𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘓𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘖𝘯𝘦 [𝘉𝘖𝘖𝘒 2] 𝘠/𝘕 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘬

01. 𝘕𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴

📍𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐮, 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐚
11 P.M.
☼☽⋆｡°✧ ✧⋆°｡☾☼

𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐒 were her unwelcome companions, a facet of life she couldn't shake off. While monsters lurked in some people's dreams and others found inspiration in their nightmares, hers were anchored in her past - a relentless echo she yearned to erase but couldn't. They haunted her, replaying like a broken record, each iteration feeling as vivid and agonizing as the last.

Her mother, Vera. The mere mention of her name sparked a whirlwind of emotions, resentment, and a deep-seated sense of betrayal. She blamed her for everything, for the twisted path her life had taken. Vera was the reason she ended up with these godforsaken abilities, a curse disguised as a gift.

She hated to admit it at times, but those powers had saved her life more than she could count. Yet, the process she endured to obtain them was nothing short of horrifying. The things she had done with those powers, the dark paths she had walked, haunted her conscience relentlessly.

At the tender age of five, she was torn from Tony's side, abducted by the very person who should have been her protector: her mother. Deceived by false promises, she innocently followed her mother, unaware of the sinister intent lurking beneath. The memories of that fateful day are shrouded in a haze; her mother's manipulation rendered her unconscious, leaving her with a haunting gap in her recollection of events.

Awakening to searing agony, she found herself paralyzed, tethered by needles piercing her flesh, their tubes feeding an unknown substance into her veins. Desperation clawed at her throat, urging her to scream, yet she remained voiceless, trapped in a nightmarish silence.

"She's just a child. We can't inject the serum yet," a man's voice pleaded.

"I don't care about her age! It's now or never!" another voice retorted with fierce determination.

Her mother observed her daughter's distress with an unsettling calmness, approaching the men with an air of authority. "She's regained consciousness," she informed them. The men exchanged determined glances, resolved in their course of action.

"We must proceed. Immediately," insisted the man who had earlier displayed impatience.

"Vera is her mother. If she consents, then we proceed," the other man conceded, addressing the woman.

The woman's gaze shifted from her daughter to the men and back again, her expression betraying no hint of maternal warmth. "Inject it," she commanded, her tone showing no emotion.

As the serum surged through her veins, the child's muscles involuntarily clenched, her silent agony erupting into a muffled yet piercing scream that reverberated through the building. Later, she was discovered unconscious in a room, surrounded by the murmur of voices drifting in from outside.

"She's five years old. How do you expect her to carry out an assassination?" the woman demanded, her disbelief evident.

"We'll train her until she's thirteen," the man asserted firmly.

"Brainwash her?" the other man questioned, met with a chilling affirmation. "Yes."

Years of torment dragged on, and every day she clung to hope that Tony would rescue her. Meanwhile, Tony tirelessly searched for her, his heart aching with longing. They both prayed fervently for a reunion, yearning for the day they'd be together again, father and daughter, united at last.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐑, her relentless trainer, exacerbated her misery each day. Yet, in his eyes, she glimpsed a shared anguish, a reluctance mirrored in his suffering. With his metal arm, he symbolized their intertwined fates. Her training intensified, relentless. At fifteen, she bore the weight of over forty assassinations, shrouded behind a mask, as did her mentor.

In the dead of night, she stealthily sought an escape, but the sound of approaching footsteps sent her fleeing into the nearest room, locking herself in. When she turned, she found the Winter Soldier, mask removed, gun pointed at her.

It was the first time she saw his face, unmasked, and she couldn't help but notice his striking features. "What are you doing here?" he demanded in a chilly tone, gun steady in his grip.

"I... I was trying to find a way out," she admitted, her voice trembling. He lowered the gun, his gaze fixed on her.

"I've tried. There's no escape unless someone finds you," he informed her.

"Is the woman your mother?" he inquired, setting the gun aside. She nodded silently.

"I want to go home. I miss my dad. Do you think he's looking for me?" she asked, desperation evident in her voice. He met her gaze and nodded solemnly.

"He is. He probably knows by now that you're 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍"

As the urgent knocking reverberated through the room, the tension escalated. "Open this door immediately! We know the girl is in here!" the voice outside demanded. With desperation etched across her face, the girl turned to the man, seeking refuge in his eyes.

"Go with them. I'll return to help you escape," he assured her, his voice steady despite the turmoil within. She nodded in reluctant agreement, placing her trust in his promise.

With a heavy heart, the man opened the door to the intruders, allowing them to swarm in. They wasted no time in apprehending the girl, their stern faces devoid of sympathy.

As they escorted her away, she cast one last glance at the man, her silent gratitude echoing between them. He watched her departure, a flicker of determination in his eyes.

Thrown into the room with a forceful shove, the girl found herself face-to-face with her mother's wrath. "You insolent brat! Did you honestly believe you could escape? Did you truly think Tony cared for you? All he desired was me," her mother spat, venom lacing each word. "Consider this your final warning. Attempt to escape again, and you'll meet the electric chair."

Anger flashed in the girl's eyes as she listened to her mother's vile words. Summoning her latent powers, she unleashed a surge of energy, hurling her mother against the wall with fierce determination.

The sudden commotion drew the attention of two men, who burst into the room to find the woman suspended in mid-air, gasping for breath as the girl exerted her supernatural abilities.

Reacting swiftly, one of the men seized the girl, administering an unknown liquid that swiftly plunged her into unconsciousness, extinguishing the flicker of defiance in her eyes.

She woke up in a cold sweat, muttering curses under her breath. After taking a few moments to calm down, she reached for a glass of water nearby and took a long sip. "J.A.R.V.I.S, what time is it?" she asked, her voice slightly shaky. "It is 1:40 a.m.," the AI replied promptly.

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, feeling the remnants of the nightmare still lingering in her mind. "Great," she muttered, realizing that sleep wasn't going to come easily again. With a resigned expression, she decided to get up and do something to distract herself. Maybe a late-night workout or some quiet reading would help clear her mind. 

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭:
𝟏𝟏𝟔𝟏

-ˏˋ. 𝘎𝘶𝘺𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵! ˊˎ-