Where Winter Ends

I was about six months along. Their torture continued. They were intent on this child making it as close to term as possible, only planning to C-section it early if needed.

I haven't seen Bucky again.

Haven't even heard his screams.

Not even the sound of his suffering to keep me company. Maybe he's dead?

Maybe he's free?

Lucky bastard.

I had regained a good amount of control, but not enough. I could clench a fist, barely, but certainly couldn't swing it.

I kept wondering how the leaks started, why now? I obsessed over it, my emotions flaring and crashing. But no feeling could dislodge what was embedded in my brain.

Then it hit me.

A bullet can dislodge it.

I'd been shot in the head a while back, by that older woman.

Could she have caused whatever's in my head to shift?

If so… can I destroy it?

The thought made me smile, well, try to. A quiver trembled at my lip. It didn't work, not fully, but it was close enough.

But how? This thing is deep, buried in my brain. I can't just smash my head against this chair and hope for the best. No… I need a bullet. A clean shot to the head, right where it is, to shatter it.

But I can't even move enough to reach a gun, even if one were right next to me.

So how?

I'm running out of time. Two, maybe three, months left before they yank this baby out of me. Take them somewhere I'll never find them, mold them into something unrecognizable. A weapon like me, or worse.

He said the device was in my frontal cortex. That would explain why the previous bullet shifted it. That shot hit the right side of my forehead… so the chip might be somewhere on the left side now.

My eyes scanned the room.

When they amputate, they use an electric bone saw.

That should pierce my skull easily.

I just needed one thing: control over my neck. If I could do that, even barely, I could pull this off.

For the next two weeks, I focused on nothing else, every moment they left me alone, I strained and pushed to move my neck.

But I wasn't progressing fast enough.

It was taking too long.

The baby would be born before I'd get there.

If I ever got there at all.

"Ugh."

The sound escaped my mouth.

From me.

I made that sound.

I could make sounds.

Which meant, maybe, I could speak again.

I have an idea.

The next time they came back from their damn smoke breaks, reeking of that disgusting stench, I was ready.

My eyes followed them as they entered. One of them grabbed the bone saw from the table and plugged it back in.

"All right," he smirked. "What do you think? A hand? Toe? Fingers?"

The younger doctor chuckled, and the electric whir of the blade echoed through the sick room.

"F...uc...k," I rasped out, the word scraping like gravel against my throat.

So low. Hoarse. Raw. But mine.

"You say something?" the younger doctor asked, confusion written all over his face.

Their eyes locked, then turned to me.

"Fff...uck... y-you," I forced out, dragging every syllable like it was a mile uphill.

It was the most exhausting thing I'd ever done. My head throbbed, a pulsing ache as if the chip was trying to stop me. Silence me.

But not anymore.

This is my body.

"What the fuck!? Damn it, is her chip malfunctioning?" the older one snapped, grabbing my head and slamming it back into the metal chair.

Our eyes locked.

He saw it, the spark.

Anger. Disobedience.

The person who had been buried alive was erupting back to the surface.

"Damn it! We have to fix this before the higher-ups find out," he barked. "I'll grab a new chip. Keep her head back, we'll slice fast and get the new one in before anyone notices."

The younger one stepped forward, strapping my head in place. He grabbed a marker and drew a line.

On my left side.

Right where I thought.

They didn't realize it, but I'd started healing faster. Their treatments made me stronger, even when they didn't mean to.

The older doctor came back, holding a small container. Something inside jingled. Metal. A new chip.

"Should we really do this without security?" the younger one asked, fear creeping into his voice.

"If someone finds out, we're dead," the other hissed. "Just shut up and get it done. She's restrained."

The bone saw started up again.

The pain was instant.

White-hot. Blinding.

Like he'd poured acid directly into my skull.

My vision blurred.

Screams erupted from my throat as he cut.

Then came the scalpel. The tweezers.

Digging. Prying.

It HURTS!

God, it hurts!

My fingers flexed.

My back arched off the chair.

Then,

Click.

The tweezers latched onto something.

Pain surged.

A fury of nerves as he yanked it out.

The chip.

And then…

I felt it.

Freedom.

A fog lifted. The voices in my head, the foreign commands, gone.

Only I was left.

The door inside me had blown open. I felt every limb. I wiggled each one, tears springing to my eyes.

They were talking. But their voices were background noise now.

 I was too focused on this. On me.

Because I was feeling it.

Something I hadn't felt in so long.

Control.

I can move.

I CAN MOVE!

The doctor approached again with the new chip in the tweezers.

He didn't know my brain had already healed, just not my skull.

His cruelty made me stronger.

And that would be his undoing.

I clenched my right fist.

Used the strength they gave me.

Snapped the restraints.

They never used strong ones on me like they did on Bucky, thanks to the chip. That was their mistake.

My free arm swung. The doctor staggered, falling back.

I kicked off the leg restraints.

Ripped the last strap from my other hand.

I stood.

For the first time in a long, long time…

I was free.

Hydra gave me this strength.

And now I would use it against them.

"Get back! Obey me!" the doctor shrieked, dragging himself away.

His eyes were wide with fear. He knew.

I was in control now.

But my body still hesitated, a reflex burned in me. Habit.

I trembled. Just for a moment.

Then rage took over.

He had laughed as he sawed my limbs.

Watched me writhe, my veins bursting, my blood spilling.

He reveled in it.

Now… it was my turn.

The younger doctor bolted toward the door, reaching for the alarm.

I grabbed a scalpel, the scalpel.

The one they used on me.

I threw it.

It sunk into his thigh. He crumpled with a scream.

I grabbed him by the leg and hurled him across the room like trash.

His body hit the wall. I heard the crack.

He slid down, neck limp.

"Oops," I muttered, grinning.

I'd thrown him too hard.

Snapped his neck.

My gaze shifted to the remaining doctor, shaking on the floor.

"You won't kill me! You need me! You can't keep that kid alive without us!" he pleaded.

He was part right.

I placed a hand on my belly. Gentle. Protective.

I'd have to suffer more to keep this baby alive. For a while.

But I didn't need him for that.

Every fiber of me wanted to cut him apart.

Piece by piece.

Make him feel something close to what I'd endured.

But I didn't have the time.

Too much noise. Someone would come.

I grabbed his neck. Lifted him off the ground.

"Consider this mercy. And thank God for it," I said, and crushed his throat in my palm.

His flailing stopped. His eyes dimmed.

I let him drop. The thud echoed through the room.

I smiled.

I never thought I'd feel joy from killing.

But I did.

Revenge is sweet.

I pulled the scalpel from the other doctor's leg and grabbed a long coat hanging by the door. I had nothing on but boxers and a tank top. The coat would help.

I moved through the facility, barefoot.

No fear. Just the cold concrete underfoot.

They couldn't hurt me anymore.

I was strong.

Skilled.

In control.

Invincible.

I was their perfect weapon.

I didn't run into anyone until I hit the hallway to get out, unsurprising. This wasn't an office, it was a Siberian underground bunker. Quiet. Minimal staff.

Three guards stood between me and freedom.

I didn't hesitate.

I threw the scalpel, straight into the first guard's eye, piercing through to his brain.

Charged forward.

Slid down and kicked the second guard's legs out.

As he fell, I twisted his neck. It snapped like a twig.

The third fired.

I tried to dodge, but I wasn't used to fighting pregnant.

The bullet hit my arm.

Didn't matter.

Didn't hurt.

Pain was my old friend now.

I grabbed his pistol, crushed it in my hand.

He screamed.

Falling back, tripping over his own legs to get away.

I kicked, his head smashed against the wall.

A wet, shattering sound. Blood and brain sprayed.

Once, I would've vomited.

But I wasn't that sweet girl from the 1940s anymore.

I was a monster.

One of their design.

I pried open the heavy door.

Blinding white light poured in.

Cold air hit my skin, sharp and pure.

I stepped out.

Snow crunched beneath my feet.

The chill kissed my spine.

I looked up.

The sky, beautiful and pale. Endless.

I took a deep breath.

I was alive.

No longer bowing my head.

No longer waiting for pain.

No longer their weapon.

Snow drifted down gently, like a whisper from the sky.

"You are free," it seemed to say.

I am free.