an idiot.

"The Red Ghost?" The voice of an unnamed man–in a very patriotic suit–fills my ears, laced with his own confusion. "Why would she be here?"

I slowly inch forward, my hand hovering near the grip of my gun in its holster. With every silent step I take, the closer I get towards the source light in the room. And then, as the light illuminates my face, their faces switch from confusion to shock. Recognition dancing on their faces as they see me–the Red Ghost–alive and in the flesh.

Winter's eyes meet mine, a fierce fire meeting a brewing storm. For a brief moment, he registers I'm standing there, but its followed by a cold and guarded expression. "This isn't right. She shouldn't be here."

From afar, Zemo's lips form into a sardonic smile. "Oh, no need for that. She has her own motivation that aligns with my own."

          A pause settles in the air, heavy with unspoken questions and their need to fulfill their own mission. I stare at the three, two of which seem familiar to me, but I am unable to place their faces with any name in the labyrinth of my mind. I know they call themselves the Avengers, but what is their cause? The memory of them tingles in my mind, but I cannot grasp it.

"You killed innocent people in Vienna to bring us here?" Captain Rogers asks, walking up to the window to be face to face with Zemo.

He was the reason for the building exploding. My heart begins to race, a feeling of distaste on my tongue. I knew I was being set up for something bigger than I could imagine. My blood begins to boil, the only thought coming into mind: I'm going to fucking kill Pine. The tensions in the room rise, altering the course of what is to come.

"It brought you here, didn't it?" Zemo says through the glass before he begins to play a video for us. "An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again. But one that crumbles from within?"

The room was cloaked in an eerie stillness as I watched the events unfold on the screen before me. The date, "12/16/1991," glared back at me, a stark reminder of a moment frozen in time, a moment that would define my past. The images that played out were like a dark mosaic of memories and actions that I could never forget.

          The Winter Soldier appeared on the screen, his face etched with a coldness that I had seen often. His movements were precise, efficient, devoid of any emotion as he executed his orders without hesitation. But this time, the stakes were higher. This time, it was personal. And then, the scene shifted, revealing another figure—the Red Ghost. Seeing myself on the screen was like confronting a phantom from my past, a reminder of the darkness that had consumed me. And I enjoyed it. The images captured the truth of my actions, my involvement in a heinous crime that had forever scarred the lives of others.

          As the screen turned black, I felt nothing but satisfaction. Satisfaction washes over me like a warm wave, a feeling of accomplishment for a successful mission. Yet, there was another voice within me, a nagging doubt that whispered in the shadows. It was as if two distinct parts of me were engaged in a silent battle. My eyes meet Winter's, a silent understanding between the two of us, preparing for the worst.

"Did you know it was them?" Tony questions Rogers, his rage filling the silence. "Don't lie to me, Steve."

Steve hesitates, clenching his jaw. He glances between Winter and I. "No, I didn't.. Not then."

          In the corner of my eye, I see Pine slipping through the shadows. There is no room for hesitation. I have my own mission to complete: the death of Dr. Xavier Pine will be on my terms–on my order. Slowly, I take a few steps back from the trio, their attention not focused on me but each other. Pine halts, expecting me to sneak out with him–as this plan has gone south–but he is met with the barrel of my gun.

My fingers wrap around the cold metal of the gun. Pine's betrayal sinks deep into my existence, leaving a sour taste in my mouth. Red begins to flood my vision, my anger coming out to play. He becomes deathly pale, my intentions clear, the rush of adrenaline heightening my senses.

          Time moves slowly. The terror in Pine's eye brings joy as I anticipate his death by gunfire. His eyes widen as I tighten my grip on the trigger. A grim smile takes form on my face, releasing the bullet from my gun. The bullet takes its mark, sending Pine tumbling to the ground as he tries to apply pressure to his jugular.

As he gasps for air, relief floods through me. The weight of his terrible influence lifts from me. His eyes fill with desperation as he chokes out, "Why?" The answer to his question is complex: a history of indoctrination, reputations, and suffering. Giving him the satisfaction of an answer is not representing my reputation.

Chaos breaks out at the sound of gunfire. It is not your battle to fight. I approach the dying doctor, standing over him. A vindictive smile takes form. "You underestimate me. What I'm capable of," I say, breaking free of the hold the disgraced doctor had over me. "You thought I wouldn't kill you, huh?" The coldness laces into my words, detaching myself from our shared history.

He attempts to respond, struggling to catch his breath. His once authoritative presence reduces to nothing more than a faint memory. The weight of his crimes–the torture and manipulations–will stay with him for eternity. As he takes his last breaths, I stand before him, the embodiment of my own agency. Living up to our reputations.

          As Pine's life extinguishes, the air itself seems to tremble over the growing tensions in the atmosphere. I stand tall, knowing that what's ahead won't be an easy ride. A battle roars in the distance, the sounds echoing through the Siberian air. Instinctively, I stride towards battle, each step bringing me closer to my former ally. The shadows seem to dance around me as I move, my senses heightened by the adrenaline coursing through my veins. My knives are within easy reach, their reassuring weight serving as a reminder of the skills I've honed over the years. Yet, it's not just my physical abilities that I rely on now—it's the fire that burns within me.

          The distant sounds of clashing and shouts grow near. The building is nearly alive; the once-desolate chamber is now filled with chaos. Its slumber was awakened to be front row to its next betrayal. How fitting. Following the labyrinth of passageways, my steps come to a halt, preparing myself for an intense battle. But he sees me before I can register it. In the midst of battle, he turns his body towards me, the recognition is immediate.

The clashing of metal on metal surrounds us, but our gaze remains locked. The battleground becomes our backdrop for a moment, the world around us disappearing. Our shared history, camaraderie, the connection. The atmosphere fills with tension, a tribute to the unspoken words between us.

          Our bodies inch inward, preparing for battle, as if drawn together by an invisible force. The grip I have on my weapon tightens, my knuckles turning white as I prepare for the confrontation. In this moment, I wish I didn't have to face him like this. Their cause is not ours, yet here we stand, fighting for it. Once allies, now enemies. We are two sides of a coin, reflections of what we used to be and what we've become.

I stop just ahead of him, my gaze unwavering and locked onto him. Hatred and disappointment engulf me as I see the soldier in front of me. As I think about the past, I am overshadowed by the anger rising within me. My breath slows as I ground myself into the present, anticipating the battle ahead. Trust yourself.

"Princess, you don't have to continue down this path," my former accomplice says, his voice a whisper that echoes in the chaos. "I've seen firsthand what they can do. There's a life beyond Hydra, beyond their control. You showed me that!"

          My mind hesitates, my grip on the blade faltering as his words flood my senses. In that brief moment, my heart clashes with my programmed loyalty, battling for control. The memories of our connection are powerful, and they cast a shadow of doubt over the mission I've been assigned. I know the right thing to do but for a moment I'm paralyzed, my beliefs and emotions in conflict. My training tells me to eliminate threats, but Winter is more than a threat – he's a reminder of the assassin I once was and who I might still be capable of becoming.

"You need to just let me go," I assert, the words a defiant mantra that rises from deep within me. "Whoever you think I am, I am not."

Disappointment crosses his features, a storm brewing within him. He is dancing with the devil, with no intention of leaving without a fight. He's determined to bring out the best in me. All the parts of me that he thinks he knows. But what he doesn't know is that there's nothing "good" left of me. What was lost will remain lost. There's no bringing someone back that doesn't want to be saved. Another tale to my story.

"I CAN'T! You have my heart! My heart beats for you. How can you possibly believe I could ever just let you go?!" His words gush, flooding with anguish and desperation.

         I snap. I lunge at him, giving it my all. The clash of metal against metal is the rhythm of our struggle. The moves are precise. Practiced. I fight fiercely, fueled by loyalty to Hydra and an insatiable need to prove myself. Winter's moves are just as calculated, but there's an undercurrent of something different – a plea for me to remember who I was.

"Shut up!" I scream, a scream of frustration and denial. My fist connects with his jaw, the impact sending shockwaves through my knuckles. I pour every ounce of my anger and confusion into that blow, a desperate attempt to silence the turmoil he's stirred within me. But as his form wavers before me, I realize that his presence alone represents everything I've tried to suppress.

He winces, creating distance between the two of us. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be," he states, gritting his teeth. "I don't want to hurt you."

          The battleground shifts, and I find myself pressed against the edge, a vantage point overlooking the snowy landscape below. As he lunges at me, his metal arm whirling, my instinct takes over, my knife meeting his assault in a clash of sparks. The sparks ignite, illuminating the tensions between us. I twirl my knives in my hands with every attempt at him, every movement fueled by rage. Our fight becomes a dance of steel and fire. Every strike echoes with the history we share, a history that has led us to this.

But exhaustion creeps in, my movements slowing, the weight of my actions catching up to me. I am out of practice. Winter's gaze is intense, searching for something within me that I don't see. In the midst of our battle, he manages to disarm me, leaving me vulnerable.

"Stop fighting me, Avalon! Let me help you," he says, sternly, hand twitching with his gun. With my crossbow nowhere in sight and every weapon I have not in arms reach, I am defenseless.

           I lock eyes with him, emotions swirling between us. Who the hell is Avalon? And then, in a move that surprises me, he raises his gun, aiming it directly at me. It's a split-second decision that he makes with heavy reluctance. He believes that this is the only way to stop me, to keep me from further harm – from harming others and myself.

I stand my ground, grabbing a hold of the last knife I have. I let out a laugh. "You think I'm scared of your gun?"

          The gunshot echoes through the building. The  pain blossoms in my calf, a searing reminder of the life I've chosen. I collapse to the ground, my body no longer able to carry the weight of my convictions. I stare back at him with confusion in my gaze. The memories of him and I working side-by-side creep into my mind. The man who once carried me out of a factory in Caracas is the one inflicting pain on me. And as darkness edges into my vision, I hear Winter's voice, strained but filled with a kind of desperation I haven't heard in years. A kind that reminds me of all those who begged for their lives before I took their own.

"Forgive me, Princess" he rasps, the words heavy with a mixture of regret. "But I have to stop you from destroying yourself."

          I see the blood pool from beneath me. My breaths quicken, applying pressure to my wound. Hatred grows in my heart, my vision goes blurry, but I don't break eye contact with him. Winter stands over me. He looks at me with anger, regret, and a flicker of something deeper. I meet his gaze, my defiance unwavering even in defeat. We're both wounded, both haunted by our pasts, and the battle between us is a reflection of that turmoil. With a strained breath, I speak words that hang heavy in the frigid air.

"I may never know why," I say, wincing at the pain in my leg. My back rests on the damp wall behind me, my breathing starts to even out. "But right now, I will spend the rest of my life loathing you."

His eyes search mine, seeking the truth within my words. I can't help but wonder if there's a chance for redemption, for healing the scars that bind us. But for now, we remain locked in this icy dance, both seeking answers in the clash of steel and the tension of an unspoken history.

"Time will only tell," his voice says in a whisper. "You're more than this."

a/n: this is my masterpiece. i am excited for what's ahead! hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it :) - kenzie