October 7th, 2003

THE OLD MAN HELD a small baby wrapped up in a small blanket. He hated the baby. She was just a mistake, number seven. That was her—it's named Seven. She was made from The Winter Soldiers DNA plus the mother, whom they killed an hour after she was born, which was only around two hours ago.

The old man's voice sliced through the air like a knife, sending a chill down Soldat's spine as he struggled against his restraints. Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead, mingling with the remnants of his past, wiped clean from his memory.

With a deliberate motion, the old man unlatched Soldat's restraints, freeing him from their confining grasp. As Soldat blinked, his vision clearing, he found himself face to face with a small baby cradled in the old man's arms.

Confusion clouded Soldat's features as he gazed at the infant, his mind grappling with the sudden revelation. "Your child, Soldat," the old man spoke, his voice as cold as ice. "Its name is Seven, made from you."

Bucky's brow furrowed with uncertainty, his gaze flickering between the old man and the tiny bundle in his arms. A child? His child? The notion seemed unfathomable, yet a surge of unfamiliar emotion stirred within him, bubbling to the surface like a long-forgotten memory.

Love.

Soldat knew he wasn't supposed to feel such a thing, yet the sensation washed over him with an intensity he couldn't deny. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, genuine and unbidden.

But before he could fully comprehend the depth of his newfound emotion, the old man snatched the baby from his arms, wrenching her away with cruel indifference. Seven's cries pierced the air, a heartbreaking symphony of fear and confusion.

"Where are you taking her?" Soldat's voice cracked with desperation, his heart pounding in his chest as panic threatened to consume him.

"It, Soldat," the old man corrected, his tone chillingly detached.

Soldat's muscles tensed with rage as he struggled against his restraints, his cries falling on deaf ears. "Give her back!" he pleaded, his voice raw with anguish.

But the old man remained unmoved, his gaze icy and unforgiving. "Wipe him," he commanded, turning to the four men who had appeared at his side. With a nod, they advanced, overpowering Soldat and dragging him back into the suffocating embrace of his restraints.

Soldat's screams echoed through the chamber, a haunting lament for the child he had only just begun to know. "Give her back!" he cried out, his voice a desperate plea that fell on deaf ears as the old man disappeared into the shadows, taking Seven with him.

January 19th, 2008

THE WINTER SOLDIERS CHEST HEAVED
with exertion as he clung to the ends of the armrests, his knuckles turning white with the force of his grip. The pain that seared through his mind was excruciating, a relentless assault that left him gasping for air.

The memories, or what remained of them, flickered like dying embers in his fractured mind. Each wipe, each jolt of electricity, tore away another piece of his identity, leaving behind nothing but a hollow shell of the man he once was.

Failure gnawed at him like a festering wound, a constant reminder of his shortcomings. He was the Winter Soldier, a weapon honed to perfection, yet here he was, stumbling blindly through mission after mission, his once impeccable record stained by defeat.

The old man, their leader, loomed over him with a mask of barely contained fury. This was not how it was supposed to be. The Winter Soldier was supposed to be infallible, a force to be reckoned with. And yet, here he was, faltering at every turn.

Beside him, the younger man, his hands trembling as he manipulated the controls of the memory-wiping machine, watched with a mixture of fear and trepidation. He knew better than to speak out of turn, for the old man's wrath was legendary.

"Plan B," the old man spat the words like venom, his voice dripping with disdain. "We need to bring out Plan B."

The younger man's eyes widened in disbelief. "Sir, are you sure? I thought it was only for emergencies," he stammered, clutching the papers in his hands with white-knuckled grip.

The old man's jaw clenched with frustration. "This is an emergency," he snapped, his patience wearing thin. "Now listen to me."

With a shaky nod, the younger man complied, releasing the Winter Soldier's restraints with trembling hands. The soldier crumpled to the ground, his breaths ragged and uneven as he struggled to regain his composure.

A swift kick from the old man sent him sprawling, the impact driving the air from his lungs in a painful gasp. "Get up," the old man commanded, his voice cold and unyielding. "I have something to show you."

THEY STOOD OUTSIDE OF A DOOR,
its surface devoid of any distinguishing features. Soldat's brow furrowed with confusion, his mind racing to make sense of the situation unfolding before him. "Open the door," the old man commanded, his tone brooking no argument.

Without hesitation, the younger man obeyed, his fingers trembling as he grasped the handle and swung the door open with a creak of rusted hinges. Soldat's breath caught in his throat as his eyes fell upon the figure within.

A little girl stood in the center of the room, her blonde hair matted and unkempt, a stark contrast to the patches of dyed black that streaked through it. Scars marred her delicate features, a testament to the cruelty she had endured at the hands of her captors.

Soldat's heart clenched at the sight of her, a surge of protectiveness welling up within him. Her room was sparse, much like his own, with only a cot and a few blankets to provide comfort in the cold darkness.

But despite her surroundings, the girl showed no sign of fear or submission. Instead, she stood before them with a quiet defiance, her gaze fixed on the bare window as if searching for something beyond the confines of her prison.

"Seven," the old man's voice cut through the silence, the sound of his footsteps echoing off the stone walls. The girl turned to face him, her expression impassive as she awaited his command.

With a humorless chuckle, the old man sneered at her. "Pathetic," he spat, his disdain evident in every syllable.

Turning his attention to Soldat, the old man's gaze bore into him with a chilling intensity. "You remember the baby?" he demanded.

Soldat's mind raced, memories flashing before his eyes in a dizzying blur. He remembered the baby, remembered the sorrow that had engulfed him when she was taken away. He nodded, the weight of his past bearing down on him like a leaden shroud.

"There it is," the old man remarked, his voice devoid of emotion. "You comply, we don't kill it."

Soldat flinched at the callousness of the old man's words, his fists clenching at his sides as he fought to suppress the surge of anger that threatened to consume him. He nodded, his jaw clenched with silent resolve.

With a harsh shove, the old man pushed the girl back into her cell, the sound of her elbows scraping against the rough stone floor echoing through the chamber. The door slammed shut, sealing her once more in darkness.

"Come along, Soldat," the old man said, his voice dripping with disdain.

Soldat's gaze hardened, his resolve steeling as he met the old man's gaze head-on. "I want her with me," he declared, his voice firm and unwavering.

A venomous glare flashed in the old man's eyes. "Since when do you think you can give me orders?" he sneered.

Soldat stood his ground, his eyes burning with determination. "I want her with me," he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

For a moment, the old man considered his words, weighing the potential benefits of granting Soldat's request. Perhaps allowing him to have the girl by his side would strengthen their bond, make him more compliant to their demands.

Finally, with a begrudging nod, the old man relented. "You do your mission well; she stays with you, Soldat," he conceded.

Soldat's expression remained impassive as he absorbed the old man's words. He would do his mission perfectly, of that there was no doubt. And with Seven by his side, he knew he had something worth fighting for.

FIRST CHAP ON MY MAIN ACCOUNT
SHORT!!! but that's how all my first chaps are, anyways longer chap next