Soulmate [B.Barnes]

Seven- Toska

I woke up to the feeling of immediate warmth. My body was attempting to readjust to a temperature I was seemingly unused to. The thick fog moved from my vision as two scientists stared at me from the bottom of the platform. The decompression chamber entirely raised as the doctors stared at me in fear, like they knew what I was capable of. They had no idea. Two soldiers grabbed my arms as I heard a struggle from behind me. I panned my head to see the cause of chaos when I saw him—the Winter Soldier. 

I couldn't remember the last time they had waked us up. But from the unfamiliar faces and slightly upgraded technology-I'm going to say it had been a little bit. First, the man gripped my arm harder, pulling me from his eye-line. Then, as he dragged me into another room, he threw me into a chair—one without restraints, surprising.  One man came up from the side as a woman walked from the other. 

"какова моя миссия?" (What's my mission?) I asked.

They didn't answer, of course. Why would they? The man grasped my neck, pulling me back into the chair. I didn't resist. I had learned better than to do that. The woman held my chest down as the man pulled out scissors. I kept dead still, technically being trained to not freak out in these sorts of situations. 

"не двигайтесь." (Hold still) 

I did. Not because I wasn't necessarily scared, but because if I were to die today, I wouldn't complain. He took a comb brushing through my long elbow-length hair. And before I knew it, my hair was sitting at my shoulders. I parted straight through the middle, coming evenly on both sides. It wasn't a professional cut but done well enough to where it didn't look like I did it myself. Once the man was done, he was escorted out by a guard, leaving only her, me, and another guard. She pulled out a rolling cabinet, a single suit placed on the mannequin. 

A long-sleeved white bodysuit, holsters attached to the sides. The women placed combat boots at the bottom of the suit, the whole outfit being my size. I wasn't allowed to wear the same suit twice. They never talked with me directly, but the main reason was not to draw too much attention. As if a woman wearing a bodysuit with guns attached, jumping from building to building wasn't eye-catching enough. She nodded her head, signaling me to change. I had done this for as long as I could remember, not even caring anymore if any piece of self-worth or dignity was left. 

I peeled my old clothes from my body, only leaving me in a black sports bra and panties. She nodded again. I knew the drill, nothing underneath. I was stark naked now, feeling the guard's eyes gazing at my nude body. I would've felt sick, but I couldn't feel...anything. It was like hydra took me from my body, and the only thing left was an instinct to kill. I slipped the sleek white suit up, pulling the combat boots on as I pushed a variation of knives and handguns into the holsters surrounding my suit. I hooked my white mask around my ears, concealing my face. I could hear the screams reverberate off the walls, even as they came through the other room. It was him, winter. I knew he got the machined treatment more than me. He was more volatile, violent. I had an attitude, sure, but as time went on, my personality ceased, and they ultimately ruled me for however long I had been here. The woman tied my hair into a tight braid at the back of my head. 

After I was done, the man led me back into the main room, and I watched as a man sat a red book with a black star in the center, down on a table beside him. 

вы двое (You two)

He handed the soldier a tan file, "есть миссия" (Have a mission)

The soldier stayed still, not moving as the man turned to another guard by the wall, holding me. 

"приведи ее!" (Bring her in!!)