Control

Muzzle

1946

Zola makes me watch his experiments on the Winter Soldier almost daily now. I watch Sergeant James Barnes kill and kill again. I watch as his eyes go from shining to dull and, for a good month, I have to watch him be forced to commit murder without prejudice.

Zola looks more and more pleased at the bloodshed.

I continue to be horrified to the point of vomiting.

There are times that I have to shut my eyes against the horrors. My heart breaks for James Barnes...because he does not want to kill them. He doesn't want to hurt anyone.

He just wants to survive.

One of the marked differences that I begin to notice in the Winter Soldier is the absolute feral nature he begins to take on. As he attacks, he becomes more animal than man, and that terrifies me even more. He has almost no human interaction and, the interactions that he does have are bloodshed. He becomes more and more aggressive and agitated.

He, apparently, has bitten several of his guards over the past week.

After I witness him being rifle whipped by a guard, leaving a giant mark across his forehead, they do not request my help. Zola marches us back to his office as the Winter Soldier is left laying prone on the ground of the training room, unresponsive. Upon entering his office, Zola shuts his door, leaving me standing in front of my desk, surrounded by much too high piles of paperwork, still in a daze from watching the bloodshed.

On the bright side, I did not vomit today.

I want to help James Barnes. The worst feeling is that I don't know why. Yes, I pity him. Yes, I suppose there was some comradery in that we were both Americans in the HYDRA base and grew up in a similar area. Yes, I also suppose there was some strange, foreign maternal instinct that was taking over for me. I go to my desk and pull out my top drawer. Inside, hidden amongst pencils, loose paper, and typewriter ribbons are three pieces of chocolate.

I feel my eyes sting. I remember the way the Soldier's face had lit up when I had given him chocolate previously. I had been squirreling away pieces...until I became afraid. I looked at my wrist where the bruise of nearly a month ago was now faded into nothingness. He didn't mean to hurt me. He simply wasn't used to kindness.

I pick up the first piece of chocolate my fingers touch - a new candy from the US called "Almond Joy" - and I shove it into the pocket of my trousers before I slam the drawer shut, guiltily.

I move to stand in front of Zola's office door and, without hesitation, knock, hoping that it sounded as if I was timidly vying for his attention.

" Ja ?" I hear him informally call from behind the door in German. I gulp, but, there is no going back now. I open the door to see him behind his desk, looking at a file.

I clear my throat. Zola's lust for violence makes me concerned that, if I show any weakness that I will simply be left for dead. So far, the only way I had seen out of HYDRA was in a pine box. "Herr Zola...I noticed that the Experiment was injured during today's training exercises...would you like me to go oversee his treatment?"

Zola didn't even look up at me. He simply shook his head and flipped through the file. "That won't be necessary, Ms. Sokolov."

I feel my stomach tighten. "Herr Zola...he could have any multitudes of ailments from that! Please, just let me examine him!" I begged. I knew this was a form of weakness, but I felt that it was one that Zola would come to expect from a woman.

He shook his head "no," once more. He shrugs his shoulders, almost as if he is stretching. "If the Winter Soldier is irreparably damaged from a hit in the head, he is not half the soldier I thought he was." Zola calmly blows on his glasses and begins to clean them with his handkerchief. "Are you fond of our experiment, Fraulein?"