T W E L V E

12. | first mission.
the beginning of a new era

genevieve.

•

MY SOPPING clothing sticks to my skin as hands curl around my shoulder blades and heave my body up. Subtle drips echo through the quiet room, one happening every three long seconds. There is a dreadful ringing in my ears, causing the pain in my head to grow larger. Where am I, I ask myself. What is going on?

Last that I remember I was asleep, goosebumps rising on my skin as it was pressed up against a thick coating of ice inside of a pod. But now I'm awake, and I don't know how. All I do know is that I am being dragged somewhere to be put through God only knows what.

My arms are strapped to a chair, and I hear words being repeated to me. I don't hear what they are, but I feel myself tense up and scream as shockwaves explode into my body from the receptors on my temples. I just know that it all stops after a few moments, and I straighten my posture and stare at the man in front of me dead in the eyes.

"Ready to comply," I reply in Russian.

He gives a curt nod of approval before closing the red book with a black star on its front cover shut.

This has happened before, but I don't know when or why.

"Take her to the scientist," he says.

In response to his words, two soldiers remove me from the chair and drag me down hallways as a familiar scream rings through the corridors from behind me. We enter the room, where they put me on a table. A man in a long white coat (a scientist?) orders a man to "put me under." A needle then sticks into my arm, causing my vision to get hazy. The scientist that hovers over me fades away along with the rest of the black that engulfs the room as I am sent into a sleep, a sleep that is not permanent. It is a sleep that falls in and out.

With each moment my eyes flutter open, I see and hear new things every time. I see multiple scientists working behind a white sheet that blocks my view of the rest of my body. I feel a numbness in my shoulders and arms, causing each scalpel and new incision to feel like pins and needles pricking at my skin. Scientists shout at each other in a language I do not know, growing more enraged with every outburst. But I just lie there with no emotion, just allowing them to do whatever they want to me.

When I fully awake from the procedure, the sheet and scientists are gone. Only one scientist remains with soldiers standing by the doors of the laboratory.

"Soldat?" he asks, stepping towards me.

I blink, trying to get rid of the fuzz that clouds his face in my eyes. "Ready to comply."

"Move your arms," he commands.

I do as he says, lifting my numb limbs. I'm wearing a shirt without sleeves, exposing the nasty scars on my shoulders, especially my right. It is just tender flesh that holds a small metal disc in my shoulder. The scientist lightly presses it, and I feel something happen.

Metal bursts from the disc, curling around my arm. It seems to have been connected to the other arm because both do the same thing — enclose my entire arm, hands and all, in a metal shell. I can move my fingers and bend my elbows, but nothing more.

"You cannot use your powers on this mission, unlike the last one. The only time that you can is when we allow you to," the scientist informs me.

Last one? What last one?

"Prep her," the scientist barks.

[•]

12:27 p.m.
22 November 1963
Texas, United States of America

The harsh wind rips through my black uniform, whooshing through my thick hair. I brush my long brunette locks out of my face to reveal the scene to me.

There are crowds and crowds of people surrounding a road. They all seem to be happy, thrilled, even. All for someone who they deeply admire and should be towards this street by half past noon central time. They all cheer and wait in anticipation, some looking as if they are about to burst with excitement.

I glance over at my partner on the other side of the overpass, who stares blankly at the road. His gun is ready, and so is my own, both resting over the strong barrier.

Kill, my commander ordered, fatal shot to the head. I plan on following that order, as I should. The man who I am supposed to kill is going to interfere with Hydra's projects, and we cannot let that happen.

I glance back at my partner, who positions himself carefully behind the metal barrier. He makes eye contact with me, nodding slowly — he's ready.

A gust of autumn wind blows through my matted hair, causing it to shield my face. I quickly brush it away from my metal arms. I am not allowed to use my powers on this mission, as I was told, so I am going to follow that order too.

My partner gives me a signal with his gloved right hand, telling me to prepare myself. I do as he says, glancing back at the road.

There is a car that begins to drive in between the crowd on the cement, leading what I will soon figure out a large parade of them. In the center is a lone black car that lacks a hood. Inside is a man that I saw on the file. He smiles and waves to the citizens on the sides of the street, and the woman at his side follows. They both seem so happy and joyful.

But that has to end.

I stare down through the scope of my gun, aiming at the brunette man's head. The red dot lies on his temple as I move the barrel of my gun and is perfectly positioned. My partner shoots just at the same time as I do, both of us aiming directly at the same spot. I see the woman in the car recoil back in horror before the blood. Terrified screams ring through my ears as everyone realizes what has just happened. I give my partner the signal to get the hell out of dodge and back to where our commander is.

Mission complete.