𝙴𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚁𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 - Bucky Barnes

3. THE WHITE ROOM

TWENTY YEARS AGO - HYDRA FACILITY - LOCATION: UNKNOWN.

Anastasia sits in the sterile white room, the silence pressing in around her like a suffocating blanket. She's alone with her thoughts, grappling with the fragments of memories that flicker in the recesses of her mind like distant shadows. Try as she might, she can't seem to grasp hold of them, like trying to catch smoke with her bare hands.

Every movement feels foreign, every sensation heightened as she struggles to adjust to the unfamiliarity of being awake again. The air feels too thin, too sharp against her skin, and the silence of the room weighs heavy on her ears. She rubs her temples, trying to alleviate the dull ache that throbs at the base of her skull, a constant reminder of the years lost to cryo sleep.

Anastasia's gaze drifts back to the mirror, her reflection staring back at her with an unsettling intensity. She studies the lines of her face, the curve of her lips, searching for some semblance of recognition. But the woman in the mirror remains a stranger, a ghost of a past she can't quite remember.

With a frustrated sigh, Anastasia leans back in her chair, closing her eyes against the overwhelming flood of sensations that threaten to engulf her. She may be awake now, but she's still adrift in a sea of uncertainty, lost in a labyrinth of memories and secrets she can't seem to unlock.

Before she can dwell further on the emptiness that fills her, the door to the white room swings open, breaking the silence with a soft click. A woman enters, her expression neutral as she regards Anastasia with cool detachment. "Voronin," she says, her voice devoid of emotion. "You've yet again caused quite a stir within the facility."

Anastasia meets the woman's gaze with a blank stare, her own features betraying no hint of emotion and the woman continues, unperturbed by Anastasia's lack of reaction. "Eriksson didn't survive, but Ivanov is lucky. He'll live," she states matter-of-factly, her tone clinical. "You're lucky too, Voronin. Lucky that Director Volkov sees value in you."

Voronin's reaction is devoid of emotion, her gaze unwavering as she absorbs the news of Eriksson's demise. Death holds no sway over her, its significance lost in the abyss of her fractured memories.

The woman remains standing, her posture poised yet filled with an air of curiosity as she scrutinizes Anastasia, "Do you know where you are?" she inquires after a prolonged silence.

Anastasia meets her gaze steadily before responding. "The white room," Voronin's voice is calm, almost detached.

"Correct. But where?" The woman's tone holds a hint of challenge, demanding further clarity.

Anastasia's brow furrows slightly as she struggles to find an answer. The words hang heavy in the air, laden with a weight she can't quite comprehend. "This is... a Hydra bunker," she finally admits, her voice quiet yet resolute.

"Where, Voronin?" She presses further, leaning in with intent, her palms pressing firmly against the sleek surface of the metal table.

Anastasia's countenance twitches imperceptibly, a flicker of bewilderment dancing across her features at the unexpected query. Tilting her head in a gesture of contemplation, she replies with measured composure, "That information is classified." After a tense pause, the woman pushes herself away from the table, a self-satisfied smirk gracing her lips.

"They truly didn't entrust you with such knowledge, did they?" she muses, her steps deliberate as she paces across the room, her mind clearly engaged in deep thought. "Now, do you know who I am?"

"No," Ana responds simply, her gaze tracking the woman's movements as she traverses the room.

The woman's smirk widens at Anastasia's response, a glint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "I suppose that's for the best," she remarks cryptically, her tone tinged with a hint of satisfaction. "After all, ignorance can be a powerful ally in times of uncertainty."