winter's child

Learning

I'm still not used to the arm. The fingers don't feel. Sometimes I break things because it reads my brainwaves and when I'm angry I shatter and burn things uncontrollably. It makes me feel less stable.

Less human and more monster.

Daddy says look on the bright side, now I can do a one handed cartwheel. But he says it without conviction. 

The one bonus is that they are starting to let me practice, like a training for missions practice, except I can't go on most missions, except the rescue ones.

I work on controlling my power with Wanda. She's helped me learn to use it with intent, and not just emotion. I've ruined many things because I forgot there's something in my hand when I get mad.

Mr. Stark teaches me about what exactly my power is and can do. I'm grateful someone as smart and also fun as him can help me understand.

Uncle Steve lets me use his shield for target practice. He'll throw it up and I have to try and hit it before it hits the ground.

Daddy starts to teach me little bit about fighting. It's mostly just punches and an occasional kick, but it's enough to defend myself.

They keep the darkness at bay. They keep me going. They keep me human.

Today we have a meeting with someone important about my powers and how they're a possible 'threat'. I'm not allowed in. Instead I sit furiously against the door, randomly kicking it in annoyance.

When everyone finally leaves, I rush over to Daddy. His expression gives away nothing. 

"What happened?" I question.

"Nothing, you're fine."

However, the way he reacts is brisk and I catch his mouth twitch when he thinks I'm not looking. 

Mommy comes over, "Daddy and I need to have a quick chat. It'll be fast, I promise."

I huff indignantly, and spin on my heel toward the conference room, hoping to find some evidence.

Everything is dully clean, like most things in this world. A piece of paper catches my eye, but it only has two scribbly words. I make out Sokovia, a country close to the one I was born in. The other word leaves me confused. I can't pronounce it. 

A-coords? Acc-ords?

I leave it be, not wanting anyone to know I was snooping. 

Someone does.

A dark suited man peeks in at me, "Hey kiddo, I don't think you're supposed to be in here."

I give him a scanning glare before hopping of the chair and leaving.

He calls after me, "Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you," He sticks out a hand, "Aaron Sventson."

I shake it, "Tanya Barnes."

"So you're the little spark plug everyone's so worked up about!"

I cross my arms, "I guess."

"I've heard you were given an enhancing serum and a robotic intraskeleton that together allow you to manipulate energy around you into fatal shocks."

"Yes."

"Now why are you living with the Avengers?"

"The who?"

"The Avengers! Earth's mightiest heroes? Battle of New York? Sokovia?"

"I was born near Sokovia."

"So then you must know them!"

I shake my head.

"Well you know your mother is the Black Widow right? Born and raised in the USSR, tortured as a child and trained to kill and infiltrate?"

"How do you-"

"And your father is the Winter Soldier? Brainwashed and tortured as well. Two dozen assassinations in the last fifty years. Put on trial in the US and almost sentenced to death. Murdered his friends, Howard and Maria Stark in cold blood. HYDRA's little pet for many years. Until you."

My fists clench in frustration, "How do you know this?!" Because I don't even know most of this.

"Because horrible people get horrible endings."

Angry tears spill from my eyes, "They're good! They've changed!"

A menacing smile splits his face as he leans close to me, "People like them- like you- can never change. You'll always be monsters."

I growl, "You don't know that!"

His hand his suddenly suffocating around my throat, clouding my mind and ability to do anything, "Oh I do, darling. Because I made them."

He squeezes tight and I gasp for air that will never reach my lungs.

++++++++++

When I wake up, my head is spinning and every movement feels sluggish. My eyes slowly adjust to the harsh grey light. The room I'm in is dark concrete. There's a thick metal door with a window too high for me to reach. 

My breathing becomes quick and panicked. No. No. NO. Not again.

I try to blast the window, but my hands spark weakly and peter out. I run over and pound on the door, wailing, "Let me out! Let me out!"

Eventually I tire, my hands bloody and bruised. Screams turn to sobs as I curl hopelessly against the wall.

The men come in when I've worn myself out. They inject things into me, one clear, one blue. The blue one makes me dizzy and the clear one makes me sleepy. One of the men holds me up by my arm, forcing me to walk. I stumble forward as he pulls me down a grey hall.

They push me through a door and into a chair. I scream in a language I thought I forgot as they bind me to the chair. The last thing I remember before blacking out is a cold thing around my head, and pure white, too angelic for this wretched place blinding out everything in my mind.