Subject X (Winter Soldier X Reader)

3

January, 1945

I think what the Hydra program liked the most about me is the fact that they didn't have to erase my memories. It would have been a complete waste of time to erase what little memories I had before going to the Red Room. It would be too much of a hassle to try and retrain everything that I had learned there.

It's been a little over a year since I was first purchased by Hydra. I excelled quickly in my program, becoming fully equipped in all aspects they needed in as little as 6 months into my program. Every test I passed with ease, proving more and more I would be a useful asset to the Super Solider program. Dr. Zola was obsessed with me, saying time and time again I would become the most lethal soldier in the facility. I played the part well, I was obedient and willing which is what I think he liked the most. Because almost all others were anything but willing and obedient.
My

I had noticed quite a few things being here. The major one being, I was the only woman. Men were eliminated as quickly as they had been brainwashed. Their screamed filled and echoed the hallways at night, making it impossible to sleep at night. The blood curdling screams echoed in my head constantly. Souls so tormented as they begged for their mothers, brothers and loved ones. They begged for the pain to stop, yanking my heart to pieces having to listen to their cries and pleas. Then their life was reduced to nothing, never again being able to remember their families. They were given new memories to enhance the brainwashing hydra had done. In all honesty, I was thankful that hadn't happened to me.

One man in particular stood out to me. A soldier who fell from a train into a mountain. He had lost his arm in the process, which was replaced with a completely mechanical one. The technology was beyond impressive. I insisted being there for every operation and every test they put this man through. Honestly I was jealous, having an advantage such as an indestructible metal arm. He was extremely handsome, dark brown hair, chiseled features and piercing blue eyes. He was obviously physically fit as I had seen him without a shirt many times while they operated.
One day he snapped, strangling a doctor with his new found weaponized appendage. I widened my eyes, anticipating what was going to happen next. He was injected with a sedative and then immediately moved to the brainwashing room. This was the first time I had seen it in person.

They placed the machine on top of his head, two large plates that covered the sides of his head and the left half of his face. I could see the fear in his eyes as he frantically looked around. Finally, the process started. The pain in his voice as he screamed broke my heart. Instinctively, I covered my mouth with my hand, scrunching my face together in pure terror. He called out for his friend Steve, apologizing to him. And to his mother.

"First time?" Dr. Zola's voice snapped me out of my trance. I turned around and watched as he walked up next to me.
"Why do you do this?" I muttered hardly sure if he was going to be able to hear me.

"We cannot have any weak links. Past lives and trauma can interfere with the training process. Having no name makes people less personable, more objectified and expendable for our program. Surely you understand that."
I felt guilt turn in my stomach. My head snapped back around to the man in the chair. I did understand unfortunately. Dreykov worked the same way.
"What about him? Who is he?"

"That is James Buchanan Barnes. Known by his comrades as Bucky. Soldier in the 107th infantry in the second great war. He was here for a short while, we ran tests on him which is why we think he survived the drop that he did." My heart was torn, I would be one of the only people to remember him. He wouldn't even remember himself after this was over.
"Don't get too attached to him X. He is your next project."

I looked over at Dr. Zola, confused for a moment. He looked up at me with a small smile. He took something out from his satule, a long object wrapped in a cloth. He raised it for me to take, which I suspiciously and tenderly did. "For your final task."
I knew exactly what that meant, the time was coming soon where I would prove myself by murdering the man who had trained me. As Dr. Zola said, people were expendable and there should be no weak links. The realization set it that it was quite literally life or death for me. If I didn't kill my trainer, Dr. Zola would have spent all that money for nothing. I knew it wouldn't be difficult, I have beaten him multiple times before. This time it felt different, I felt the weight of guilt on me like rocks piling into my stomach.