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1991
I bled out onto the floor as the Hydra operative ripped out the knife from my stomach. "Ты должен был лучше контролировать его.." He spat as he walked away. The Winter Soldier was right, Hydra is falling, and it's all because of him.
They sent him out on a mission to kill a man named Howard Stark and his wife, after the deed was done, The Winter Soldier cut off his comunication and tracker, leaving me to be punished for his actions.
I've been beaten, eletrfied, stabbed, and burnt. Not to mention the serium the keep injecting into me, but instead of the typical blue that makes my insides burst into flames, it was, ironically, yellow. And it shredded me from the inside out, tears come out of my eyes everytime it gets injected, blood falls from my nose. I think it's killing my brain.
I gasped for air, struggling to maintain a semblance of consciousness. The Hydra operatives showed no mercy, reveling in their sadistic torment. In the dimly lit cell, I lay on the cold, damp floor, my blood mixing with the pools of yellow serum that surrounded me. The metallic tang of blood filled the air, and I wondered how much longer I could endure this agonizing existence. And the thoughts of the Winter Soldier's betrayal only added to everything bad.
The door to the cell creaked open, and a Hydra operative entered, a cruel smile etched across his face. "Вы оказались очень стойким.," he sneered, enjoying my suffering. "Но стойкость не спасет вас. Корни Гидры глубоки, и нас не уничтожат предатели вроде Зимнего солдата.."
I clenched my fists, attempting to summon the strength to respond, but the pain was overwhelming. The operative circled me like a vulture, his gaze cold and calculating. "Вы должны были контролировать его," he taunted. "Теперь вы заплатите за его неповиновение.."
As the torment continued, I found myself drifting into a haze of agony and despair. The yellow serum had become a relentless adversary, a corrosive force eroding my sanity. Amidst the pain, fragments of memories flickered—a glimpse of the Winter Soldier's cold blue eyes, the distant echoes of his footsteps in the jungle, and the haunting realization that he had abandoned me to face Hydra's wrath alone.
One day, as I lay in the cell, battered and bruised, the door swung open. "Get up." A voice rasped, I lifed my head from the ground, Madam Drusilla. I haven't seen her in forever. Her hair was gray, yet still pinned up, and she was still dressed in a black leotard and tights, along with pink ballet shoes. Her gaze was still cold and stern. I laid my head back down, to in pain too reply.
Madam Drusilla approached, her footsteps echoing in the cold, dimly lit cell. She squatted down beside me, her piercing gaze studying my battered form. "Weakness is not tolerated in Hydra," she remarked coldly. "You were a promising asset, Apricity, but your inability to control the Winter Soldier has cost us dearly."
