Irina I hate you and everything you are.

"YOU'RE SLOW TODAY, SEVEN." Irina sneered, her voice dripping with disdain. "You'll never be a true asset to HYDRA if you can't keep up."

Seven wiped the sweat from her brow, her body aching from the relentless onslaught. She was exhausted, both physically and mentally, but she couldn't afford to show weakness. Any sign of vulnerability would only invite more abuse.

"I'm trying," Seven muttered through gritted teeth, trying to catch her breath.

"Trying isn't good enough!" Irina shouted, delivering a swift kick to Seven's midsection, causing her to double over in pain. "You have to be perfect. Do you understand? Perfect!"

Seven gasped for air, her vision blurring as she struggled to stay on her feet. The training had been relentless, and the scars that littered her body were a testament to the brutality she endured daily. But today felt different. Today, the weight of her situation pressed down on her more heavily than usual.

Irina continued to berate her, the words blending into a hateful stream of insults and commands. Seven's mind drifted to the file she had found about her father, about James Barnes, and the brother she had recently reunited with. These small glimpses of humanity and family kept her going, but they also highlighted the stark contrast between what she could have and the hell she was living in.

"Stand up, you worthless child!" Irina's voice cut through her thoughts, followed by another sharp kick. "You're nothing but a disappointment!"

"Leave me alone," Seven said, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and determination. "I'm done with your cruelty."

Irina laughed, a harsh, grating sound that echoed through the training room. "You're done? You don't get to decide when you're done, girl. HYDRA owns you. I own you."

Seven paused. She sighed and went back to her position. "Good girl." She said, Seven switched with anger.

"Now punch!" Seven punched. Not fast enough apparently.

"Faster, Seven!" Irina's voice was sharp, cutting through the heavy atmosphere. "You're moving like a snail!"

Seven pushed herself harder, her muscles screaming in protest. She darted through the obstacle course, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Every misstep, every hesitation was met with Irina's biting criticism and the sting of a baton to her back or legs. Seven's body was littered with bruises and scars, a testament to the relentless abuse she endured.

"Pathetic!" Irina spat, her voice dripping with disdain. "You'll never be more than a weak, sniveling child. Do you think your father would be proud of this performance?"

Seven clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. She wouldn't give Irina the satisfaction of seeing her cry. She pushed through the pain, the anger, and the exhaustion, completing the course as best as she could.

But it was never enough for Irina.

"Again!" she ordered, her eyes glinting with malice. "And this time, try not to embarrass yourself."

Seven's vision blurred with tears of frustration and pain, but she nodded and returned to the start of the course. She couldn't let Irina break her. She had to be strong, for her father, for herself. She steeled her resolve and began the course again, her movements precise and deliberate.

Halfway through, she stumbled, her foot catching on an uneven bar. She hit the ground hard, the impact jarring her entire body. Before she could get up, Irina was upon her, the baton striking her side with brutal force.

"Get up, you worthless little rat!" Irina hissed. "Do you think HYDRA has any use for failures like you?"

Seven struggled to her feet, her ribs throbbing with pain. She glared at Irina, a burning defiance in her eyes. "I'm not a failure," she said through gritted teeth.

Irina's expression twisted with rage. She grabbed Seven by the collar, lifting her off the ground. "What did you say to me?"

Seven's breath came in shallow gasps, her mind racing. She knew she should back down, should placate Irina to avoid further punishment. But something inside her snapped. She was tired of being treated like a disposable tool, tired of the constant abuse. She met Irina's gaze with unwavering defiance.

"I said, I'm not a failure," she repeated, louder this time.

Irina's eyes widened in shock, then narrowed with fury. She threw Seven to the ground, her face contorted with anger. "You insolent little brat! You think you can talk back to me?"

Seven landed hard, the air rushing out of her lungs. She struggled to her knees, her body trembling with pain and anger. She knew she couldn't take much more of this. Her mind raced, searching for a way out.

Irina loomed over her, the baton raised for another strike. "I'll teach you to respect your superiors," she snarled.

Seven's hand brushed against something cold and metallic. She glanced down and saw a gun lying on the floor, dropped by a careless guard during a previous training session. Her heart pounded in her chest. This was her chance. She could end this.

Without thinking, she grabbed the gun and pointed it at Irina, her hands shaking. "Stop!" she shouted, her voice trembling but determined. "I'm done taking your...your abuse!"

Irina froze, her eyes widening in surprise. Then, slowly, a cruel smile spread across her face. "Well, well," she said mockingly. "The little rat has found a toy. Do you really think you can shoot me, Seven?"

Seven's grip tightened on the gun. "I will if I have to."

Irina laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "You don't have it in you. You're weak. Pathetic. Just like your father."

The mention of her father sent a surge of anger through Seven. She steadied her aim, her finger hovering over the trigger. "Don't talk about him."

Irina took a step forward, her smile widening. "What are you going to do, little girl? Shoot me? Go ahead. Do it. Prove to me you're not as weak as I know you are."

Seven's mind was a whirlwind of emotions. She hated Irina, hated everything she represented. The years of abuse, the constant pain, the dehumanizing training—it all boiled down to this moment. She could end it all with a single pull of the trigger.

But she hesitated, doubt creeping in. Could she really do it? Could she take a life, even one as cruel and twisted as Irina's?

Irina saw the hesitation and pounced.

"You can't do it," she said softly, her voice dripping with contempt. "Because deep down, you're just a scared little girl, desperate for approval. You're nothing."

Seven's vision blurred with tears of frustration and anger. She wanted to prove Irina wrong, to show her that she was strong, that she could fight back. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her shaking hands.

Irina took another step forward, her hand moving to her own weapon. "Last chance, Seven. Put the gun down, and maybe I'll go easy on you."

Seven's mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. She wanted to end this, to stop the pain and abuse once and for all. But taking a life was a line she wasn't sure she could cross. She hesitated, the weight of the decision pressing down on her.

In that moment of hesitation, Irina drew her gun, pointing it directly at Seven. "You're too weak," she said, her voice cold and final. "Just like your dear papa."

Seven's anger flared, a white-hot rage that drowned out her doubts. Her finger tightened on the trigger, her vision narrowing to the woman in front of her. "Don't. Talk. About. Him."

With a final surge of determination, she pulled the trigger. The gunshot echoed through the training room, a deafening sound that seemed to last forever. Irina's eyes widened in shock, a look of disbelief frozen on her face. She staggered backward, a dark stain spreading across her forehead where the bullet had struck.

For a moment, everything was silent. Seven stared at Irina, her heart pounding in her chest. She had done it. She had fought back. But the realization of what she had just done began to sink in, the enormity of it crashing down on her.

Irina's body crumpled to the floor. Seven stood there, the gun still clenched in her trembling hands, unable to process what had just happened. She had killed her tormentor, ended the years of abuse in a single, decisive act.

But the victory was short-lived. As Irina fell, her finger tightened on the trigger of her own gun. There was a flash of movement, a loud bang, and a searing pain in Seven's stomach. She looked down, disbelief washing over her as she saw the blood spreading across her shirt.

Her legs gave out, and she collapsed to the floor, the gun slipping from her grasp. She clutched her stomach, the pain radiating through her entire body. The room spun around her, her vision darkening at the edges.

As the darkness closed in, the last thing she saw was Irina's lifeless body lying a few feet away. Seven's thoughts were a jumbled mess, a mix of relief, pain, and fear. She had fought back, but at what cost?

And then, everything went black.

BUCKY WAS SENT TO FETCH SEVEN,
the echoing sound of a gunshot made him fetch her quicker though. They rarely used guns for training, Bucky was the one to teach her guns.

His heart skipped a beat, and he broke into a sprint, his senses heightened with fear. He reached the training room door and slammed it open, his eyes widening at the scene before him.

Seven lay on the cold, metallic floor, her small frame crumpled and unmoving. Blood pooled around her, seeping from a wound in her stomach. Nearby, the lifeless body of Irina lay sprawled, a bullet hole in her forehead. Bucky's world narrowed to the sight of his daughter, her face pale and her breaths coming in shallow, ragged gasps.

"No, no, no," Bucky muttered, rushing to her side. He dropped to his knees, his hands shaking as he gently lifted her into his arms. "Seven, baby, stay with me."

Seven's eyes fluttered open briefly, her gaze unfocused. "Papa..." she whispered, her voice weak and filled with pain.

"I'm here, Sev. I'm right here," Bucky said, his voice breaking. He pressed his hand against the wound, trying to stem the flow of blood. "Stay with me, sweetheart. You're going to be okay."

Tears blurred his vision as he cradled her, his heart breaking at the sight of her suffering. "Help! Somebody help us!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the empty halls.

Seven's eyes closed again, her breaths becoming more labored. Bucky's panic surged, a primal fear taking hold. He couldn't lose her. Not now. Not ever. He rocked her gently, his mind flashing back to the countless nights he had soothed her to sleep, the promises he had made to protect her.

"Come on, Sev, stay with me. You're strong. You can fight this," he urged, his voice filled with desperate hope. "Just hang on a little longer. Help is coming."

He pressed harder on the wound, trying to keep her consciousness from slipping away. The blood soaked through his fingers, warm and sticky. Bucky's heart pounded in his chest, every beat a painful reminder of the seconds ticking away.

The sound of footsteps echoed down the hall, growing louder. Bucky looked up, his eyes wild with desperation. "Over here! We need help!"

HYDRA agents stormed into the room, their expressions a mix of shock and urgency. They rushed to Bucky's side, assessing the situation with practiced efficiency. One of the agents, a medic, knelt beside Seven, quickly opening a medical kit.

"She's been shot," Bucky said, his voice trembling. "Do something! Help her!"The medic nodded, his hands moving swiftly as he began to work on stabilizing Seven.

Bucky's grip tightened on Seven, his mind screaming in protest at the thought of letting her go. "I'm coming with her," he said, his voice fierce and unyielding.

"Okay," the agent agreed, helping him lift Seven carefully. They moved quickly, the medic keeping pressure on the wound as they hurried through the corridors.

Bucky stayed close to his daughter, his heart breaking with every pained whimper that escaped her lips. "You're going to be okay, Sev. I'm right here. I won't leave you."

The journey to the medical bay felt like an eternity, every second filled with the fear of losing her. Bucky's mind raced, guilt and anguish mingling with a fierce determination. He had to keep her alive. He had to save her.

As they burst into the medical bay, the staff immediately sprang into action. They took Seven from Bucky's arms, placing her on a gurney and rushing her into the operating room. Bucky tried to follow, but the doors closed in his face, leaving him standing in the sterile hallway, his hands stained with his daughter's blood.

Inside the operating room, the medics worked frantically to stabilize Seven. Bucky pressed his forehead against the cold glass of the observation window, his body trembling with fear and helplessness. He watched as they hooked her up to machines, the beeping of monitors a haunting backdrop to the chaos.

"Come on, Sev. You're strong. You can do this," Bucky whispered, his eyes never leaving her pale face. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see the old man. Malice was evident on his face, a twisted smile curling his lips.

"Soldat," the old man said quietly, his voice filled with a sickeningly sweet mockery. "Seems like little Seven got herself in quite the issue here."

Bucky stiffened, his jaw clenched. "She's okay. She just got into an accident."

The old man chuckled, a cruel sound that echoed through the sterile room. "I see, so no mission for her?"

Bucky nodded, struggling to keep his composure. "Obviously not, sir."

The old man's smile widened, his eyes glinting with malevolence. "Well, well, isn't that a shame. She managed to kill Irina, didn't she? Quite the mess she's made. It's almost amusing, don't you think? The little girl who was supposed to be our asset turns out to be a liability."

Bucky's grip tightened on Seven's hand, his anger barely contained. "She did what she had to do. Irina pushed her too far."

The old man's gaze flicked to Seven, then back to Bucky. "You're defending her? How touching. But let's not forget your place, Soldat. Sentimentality is a weakness."

Bucky's eyes narrowed. "She's my daughter."

"Is she now?" the old man sneered. "She's HYDRA's creation, a tool. And tools that are broken are either fixed or discarded. She killed a valuable operative. There will be consequences."

Bucky's heart pounded with a mixture of fear and rage. "She was defending herself."

The old man waved his hand dismissively. "Irina's methods were harsh but necessary. And now, because of Seven's little outburst, we are down one handler and up one problem child. But let's put that aside for now. You have a mission in a couple of hours."

Bucky shook his head, his voice firm. "I can't go. I need to stay with her."

The old man's smile vanished, replaced by a cold, hard stare. "You will go, Soldat. Orders are orders. Do not forget who you are and who you serve. Get ready. Now."

Bucky hesitated, his mind racing. He looked down at Seven, her face peaceful in unconsciousness, and then back at the old man. "She needs me."

"And HYDRA needs you to complete this mission," the old man said icily. "Your attachment to her is noted, but it does not supersede your duty. You will leave and prepare immediately."

raightened up, his eyes hardening as he faced the old man. "I'll do the mission, but if anything happens to her while I'm gone—"

The old man laughed, a cold, mocking sound. "I'd be careful with such threats, Soldat. You're valuable, but not indispensable."

Bucky cast one last, lingering look at Seven before turning and walking away. His heart felt heavy with the weight of leaving her behind, but he had no choice. The corridors seemed longer, the air colder as he made his way to his quarters to prepare for the mission.