In Which
Isabelle, a 14yo, is trained to be a widow since she was 2. When she turns 8 , hydra steals her from the Red Room Academy to conduct experiments on her. She is then trained to be the Winter Soldier's accomplice.
Or
The Winter Soldier and...
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"Isabelle! Wake up!" She was abruptly awakened by someone who was whisper-yelling her name. Isabelle sat up and stretched the tiredness away. She looked over and saw James, the person that woke her up.
"Hm? What?" Isabelle asked.
"You have to be awake before they come, get up!" Before she could even question it, guards came storming in.
They led us to a room resembling a gym. The Winter Soldier and Isabelle stood facing each other against the walls. She was confused, and unsure of what we were supposed to do.
She propped herself up against the wall, looking like a skittish fawn.
Schultz and some other people were standing on the side, observing them intently as if they were a renaissance painting carefully designed by a dead artist.
Schultz looked at them and nodded. Isabelle was staring at him in confusion.
She didn't even have time to look back at James, because she suddenly felt her back hit the wall behind me and a bruise form around her left eye.
Her body bounced back and she swore she could feel every single bone in her spine break. She fell to the ground, only now realising what was happening.
Schultz's definition of training was them fighting each other, which was unfair. The Winter Soldier was soo much scarier, soo much angrier and sooo much stronger.
He almost hit her with his metal arm but she ducked at the last second, making him punch the wall real hard. As he removed his arm from the wall, Isabelle stood back up.
She kicked the back of his knees and he lost his balance. He fell forward and Isabelle used the momentum to kick the back of his head.
She took a few steps back, allowing him to stand up. He did so and turned around, looking like a mad dog. blood was streaming from his nose - which was most likely broken.
Her eyes widened as he slowly walked towards her. He took a knife out of his pocket and yet again attacked her.
Isabelle grabbed his wrist, the knife missing her by inches. She punched his jaw but that didn't stop him. His other arm made its way over to her neck.
Isabelle tried kicking him while he raised her above his eye level, to no avail.
She held onto his arm with both hands, not daring to let go.
Chills ran down her spine.
Is this how I'm gonna die? Is the man -that swore to protect me- going to squeeze my throat, making a question my last word?
