I used Google Translate on the Russian, I apologize if it isn't correct. 😂 The translation to English is written in italics.

I gritted my teeth again, glaring at the man who sat in his chair, staring at me as though I was a specimen. I guess that was true to him, the bastard was experimenting on me. I pulled weakly at my restraints, my will to fight was slowly being diminished. It would be so easy to give up into the mindwiping. It would be so easy to let go.

I glanced down at my right arm, seeing the stump that replaced what used to be there. The sight made me sick to my stomach. The scientist had told me what they would do. They would give me a metal one like "Sergeant Barnes, I knew him didn't I? Then I must know what was happening to me, didn't I?" They had said. I thought about Uncle Steve's friend...

James "Bucky" Barnes. The Winter Soldier.

That's what they were going to do to me wasn't it? I knew that they were preparing a serum... They'd said it a few times when they thought that I was unconscious.

They were turning me into a weapon.

I wasn't sure how I felt about that, I'd always thought that I'd be Iron Girl, or something stupid like that. I always knew that I'd be a good guy.

But here I was, being erased, and having a monster traced over who I used to be.

I gritted my teeth, I had to do something, anything. Was I supposed to just give in and let them control me? I felt my eyes burn, that awful feeling right before you cry. I took a deep breath, steeling myself and refusing to let a single tear escape.

"Just stop fighting," the man's voice crooned, "it'll be over so much quicker." He watched me with a steady gaze, and my hatred for this man grew by the second.

"Go to hell," I spat, glad that I had had enough moisture to spit at him instead of getting it all over myself.

He merely chuckled, "Do you truly believe in hell, Miss Stark? Would you truly wish me to the place your father would surely go?" He taunted softly. I wanted to strangle the life out of him.

"My father is a hero. Nothing you say will ever change that, you bastard." I glared at the man.

"I had forgotten what a mouth you had, another thing you inherited from your dear father, I presume?" His accent was obviously German, and I wondered when he had learned English.

"Me and my mouth don't like your shit attitude about my dad." I sassed, my courage slowly building up. The more I fought, the easier it got to do so. I also immensely enjoyed cussing him out.

The scientist guy just frowned disapprovingly, making a note on his clip board. He rose from the chair, and that made me freeze. They always put me under when the scientist was sitting. I never saw him walk, when they let me wake up he was sitting in that chair; when they made me sleep he stayed in that chair, presumably until I was under.

I never knew why they did it, they just did! I didn't know how long I had been there, but this was a break of habit. It must've been a few weeks at least, a lot of my cuts were scabbing over, the shallower ones were healed. What if it had been months? Where was my dad? Was he out looking for me? Did he know that I was gone, and what about Uncle Steve?

I stared at the man, he smiled, seemingly at my discomfort.

"I had hoped you would cooperate, the procedure is always easier that way. You are more alike Mr. Barnes than you know, he was too loyal as well. It seems that you, too, will need frequent memory wipes. I am sorry for what will happen to you, it's not your fault you were born a Stark." And with that he left, strolling away and through a steel door.

I heard the hiss of the IV monitor to my left side, I glanced over quickly. They were putting me to sleep again. I fought against my restraints, I fought against the drowsiness threatening to pull me under. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to combat the drugs. Tears leaked quietly out of my eyes as I fell asleep.

My body might wake up, but I probably never would. This was basically death right? No. This was far worse.

[...]
A year later.

I watched the man intently, his pleas for mercy ineffective. I felt stone cold as I snapped his neck, a glint of light bouncing off of my metal arm. I left his body burning in the wreck that used to be his car. My feet and body trudged mechanically, and not much thought was required. I stepped up onto the motorcycle I had been given, speeding away into the night.

I didn't know why I had killed this man, but my current handler had given me this mission. It was not my job to ask questions.

I breathed evenly, despite the mask I wore at all times when outside a compound or safe house. It always felt... Annoying to wear the thing. I couldn't talk unless a superior allowed me to remove it, and it was hard to breathe. But that was the cost, I gave up comfort and fought to rid the world of those who would create violence and chaos. Hydra told me that I'd been found half dead in some street at an early age and trained to help them save people since then.

I didn't care how I came to be, I just cared about how to get my job done. I sped to the safe house that I was to report at tonight. I kept to the dark streets, riding low on the bike. It took a while, but I reached the small apartment in rural Chicago.

I turned my headlights off. I didn't need the light to see well in the dark, I could see just fine, and I didn't want to alert anyone else in the neighborhood. I hid the motorcycle in a nearby alleyway, setting up a projection that made the motorcycle disappear.

I knew a Hydra crew was on its' way to pick up after me, checking the damage I'd created, disposing of extra bodies, and finding any equipment I had left behind. I was very good at my job, the cleanup crews never had to do much when assigned to one of my excursions.

I slipped through shadows until I made it back to the apartment, climbing up the building to the one of the windows. Once I'd opened the window and slipped lithely inside, I sat down at the kitchen table, waiting for my handler to walk through the door and demand a mission report.

It only took a moment, no doubt he was in the hall across from the room I was in, waiting to see me in place on a hidden camera that must be in the room.

He sat in at the opposite end of the table, I liked this handler, he didn't bother with a smile. He nodded, permitting me to remove the mask from my nose and mouth. Was it really a mask? Or was it a muzzle? I almost faltered briefly, but I caught myself.

"16-я Отчет миссии декабрь 2016." He asked quietly, no pleasantries were needed with this man. 'Mission Report December 16, 2016,'

"Тема воспринята с минимальным сопротивлением. Целевая задача устранена." The words seemed foreign to my tongue, the Russian was perfect, but my mouth felt odd speaking this language. 'Subject apprehended with minimal resistance. Target eliminated.'

"Хорошо. Вам будет связаться в ближайшее время с вашей следующей миссии." 'Good. You will be contacted soon with your next mission.' He wore a hint of satisfaction on his face, standing from his chair. I watched him walk away, making no movement. The man always seemed slightly nervous when I gave no sign of any emotion or feeling. The only sign of life I ever gave him was affirmation that I had performed the task prescribed to me.

He left. I sat at the table for what seemed to be hours. After a while I stood, heading for the fridge. They would have provided something for me to eat, or some nutrients to inject myself with.

They had supplied several syringes that were filled with a bluish liquid. I took one. I opened a flap on my elbow, injecting the liquid into my bloodstream. I put the syringe back into the fridge, buttoning the inside elbow flap on my uniform.

I left the room, heading for the bedroom. I found it quickly, locating the few clothes they had left me to wear until I was assigned to a new mission. I stripped off my uniform, put on a pair of... Sweatpants. I believe that's what they were called. I knew it instinctively, just like I knew many other things without knowing I had before.

I laid my uniform onto a chair, organizing my guns and knives, clipping any other weapons I had to my uniform. I kept one handgun, slipping it under a pillow on the bed. I pulled a tiny notebook out of a pocket in my uniform, something my handlers didn't know I had.

I hunted around the apartment for a pen, finding one in a drawer. My handlers must've missed it while cleaning the place out. I slid into bed, took the pen, opened my book, and began to write. I hid the book and pen under my covers as I wrote quickly, not wanting any cameras to pick up what I was doing.

I wrote about the past few days, knowing that a wipe was coming soon. In the back of the book I had a long list of my targets, a line crossed through each successfully eliminated. I put a line through the man's name when I finished scribbling the events of the past days.

I sketched out a face in one of the pages, or should I say half of a face? I drew eyes, the familiarity striking me to the core. I gazed at them, imagining their color, the turquoise transfixing me. They looked so familiar, but I couldn't place where I'd seen them.

I drew another pair, imaging the color as brown. They looked so safe and secure, and intense longing hit me. Who did these eyes belong to? I hid the book in my uniform again, throwing the pen out the window. They wouldn't know that I had written anything.

I gazed down at my right hand, I had tried to ignore it as I wrote, but it bothered me. The metal plates that clung together formed a beautifully constructed arm that was sculpted perfectly. It terrified me. It was terrifying that this beautiful masterpiece was a weapon of destruction. Hydra knew that their original Winter Soldier had had his arm blown clean off, and so had upgraded mine to be constructed of Vibranium.

It was smuggled out of some foreign country that I hadn't been informed of. The arm looked almost identical to my former, natural arm. Somehow I knew that, and yet, the power and strength that I knew was there frightened me.

I settled in the bed, heart uneasy. I gripped the gun under my pillow in case any other assassins tried to kill me. The idea was somewhat amusing, I was a trained professional, one of Hydra's best. I wouldn't be the one dying if someone snuck up on me.

I closed my eyes, seeing countless faces in the darkness. I squeezed my eyes closed tighter, trying to ignore them and sleep.