The Winter Wraith (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Chapter 3 - Rose Thorn

Day after day they continued to inject you with a myriad of concoctions and potions. And yet still, no one told you why. But, apparently, whatever they wanted you to do involved more than just sitting still and being stabbed.

The first day your schedule of wake, suffer, eat, sleep, repeat ended, you weren't sure whether to be happy or even more terrified. One the one hand, you were getting a brief reprieve from the 'experiments', but on the other hand, whatever was coming could be worse.

Either way, you weren't going to make their lives easy.

Kicking, scratching and clawing were your top methods for annoying your guards. It seemed as if you were getting faster and stronger, albeit hungrier due to the small food rations you received each day. Or was it night? It was hard to keep track of time when you hadn't seen the sun in what felt like weeks.

This time, your guards drag you down the hallway on the right, the opposite direction from your usual room.

Turning your head left and right, you are greeted by the empty stares of at least fifteen other people whom you assumed had been kidnapped or 'sold' as well. But they are all silent. So silent. And although some seemed to be sitting up, none of them were moving. Just blankly staring. You considered saying something to them, willing to risk your guards' wrath, when you realised that all your guards seemed to be monitoring your reactions to seeing the other prisoners for the first time. You peered more closely at their sullen, sunken faces and empty, dead eyes. Oh. They literally had dead eyes. They were all dead. Left to rot and feed the rats until someone came to clean them away. This fate awaiting you incited you to redouble your efforts against your block-headed guards.

The room they take you to looked rather similar to the other one, but is empty besides a severe looking woman and a... ballet bar? "Ah, my most amusing subject, welcome." Dr Albracht greets you with a sickening grin.

"If it isn't Dr Frankenstein himself, I would ask how you are but I don't care." One of your guards hits you upside the head, but you can't suppress the grin crawling along your lips.

The bastard actually rolls his eyes. He continues, "This is Ms Arquette, and she will be teaching you to dance."

A snort of laughter escapes you at this point. "That's why I'm here? To learn to dance? Seriously?"

"Oh no, Subject 307841. Haven't you worked it out yet? I have so much more planned for you." His eyes rove your face, searching your expression for who knows what. He lowers his voice to a tone that sounds oddly reverent. "You are to be the greatest weapon I will ever create."

"By... dance fighting?" You question, widening your (e/c) eyes in pretend curiosity.

His lip curls in disgust and you feel a burst of satisfaction, but the next words come from the woman in the background. "Foolish girl," she exclaims in a heavy French accent. "To fight, one must have balance and grace. What better way to learn this than through dance?"

"You will be learning ballet, to waltz, the mazurka, redowa, any dances that she sees fit. You shall attend this lesson everyday as long as Ms Arquette feels is necessary before moving on to your next lessons. Don't forget, Subject, you are not only the one we can train," The bodies in the other room tell a different story, you think to yourself. "so if Ms Arquette decides you are a lost cause, you will be removed from this program. Permanently. Good day." With those final words he leaves you to the piercing glare of Ms Arquette.

~

Ms Arquette has a strange sort of beauty, with her platinum blonde hair bordering on white. Her skin looks like it's been pulled taut across her skull, making her bones jut out. She is like a wilted rose, you think to yourself, carrying an old air of beauty. But in no way is she weak, for she is still covered in thorns.

It is not long before your feet are screaming, your back is aching and your arms can barely lift themselves up. But your teacher shows no mercy. "After all," she continuously reminds you, "your enemies will show you no mercy, so why should I?"

You don't tell her that as far as you're concerned, she is your enemy. But with the death threat ever hanging over your head, you throw yourself into these lessons.

Many hours later, you are escorted to another 'teacher' in another room. Languages. German, Russian, French, Polish, Mandarin and more. You have no idea how they expect you to become fluent in one, let alone all, of these. How long do they plan on keeping you here? You suppose the only reason you're making any progress at all is because if you don't, the whips come slashing and the blades come cutting. You guess the brain learns to survive, whatever the threat.

You train in etiquette, music, persuasion and other traits Hydra deems necessary. Your favourite, though, would have to be when they teach you to fight. At first you thought them foolish, why would they teach you to fight? Did they want you to escape? But as the lessons continued, it became clear that these teachers knew what they were doing. Karate, Jujitsu, Savate, fighting styles from all around the world, from places you had never even heard of. Although you probably got the most injured in these lessons, they allowed you to at least let out some of the frustration that had been building inside you since... well, since the fire that stole your family.

Your favourite weapons were your Chakram and Japanese iron fan, although, for practicality's sake, you did not think you would be using them as much as your daggers and firearms.

It was in a training session such as this when you finally learnt what all the injections were for.

Your teacher, Mr Huang, was pelting throwing knives at you, expecting you to catch them. You had cuts and some deeper slices all over your body from failed attempts. Your skin was littered with fresh and still healing wounds, a far cry from the smooth skin of a lady Mrs Bennett had 'raised' you to upkeep. Over the months you had been forced to train, you had somehow managed to pick up fighting skills rather swiftly. Although you hated to admit it, you might have Ms Arquette to thank.

As the knife hurtled towards your eye, time seemed to slow down as you realised you wouldn't be able to catch it. Not this one. The shining, metallic blade seemed to glimmer as it hurtled through the air. You closed your eyes and were almost thankful that, finally, your hell here would end. So you waited.

And waited.

And waited.

You opened your eyes to the sound of Mr Huang giving you three slow claps. To that, and the knife that has stopped midair, barely an inch from your left eye. And then it dropped. Point down. Towards your foot. You let out a small squeak as you jumped out of the way. Before you had a chance to comprehend what had just happened, the door burst open to reveal a Mr Albracht that was... smiling? Yes, the old rat was actually smiling. At you. Or rather what you had just done.

"This," he breathed. "This is why you are here."

A/n
The powers are finally starting to come out! Next chapter should be up in about a week.
Harley J. xx