crimson, [b.barnes daughter], marvel

prologue.

"ᵘⁿᵗⁱˡ ʷᵉ ᵐᵉᵉᵗ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ,"

"𝗶𝘀𝗮𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗮."

    "Прошу прощения."

the day she was brought into this world, the outside was a canvas of gray, in the midst of a raging storm. the kind that bled into bones, leaving a chilling in its wake.

she was small - premature and pale.

he wondered, did she ever even have a chance? of course not.

why would she have had a chance? 

she was born into darkness, eyes wide and unseeing. perhaps she'd already sensed the darkness that surrounded her.

he was stripped of his humanity far before she was brought into the world. his memories were frayed. fragmented and shattered like glass. 

her eyes were as blue as day, pupils of broken glass. his blue.

he remembered the pain. the screams, the relentless whispers of trigger words. 

he'd been molded and shaped into something akin to a doll, devoid of conscience and amity.

he wondered if she could feel the violence brewing within him. her eyes held no judgement, innocent as light. untouched by the horrors of her father's existence.

the words echoed in the surface of everything surrounding him:

"longing, rusted, furnace, daybreak, seventeen..."

they watched, they studied, manipulated. they knew she was a weakness. his weakness. one they could exploit. she was a liability.

he could whisper words of promises to her - promises of escape, of a future where she'd never know the taste of blood or the sting of betrayal.

but he didn't.

the room held memories he couldn't forget: the surgical table, the icy injections. the chair that erased his self.

could he shield her from the monster he'd become?

deep down, he feared his legacy would reach for her too. would she not only inherit his eyes but also the darkness that clung to his soul?

had it already gotten to her? was she forever bound within its grip?

his sins weighed him down, and the walls that surrounded him would be a home, but never his home. he'd hoped it would never be her home. 

the cold embrace of the facility reminded him of the suffocating feeling of no future, no reason to exist but purely for this.

hydra had plans for her, plans that didn't and would never involve a father's love.

he didn't have the choice in shaping her being - whatever it was now would be reshaped over and over by them, just like his was.

at least his had some time before it came to be reshaped for the first time. hers didn't.

they'd take her away, mold her into something of their liking. obedient, devoid of warmth.

he glanced at the surveillance camera in the corner. they were watching. always watching.

and when the day would come for the time of their separation, he would hold her one last time. he'd imprint her face in his memory, and pray to god he'd always have an inkling of remembrance for her. he'd whisper, "remember, my girl, you are more than they'll ever know."

and he wouldn't say it, but in his head he'd think, she is more than he will ever know. 

because he would never know her.