You Want It Darker? (OC x Loki x Winter Soldier)

CHAPTER FIVE

For the next few weeks, day in and day out, I endured the training sessions with the Winter Soldier, each training serving as a stark reminder of my own vulnerabilities. It was still unclear to me why they even put me in such a situation in the first place.

It seemed to not matter to them. The training sessions were brutal, relentless, the Winter Soldier showing no mercy. From time to time I spotted a kind of sorrow or guilt behind his blank gaze. Almost as if I was cracking through his robotic facade.

Luckily, I did manage to avoid some of the beatings the more time we spent together, learning and anticipating his every move, to exploit weaknesses in his relentless attacks. A mere result of survival, evading counterattack. Despite the fear and pure frustration that arose each training session, there was a begrudging admiration for the Winter Soldier. His skill in combat was like no other, his every move deadlier than the next, extreme preciseness and power. A skilled assassin machine.

When it came to weaponry, I developed a keen affinity for knives. Unlike firearms, which could run out of ammunition or potentially give away one's position with noise, knives offered a silent, deadly efficiency that appealed to my style of combat. Among the arsenal of blades at my disposal, there were several favourites that I grew particularly adept at wielding. One such knife was a custom-made combat blade, forged from the finest steel and honed to a razor-sharp edge. Its sleek design and balanced weight made it perfect for both close-quarters combat and throwing with lethal precision.

Perhaps what set me apart was my skill in combining these different forms of combat seamlessly. I could transition from hand-to-hand combat to ranged attacks with fluid precision, utilising knives and firearms interchangeably to devastating effect. This versatility, coupled with the ruthless efficiency instilled in me by the Winter Soldier, made me a formidable asset to HYDRA's cause. Before I could manage to fight off several trained agents of lower ranks, but now, with the training I had endured, I could now easily fend off higher trained HYDRA agents.

Besides the training sessions were only small moments in the day I had to myself. Either when showering or at the lab, both offering some type of solace. The lab had continued administering small portions of different types of substance. Routinely I'd come into the lab, sit down, have a small tube slowly feed the goo into my arm, and I would be dismissed. Every so often I'd still managed to piss off handlers or higher ups, but instead of being punished by them, they'd make the Winter Soldier go extra hard on me during training sessions. Beating me to the brink of death, making me wish I was. The soldier showed as usual no remorse, operating as a machine that would respond to the commands given by our handlers or commanders.

I did, however, notice him most of the time avoiding my face or head when throwing punches that could have been easily lethal if they landed on me.

The rest of the days me and the Winter Soldier would spend training together, eating, or sleeping. Although most of the sleeping came from my part. The soldier's sleeping patterns were odd and irregular, mostly consisting of small naps and minimal rest periods, seeming to always be alert, never fully asleep. But fortunately that also meant he'd be the one to aggressively shake me from any occurring night terrors, which happened more often than not.

In a way we found a nice routine together. We spoke little words to each other, or well, he would just respond with a glare or grunt to my comments. But I could tell it humoured him from time to time, seeing a sliver or smile twitch in the corner of his mouth. Maybe Strucker was right. Some kind of fucked up family did form. We could count on each other.

Today was not much different.

"Again!" One of the trainer's voices echoes through the training room.