Zola opened her eyes and jolted up in the bed to the feeling of strong arms yanking her to her feet and onto the cold ground. She heard the men's boots pound against the floor as she was forced awake and forced to listen. Just because of how exhausted she was and because of how tired she was of this all.Her eyes tried adjusting to the dim light of the medium sized room. She could barely see her mother standing in front of two guards who held her arms behind her back in order to keep her in place. She winced when they threw her to the floor and threw something down with her. Her eyes followed the loud clattering noise as the object hit the floor. It slid over to her mother's feet, which still wore her worn out pointe shoes.
Then, she looked up at the guards that stood behind her, tilting her head upwards and looking over her shoulder. The man to her right dropped a large, metal or iron looking object down next to her, which made the same loud, clattering sound as it hit the floor.
Her eyes followed the thing once again. She stared at the object on the ground and raised an eyebrow. She wasn't sure about what they wanted her to do with it, or why they were throwing it at her, but when the men behind her threw their arms out and shoved her to her knees, she figured that she should pick it up.
"Pistolet." She heard her mother whisper from the other side of the room. Zola lifted her head and stared at her mother as she held the cold gun in her hands. She looked back down at the small thing and flipped it over, trying to figure out what it might be used for. gun.
"Chto?" Zola asked, questioning what it was used for. She watched her mom as she waited for a response, connecting her blue eyes to the wiser green ones above her. The guards released Natalia's arms and allowed her to grab her gun from the floor, and step over to Zola. They left the cell but stood just outside so that they could make sure neither one would try to escape. what?
"Pull this." Natalia instructs in English, showing her daughter where the safety clicks off and on. Zola, thankfully understanding the instructions, followed what Natalia did, clicking it off and on.
"Off," Natalia says when she clicks the safety off. "On," she says when she's clicked it on. "vyklyuchen," She says in Russian, demonstrating that it was switched off. "na." She finishes once she turns it back on. She turned to look down at Zola, who was slowly following her lead. "Now you show me." She says in English, backing away as she waited for Zola to do it on her own. switched off, on.
"Vyklyuchen, na," Zola says as she switches the safety on and off. She continues to repeat it, engraving it into her memory until Natalia tells her to stop.
"Now," She stands to her feet and instructs for Zola to follow after her. She holds her gun up at the wall and waits for Zola to follow after. There is a black dot on the wall, probably mold, so Natalia bends down to Zola's height and explains. "Chernyy krug. You aim for it." She says, leaning over to position Zola's gun so that it was on the black dot. the black circle.
"Aim." Zola repeats, kind of understanding what the word meant. She moved her gun up to the circle, and closed one eye so that she could better focus on the position of it. Natalia nodded and stepped away with a small smile.
"Da. tsel'," She begins, walking over to the dot on the wall and pointing to it. "Eto tsel'." She says. Zola knew what Eto meant because of their studying the day before, so now she kind of just had to put the pieces together. Yes, target. This is the target.
She once again adjusted her positioning as her mom came back to her side, but Natalia slowly lowered the gun from her face. Zola was confused, and looked to raise a curious eyebrow at her mother.
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In Their Hands ✧・ BARNES ✔
FanfictionZola Barnes, daughter of Natasha Romanoff, and the adoptive daughter of Clint Barton is raised in the red room for the first few years of her life. She grew up to the feeling of the Winter Soldier's metal fist punishing her for every mistake she mad...