angel cake ♡ tom holland/sebastian stan/chris evans oneshots

Soldat // Bucky Barnes

"Где девушка?"

Where is the girl?

Marisa jumped a little from where she'd hidden herself, beside the doorway to the God forsaken cell she knew she'd have to enter sooner or later. She'd just, personally, prefer later. The sharpness in the tone of her superior implied her lack of punctuality would only cause her more grief, so she inhaled and exhaled with difficulty, heart hammering right out of her chest, then entered, footsteps so loud and guilty. She clasped her hands behind her back, squeezing her own fingers far too fiercely. Her eyes did not rise to meet her superior's until he wrenched her chin up and made her look at him.

"Почему ты опоздал, девочка?"

Why are you late, girl?

The label of simply "girl" stung like it never failed to, though the hurt had begun the process of dulling after so long of it stabbing away at her gut. Her name wasn't relevant, her past wasn't relevant, she was relevant for nothing more than assistance to the man she had only heard called Soldat. Soldat was in another place every time she saw him, though not physically - the binds on his chair ensured it was that way. His eyes, when Marisa dared look at them, showed he had never really remained in this place, and that there were infinite places he had been or wanted to go to. She wanted to be taken there, for even just a snippet of a moment. She needed away.

"Мне жаль."

I'm sorry.

Her lie was not an adequate excuse; her superior hit her across the face hard enough to send her crashing into the table, then onto the floor. Ungraceful and inelegant, she inhaled sharply through her teeth, eyes stinging with the threat of petty tears. Her superior allowed his boot to stray into her stomach, steel cap toe sharply shocking her nerves. She quickly hauled herself up, using the table to assist herself, red raw hands gripping the metal for a pain release. She stood the same way she had before, trying her best not to show fear.

"Вы знаете, что опоздание не принято. Это не разрешено. Знаете ли вы, что происходит, когда вы не слушаетесь?"

You know that being late is not accepted. It is not allowed. Do you know what happens when you disobey?

Marisa quickly looked up at her superior, her unadulterated terror now proudly parading on her face. Her superior stared hard for a second, then he stretched his lips into something as cruel and unsettling as a house in the middle of uncivilisation.

"ответьте мне."

Answer me.

Marisa opened her mouth slightly, then firmly closed it again to stop her trembling lips from tempting her hands to follow in their example. Her superior waited for what Marisa was so sure was an eternity, then he turned to Soldat. Sour water spurted into Marisa's mouth and she could already see it running down her chin and into the tiny pot in her room serving as a toilet.

"Soldat."

Soldat looked up, shoulder-length hair masking his face, too much for Marisa's fear to be quelled at the sight of another hostage.

"наказать девушку. делай с этим, как считаешь нужным."

Punish the girl. Do with her as you see fit.

Her superior glanced at Marisa again, who was shaking and crying silently. She'd suffered "punishments" from the superiors before - she had been choked, beaten, drowned, anything you could think of and more. But she didn't know Soldat. He could be worse. She still had her fingernails, which was a given for most everyone on this planet, but she knew the girl she replaced hadn't had hers for a long time before she passed. Her superior smiled that sick smile again, going back to Soldat.