Viktoriya Solovyova, aka Agent 1, was trained in the Red Room. She managed to escape and move to America and has since been working closely with Peggy Carter. When she meets a scientist with revolutionary ideas, how will she cope with the changes?
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I crack my neck as I stand outside the facility. The moment I step through those doors everything changes, I either come out again or I don't. I have no preference. I shift the light to conceal myself and sneak in as the guards switch shifts. The walls are dingy and it's cold. Colder than anything I've felt. I hear snippets of words in Russian as I walk through the corridors:
Nothing out of place for a terrorist organization that everyone thinks has been wiped out for three years, I think. I slip into what I presume to be Zola's office, which I presume because he's sat at a desk in there. "Nice little place you got here Arnim." I whisper in his ear, making the men jump up out of his seat. Before he can scream I slap my hand over his mouth, "Shhhhh." I say, looking at the door, "We need to talk." He nods against my hand and we take a seat at the desk.
"How did you know about this place?" Zola asks. "You can't keep secrets from an assassin." I respond casually. "Ex-assassin." He corrects. "I don't misspeak Dr." I explain. He visibly gulps, "Are you here to kill me?" He broaches the subject tentatively. "No. Do you think I sit and chat with people I kill? That's just cruel." I say. "I have a proposition." Zola raises his eyebrows in shock, gets a piece of paper and a pen and motions for me to keep talking. I smirk, "I want in. I want to be a part of Hydra again. I want to be stronger. I want to forget, to be distracted, and honestly, I want to kill people."
Zola finishes writing down my terms and asks, "How do I know you aren't here because the Brit sent you?" I nod, "Valid question. I haven't spoken to Peggy in five years. I have no idea where she is, who she's with, or what she's doing." I watch Zola scribble down the words: No contact. I can see he has more questions for me, "Ask away käfer junge." Zola rolls his eyes and mutters, "Not a bug." before asking, "How do you plan on being stronger?" I consider my answer before explaining, "Hydra did this to me in the first place. I have basic energy control, mainly over light, and heat, but recently sound. Drawing power from kinetic energy would be nice. I'd also like to conjure fire sometimes." Zola mulls over the answer for a while, chewing his lip. "I have a serum. It's developed from your first one that gave you these abilities. We can do something." I nod.
"We have a new asset." He speaks again, and I furrow my brows. "The Winter Soldier. He's in conditioning currently. Under no circumstances are you to be near the soldier, verstanden?" Of course I find it suspicious but I assume that this soldier just doesn't work well with people, so I agree nevertheless, "Ich verstehe." I say. I stand from my seat at the desk and make my way to the articles on the wall. My eyes land on a section focused on Captain America and my body tenses. "You said you want to forget?" Zola asks, "How much?" I sigh and contemplate my options for a few moments before answering, "I don't want to erase it all. I want to suppress it, keep it but push it as far back as I can go. I don't want to feel the pain anymore. Can you do that?" I ask. "I think so." Zola murmurs.
"One more thing." I pipe up causing Zola to look up at me. "I heard something when I was walking through here." I retake my seat and fold my arms as I say, "Cryo." Zola looks at me in surprise, "What about it?" He asks. "When I am not needed, I want to be in cryo. I don't like having nothing to do, why do you think I tracked you all these years?" I explain dejectedly. "We can do that. If we want our best agents to last then we freeze them. You were the best of the best back then." I nod in acknowledgement of my achievements in Hydra all those years ago. "So, when do I start?" I ask with a sly smirk. "Today. I want you to prove that you can still be Agent 1." Zola stands from his desk and motions for me to follow him.
We walk down the halls of the facility, ignoring the whispering of the guards. Zola leads me into a cold room, one that is identical to the one I practically grew up in. I smile as I remove my leather jacket and drape it over a bench. Zola watches me as I run my hands over the barres against the back mirror. Memories of stretching against the barres every morning as the sun rose, ignoring the excruciating pain radiating from my feet because of the previous day's training, flood my mind. "What are we in a training room for?" I ask, looking at Zola in the mirror rather than turning to look at him. He turns and opens a black box, motioning for me to join him, "You're going to prove to me that you're good enough." He explains.
I scan the items in the box and notice a number of weapons; a Cold Steel Recon 1, a CRKT Carson M16-14SF, a serrated Kershaw Blue, an M4 Carbone, and a Glock 17, and a Beretta 92FS. I pick up five of my favourite knife, the Cold Steel Recon, and walk over to the dummies. Holding them all in my left palm, I adjust my stance and begin to throw. The weight of the knives in my head is welcomed as I'm reminded of who I used to be. Every throw causes a whistle of air to brush against my hand as I reach for the next knife. When my hand is empty I look at the dummies, two have a knife in their necks, one has a knife sticking out of it's eye, one has a knife to the heart, and another has a knife lodged in it's abdomen.
Zola stands there with an impressed smile and tells me to pick up a gun. I choose the Beretta as smaller guns are easier to use for me. Zola presses a button and one of the walls slides to reveal rows of shooting range paper targets. I get into the fighting stance, square to the central target, with my shooting side foot slightly behind the other. My knees are slightly bend to absorb some of the shock and Zola presses another button. The targets begin to move in front of me and I smile. My fingers squeeze the trigger until I'm out of bullets. The first row of three all have bullet holes in the 'x' on their chests. The other three all have holes in the 'x' on their heads.
"Looks like you've still got it Agent 1." Zola evaluates. "Welcome back." He says as I hold my head up with pride.
