❛   𝐨𝐧𝐞   ❜

❝ did they know that you
were only human?      ❞

SOVIET UNION, 1948

HER back hits the ground hard enough that the back of her skull strikes the ground. Lifting it with a hiss, she cradles the area with a calloused hand.

Bloodshot eyes elevated, gazing at the dark figure in front of her, stalking forward with heavy steps. Fear sends a shiver down her body before she clambers to her feet.

Swallowing thickly, she swilled down any emotion she had and her face washed over with a snarl. Bending her knees slightly, she readied herself for any more attacks.

Although she watched him with a constant stare, she truly couldn't read him, or his actions. His body was stiff as he walked; face cast down and eyes trained on her. His blue eyes, they seemed familiar? Not his orange hair, but those eyes.

But he had brown hair. Brown hair, blue eyes, and this five o'clock shadow he would never fully shave. Blue...

Anastasia's eyes suddenly widened, which nobody noticed. Her mind was running again.

No. She inwardly snapped at herself, face scrunching in protest. Don't get distracted. Don't remember—

A heavy punch suddenly clipped her cheek, sending her straight to the filthy ground, yet again. She bit her lip hard, cloaking a cry of pain. Lifting her hand again, she covered the injured area of her face. She peeked through her fingers, just in time to watch a boot lift in the air, aimed at her. Tucking her arms in, she rolled aside.

Forcing her body up, she sat on her knees, laying a hand on the ground to balance herself. She faintly remembered someone mentioning it was the Red Room's stance. She detested the place, finding the Red Room's training equally as pernicious as Hydra's.

The enemy swung down on her with his fist and she dove to her right before kicking out her foot, hitting him in the knee.

He buckled momentarily, granting her enough time to stand.

"She's regaining memories," a man across the room hissed at another in a foreign language that she understood. The other man shook his head, pushing up his boxy glasses before glaring down at a clipboard he had. He waited for the first to make any more points, which he did; "She is slow. Distracted."

"Impossible," The one with the clipboard muttered back. "We wiped her last week."

Clenching her fists, she waited for her opponent. When he went to strike her, she grabbed his wrist and yanked.

Using her free arm, she slammed her elbow into his face. Raising his arm after, Anastasia punched as hard as she could into his chest. The two witnesses stepped back as she attacked her adversary. Her hand pulsated with pain and she clenched her teeth to fight through it.

Landing a hit to his throat, he flinched out of her grasp. He staggered from the impact, clutching his throat with his hand. Anastasia drew in a laboured breath, flicking a strand of sweat-sodden hair out of her eye.

When the two matched gazes, she raised her arms, beckoning him forward with both hands.

"Once he's done with her, she comes with me." The first man spat, watching the fight before them. Her features twitched at the sentence as another ripple of fear went down her body, causing goosebumps and her stomach to flip. Her jaw clenched.

Rushing up to her opponent, she dropped to one knee to sweep out his feet. In close range, she landed another hit to his face, nearly knocking him unconscious before she dove over his body to his other side.

When the man blinked the blurriness from his eyes, she bent her elbow and drove it into his face, successfully knocking him out. Keeping one fist pointed at this face and the other to her side, she held her breath and waited for any more indication of movement.

Her breathing was the only thing heard in the room, before a slow clap pierced the dry air.

"Well done, killer." The first man chuckled with cockiness. He tapped the other with a slack hand. "Perhaps, she won't be needed a wipe. Just put her in the cell until tomorrow. Then they use weapons."

With him leaving, Anastasia slowly rose to her feet and straightened her back. Turning her head slightly, she watched the man with glasses slowly approach her. When he was near enough, he held out a hand while the other gestured for the door.

She obeyed, moving with quick steps to the exit. Before she left, Ana casts one last gaze towards her fighter. Two larger men dragged him away, in the direction of the wiping room.

She shuttered, ducking her head and leaving. As she made her way down the halls, it wasn't long before she could hear the cries of her male opponent, actually sympathizing for him deep down.

The walk to her cell took no longer than five minutes, walking in stiffly and no turning to watch them shut the door. The room was small, with all four walls, the floor and the ceiling being cement. Letting out a small sigh through her nostrils, Anastasia seated herself on the small cot in a corner.

It was old and uncomfortable, with nothing more than a thin blanket and a flattened pillow upon it to decorate it. Nothing bothering with the covers, she laid down in a fetal position and hoped to catch a small wink of sleep before tomorrow's condemnation.

          BUCKY'S smile flashed in her mind, causing her face to twitch before she flipped onto her back. Steve was after, laughing silently with him. It played in slow motion. When Anastasia's head twitched, the scene changed.

"Bucky, why'd ya have to drag me out here? I was having such a good time doing nothing on this Sunday afternoon." Anastasia playfully groaned, allowing Bucky to pull her down the path. It was a sunny afternoon in Brooklyn, and the borough was puttering calmly. Families and folk were spending their day relaxing, or strolling the streets like the trio were.

"Steve and I wanted to take you out for some ice cream. Now, is that so bad, doll? It is a pretty warm day after all." Bucky tried to reason, grinning widely enough to expose his teeth. Steve paced beside the pair, shoving his hands into his pockets like he always did.

"You did mention you wanted ice cream earlier," The scrawny blond added, smirking to one side. He glanced up at her, to which she met his gaze.

Anastasia gave a disproval stare at him before rolling her eyes. She couldn't help but chuckle as well. "You're right on that, Stevie. But, I meant you guys bring it to me. I didn't wanna get off my couch." Her bottom lip stuck out in a pout, making Bucky get a fluttery feeling in his stomach.

"Now where's the fun in that? Wasting away such a beautiful day like today?"  Bucky winked at her before diving in to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. He let go of her hand, jogging forward as Anastasia yelped in surprise. Steve joined in, snickering as they both tried to catch up to Bucky.

They slipped inside a nearby diner and sat at the bar. A teenage boy quickly made his way over, wiping his forehead with his wrist. "What can I get for you guys?"

"Three cones please." Steve smiled casually.

"What flavours?"

"Strawberry." Anastasia smiled, eager to get the cold treat.

"Vanilla." Steve chimed in after.

"Chocolate." Bucky was last, tossing down a bill.

The boy took it, leaving for a few minutes before returning with the cones. They all took their own flavour, silently indulging in it.

Anastasia and Bucky locked eyes as they ate, before smiling at one another and breaking eye contact simultaneously. The two blushed, not daring to spare the other a look.

A jolt of scalding electricity suddenly stabbed into her side, causing Anastasia to shriek and recoil from the pain. Her body slammed into the wall, and she sat up in a flash with her knees flush to her chest.

In front of her were three men; one holding a rod with small metal spears at the end. It flashed a vivid blue, causing her to flinch. Tears quickly filled her eyes, and she bit the inside of her cheek to stop her.

"She's slower," The middle one commented, gauging her emotions. "Wipe her."

She gasped loudly before pressing her back into the wall. "No! Wait!"

"She's regaining memories, hurry please." The man directed again as the other two grabbed for her. A yell ripped from her throat as she was dragged off the bed.

Anastasia's legs smacked the floor, and she thrashed in their arms as she was dragged from her cell. "Please, please!" Her voice broke as she stared up at the two. Her tears now fell down her face. "Stop!"

Her body went limp from the waist down, in hopes it would make the task more difficult. It wasn't.

Her eyes moved back and forth, trying to get anyone to help her. "Please!"

A doorway passed her line of sight, making her body freeze from fear. Turning her head to look over her shoulder, another scream escaped as her brown eyes landed on the seat.

Her screams turned into wails as she was hoisted into the reclined chair. "Don't, don't!"

It was futile, and her arms and legs were quickly bounded down by leather straps. A man a lab coat approached her head, rolling in a small machine on a cart. It was small, but it held power. They designed the machine to wipe prior memories, leaving Anastasia wondering how the hell they managed that.

The machine was a work in progress, they claimed once; slowly building a crown-like device instead of having a small machine to do its task.

Her head was held still by someone as a headpiece was slipped on. A plastic band encircled around her forehead as two cold metal disks pressed against her temples. Another doctor approached her front, holding out a rubber mouthguard.

When she shook her head in resistance as best as she could, she felt fingers suddenly pry her lips open.

The rubber was shoved between her teeth, nearly making her gag.

"Charge to one-hundred," the man called out in Russian. She clenched her eyes shut, awaiting the pain.

An electric whizz filled the air before a bolt of it zapped her head.

It was like being dunked in ice-cold water. Her body suddenly convulsed; seizing widely beneath the restraints. Her scream was muffled as her head slammed back into the headrest. It felt as if her body was paralyzed, but she felt it shaking. The process felt like hours to Anastasia, causing even more tears to slip from her eyes.

When the shocking ceased, her body went limp as her vision blacked out. Her head went to one side and the doctor slipped the headpiece off. "Check vital,"

A stethoscope was pressed above her left breast, and a doctor nodded. "Heartbeat detected. Wake her."

Anastasia felt dizzy and sick at the same time. There was a ringing in her ears and it felt like her vision was covered by a hazy fog. Blinking slowly, she opened her eyes and lifted her head to find five men surrounding her.

The man standing at her feet held up a small black leather book, with the covers worn slightly. He started to call out a line of words as she recovered.

The words seemed familiar to her, but she didn't recognize anything else. Her mind was seemingly blank.

After the list was completed, they all gazed down at her. The closest one frowned, "загадка," his voice was Russian. She knew that. "состояние?"

She swallowed, finding her mouth and throat dry. Her gaze darkened, "готов выполнить."