Winter's Ballerina-WINTER SOLDIER FANFIC

twenty-three

"It's gonna be a good, good life, that's what my therapist say."
-Bebe Rexha; I'm a Mess

Germany-2016
(Vera)

"Hello Mr. Barnes, Miss. Romanov." The man who I presumed to be our evaluator addressed us with a polite nod.
"I've been sent by the United Nations to evaluate you. Do you mind if I sit?"
Lie.
Why would he lie? Did the United Nations not really send him? Something was wrong.
"Your first names are James and Vera correct?"
I remained deadly still and silent. Maybe if I did he would think I was dead and go away.
"I'm not here to judge you. I just want to ask you a few questions."  The evaluator seemed to focus on James, staring him down, almost ignoring my presence in the room.
"Do you know where you are, James?" He had shifted his body away from me and way now only addressing James.
Silence.
"I can't help you if you don't talk to me, James."
"My name is Bucky. Only one person gets to call me that." He snapped.
"Tell me Bucky. You've seen a great deal haven't you?"
Something's not right.
"I don't want to talk about it." I heard James mumble. I halfway wondered why the evaluation was only being done to one of us. I mean, I was restrained same as him. At this point I wanted him to ask me something. I dare him. I need to vent and get rid of some anger, and currently this guy is my only punching bag available.
"You fear... that if you open your mouth the horrors might never stop."
"Hey! He said he didn't want to talk about it. Now shut up and move on with your life already!" I snapped.
"Don't worry. I'm coming for you next, Red Death." I felt my muscles tense.
"Why do they call you that? Is it because your victims are always covered in red blood? Or maybe because you wear red? Or because of the perfect red lipstick stains you can always find on your victims' cheeks. Because that's what you do, isn't it? You seduce and kill. Except for the times you don't have to seduce."
"Just stop." I whispered, my throat suddenly gone hoarse.
"You know Amanda Darling's mother never stopped looking for her daughter."
I felt my throat burn and my stomach clench. I regretted that one day most.
The power went out startling me out of my thoughts.
"Now, Bucky, why don't we discuss your home? Not Romania. Certainly not Brooklyn, no I mean your real home." The man continued, ignoring the power outage completely and walking closer to James
I strained my neck to see what the man was doing now. He held a small red book in his hands.
"Longing."
I could see James' head snapping back as the man began speaking Russian.
"No."
"Rusted."
I knew what he was doing. I watched once before.
"Stop."
"Seventeen."
"Stop it now!" I screamed as James' metal arm trembled against the restraint.
"Daybreak."
"James! Please you're stronger than it! Fight it!" I was screaming and fighting against the handcuffs. I couldn't loose him again. James screamed and ripped the restraints.
"Furnace."
James began to pound against the glass.
"Nine."
"Please James, fight it!"
"Benign"
With each word he punched harder.
"Homecoming."
"Please James."
"One."
"I need you! Don't give in."
"Freight Car."
Finally the glass breaks and James is free.
"Soldier?"
"Ready to comply."
I screamed. Out of anger or agony, or both I don't know. I didn't hear what was said next but my glass cage unlocked and the wrist cuffs were unlocked.
"Let the game begin." The "evaluator" said in what was perhaps a sick form of happiness and pleasure.
I was slammed into the wall by James and in return I kicked the back of his knees making him fall. It seemed like a great idea until I was punched at full force with his metal arm. I could taste the blood running down my face.
"James it's Vera." I pleaded.
"I don't know you." He said before kneeing me in the stomach. I responded with a quick kick and punch combo. After I was done he threw me aside like I was a toy a little boy was done playing with. I landed by the broken glass from James' cage. A few pieces got lodged in my arm, but nothing too serious. This time I stayed down. Steve and Sam entered the room. Steve took care of the "evaluator" and Sam got punched.
"Steve. You gotta knock him out. It will reset his brain." I told him.
"We'll get him back, don't worry. There should be a first-aid kit in here somewhere. You patch yourself up and we'll meet you in a getaway car. Find one preferably with keys, not hot wired." He instructed. I nodded and with that he rushed off to help Sam. I got up slowly and pull a few pieces of glass out of my arm hissing every so often at the sting. I found the kit Steve was talking abound and wrapped tape and gauze around the areas that would most likely need stitches later. I took the first-aid kit with me and ran down five flights of stairs to a parking garage and immediately found the perfect car.

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"I'm a mess, I'm a loser,
I'm a hater, I'm a user. I'm a mess for your love, it ain't new."
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