Prodigy

Chapter 22

I began working on simulation designs right away. As well as tinkering with some tech to test it. The man walked into the room.

"Your soldier returned." He informed me.

"And?" I asked without taking my eyes off my design.

"Howard Stark is dead, along with his wife Maria." I felt awful for the wife but it had to be done. "We retrieved some of the serum as well as some documents. You never did tell me he called you prodigy."

I looked up and saw the file in his hands. Project Prodigy.

"Works perfectly for us at Hydra, we were pretty sick of calling you 'miss' so from this point forward you will answer to Prodigy. Understood?"

I sighed at the sadly familiar name. "Yes, sir."

"You're needed for arm repairs then. Prodigy." He scowled with a smirk.

I walked into the room where Bucky was sitting in the center.

"Hello -uh prodigy." He greeted me. I sat by him and began the minor repairs. "I'm sorry you've lost your name. Your family won't find you." He whispered. He sounded broke. I could tell that the more exposure Bucky was given the more broken he sounded, leading him to not want to speak anymore.

"I'm fine, soldier." I lied. "There, all fixed. Return to the chamber." I coldly demanded and he followed my instructions.

I began to walk out when one of the guards stopped me. "This way, prodigy." He demanded.

He walked me to the lab and strapped me to the table. "It truly was lovely to see you again before my retirement." The man from earlier said as he approached the table with a syringe of light blue liquid. "You know it's no wonder why your father never announced you. Serum at just five years old? Amazing. Though you were never his child. Merely an experiment of his."

"You read it?" I questioned.

"Oh of course dear." He answered.

"Did he finalize the project or was it unfinished?" I asked.

"Very eager about this project you've become huh?" He smiled in an almost boastful way. It was like he enjoyed the pain he was causing me. "He finished the project after your apparent death."

"What did he write?"

"I'm sure it was your last wish was for the project to be a success. For him to finally be proud of you." He flaunted my wishes in my face.

"What did he write?" I asked more sternly.

"Subject died after going rouge for a mission." He smirked as he pressed the serum into my skin. I winced in pain. "Project. Failed."

I couldn't believe it. After all my hard work he still saw me as a failure. I helped Steve on the mission. I proved my strength. He still believes I had failed him. Years of training and studying and punishment all for nothing. Now I have to endure decades more of training and designing and punishment just for him to think of me as a failure up to his last dying moment.

I'm glad he's gone, I'm glad I'm the one who made that call. After everything my father has put me through to then just act as nothings happened and play father of the year now with his son, I'm glad I got rid of him. That son is lucky I did this for him so he won't ever have to deal with our father's worst side. That son is easily an adult by now, he can manage himself.