Very little changed, in that remote base tucked away in the depths of the mountain. The handover of responsibility to Katrina seemingly impacted no one but herself, and least of all her bewildering charge. The comings and goings of those who worked in the core labs of the facility didn't change, she was simply expected to fall into stride.
Those first six months as Maintenance Officer on the Winter Soldier Program were trial and error, without anyone with significant experience to guide her. In fact, her interactions with the Soldier himself were limited – his periods out of cryostasis were few, but when he was out he would remain for a week or two at a time, giving his body time to stabilize before it was frozen once more. Even in those periods, he would vanish – she was not permitted to ask where he went, but she was expected to have him ready, and she was expected to prepare him to return to the chamber when he came back.
She talked to him as she worked; she couldn't help it. More often than not she was left alone with him, as she didn't seem to be deemed important enough to be assigned a guard during her tasks. If he were to suddenly become volatile, it would be little more than an inconvenience to replace her, but she tried not to linger on that thought. So, she talked to fill the silence, and though she never received any actual feedback, she liked to think he listened to her inane babbling and fond nicknames for him. Those piercing blue eyes that shifted between watching her every move or staring listlessly at the walls rarely changed. Most of the time he seemed to simply be waiting, his expression akin to that of a lost child, tugging at Katrina's heart in a way she couldn't put into words. Perhaps it was because no one else seemed to see it; to them, the Winter Soldier was an asset and nothing more. A weapon that could be shelved when not in use.
Sometimes, very rarely, when he had been awake for a longer period than usual, he would begin to watch her more carefully. Almost as if he were reading her expressions or actively paying attention to the work she was doing on his arm. His head would tilt slightly as she narrated her thoughts aloud in those echoing rooms, but it was often after those moments of near-responsiveness that he would be whisked away, and she would be left to busy herself with other tasks, until he returned a few weeks or months later, a blank slate once more. It was a slight change, but a noticeable one.
It was easier though, to just keep her head down and pursue other work.
Gradually, the chaotic office that had been left in her hands was combed through – files and documents, blueprints and plans were all examined, though most of it she couldn't make sense of, yet. It gradually pieced together a picture though, one that generated more questions than she had started with, but slowly, she felt she was getting somewhere. She just hadn't realised the places she needed to get to would requite so much personal improvement. Yes, she could reassemble an engine and strip a rifle with her eyes closed, but the Winter Soldier program was a different beast entirely.
Most of the maintenance records and plans for both the arm and cryochamber were in German, and so – armed with the battered phrasebooks and dictionaries her father had sourced for her – she began to learn German, albeit poorly.
To ensure she kept her modifications to the cryochamber safe, she needed to understand the impact it would have upon his body, and so she looked back to her rudimentary medical training, and sought the expertise of the doctors on the program.
To maintain the shining limb, she needed to understand its function. She needed to comprehend the minute, detailed flexes of a fist as it delivered a blow, or how the muscles of a shoulder compensated for the recoil of a gunshot, and so she revisited her training. It hadn't been anything flashy, just what her father had taught her as a teen and the baseline defensive skills tested upon her entry into the KGB. She honed what abilities she had though, swinging her left fist at the tattered sand-filled bags on the training floor until her knuckles bruised – revealing impact points she had never thought of. The initial repairs she had made had been rudimentary, she hadn't fully understood the sheer mechanical miracle that was his arm, but now her mind was making the connections it needed to.
She was never asked to make any adjustments to the machine she had glimpsed on that first day. Still, the records she found told her enough about its uses. She tried not to think about it very much.
"Working hard, Ivanov?"
Her afternoon's toiling at the punchbag was interrupted by the voice that echoed through the empty training space on one of the upper levels, drawing her head up from where she had been looking down at her stiff fingers, flexing them slowly. "Josef." She smiled tightly in recognition at the man as he strode across the room, trying to keep the sound of surprise out of her voice. "It's been a while."
She had first met the tall, broadly built man back in her days with the KGB. A few years older than her, he had been famed for his ruthless vetting of new agents using brutal trials of physical combat. Thankfully, as she had been recruited into the weapons development team, Katrina did not fall under his aggressive jurisdiction, but it hadn't meant she had escaped his notice. His superiors had adored him, those beneath him feared him. He was exactly the kind of violent young man that excelled in these organisations, the type of person who was told he would do great things for his country one day. It was no surprise to her when she heard he had been recruited by HYDRA as his reputation had grown – some said he was drafted into an elite squad of assassins, but it had never been her place to ask. He was only ever known by his forename, no surname and no rank. A ghost in the system, like so many others.
"Surely this isn't the usual haunt of a mechanic? Or is it weapon's developer?" He grinned at her as he dropped the bag he carried over his shoulder, his chiselled features and charming demeanour all carefully laid out to appeal to her, to put her at ease, the way he had been trained to. It was what made him so good at what he did, the ability to instil a false sense of trust in others, but Katrina knew better than to fall for it. She could see that his smile didn't reach his eyes.
"Just letting off some steam." She returned his smile with ease as she stepped back, wiping her brow on her sleeve as she turned to go, unwilling to be watched as she worked.
"Are you sure you don't want to go a few rounds?" He teased after her, laughing as she cast a casual wave over her shoulder as she headed out the door.
"Another time." She diverted lightly, even as her skin prickled with the desire to get out of the room. She couldn't be certain, but she was sure he and his team were more often stationed at a different facility. Closer to civilization and thus their missions. When they made an appearance here, it made her uncomfortable.
Descending through the levels to her office, Katrina tried to put Josef out of her mind, smiling in greeting as she came across her father in one of the corridors. One clear benefit of her new position in the program was the fact that she now worked on the same level as he did, and she finally had clearance to understand just what his job was amidst the great machine that was HYDRA. Erik Ivanov served as the Head of Intelligence Operations in the program, though what that exactly entailed she wasn't sure. She knew he spent most of his time in some of the more closely guarded rooms within the complex when he wasn't in his office, but very little more. It was almost infuriating, knowing that she was already knee-deep in HYDRA's secrets, yet still more were being kept from her.
"You look tired, Kat." He father commented as he paused to fall into stride beside her.
"I am tired." She nodded with a smile, "But motivated. I think I can finish fine-tuning the arm this week."
He raised an eyebrow at her as he walked, knowing is daughter was driven, but he had never before seen her quite so determined to solve the problems placed before her. He had expected her to rise to the challenge of course, but he hadn't expected her to engage so enthusiastically with the Winter Soldier after her violent introduction to him. Though her heart was not as closed off as others within their organisation, and he could sense a deeper motivation behind her eagerness to improve the mechanics surrounding the asset. There was almost an unspoken protectiveness there, he had seen the first glimmers of it the morning she resolved to join the program. He hoped for her sake that was all it remained – a glimmer.
"Good, Karpov will be glad to hear it, I believe the Soldier is to be sent out soon."
"Is that why Josef is here?"
Katrina didn't miss the wary glance he cast her way at the question, considering for a moment before nodding; "Karpov has lately taken a... Particular interest in Josef and his team."
"Well tell him if he's looking for more Winter Soldiers, I can only maintain one arm at a time." She smiled cheekily up at him, though her expression faltered as she saw the thin line his mouth pressed into.
"It isn't the arm that makes him special, myshka." He murmured after pausing to think, seeing her confused expression and casting a quick glance up and down to corridor to ensure they were alone. "Come, I'll show you."
Frowning, she followed as he diverted down a corridor that ran perpendicular to the one her office was on, punching in a passcode as he reached an imposing steel door; "I think it goes without saying that you don't discuss anything you see in here outside of this floor."
"Of course." She assured him softly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she waited for the door to open, uncomfortably aware of the fact that she probably smelled like stale sweat after her efforts on the training floor. She had also been hoping to find some ice for her hand but had tactically hidden her bruised knuckles from her father's view. Curiously, she followed him through the door into the echoing room beyond, her eyes taking a moment to adjust to the low lighting as she took in the features of the quiet lab. Silently, her father led her to the far wall, where a row of small glass phials was displayed in an illuminated cabinet, watching as she squinted through the glass at the liquids.
"What are they?" She asked softly, keeping her hands laced behind her back to smother the urge to reach out towards them. They were beautiful, in a way. Varying shades of viscous, translucent blues, each labelled at their base of their phial with serial numbers.
"Serums." Her father murmured, "Or rather, failed recreations of one."
"What do you mean?"
"When the Soldier was first... Recruited-" Katrina didn't miss the way he carefully chose his words "-he was treated with a version of a serum designed to infuse the body with additional strength, speed, virility. You might have heard of Captain America?"
She wrinkled her nose at the reference, "From the American comic books? Wasn't he a propaganda tactic?"
"No, myshka." He chuckled softly, though the sound was humourless, "He was an experiment, the original success of the serum. Ever since him, HYDRA has been trying to replicate it, but so have the United States. The closest we came was during the war, with the Winter Soldier."
She nodded, pursing her lips thoughtfully as she glanced back to the display of serums; "I had thought he must be enhanced. It was the only way to explain how he survived the cryostasis."
"Exactly." Her father smiled proudly down at her as he watched her admiring the display, "He is the key to unlocking a successful formula. We are growing closer to finding it every day, but so are the Americans."
"How do we know these past attempts were failures?" She questioned, tilting her head to count the near twenty phials before her.
"None of the test subjects survived. The serum either consumed their systems or they became too unhinged to control." He uttered grimly, seeing a shadow cross her expression at his words, as the phials before her eyes shifted from artifacts to warnings. A glass cabinet of graves.
"The Soldier, he is stable though, isn't he?" She breathed as that concern crossed her own mind, the startling realisation hitting her that she wasn't concerned for her own safety, but for his.
"He can be volatile, but we can control him." Her father explained, "The aim however is to replicate the American model. An enhanced individual who can operated with some independence, who doesn't require such... Tight controls."
"And Karpov has Josef in mind?"
"That would be classified information, little Kat."
A knowing look was cast his way, met only with one of silent fondness, the same one he used when she tried to press for information she knew he couldn't give. "Mmm." She hummed thoughtfully, biting the inside of her cheek as she glanced away from the phials.
"Go on, I've told you too much already." He chuckled, placing a hand on the small of her back and urging her towards the door, "Go shower – and put some ice on that hand before it swells."
[A/N: Thank you for reading, don't forget to leave a vote and comment if you're enjoying the story so far, and watch out for some quality Winter Soldier interactions in the next chapter! X]