content warning: gore, lynching, graphic violence

"He came into the world in the middle of the thicket..."

Olivia whispered to herself, kneeling over Bucky's unconscious body. She just finished switching the 'bandages' of Bucky's wound, using patches of her "Tinkerbell" shirt. She even ripped part of the cuffs of his jeans to fully wrap his torso. Luckily, the blood stopped after she stitched it with a needle she found after hours of searching the forest and a thread of her hair.

After dragging his body until her arms grew tired, she found shelter underneath a boulder hovering over them. It was helpful, considering it had been raining for the past few days.

He still wasn't awake.

After their fight before, she had no clue what possessed her to keep Bucky alive. He didn't care about her. He didn't even have to tell her, and she knew that fact. Like everyone else, he thought of her as nothing but a burden. You're wasting your time.

Despite this, Olivia felt responsible for ensuring he had a beating pulse. She was relieved when she checked it that morning; he was alive... but still unconscious.

She graced over the bandaged-up wound one last time before pulling down his shirt, stained with his blood. She, too, was covered in his blood but the blood from the two soldiers she took down. She pulled his leather jacket over him as a blanket. She whispered once again to herself.

"...in one of those little, hidden forest glades... entirely open..."

These were things she told herself, over and over again, in order to get herself focused. Every single time she was alone, she'd retell herself the story of Bambi: A Life in the Woods. There wasn't a time when she was alone that she hadn't. It'd calm her down; that was something she knew.

Today, like any other, she left Bucky lying there for a day of searching for food or supplies. Anything that would wake him up.

From the heels of her converses, she marched onwards, frantically pushing aside the branches blocking her away. "There was very little room in it... enough for him and his mother."

She hadn't found anything for the past few minutes. She only passed by a mix of acorns, leaves, and bugs—nothing good enough for food. She needed to find something.

She quickened her pace. Twigs and sticks crunched beneath her shoes, causing something to pop up in her view.

A deer. She found a deer, a young fawn, eating a patch of grass from a distance. Tears filling her eyes, she gained an idea. "He stood there... swaying... his thin legs..."

She pulled out her old pocket knife, stealing it from Bucky's jacket. It was all she had to survive for the past five years. She told herself, "He hung his head... trembled... still completely stunned."

She remembered those words, precisely remembering the story Anna told her. But at the same time, she had no clue what they meant. The pictures were the main thing that caught her attention. She liked the deer covered in white spots—similar to the one she was about to kill.

"A child like that... hardly a minute in this world... beginning to walk already..."

She tiptoed as slowly as possible toward the young fawn. It used to be easier for her to kill. But now, each step she took were heavier and heavier while her sweaty palm gripping the handle of the knife. But still, she kept going, careful not to make another sound.

"The little fawn understood not one of the many songs and calls... did not even listen to them..." She stopped steps away from the fawn, still hidden underneath the bushes.

Using her knowledge of HYDRA, she positioned her knife, aiming directly towards the belly of the deer. It was small.

Her hands began to shake. She continued to whisper to herself, tightening her grip on the weapon.

"...he smelled nothing but his mother's body... she... she..." Anna.

Olivia switched over to another sentence. "...snuggling closer to her, he hunted eagerly around and found nourishment for his life..."

She repeated the last words.

"Nourishment... for... his life..." She swung her knife. The sound of the fawn's cry echoed when the weapon hit its stomach.

She dragged her feet outside of her hiding spot, seeing the doe stumbling away. Drops of blood trickled down her stomach, painting her white spots red. The knife was still lodged into it.

Her lips trembled as she forced herself to move closer to her. She continued to retell the story to herself, "Bambi..."

The fawn turned her head, startled. As the doe was beginning to run away, the animal fell on its hooves. With nothing else to do, she cried Piercing Olivia's ears.

She kneeled next to the doe, looking at the blood pooling around the animal. Her eyes watered as she again gripped the knife. "My... little... Bambi..."

The young deer continued to wail out in despair and pain. Olivia's stomach churred, shakily holding the knife. She was supposed to pull it out, but she didn't. A part of her didn't want to.

"My little Bambi..." She repeated over and over again as if it would take her away from that moment. As if it would take the pain away from her.

The crying stopped. Dark blood coated the knife Olivia just pulled out. She stared at it with red eyes. She whimpered, looking over the animal she just killed.

The animal was dead with her dark eyes open. It was so young, so small, with thin legs and white spots on its back. It was Bambi.

I killed Bambi.

She caressed the fur, feeling her body grow limp and cold to the touch. Her body shuddered as she felt electricity on her fingertips.

With how much Olivia was physically stronger under the serum, her hands melted under the bloodied fur of the deer. In her head, she knew she needed to let go, but she hadn't done so for the past fifteen seconds. Tears welled her eyes again as she logically didn't know why. But her heart knew... as cold as it was. Like the deer. Like Bambi.

The crunch of a twig breaking caught Olivia's attention. Her head shot up. Someone's here.

Bushes, the same that Olivia hid herself in from the deer, started to move around. A couple of campers, a middle-aged man with a woman around the same age, appeared. Two kids were with them, a boy and a girl, visibly children with blonde hair. The main thing she noticed was that they weren't wearing tactical gear but regular clothes. Not HYDRA.

The man carefully approached Olivia like an animal in the middle of the wind. With his hand in front of him, he spoke as gently as he could.

"Hey. Hey, it's okay." His voice had a hint of a Russian accent.

Olivia held her tongue, softly backing away from the family and the dead deer.

The man continued on with his questions. "Are you lost?"

She didn't respond, just stared at the man. Her eyes lingered on the woman, nervous and awkward like the man. She also viewed the little children by the wife's knees and noticed the looks on her face. Their eyes peered at Olivia, who lacked emotion with straight faces. It reminded her of how she grew up—emotionless like a machine—just how she should be.

The man caught Olivia's eyes, glancing at the emotionless children, and stammered over his next words: "Don't worry. They're just hungry. Are you going to share that deer?"

Olivia eyed down at the deer she had just killed, unsure of what to do. She still wasn't sure how to say "No" to a superior, a man. Like the many guards she encountered, she was only allowed to do what was asked of her.

At the same time, it wasn't theirs. This family didn't kill it. The blood was on her cold hands. And the deer wasn't 'hers'... She needed it when Bucky was finally awake. When he was okay.

She slowly, her head growing heavy, shook.

The man's brows furrowed with worry. He pressed on the issue with more of a bass in his voice. "Please, please... We'll—We have medicine!"

Olivia's ears perked up to that word. Medicine. The only thing she was lacking.

"Medicine?" She repeated, revealing her Russian accent to the family.

The man nodded, as did the wife. "Yes. Pain meds."

"Okay." Olivia stood up with her hand on the knife, bleeding on the ground. She gripped it as tight as she could, beginning to drag the body.

"Wait! The... the..." The man spoke up, stammering like before. "The knife. Can you drop it please? You see... it uh scares the kids. You know?"

The girl slowly blinked, similar to a sea turtle, with no gaze of her reaction. The boy stood relaxed, unfazed by the blood.

Olivia's eyes widened at his request. The knife was the last thing she had to protect herself. It was her clutch, her teddy bear.

But then, in the corner of her mind, she remembered a conversation with Bucky when he took it from her on the farm.

"I don't want you to use that knife again."

It wasn't nice, like he told her. With killing the deer, maybe it was a sign. She needed to let go. She needed to let go of the knife.

If not that, there was another thought in her head: He needed the medicine.

She nodded, throwing the weapon to the ground. She finally let go of the knife, just like Bucky told her. There was a deep part of her wondering at that moment. Would he be proud of me?

The family's faces became closer the more she dragged the deer's body. She considered picking it up with her bare hands.

It wasn't that heavy, according to Olivia. But the looks of Ivan and Julia when she picked it up convinced her of this anomaly. Her lips turned into a frown, carefully placing the deer down on the ground. "Sorry."

"You know I would've helped you, " the man chuckled. Olivia didn't know why, but the sound made her back shudder. She also noticed the woman and children not laughing. This, however, didn't catch her off guard, as most of the women and children she had seen never laughed.

Olivia nodded, moving over for the man with a fit build to drag the deer with his hands. It was clear that the man was at least human.

The man, hands gripping the deer, led Olivia into a deep, heavily covered trail of trees, rocks, and boulders. The sky was still bright without a hint of blue. Everything was cloudy. Blurry.

As the family took Olivia to what she assumed to be their hideout, the man conversed with Olivia, pressing her with questions. He had told her that his name was Ivan, his wife Julia, born in America, and their two kids, Ivanna and Alexei, were born there.

"I named Ivanna after me... Julia let me have it for weeks." He chuckled. "Even worse when I named Alexei. That was my grandfather's name. He was important."

Olivia nodded in response, looking at the blood on the deer. It started to get on Ivan's blue Hawaiian shirt.

Ivan told this story of their birth as a bit of conversation like someone was out for a cup of coffee. It was like they weren't in the middle of a forest, dragging a dead animal. All the while, the woman and children had nothing to say.

"We were supposed to celebrate his birthday today—well it would've been his 86th birthday." He chuckled, still full of light. His smile lines were evident.

Olivia had no clue what to make of this and continued to remain quiet. Was she supposed to say congratulations or sorry? Either option felt more of a test as he spoke on further.

"Me and him, you know... we used to hunt deer all the time back in Siberia... used to eat them too..."

She gulped, eyes on the dead doe he was dragging.

Ivan noticed. "You have great aim, you know? Never seen a girl your age swing like that. Impressive."

Olivia just nodded along while Ivan asked her another question.

"You're out here by yourself?" There was a twisted smirk on his face.

"No." Olivia swallowed, speaking up for the first time.

"Oh. What happened to them? Are they looking for you?"

"Um..." She had no clue what to say other than the truth. "He's sick."

Ivan nodded in an aha moment, understanding. He grunted, biceps on the deer, as he spoke. "Ah. So that's why you need the medicine, huh? Need to help your old man?"

"Old man?" Olivia's brow furrowed, confused. It was true that Bucky was old, but the way Ivan had said it made it seem like something else—something she had no knowledge of.

"Yeah, your old man. Everyone got one. I'm a father myself. Biggest pains in my neck. Right, kids?"

The kids simply walked with the woman, Julia, robotic with a dull expression. Just a simple blink.

Ivan tiredly chuckled, beginning to stammer once again. "Don't mind them. They're just... how you say... startled? We hadn't had anything for the past hours. You should've seen them yesterday, they were..."

He went on a monologue about his 'kids' again. Although not apparent to Olivia, his cadence and speech whenever he spoke... felt rehearsed, almost as if it was a piece of improv. Not once had the woman and children spoken for the past few minutes. They were like statues, and Olivia didn't even notice.

She did, however, wonder to herself—Is this how fathers are supposed to act?

She suddenly noticed a similar tattoo glimmer in her view after turning around.

The kids and woman were hanging out in the back, while the mysterious man hung around Olivia in the front. The little girl, blonde with dull eyes, reached to scratch the back of her neck. A barcode tattoo was revealed on her wrist, peeking out of her pink long-sleeve shirt. A tag.

There was only one place that used tags like that. HYDRA.

From this, Olivia quickly turned away, pushing forward without a second warning. Her heart started beating like a running horse. Out of the blue, a stench of rotting eggs filled her nostrils. She went deep into her thoughts to place a comment on it. But it was familiar to her.

A flash of memories of seeing various guards and soldiers with that very tattoo whiplashed her. It can't be.

She swallowed, growing more and more overwhelmed with a pit filled with anxiety about what could possibly be her situation. I did exactly what Vronsky told me to do.

That anxiety grew stronger, triggering her side effect power—telepathy.

At this point, she had blocked off the ongoing conversation the man tried to have with her, replacing it with a beeping noise. A hint of electricity flicked her from when the man grabbed her forearm to regain her attention. She slowly traced her eyes on him, not seeing the smile he was giving her.

Instead, she saw the cell: the guns, the green uniforms that the men would wear, the line of soldiers tearing each other apart. She then saw the med room with the scientist and his gloved hand on the needle... pricking her skin over and over again... Sending her back to the awful place she used to call her home... Her hell...

It was HYDRA... They had followed Olivia, after all. She desperately hoped that it wasn't too late.

Olivia almost tripped, backing away from the man. A tree trunk stopped her, and she panted heavily and unevenly. Her eyes went wide as saucers, looking at the man, now a soldier to her, and his hoax of a family. She recognized the familiarity of their expressions. They were undercover.

A trickle of red liquid dripped down to the tip of her nose and then on her rosy cheek. It smelt of iron... blood... She scrunched her face as the man, not Ivan, the father, stood. A smirk was carved into his mouth like it was going according to plan.

"Oh, now. Don't make that face. You're safe."

Olivia shook her head quickly, pushing herself more towards the tree trunk. At that moment, to her, there wasn't any way of escape. Just fear. She was trapped.

Another drop of blood trickled down on the crown of her head. This finally prompted her to look up, the stench of rot and decay filling her nostrils. It was her.

Dylan. Hanging.

Dylan's body twisted and turned on the rope, blood dripping down over her limbs and on the tree. She was still wearing her overalls from that day on the farm. It was the same one from the day they met, the day when she met Frank. From the day she died. Olivia remembered those overalls were covered with dirt and strands of hay... Now, it was covered entirely with Dylan's blood.

Olivia was too late. She couldn't save her. Not her, not Jared... Not Anna. They were all dead because of her. And there was nothing she could do about it.

She held her breath, facing her head down with her hand on her chest. She heaved in short breaths with a high-pitched noise in her head. Everything she could possibly think about at that moment, the guards, the needle pain, the images of Dylan, Jared, and Anna... it was all there. And it was loud.

Although Olivia lost the ability to scream herself, the little girl and boy, young agents, finally broke out of their facade and covered their ears, screeching in agony. The woman just simply grunted like a wounded animal. They were involuntarily feeling Olivia's pain–borne out of her telepathy.

The man, stoic, continued to move closer. His pace struggled a bit, but that didn't stop him.

In the midst of her fears and pain, a glimpse of her knife reappeared. She dropped it, she remembered.

She had to try. One last time.

Her legs worked up into a sprint before the man got close enough. She weaved through tree branches and rocks that blocked her way. She knew exactly where the knife was last. All she had to do was to follow the trail of blood. Follow Bambi's blood.

In a split second, she turned around and clashed with someone—a soldier in full-on tactical gear and a machine gun.

She yelped, falling on her back. In desperation, she crawled backward. Not realizing another man was rushing behind her, becoming closer by the second. She panted heavily, preparing to use her hands to escape. She gripped the grass tightly. A bit of the soil.

She threw a patch of soil to blind the soldier in front of her. He immediately cursed to himself, caught off-guard. With a shred of recent confidence, she stood up on her feet.

That confidence, however, didn't last long when another soldier, Ivan, ran behind her, grabbing both her arms.

She yelped louder, struggling to move. Ivan's strength quickly led her to believe that this wasn't a regular soldier—the serum. Realizing this, she did everything to match his strength.

Ivan covered her mouth while the other soldier, the one she threw dirt at, pulled a briefcase out of the bushes. A few more soldiers went out as well, but Olivia's attention was on the briefcase. She knew what it was... The needle...

No, not again. Not again. She quickly moved around, tears welling her eyes. She tried to scream, but it came out as muffled and quiet.

Olivia then used her teeth to pop out a vein from Ivan's palm. Blood splattered all over her face and clothes, but she was too distracted from running away. His cry of pain was blocked from her head. She needed to get the knife.

She faced another soldier in her way, with her gun aimed at her. She screamed, not out of fear, but anger. She pounced on the soldier. She kept punching his face until she knew he wouldn't get up. She grabbed his rifle, aiming at the sweep of soldiers chasing after her.

Without a second thought, she pushed the trigger. Shots rang off through her ears as a couple of soldiers fell to the ground. She had this training before after Bucky—The Winter Soldier—had left her. One piece of advice she remembered... Always aim for the head.

Another pair of soldiers fell to the ground with a hole in their skulls. She gritted her teeth, remaining cold and sufficient. It was better that way. Be cold. Be. A. Machine.

In her head, she continued to narrate the story of Bambi once again... Only in her head. There was no time to speak. Just shoot.

"He was simply wild... He had to do it... He felt a desire to leap and jump."

A barrel of shots had gone to a halting stop. The bullets rang out.

"He stretched his... limbs joyfully."

A soldier tackled her, slamming her arms and legs onto the ground. No escape.

"His breath came easily.... drank in the air."

The soldier kept her head in the dirt. She started to wail in desperation, calling for help.

A needle popped into her view. Her body flailed as she screamed, crying. Crying for her father—someone... Anyone...

She didn't want to go back.

"The sweet smell.... the meadow made him so... so happy... so happy... he had to leap into the air."

She felt the needle prick her skin... felt the drug hit her system. Plants, leaves, patches of virgin soil, branches—disappeared from her view. In a last attempt to keep her eyes open, she told herself more of the story.

"Bambi was a child."

With that, her eyes closed. She was finally captured.

Bodies upon bodies of dead soldiers were wheeled out as a group of HYDRA operatives investigated the scene. They were planning on finding Bucky as well as Olivia. Lilith Pierce, the woman in the trench coat, casually strolled through the bodies. She stopped at one of the dead soldiers with half of his face blown off and a splatter of brain guts imprinted on the soil.

She was mildly impressed with Olivia's work, which was one reason she needed her back.

The lieutenant of the pack, the pack that was massacred by a twenty-year-old, was shouting at an operative recording the evidence. It was the same operative agent who suggested this setup in the first place.

"Это твоя вина! Ты убил моих людей! Проклятый пизда! Ah! (This is your fault! You killed my men! You fucking cunt! Ah!)"

The female operative, wearing tactical gear and holding a tablet, rolled her eyes at the lieutenant. "Их заменят. Это не моя проблема. (They'll get replaced. It's not my problem.)"

"'Не моя проблема.' Тебе повезло, что я сам тебя не пристрелю. ('Not my problem.' You're lucky I don't shoot you myself.)"

"Посмотри на это с другой стороны: у тебя все еще есть Алексей. (Look on the bright side. You still have Alexei.)" The female operative pointed out the man, who impersonated a father to Olivia. It was the same man she popped a vein out of his palm.

Alexei was his real name, not Ivan. He had been an undercover agent for under a year. He was still a bit inexperienced but had been well-trained after being dropped by SHIELD. He was bitter about it, but nothing hurt worse than a bleeding hand.

He gripped his palm tightly, waiting for a nurse or someone to help him. To everyone, including his own superior, he never looked so pathetic as he did at that moment.

The lieutenant grimaced, full of disgust. "Ты в моем списке. Запомни это. (You're on my list. Remember that.)"

Alexei impatiently whined to the female operative, still holding his hand. "Сколько это займет времени? Мне кажется, я умираю. (How long is this going to take? I think I'm dying.)"

The lieutenant felt like throwing up at the sound of Alexei's childish whining. If it were up to him, he would take anyone but him. However, it wasn't up to him at all.

The female operative sighed, irritated with a hint of exhaustion. "Ой, заткнись. Мы тебя зашьем, когда закончим. (Oh, shut up. We'll have you stitched up when we're done.)"

"Нет. (No.)" The slither in Lilith's voice silenced the trio. Although not fluent, it was clear to everyone what she just said, even with her American accent. She continued in English. "That won't be necessary."

"Wha–What are you talking about?" The female operative raised a brow. She spoke to her in English with her Russian accent, calm enough to not seem like a threat. "I thought that—we're here for the girl."

"Oh, Ivy... do you really think I let the famous Winter Soldier out of my hands again? Think of the optics. Think of the money we've already lost."

Ivy didn't respond with a question. Changing plans was Lilith's usual MO, even when it wasn't exactly necessary. If it were one of her partners for missions and assignments, she would tell them that they were crazy. But for Lilith, she wouldn't dare.

Ivy just nodded while the lieutenant stood next to her. His face seemed content. It was honestly relieving that, even losing his men, it meant losing Alexei. And he was okay with that.

Alexei, however, started to sob, shaking with fear. All of the HYDRA operatives casually walked past him, tuning out his cries.

"Нет! Я не останусь здесь! Это не было частью сделки. (No! I'm not staying out here! That wasn't part of the deal.)" His voice was full-on trembling, hoarse from the throat.

"Oh... don't worry. You're a super soldier..." Lilith lowered her voice, speaking to him as if he were an infant. "You'll heal."

She then pulled out her revolver, shooting his leg. He painfully screamed, echoing over the ears of the remaining soldiers of HYDRA.