Work Text
Prologue.
“Furnace…”
‘I can’t even remember how I got here... Why can’t I remember?’
“Benign… Rusted…”
‘I remember the train… but after is nothing but cold… and quiet.’
“One… Daybreak…”
‘All they do is walk around me, I can follow their voice as it circles me… The same fucking words…’
“Nine… Longing…”
‘I remember… The mission to capture Zola… God fuck… Something’s different… Why do I feel…so… angry…’
“Seventeen…”
‘I remember his face… Zola! I remember him looking down on me…’
“Homecoming… Freight Car…”
‘They woke me up… I fell out the train! Steve! Peggy!’
“Soldier?”
“Orders? Sir.” James Barnes was lamented as a lost soldier of war. His death was recorded on site by the Howling Commandos and subsequently avenged by Captain America when the Red Skull was defeated and the Valkyrie plunged into the cold icy depths where Steve Rogers would remain at the location of his sacrifice. Following the end of World War 2, Nazi scientists were incorporated into American locations. It seemed at the time, to be working alongside the scientists of the Allied forces to continue their progression into what might become the greatest sharing of scientific minds now the world was seemingly at peace. Operation Paperclip, and with it… Arnim Zola. A small balding man with a ring of blonde and greying whisps of hair around his corona, the bookish Swiss scientist was the right hand man of the Red Skull, serving at his whims on Hydra’s greatest projects… The Tesseract, an Infinity Stone in the hands of one of the greatest evils Humanity will ever face. It was his hand and mind that produced devastating weapons of war from his research on the object found in Norway and it was by his hands the Americans were able to produce more reliable power sources from the cells taken from the field weapons and vehicles at Zola’s command. But secretly he worked with others insidious and scheming and surreptitiously reformed a sect of Hydra buried in the very organisation that formed to bring them down. With his new access to technologies and advancements, playing his part in repairing the world for his crimes… he was able to maneuverer his way into collecting samples of experimental super soldier serum that had produced America’s greatest weapon against his former organisation. He was able to collect the frozen, but alive, form of James Barnes… and was able to use his influence and clandestine forces to bring the Sergeant back from the brink of death and forge him into a weapon that could prove to be both SHIELD’s and America’s downfall. I’m certain there are other steps along the process that I could explore… but I had to pose the question… A question that I think might become all too popular with more access to multiversal tapestries and parallel dimensions… What If…?
Chapter 1.
“And you are certain it is prepared?” Zola’s voice sounded through Bucky’s mind, he was half conscious after waking but knew in his heart and mind that he had been activated recently. He could feel his adrenaline burning but his body ached with injuries… pain and torment. “Yes… Dr Zola. Dr Fennhoff has reportedly completed his work with Erskine’s formulae and believes the next stage will be the last…” An unfamiliar voice but someone subservient to the Swiss scientist muttered. Bucky couldn’t understand who he was referring to explicitly, whoever this Dr Fennhoff was… maybe he had some kind of role that he wasn’t aware of… or awake. Bucky’s eyes opened with a slow gaze panning to the bespectacled older scientist, the same greying whisps of hair around his head seeming less and less as time had progressed. His head, however, was the only piece of his body he could move. The rest felt pressed and pulled simultaneously into a star shape with his arm and legs being held in what felt like cold metal tubes with miniscule sharp pricks of needles digging into his muscles. “Very well… begin the infusion, I want to observe the process here.” Zola looked up and met Bucky’s vision and smiled. He perused his body with his eyes, his spectacles reflecting the bright blue light with the star shaped human being held suspended inside. In the same instant, the other scientist began a series of processes in the myriad computer consoles around the room. Several collections of large spinning ribbons of holed plastic whirred in synchronicity and within moments, Bucky felt the burst of heat and fluid rushing through his muscles from every single injection point. He felt his body tremble as it took in more of a strange substance. It burnt, it seared his skin and his insides but more and more he couldn’t summon the air to scream… not that he would give his presumed captor the satisfaction. His eyes dimmed one more time as he felt Zola’s eyes continue to peruse his body and found himself swimming in a river of unconsciousness before long. “Good Morning…Sergeant?” The same Swiss voice carried into his mind with a pervasive intensity. As his eyes opened, he found the Doctor swirling a small light in front of his eyes. He was too groggy and sedated to recoil but he felt more free in his muscles and body, at least for the moment. It was more of a challenge at the moment to hold his own eyes open. Bucky tried to grumble something in the vein of “Get off me you Nazi shit!” but nothing came to his throat, the words simply lacked the presence in his body to rise. “Autonomic Motor response seems within parameters…” A Russian voice sounded on the far side of the room and Bucky pulled his head towards where the voice was coming from. A taller, bald and much older scientist was standing with a clipboard, writing something and holding a small implement in his hand. Bucky felt a sting of pressure in each of his toes as the man at the end of the bed prodded each of them with this sharp tool. Bucky’s eyes caught on a golden ring the man was wearing, there was a faint insignia etched into the face of it and a thick gold band, with a single movement the Russian seemed to position his hand to stroke the ring softly. “I’ll repeat… Good Morning… Sergeant Barnes?” Zola continued, trying to pull Bucky’s attention back towards himself. A faint reflection in his spectacles formed but he couldn’t make sense of the reflection. He offered Bucky a small glass of water on the side of the hospital bed and Bucky accepted it, catching sight of his hand in process and recoiling. He held the hand up and looked it over. It was slim and delicate. His arm was supposed to be thick and strong, inlaid with muscles that he took pride in keeping maintained back in the army. “I’ll begin then… You should know that you are not the person you were when you went to sleep… Physically… you are very different. In essence your entire form has been manipulated by the finest minds we had at our disposal and I must admit… Their work is… remarkable!” Zola seemed pleased with himself and the Russian voiced man at the far end continued to look him over as he laid out in the bed, examining the hand he now possessed. His left arm felt absent… replaced by a cold metallic whirring mechanism but shaped into an almost exact replication of his right. “What…?” Bucky managed to utter the dry and raspy word and found his brain recoiling in fear as the voice emerged higher pitched than he had ever said anything before. He ran his hands over his face, finding no stubble, no beard and feeling his familiar features entirely reshaped. “Try to remain calm…” The Russian voiced man at the far end of the bed spoke, stroking the small golden accessory on his middle finger and within the second Bucky felt more at ease… relaxed and calm. “You’ve been remade… Sergeant. If you’d please stand…” Zola offered an arm and Bucky took it without question or issue… He didn’t want to but his body seemed to act of it’s own accord… His mind constantly being pulled to a low dull whirring that seemed to come from the ring the other man was stroking. A mirror on the closed side of the hospital door showed the extent of what Zola was talking about. Bucky did not recognise the person in the mirror. She was beautiful… Straight Red hair falling down around her head but cut short to frame her face. Full plump lips and startling blue eyes surrounded by the epitome of femininity. Her body was slim but still carried an amount of musculature. She seemed unsteady on her feet but quickly found her balance as he did. She had perky breasts, barely disguised under a thin fabric hospital gown. As Bucky investigated with his hand, so did she… She ran her hands over her crotch and revealed the extent of the physicality. A small opening in her groin, her vagina, sat slim and unconcealed by hair. She had long slender and hairless legs that seemed to fall far to the floor as Bucky realised just how ‘different’ Zola had made him. She took a moment and examined the cold metallic arm that every physical sensation he could expect was being sent through it… it was artificial but he could feel everything she did to examine it. “This… has to be some kind of trick…” She uttered Bucky’s words, still raspy and weak. “No trick… While there were some limitations to our work… We can confirm that full… functionality has been assured in your new… equipment.” Zola assured Bucky, who was becoming confused by just how and why this was happening to him. “But… why?” She asked his question, just as it rose to her head and she felt her body recline back into a seated position on the hospital bed. “According to history… James Barnes died honourably during a mission… but that’s not the truth. You were left… assumed dead and subsequently avenged by your compatriots. We, and our organisation, found you still at the bottom of that chasm almost a year later, barely alive but… alive.” Zola continued and Bucky should his head in disbelief. Steve wouldn’t leave him alone like that… surely he would have tried just like he had when he rescued him and all of those prisoners the first time. “But why… am I like this?” She asked the follow up, Bucky still struggling to understand the process of his mind controlling the voice of a woman… very definitely… a woman. “I’m afraid that is my doing.” The Russian finally interjecting his role in the ordeal. “… When we found you, your body was ravaged by frostbite and grievous injuries. By the time we found you… You weren’t yourself anymore. Our organisation needed to make a decision and the decision was made. We made whatever alterations we could while your body was still being restored and once an infusion of blood and radiation treatment was administered… You were completely healed. It was a remarkable process… but once we realised we couldn’t restore your biological arm… a prosthetic was commissioned and provided for you…”.“My colleague Doctor Fennhoff is correct. To try to restore your masculinity would have proven fatal… We understand this must be a shock… but…” Zola interjected, sending his hand up Bucky’s arm in what he assumed was a comforting gesture but felt like an inappropriate assumption on his part. Bucky moved to show his comfort and leant over to grab the glass of water, finding his movements no longer restrained and the dull tones emanating from the golden ring on Fennhoff’s finger no longer present. “But you… You’re Hydra… Why save me? Wait…! You gave me Steve’s blood!?” She continued her small inquisition as the questions rose to her mind. The deductions of who’s blood might have had the same restorative healing that could have helped restore him… if he was as injured as they claimed. “I’m afraid some time has passed since the war… Sergeant, I, like many others on the other side… Were employed by the American government… Using the knowledge we had used for Hydra and the Nazi’s… for the good of all…” Zola smiled, spinning his false narrative but only so much that Bucky genuinely seemed to believe it… at least was suspicious of it, until it was proven. “Steven Rogers’ blood was administered, as you surmise, because of it’s restorative and amplifying powers contained in the Super Soldier Serum that ran in his veins… While the dilution was immeasurable… You do now possess some attributes, namely his regeneration and some measures of his strength.” Fennhoff continued the point, answering the question to the best of his own ability. It seemed plausible… at least from where he was sitting… trying his hardest to close the hospital gown at the front so Zola couldn’t see his exposed genitals. “So… what’s the plan? I’m supposed to just go about a new life as an amputee woman? I’ve got to admit Docs… This is a little implausible and suspicious…” Bucky continued, sweeping an invasion of smooth red hair from his vision as he felt it cascade into his view. “All in good time… but for now… perhaps you just become accustomed to your new body. Perhaps this evening we will discuss what our colleagues have in their designs for you… if you’re willing… that is?” Zola rambled, almost holding his gaze on the deep blue of Bucky’s eyes as if getting lost in them. What was he supposed to be insinuating? That Bucky should explore his body? The pure form of femininity he’d been given? He’d been with women before as his old self but this was… almost an uncomfortable notion. He wasn’t a woman… but every glance at his reflection seemed to chip at that assertion. “I concur… I’ll have one of the nurses assist you in whatever concerns you might have… I have seen what these American girls are wearing and it might come as a small shock for you… to count yourself as one of them…” Fennhoff took his hand away from clasping his other and pulled his finger from the golden accessory that seemed to dull Bucky’s senses. Bucky nodded, feeling his head fall back into the deep fluffy pillow below and feeling his body relax into the softness of the bedding. A few hours of relaxing sleep later… a slow knock at the glass windowed door alerted him to the presence of the nurse. “I hope I’m not disturbing you ma’am…?” A southern belle looking and sounding woman poked her head through the doorway and Bucky realised he was again tucked under the sheets, having napped until what had become the edge of darkness and nighttime. “No… I… I think I’ve slept long enough…” Bucky shook himself free of the small mental stoppage that followed being referred to as ma’am… but if Zola and Fennhoff were correct then he might as well get used to the idea. Seeing his own body so far changed and gone that he didn’t even know if he should refer to himself as a ‘he’ anymore. “Quite right… I saw the Doc roll you in and watched you get better… It’s been a remarkable process.” The brunette hair of the southern belle fell behind her head as the nurses’ headwear she wore contained the full bursting contents. “Yeah… Roll into a hospital a frozen man and leave as a burning hot woman… Can’t even imagine what that must have looked like…” Bucky found himself trying to contain a sense of passive aggression, realising it wasn’t this nurse’s fault that he was like this but couldn’t exactly let it go that he had no choice in this matter. He simply… was. “My name’s Dottie… Doc Fennhoff has asked me to… acclimate you. I just want to assure you… It’s nothing I’ve not seen before. Well, except the arm.” Dottie assured and reassured a few different ways. With a soft hand on Bucky’s new mechanical arm, slender and feminine but shimmering with a silver light. “Actually yeah… I’ve got some questions… if that’s okay?” Bucky asked and found his eyes being pulled to her brown eyes, the kindness in them setting his body at ease, as if he knew her from before and was just now reconnecting. Dottie sat down at one of the visitation chairs and lit a cigarette from her pocket, offering her new colleague one and lighting it with a match. She wore the nurse’s uniform complete with black shining shoes and sheer stockings with the seam running up the back of them. Once upon a time Bucky might have found the sheer outfit arousing… now all he could think was how he will have to think about what kinds of dresses and stockings he’d have to wear. “Firstly… How long has it been since the end of the war? Zola mentioned that scientists from their side came over and he does look older. Are you with the SSR and is Steve around? Or Peggy?” Bucky asked his questions and watched as Dottie tapped a small amount of ash from her cigarette into the glass ashtray that sat at the centre of the small white metal table next to the window of the visitation area of the room. Bucky did the same but on the floor accidentally as he forgot he had it in the time he was asking his questions. “The year’s 1959… The war ended fourteen years ago… Doctor Zola and Fennhoff were offered to continue their works but under the just and righteous hand of the American government along with many others… All that time they’ve been trying to find colleagues with any kind of expertise to help put you back together…” Dottie finalised her small response to his flurry of questions as Bucky realised that this woman had been working with these men for apparently a decade and half. She must know if they’re trustworthy… or she’s implicit in whatever it is they’re doing.“… As for the SSR… it was refounded as another organisation. A Strategic Division with too many words for girls like me to remember. It was founded by your Miss Peggy Carter and the venerable Howard Stark actually… Among others. I do… have some bad news however with Captain Rogers. In order to foil the plot of the Red Skull… Captain Rogers was forced to sacrifice his life. In so doing… brought an end to the Red Skull’s schemes and contributed significantly to the end of the war…” Dottie stubbed the cigarette out and stood before relaying the news about Steve. She moved over to find a file on a cabinet at the far end of the hospital room and opened it to the page with newspaper clippings detailing the events she described. “Sounds like Steve…” Bucky said, looking over the reports and finding a lump in his throat as he realised his best friend was no longer around. He felt a single tear fall over his soft cheek and caught it with the cold metal finger of his left hand. “If there’s anything else about recent events I can provide… I’m sure the Doctor’s have left some dossiers around here with information they thought you might find useful. Otherwise… I’m probably better suited to helping you come to terms with your… *ahem* girls.” Dottie looked down and caught the sight of one of Bucky’s nipples on his breasts poking from the inside of the hospital gown as it had become loose. He shuffled awkwardly in the bed and tried his hardest to hide them. “Not sure I’m going to get used to these any time soon… I did want to ask… Zola mentioned that… my… downstairs was functional… does that mean I… uh…” Bucky stumbled as he recalled what the Doctor had said as best as he could. He watched Dottie’s face as she pieced together his question. “No… while Doctors Zola and Fennhoff were able to construct a functioning vagina and clitoris… your internal plumbing is still all the same darlin’… You can’t get pregnant, and you won’t have to deal with your ‘time of the month’. Lucky girl…” Dottie smiled as she clarified what Bucky was worried about. While he had never considered becoming a father at all… his mind was focused on the prospect and subsequent war for most of his young life… He didn’t relish the idea that he’d be a Mother, least of all might get into a position where a man could… play his part.“Thanks… Dottie. I guess I just… I don’t really… uh… Being a man was much… simpler.” Bucky laughed it off and finished his own cigarette that he realised he’d neglected while perusing the information file on Steve and the crash. “Don’t mention it darlin’… We gotta work together us girls, ya hear. Now… Doctor Zola is in his office and wanted to go over your potential future if you’d like… I think you’re bonnie enough to not need any attention to your hair and makeup but… How do you feel about trying on some outfits? Or would you prefer to flash your girls to the good doctor?” She laughed and moved back towards a tall medical cabinet that clearly functioned as a wardrobe or closet for patient’s clothes. As he didn’t have any… or remember having any women’s clothes before the war… he assumed this might help. “I’ll… go with what you suggest I think. It might take me a while to come to terms with wearing a skirt… let alone a dress… or pantyhose.” Bucky smiled as he pulled himself from the bed and stood by his new friend at the closet as she opened it. A full collection and wardrobe of goods was inside, dresses in the many 50’s fashions that Bucky thought were too colourful or might have been scandalous in his prewar America days. A collection of underwear was included, matching red and black bras and panties were arranged and a slimming looking red dress that looked far too tight for him to wear was at the forefront of the collection. Dottie completed her work quickly and Bucky followed the progress as well as he could, the intricate handling of his breasts as they were corralled into an uncomfortable fabric mesh, the constraining dress that pushed them up, giving them far more prominence in his appearance than he’d like and shining red heeled shoes that clattered as they connected with the sterile concrete panelled floors of the hospital. “You’re really something ma’am… Have you considered a different name yet or would you prefer we still refer to you as James or Sergeant? At least until you’ve decided on something else that’s more fitting…?” Dottie asked as she closed the cabinet but Bucky was lost in the reflection, clearly unable to comprehend that this beautiful woman in the mirror was him…“Mom’s name was Winni…” Bucky considered but didn’t like the sound of it. He recalled something though, something he’d forgotten entirely and wanted to maintain the secrecy of. After his parent’s had passed… he’d become distant… and dismissive of his sister and his thoughts immediately turned to whether she was okay… He’d not heard from her since before the War had begun and now wanted to know if she was okay… but in the file detailing his history… it seemed the section missed the sibling he recalled and took the opportunity. “Rebecca… or Becky… it’s what… I would’ve been called.” Bucky finally answered as the whirring cogs in his mind turned, Dottie’s face relaxed as she heard the name but she didn’t tell anything in her expression if she knew that the name belonged to his sister originally. “It’s lovely. Well then Becky… Shall we?” Dottie offered her hand and Bucky offered his, shaking it and squeezing it tightly and tenderly in a first act of friendship and camaraderie. The pair moved quickly down the hallways of the base. It wasn’t until now that Bucky had determined that this wasn’t only a hospital, it was a military hospital for veterans. A lot of the faces and people he saw as he moved down the corridors had the look of those that had seen combat once or twice in their lifetimes. Old enough to have seen two wars in Europe. Some were missing arms or disfigured in some other capacity, it was in this regard that he suddenly felt the reason he was being helped here, the strange sensations that his new metal arm sent up towards his collar were uncomfortable but powerful, as though the arm itself was made of a metal or alloy that could almost be mistaken for the same as Steve’s shield, he was almost convinced it was.
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Chapter 2.
Dottie knocked twice on the office door, a quick rapping pair with a quiet pause for the Swiss doctor to respond. As soon as he did, she turned the metal round handle of the door and showed their new guest inside. He stood as he saw the transformation of his creation into a demure young woman. He still treated her with the respect he must have been instilled as a younger man and almost lost the napkin hanging from his collar as he dined on a small leafy collection of salad and vegetables. “Mis… I’m sorry Sergeant Barnes… You took me by surprise, you look positively glowing.” Zola mumbled as a small slice of carrot clung to his lower lip. Dottie smiled and nodded at Zola as she closed the door to. “Guess I’d better get used to it… Before the war I reckon even I’d have tried to chat this dame up… Now I am one…” Bucky responded, looking down over himself as he patted the red form hugging dress of creases. “Please… Sit down. Anything you’d like the staff will prepare… and we can discuss your future with a nice glass of wine?” Zola gestured as he moved around his cramped desk, full of paperwork, medical diagrams and other mechanical whirring miscellanea. He moved the chair opposite his from the underside of the desk, shuffling a few scattered diagrams from the cushioned seats and offering to Bucky. “Don’t quite have to treat me like a damsel there Doc… It’s still the furthest thing I am in my mind. It’s such a strange feeling… Remembering my whole body from the war… The shock of the rifles as they fired, the sound of machine guns… And now I look down and…” Bucky stuttered slightly as he caught sight of his own cleavage, a slow blush developing over his cheeks. “Even so, Sergeant… It is almost impossible for me to not act on my instincts. You are a quite fetching woman now and it will be hard to avoid others treating you as kindly.” Zola returned to his side of the desk and reacquainted himself with his salad. He was working on a small folder, the symbols inside looked more mechanical in nature and Bucky remembered the man being a weapons designer and manufacturer responsible for almost all of Hydra’s weaponry. “I suppose you had a hand in this as well then? I have to say, I almost forgot you designed weapons for the enemy there for a minute.” Bucky made the small joke and watched as Zola’s expression moved from a quick recognition of the joke to the uncomfortable acknowledgement that they had still been on opposite sides. “A collaborative effort with my colleagues who joined the African campaign with the Italians. A surprisingly malleable and sturdy material that none of my learned friends could explain… There’s only one other example of it in all of existence and I had to pull a lot of strings to have it prepared like that for you.” Zola mentioned and alluded to the strange metal shield that was designed for Steve. It was so light and still felt like it could crack a wall given the right amount of force, this must have been what made it feel so much more a part of his own… new body.A diminishing amount of small talk continued with Bucky ordering a small collection of pancakes with bacon and maple syrup. He couldn’t resist and it had been a long time since he’d had something good and real to eat. As it was brought for him, Zola opened a small cabinet in the rear of his office and gave Bucky the pick of a small collection of liquors, as tempted as he was, he still did find his mind being pulled and opted for a small whisky. “So… I need to ask… You bring me back from a state of near death, working on me for a decade and a half… and provide me with an arm made from an near indestructible metal, as I heard Stark talk about it… Why?” Bucky asked, remembering for a moment that he was still a smoking hot redhead eating one of his favourite foods and the faces he made as he ate the first bite must have been… a little unladylike. “Of course… Might I commit a proposal to you… while you eat?” Zola asked as he’d already finished his salad by this point and was simply drinking along. He watched Bucky’s head nod as he continued eating.“So long as it’s not… that kind of proposal doc… sure.” Bucky responded, and Zola had to laugh at the notion, at least to appear genuine. “You might have noticed my colleague, Doctor Fennhoff. He is Russian and has worked in the past with training of agents for the Russians during the war. He, and I, agree that we believe you, given your extensive military training as well as your new enhanced physique, not to mention the arm… Could be a dangerous weapon of war…” Zola continued his pitch and watched as the gears in Bucky’s mind turned at the idea. “He is helping to develop a new programme for our organisation. The same that took the place of the SSR after the war. Your missions would be those that you are not expected to survive… Not dissimilar to those you undertook with Captain Rogers… But with your new enhanced condition, I feel we could benefit greatly from your cooperation…” Zola simply kept talking, assuming that so long as the person opposite him was discussing his future over pancakes… it might be best to not allude too heavily to the idea that these missions wouldn’t be necessarily in the interests of the Strategic Intervention Division he had claimed. “I was a soldier… Not a spy. Besides… why not get a male agent? Surely you’d consider them better for this job?” Bucky asked, his latent attitudes peeking through as he was still a little unsure of the efficacy of having women in the field. Peggy was an outlier, as a crackshot and with the attitude to match… But one out of all the others he’d known in his time wasn’t convincing. “Doctor Fennhoff worked exclusively with women during the war, as every citizen was required to work… he took a great interest in the way women were often overlooked for these types of clandestine activity. For example…” Zola pressed a button on his desk and the cabinets behind him seemed to separate slightly to reveal a small television monitor. A masked woman, wearing a half face covering and form fitting black bodysuit in the footage was standing at the centre of ten men, each armed with metal rods and pipes. “Hardly a fair fight… one dame against half a platoon…” Bucky exaggerated as he was sure his assumption was about to be upturned. He’d finished his last pancake and mopped up the last of the syrup with a slice of bacon before standing to observe the monitor with his small glass of whisky clenched in his still delicate hand. “A wager?” Zola asked but watched as Bucky shook his head, the red curtains of his hair shimmying around with the movement. He pressed the button and in one burst, Bucky watched as the woman in the centre of the crowd easily disarmed each of her attackers one by one, disarming them violently with many clearly broken bones and brutally violent attacks. The final attacker pulled a pistol and in one quick and almost unclear movement, the woman had wrapped her legs around the man’s neck and coiled her feet around the wrist, collapsing the attacker’s wrist with a loud snap and sending the gun quickly to the floor. With one final turn, she pulled the man to the floor and a flurry of punches later… watched as the man stopped breathing between her legs. She stood in one movement, rotating her body and bowed as though her stage show was all for Bucky’s benefit. He watched with a quiet curiosity as the woman revealed her lower half of her face and in the same moment Bucky recognised the nurse who’d accompanied him to this room. “What the shit…? Dottie!” Bucky asked and Zola nodded. “A professional Russian infiltrator, one of the best Fennhoff has ever trained… A terrible and destructive weapon of war carried with the grace and beauty of a ballerina dancing to Tchaikovsky. If you would oblige… We can commence your training as soon as possible and… have you mission ready within the week.” Zola smiled as he his estimate of how Bucky would be ready was not in the question. He looked sufficiently sold on the idea by the demonstration given by his new… friend.“Beats becoming a cat loving spinster… I guess.” Bucky smiled from ear to ear, his feminine features shining all the more as Zola watched the face of the agent turn into the picture of grace and elegance he’d designed. “Wonderful! This dossier will tell you everything about the training… Doctor Fennhoff will be along tomorrow to discuss some of the finer points best left to him… But if you do ever need my services… I shall endeavour to be of assistance.” Zola finalised by handing over a white paper file with a string of Russian lettering on the front that he chose to not think about for the moment. “Gotta admit Doc… I’m surprised. I was sceptical at first but… Maybe your time here really has changed you.” Bucky tagged on, draining the glass of whisky and planting it on the desk softly. Zola didn’t utter another word, simply pressing a button on his telephone which sent a buzzing notification outside and within the moment, Dottie’s charming visage appeared through the doorway.
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Chapter 3.
“So I hear ya might be joining our ragtag band of undercover heroes?” Dottie inquired as the pair walked back towards Bucky’s hospital room. The footage ran back through in his mind again and again, the sheer brutality, the visceral and instinctive violence that raced through this woman who was… so disarmingly pleasant…“Not sure why they’d need me with you around… You have some pretty fancy moves.” Bucky responded, trying to see if there was any kind of tell in her about how confident she was in her own abilities. “Well I’ve been working with Fennhoff since ’42. Trained a bunch of me and my friends to help defend ourselves against the Nazi’s in the right unholy shitstorm at Stalingrad… I remember starting off running ammo to snipers in the field to… other things by the end of the war.” Bucky looked her over as she gave a small amount of her own personal history. She didn’t really look that much older than him but that wasn’t really a reliable measure of her age at this point. She certainly looked at least approaching her thirties. “You started pretty young then? We got some of the news out in the States about what happened up there… Days long battles between those snipers… some said the best in the world.” Bucky recalled the stories he remembered from the news reels he’d watched, the storied and almost mythical accuracy of the soldiers in those battles. “Mhm… Everyone was called on to help in those days… But that’s a story for another time darlin’… There anything else I can help you with or you ready to retire missy?” She asked, seemingly dodging Bucky’s probe but his reluctance to push shone through. He let it lie there, not wanting to seem too interested. “Still early… You guys got a gym or something here? Think I got too much sleep in that nap… Want to work out some energy…” he said, stretching his body and hearing the soft click in his neck as he exercised it. “Sure thing… This place is equipped with a full rehabilitation facility for some of our other agents. I’d be happy to come down with you…? If we’re gonna be working together then maybe it’s a good idea for you to try my work out?” Dottie smiled and laughed, seeing the tension in her new friend shift with the suggestion. “Go easy on me… I’ve been dead for more than a decade.” Bucky smiled and laughed it off as he didn’t want to encourage the competition. As the pair worked out in casual gym wear Bucky was able to get a better idea of just how Dottie moved, her precise control of her entire body. She must have been trained as a dancer to have so much precision in her control but she had the defined muscles of someone who clearly took great pride in maintaining her strength. The longer he observed, the more he noticed she had a few scars that were seemingly healed over all over her body. Not too many to make it obvious but enough that it became clear just what her time in Russia had been like. “At ease ladies! Don’t get too excited…” A man’s voice sounded from the changing rooms as both Bucky and Dottie were lifting a small collection of weights in differing rhythms. Bucky found it easier to lift or use the metal arm but wanted to make sure that if he were left with no option, that he could still use some of his training so he wasn’t necessarily reliant on it. “Fat chance McConnell… You stand to attention every time you catch a look at one of my ankles… Can’t just assume all the girls want to take in the sights…” Dottie responded as Bucky noticed the clear and steaming naked man standing in the changing room doorway. He had a white towel over his shoulder and in an instant Bucky felt a quick surge of embarrassment that was alien to him. He caught sight of the doorstops’ manhood, a thick and engorged member that twitched at the sight of Dottie as she stretched her body, squatting repeatedly to exercise her legs. She played with him, laughing him off as he was clearly attracted to her but she didn’t seem to reciprocate. “Oh come on Dot… You’ve turned me down three times already… what’ve I got to do to convince you to get a drink with me? Buy you a car? Champagne?” McConnell asked but the twitching of his manhood didn’t cease, he caught Bucky’s eyes as they moved off quickly towards the punching bags at the far end of the room that Bucky was attempting to recall his boxing training. “Three times and you’re still trying… surely you’re not that slow a learner… You’re not my style.” Dottie responded, continuing to squat as McConnell turned his focus towards Bucky but saw as Dottie’s eyes also relaxed on the rotund rear Bucky carried in his tight gym wear. “What about you? New girl? Or are you… batting the same team as Widow there? You know one night with me will make you never need another man again…” McConnell hinted and Dottie didn’t seem perturbed. While it wasn’t explicitly forbidden… Bucky had known a few soldiers in the army who took comfort with eachother… he didn’t judge. “… One night with you will make any girl never WANT to be with another man… Go take a cold shower or I’ll ask Fennhoff to make it so you can’t get hard again, ya hear?” Dottie retorted, standing but relaxed as she seemingly made the threat towards him, he acquiesced immediately and without a second word. “Batting for the other team? And… Widow?” Bucky was curious about the statements but wanted to ask at least to test his own curiosity. “Ah… first point of life as a spy… You might have to play people… sometimes with whatever equipment you’ve got. One part of the job… You might have some trouble getting used to darlin’… And Widow’s just a name the guys give me, like a codename…” She responded while jogging quickly on the spot before falling into a rhythm of push ups and star jumps. “Shit… Guess that’s not something I can avoid forever… But, he seemed to… uh… imply that you… uh…” Bucky found himself distracted by the ideas racing through his mind, the idea that this beautiful and dangerous woman was actually attracted to women…“Keep and open mind… Becky… You might like it.” She replied with a sly grin, hinting but not explicitly affirming.
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Chapter 4.
Bucky recovered fairly quickly, the serum in his blood and body was clearly allowing him to quickly regenerate and sped up his metabolism to process the work out. Dottie was seemingly unaffected as well… as she greeted him first thing in the morning, accompanied by Doctor Fennhoff. The bald Doctor still kept his unsettling ring at the ready. “Good Morning Sergeant…” He uttered and Dottie’s waving hand preceded her quick retreat from the room. “Morning Doc… She’s done nothing but sing your praises…” Bucky responded, watching carefully as the man observed him sitting in the bed with a pack of playing cards, playing solitaire by himself. “I, regretfully, did what was necessary to keep her alive during a very hard time. I hope that with your future work with us, we can bring greater prosperity and security to the world.” He spoke in grand statements but stood and wrote carefully in his clipboard notepad. “I went over some of the documents Doctor Zola gave me last night. I’ll be honest… it all sounds straightforward… a little too much to be frank…” He replied, hoping to get a bit more information about the work he’d be doing under this man. “Physicality, I assume is not unfamiliar to you… As a professional soldier I am sure you have the right mentality to maintain your weapons. The arm may be mighty by itself but we must be assured that you have the skills and willingness to do what we require from our agents. You understand the lengths we might ask you to go?” He asked and Bucky knew what he was referring to. He’d taken lives during the war but they were Nazi’s and it was wartime. He knew he could… but whether he’d be okay with it under these circumstances was another deal. “I’ll follow orders, Sir. Trust goes both ways, I think so… I have to ask what the section on conditioning is referring to… It sounds… frankly, sir, it sounds like mind control.” Bucky was concerned but the sections in the file referred to only the conditioning that any agent or spy might be expected to maintain, to resist pressure from torture and not give up information. “It’s an efficient method of protecting both you as our agent and the clandestine nature of our organisation. As I’m sure Doctor Zola told you… these missions will not be officially sanctioned, and your full discretion will be mandatory. You will be a dagger in the cloak. Some of these missions might even require you to go undercover for weeks… or even months. The conditioning we provide you with allows us greater control over what information you would possess in case you are captured and might even allow us to programme set moments where you can be activated on such undercover missions.” Fennhoff paced slowly around the room as he made additional notes, something was occurring to him that he was clearly thinking about very deeply while explaining what was… worryingly close to what Bucky knew about spies having deep seated controls that could be activated without anyone knowing. “So… You say these phrases… and I’ll just go into a mission ready mode that I might not even be aware of until someone wakes me up and says “It’s time to kill this fucker?” Bucky found himself biting his tongue at the curse but realised it was necessary, he was a little perturbed by the idea that he might not have complete control of his faculties in these situations. “It is a simple measure of compartmentalisation but in essence yes… While under this conditioning, you will be able to effectively carry out the missions without the underlying notions of morality and ethicality that you might bring with you. Sometimes we might ask you to do… things you might in your right mind be afraid to. This conditioning will simply prevent that from happening. It is still your mind, your skill, your body as the weapon… But what I free you from is the rules of engagement that would shackle lesser… men.” He closed the file and directed a final statement to Bucky, sitting carefully in the bed and watching him as he paced around the room. “I think my one last concern is the… um… lengths I might be asked to go… Dottie mentioned that agents are required to obtain information or blend in using every tool at our disposal… She seemed to… infer… that I… uh…” Bucky danced around the subject but, it was clear he didn’t know how to approach the topic, having barely come to understand how his whole body was turned into a beautiful woman with functioning sexual characteristics. “Hm… On one hand the conditioning will aid you in ignoring any preconceived notions that you might have about… being physical with men, or women. But I would recommend allowing yourself to become comfortable with your sensuality. We would be remiss if you did not use your… alluringly desirable body to your advantage… agreed?” Fennhoff answered but Bucky watched the Doctor’s eyes trace around his body, finding his eyes resting on Bucky’s still perky breasts before quickly darting back to his own clipboard. “Guess I should get used to idea… I just might struggle a little bit with that. Until a few days ago I was… I… I would probably have fallen for myself… like this.” Bucky replied but he knew in reality that he would try and probably succeed in playing his hand with a woman this beautiful. It wasn’t until Steve got his super serum that Bucky somehow became the less physically attractive of the two. “Hmm…” Fennhoff repeated while pondering. “…perhaps a demonstration would be best? Furnace…”Fennhoff spoke a series of words in his native tongue, each word seemingly making perfect sense but none at all in his ears and Bucky felt his mind begin to collapse inwards, his first instinct was to run or hide or fight in some kind of way as a level of panic began to overtake his entire being. But as Fennhoff completed his litany of words Bucky was sure he’d heard before while in his state of half consciousness… Everything fell dark and in the few fleeting moments of calm he felt as the last word was spoken… He awoke again. Looking out the window of the hospital room, he saw that the sun had moved substantially. He looked at the clock that hung on the wall on the opposite side of his room and saw three hours had passed. Fennhoff and Dottie were in the room with him and his muscles ached… The very physical nature of his body seemed to have been active but he was certain that he’d been sat there for this full time. “Welcome back…” Dottie said with a worried smile that quickly faded into a more genuine display of affection. “Where… What just happened?” Bucky asked, feeling an ache in his throat, his chest and his groin. He was handed a glass of whisky on the rocks by Dottie who stood at his side as he looked down and found himself wearing a long black gown, something he imagined Dottie might go to bed wearing on a night. It was silken but was creased and his hair was tied up, soaking wet with cold water.“Please direct your attention here… Sergeant.” Fennhoff said, gesturing to a television set hooked up to a cable protruding from one of the cabinets in the far side of the hospital room. The footage inside showed the inside of the hospital room, Fennhoff standing with his clipboard and Bucky’s new feminine form sitting in the hospital bed playing with a deck of cards. “Orders, Sir?”The woman in the footage spoke, her tone was sharp and clear and fully confident.
“Intelligence Gathering and Consolidation. Corporal McConnell is suspected of providing information to an external force for financial gain… find out who and where and report back here as soon as you are done. The Corporal is susceptible to female persuasion… use this to your advantage. Dismissed.”
Fennhoff issued his orders and Bucky watched as the woman rose from the bed and pulled the black silken gown from the cabinet at the end of the room, pulling her clothes off in a moment and revealing herself entirely. Bucky was only just coming to terms with his new body and here it was again on display… in security footage. Dottie stood at his side and gripped his right hand in hers. The next scenes followed the woman as she moved back towards the Gym down a staircase and past a rehabilitation centre. She seemed to move and relax her arm in full control of the extremity. As Bucky took a moment to examine the metallic arm, he found his attention drawn again to the screen where the Gym was present. McConnell, the naked man from his workout session with Dottie was still in the gym with two of his, he assumed, friends. “Wit woo! To what do we owe this visit ma’am?” McConnell asked the woman who span and turned to show off herself to the large lumbering man who was at least this time wearing clothes. “Oh not much fellas… The shower on our floor is packed full and I’m desperate, hope you guys don’t mind…?” The woman spoke with so much flair and enigmatic charisma that Bucky struggled to believe it was him. She wandered to the far side of the gym, passed a large four posted boxing ring where both of McConnell’s friends were taking swings at each other. Bucky watched as her target seemingly followed her into the bathroom. A collection of cubicles were shown, not the internal sections but enough of the overhead was shown that Bucky could see his new form remove the black silken gown and leave it over the door. He watched as McConnell approached the cubicle. “You know for a minute I was hoping you were gonna take me up on my offer… You sure you just came down here for a shower?” McConnell asked, already in the process of removing his grey vest top and grey lounging shorts to reveal his girthy manhood to the camera as he approached another cubicle. “Maybe I did… but your buddies aren’t invited…” She spoke again, looking at the man over the top of the cubicle that concealed most of her body as McConnell pushed at the door with heated intent. “They won’t bother us baby…” He said as he pushed the woman against the side of the cubicle with a heavy kiss. Dottie’s hand gripped as Bucky became somewhat uncomfortable watching this, not everything was visible at least but the implication was there.Bucky watched as the woman in the footage wrapped her arms around the large lumbering man as the shower poured over them both. He kissed her on the neck and worked his way around her body both of his hands. He looked her in the eyes as she nodded and in one smooth movement she looked elated and ecstatically pleased at the moment of penetration. Shivers went down Bucky’s spine as he watched the woman in the monitor so instantly transformed into something he’d seen before in his old life. A woman, in the writhes of pleasure and passion, he just never thought it would be him. Fennhoff pressed a button on the monitor and the footage began to zoom, differing moments became apparent, for a short while the woman’s head vanished lower than the cubicle doorway and clearly performed an act on McConnell. At times she was pressed against the wall of the cubicle with her breasts pressed into it. Until in the final moments, she rejoiced in the heat of the moment as both she and McConnell seemed to climax together. The heated passionate moans and grunts combined into a cacophony of sexual gratification. “Good thing we’re already in the shower…” The woman joked as she relaxed around him watching his body twitch and recover from the physical exertion. “Holy shit… Thank God you’re not a dyke like Dottie… If you were I’d have killed to get at you, make you believe in the power of cock again.” McConnell made the mention to Dottie’s sexuality one more time and Bucky felt her hand clutch his. “Maybe when we’re cleared for leave or something we can go somewhere a little more private. Spend a bit more time getting to know each other?” She continued while washing herself off and caressing her own body clean with the hot water. McConnell joined in, caressing and treasuring her skin with his hands.
“What? You wanna meet my mother or something? Where you thinking? You sound like a New Yorker… Near or far?”
McConnell asked the question and Bucky watched as the woman turned over her shoulder to smile and wink that he got it close to the mark. He wasn’t aware his accent shone through, even with his new voice, clearly it had. “As far as we can get from here… I just want to get out of here and not think about all this shit… You ever get that?” She cursed and that seemed to spur him on a little. “I got friends in Madripoor who owe me a couple favours. I’ll send a letter and maybe by next week we can get you in one of them new fancy bathing suits that shows everything off…” McConnell made mention to an independent Asian principality. A hive of scum and criminal activity that Bucky recalled had links to the Axis negotiations during the war, they didn’t extradite criminals there at it was a breeding ground for unethical science experiments with no oversight or control… just make sure you pay your dues. “Sounds good to me baby…” She responded, spinning on the spot with her leg sweeping under McConnell’s feet, out of the camera’s full view and sending McConnell hurtling to the floor. A loud crack could be heard through the footage and in one smooth movement, Bucky watched as the woman opened the cubicle door and revealed McConnell’s twitching corpse, his neck was broken in one clear and clean movement. She dried herself off with a towel he’d brought with him, cleaning out any left-over fluids from between her legs with it and redressing herself in the gown, tying her hair into a tight pony tail as if she was practiced at it. The camera followed her as she left out to the gym again, finding McConnell’s buddies still fighting in the boxing ring. “He’s finishing up in there… Tell him to go easier next time… He could barely stand afterwards.” Bucky heard himself say and the two guys looked at her with open maws at her promiscuity and implied sexual prowess that she left him unable to stand. Three hours had passed… She’d spent two of those hours with this man, performing all kinds of sexual acts simply to build up his confidence and trust in her desire to get away, all within one day of meeting her.The footage ended in one stopped frame of the woman Bucky had become looking up to camera with a sly grin on her face as if she knew even when he didn’t where they all were. “Corporal McConnell’s corpse was found by his friends at eleven hundred and twenty, all evidence suggested that he fell in the shower, breaking his neck and died instantaneously. Your performance led the men to believe he was still alive as you left. If I say so myself… It was expertly done.” Fennhoff praised Bucky’s performance while he struggled to understand just how far this conditioning could take him, how far his body could and would take control without him even being conscious or aware of what it was doing. “He… I… I can…” Bucky struggled to put into words but what he experienced was a shock and shame at his actions despite being unable to prevent them, this was what they were expecting from him in the future… maybe not every single mission would involve this kind of action but… He asked himself if he was really the one who gave permission there… consent. “I know it’s a bit jarring to see yourself do those kinds of things darlin’… but it’s all for the greater good and what we’re trying to do here.” Dottie’s reassurance spoke volumes. She could see what he was going through and what thoughts were racing through his mind as he struggled to comprehend his own mind. Bucky felt his stomach and the aches returned as he recalled seeing the size of McConnell’s manhood before. He felt a phantom surge of pleasure shock through his body as his wet hair dripped a cold droplet into his back. This was so recent… According to the clock… it all happened barely twenty minutes ago. “Do you have any further questions Sergeant? As you can see, the conditioning will conceal all your preconceived notions of ethical and moral guidance. You will be free to perform your duties and missions to the fullest efficiency. Of course, there will be missions where you will, not be subject to the conditioning as is determined by your handler.” Fennhoff wrote a small collection of notes regarding Bucky’s clear discomfort. “If possible I’d prefer to have a say in when that conditioning is active… I’d like to be aware and be able to choose… if there’s a better way.” Bucky made his request and he watched as Fennhoff nodded in agreement. “Very well. But, if it is deemed necessary by your handler to activate you in such a fashion and you decline… We will rely on the conditioning if you are the best option. Understood? Your honest reticence… is… taken into account. With that out of the way, I’ll leave you in the capable hands of Miss Underwood.” Fennhoff made his final proclamation and it still seemed to put Bucky’s mind at ease slightly. While he wanted to have a say in whether or not this mode was activated… It didn’t feel fantastic having so little a say in his own autonomy. Dottie gripped his hand tightly and squeezed it as a show of support and tenderness. Whether or not she was being genuinely supportive of her new friend was up for debate in Bucky’s mind as the thoughts were swimming about whether he could trust her. “It’ll get easier. I promise.” She said quietly under her breath and headed for the room’s door. A flurry of activity seemed to be present outside as the entire facility seemed to be now aware of his target’s death. He hoped it would get easier. Over the next few months, Becky Barnes was forged into an unstoppable force in the employ of a secretly embedded subversive group, working within SHIELD. She had no knowledge of the organisation’s true nature and the conditioning she underwent disrupted her ability to ask questions about the nature of the missions… how they were actively working to bring greater balance and prosperity to the world. She would be activated on a number of occasions and then when required to carry out the will of Hydra. While Fennhoff’s training regimen had originally begun as an operations protocol designed for assassinations, diplomatic disruptions, infiltration and subversion… Becky Barnes was the catalyst that sparked the recruitment, training and foundation of the Red Room. She was subsequently given a codename for her actions and notoriety in the intelligence community, hiding like a myth to those whose very world was cloaked in shadow and lies. She became the Winter Widow.
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“Turn this way please…” The photographer smiled as the small crowd around observed the model at the centre of all the attention. Mila looked around the room, a well decorated section of the manor typically used for these kinds of modelling sessions. She obliged with a twist on the spot, a thin satin sheet the only concealment she had to protect her breasts. The soft feel of the fabric stroking her sensitive nipple flesh as the photographer circled around with a large handheld device with bright flashing mechanisms standing behind him. “Once the world sees the women the Soviet’s are hiding behind the Curtain… You won’t be able to stop Johnson’s goons from wanting an end to this cold war.” The photographer commented as he looked over his muse at the centre, lying naked on her back at the centre of a bed. Mila’s hair was long and red cascading down around her shoulders and steadily began to drape over her breasts as she stood back up, posing with her arm held high against a wall. All this time she wore only a thin sheer pink skirt that was attached to a torso concealing negligee, lost early in the process. “If there’s one thing that is known in this world, regardless of battle lines or politics… Men will always be drawn in by fantastic tits…” Mila’s manager retorted. A woman herself, she smoked a cigarette that slowly coalesced into the ceiling, a hanging brass chandelier forming a thin layer of condensation from all the physical movement of the day. She spoke with a thick Russian accent, the manager of the model in question was present during the shoot and wanted to make sure that the Americans were getting the best version of what she had to offer. Mila was that. She’d been spotted and scouted during the international Playboy conference, looking over the best and most talented models on both sides of the Berlin wall. Mila was that. “No argument here… I gotta admit if it weren’t for the arm… She might be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever worked on… You didn’t mention she had a prosthetic…” The photographer prodded, clearly to the passive annoyance of both Mila and her manager. She became conscious of it, attempting her hardest to conceal it behind the satin sheet. “She, like many others in our glorious motherland was fighting the forces of Hitler and Germany as a young girl while your nation argued itself out of prohibition and debt… Our imperfections make us more than perfect.” The manager ranted and raved, slapping a sheet of concept pictures she was provided by the artist who quickly apologised and carried on with his role. “Mila, honey… shoulders back… your breasts are magnificent and we want to give the best impression to our American cousins…” She continued, directing and managing her model who quickly followed the directions with gusto and produced an aura of enigmatic beauty and grace. The photographer quickly grabbed the many opportunities to continue his work and in a few more minutes was done. “I must thank you for your assistance in this matter Mr Rand. I hope we have been able to give you everything you hoped for with this journey…” Mila conversed, now wrapped in a satin dressing gown, seated in front a mirror and touching up her makeup, a red stain of lipstick kissing the mirror where she saw the interviewer who’d come to produce an article about the girls beyond the Iron Curtain, showing beauty still blossoms in the Soviet Republic. “If looks could cure all the world’s ailments Miss Renata, I’m certain yours would do it. I must apologise again for the attitude of my photographer while I was interviewing one of your companions downstairs… I hope he didn’t make you feel uncomfortable.” Rand spoke and Mila felt his hand caress the smooth and delicate metallic extension of her body. “It’s quite alright Mr Rand… I’ve grown to love it… It’s become a part of me, a part I cannot deny allows me to feel an extra level of power to contribute to the glory of the Union. Here… allow me to show you.” She staggered herself against the desk, pulling her metallic hand down from his and finding purchase down the front of his trousers, he winced at the cold touch immediately but as she began to work his manhood in her hand, he had to admit that this was a gloriously pleasurable experience. “I’m… ooh… very sorry we didn’t get to spend more time together. I felt like your manager Ms…?” Rand continued, or at least attempted to continue the small talk as he felt his manhood engorge at the delicate and tender touch of this woman’s hand. “Renata… She is my older sister. She knows what is best for me.” Mila admitted, pulling the man’s eyes to hers and finding extra purchase as she felt herself seated on the makeup desk covered in cosmetics and portable mirrors. “Ah… I guess that’s why she was looking out for you… I’m pretty sure every bunk in our hotel was vigorously tested by our guys the first night we saw you… She bit their heads off for even mentioning asking you for something like this…” The man’s face turned red more and more as he reached a euphoric moment but couldn’t quite climax. She knew what she was doing with him, holding it until a perfect moment.“Something like… this?” She spoke but knelt from the table top to the floor, her gown collapsing with her as she fell before him, pulling his throbbing heated manhood from his trousers and stroking it before kissing the tip tenderly. “Miss… Oh god… You… You Red girls really know how to treat a fella.” Rand smiled in elation as he felt her lips wrap around his shaft, draped in sweat from the complete day and nervous about the impending journey ahead of him. She began to work her tongue around him, only further provoking him. Within a moment of Mila feeling the final stroke that would bring him to completion, the heavy wooden door of the chamber opened with a strong swing, jarring Rand and causing him to jerk quickly against Mila’s tongue, quickly firing his load into her maw and turning quickly to see the interloper. “Oh… for the love of Lenin… Hurry up… Off your knees girl he should be kneeling for you. We are going to be late for our flight.” The elder Renata sibling complained, watching her younger sister swallow a load of white viscous fluid as Rand quickly tried to conceal his withering manhood and fumbled his way around an excuse. “Right away sister.” Mila mumbled softly after swallowing and smiled at the standing nervous man as she left him with her elder sister. Mila pulled on a quick skirt and blouse combo over her night time gown with a short brown trench coat. She examined herself in the mirror before washing her hands and collecting the small globule of semen from the side of her lips and running it over her tongue with her finger. “Mila!” Her sister called, sounding more and more infuriated by a lack of patience. “We’ll have the samples to you by the end of the week for your approval. Otherwise, I believe we’ll be able to have you in print for March as our cover girl…” Rand tried his hardest but was still in shock at the quick interruption, his red flushed face trying to conceal what had just happened while the elder Renata stood tapping her black shining heeled shoes against the wooden floor of the manor. “I look forward to your glowing report. We will be in touch about which we would like you to choose. Dasvidaniya comrade.” She spoke with force and impatience while she watched Mila march quickly in her own heeled shoes towards her, the heavy clacking bringing something of a smile but not enough emotion to form a full one. “You couldn’t help yourself…?” The elder Renata grumbled with a smile as the sister’s departed the manor in a tall black vehicle towards the centre of the city. “I wanted to leave a good impression… You told me the mission was to prepare a common link between the Soviets and the Americans… I told you a naked photoshoot was not my first choice…” Mila rambled as her own matching Russian accent began to fall apart as the two lit a set of cigarettes for themselves, opening the car windows and tapping out the first dregs of ash. “You just spent three days in front of them naked and you thought you didn’t make a good enough impression… darling, I think those men will sleep with their wives and lovers thinking about your fantastic tits.” The elder Renata’s accent didn’t quite falter but she smiled with a sense of pride as she watched Mila seem to relax into herself, performing dexterity exercises with the metallic arm she was given. “We’ve got three days in Madripoor to prepare and rest up… I wouldn’t mind spending a bit of time with some clothes on… You saw what they’re making over there… Bras like vest tops… barely a thin streak of fabric all that keeps your… downstairs covered… You can’t tell me you don’t want to have a look…” Mila laughed right back at the thought. She’d tried hard at the start to not look too deeply into fashion but as time had progressed, she felt it was necessary to her own missions that sometimes less… is more, especially when it came to underwear. “I have seen, yes. I even know the woman who designed them… fine. But at least keep the accent up until we’re airborne, yes Sister?” The elder Renata tapped her younger sibling on the arm and prepared for the short drive they had together. “Oh well now you have to tell me… Sister.” Mila laughed as she tapped the metallic arm a couple of times as she rested it out the car window, watching and waiting for her travelling companion and fellow agent Dottie to regale her with how she knew a lingerie designer who was creating some of the most scandalous underwear to hit the markets. “Five years… I don’t think I can call you anything else. Fine…” As Dottie launched into a sauce and exclusionary adventure with some sections missing, she relaxed with Becky who flung the small cigarette end from the car as she had finished it. She listened intently, catching the small inflections and notes of happiness in her memories at the events she talked about. It felt good to just talk about stuff again… after a month of building the image together that she was a model, supported by fake documentation from their organisation and time spent by Dottie at a convention for fashion photographers and designers in Amsterdam. It felt like a she couldn’t wait to just spend a full day wearing clothes after being the first ‘Russian’ model for Playboy… especially while the Cold War was in full swing.
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“I still can’t believe you just voluntarily sucked him off… You’ve really come a long way since being scared shitless that you could get knocked up.” Dottie joked as the pair arrived in the hotel room, the first instance where they had a moment to themselves since arriving in Madripoor and the first moment they could revert to their natural accents. As Becky had realised over her time working with Dottie, she’d leant fully into the southern belle persona, opting to use that as her natural tone. “I thought that was the plan? The guy’s supposed to tell everyone back in the states that Russia’s not as bad as they think they are. It’s not like it was the first thought in my mind.” Becky complained, she hadn’t thought about it before but since becoming a woman she’d felt like she needed to clarify that most of her sexual energy was spent during these missions where she was expected to perform. “Hopefully… But with all the shit going on with Vietnam and now Russia’s on about launching more space shit… It won’t be long before the tensions get too high, even sucking off the president wouldn’t save us from the thousand suns they want to unleash…” Dottie responded, an uncomfortable smile dawning on her face as she questioned the efficacy of their actions and orders before snapping out of it. She had always been a true believer in what they were doing and any question of that was usually broken in a moment at the thought of repercussions from Doctor Fennhoff’s more hardcoded conditioning.“Hey… it’s what all of this is for right? We do all this shit so they don’t blast each other with a ‘thousand suns’. The ‘dagger in the dark’ and all that espionage shit…” Becky hearkened to her friend’s sense of what they were doing was right, even if it did necessitate some pretty unfriendly stuff. Dredging her hands through the mud, it was practically the opposite of what Steve had intended to do but… Steve wasn’t here. And she was.“I know… I really appreciate your commitment to the cause Beck… You might not have wanted any of this at the start but I’m more than happy to have you at my side doing this…” She replied while placing her last carry case on her single bed while Becky tinkered slightly with something caught in her arm.“Still the same cause right? I will admit I wasn’t expecting to acting against the US in some of this stuff… I don’t envy you having to take point on that Cuba shit. God damn…” Becky continued tinkering with a small metal tool that she kept for maintaining the metal appendage while trying to recall everything she was told by her companion’s time in Cuba.“You okay over there? Look like you’re struggling as hard as that time I made you wear a corset…” Dottie walked over, pulling the metal arm as she could to allow better purchase for the maintainer. “Well… three days to ourselves before we get our next, maybe I can get a mechanic or somebody to look at it. First time in five years it’s been acting up and I think it’s how far you made me bend on that set…” Becky groaned and set herself down on the bed as she looked over the design again. It was still modelled after her other and it served as a constant reminder of just how different she was to the person before.“Right… I’ll go scout out and check for messages in the usual places. Orders should come through before we get here so I’ll go find out what we’re after… then at least I can get prepping while you get your arm sorted… meet back here in two hours?” Dottie proclaimed as she pulled on a jacket again and headed towards the door. “I’m going to grab something to wear and you and me are getting drunk tonight. You’ve not let loose for almost a year and I’m worried about you.” Becky interjected, trying to instil some kind of relaxation into their three day moment of peace. “You’re a terrible drunk girl, Sergeant. You’re on… find us something good and this time make sure it’s not got holes in it… please?” She responded, opening the door handle ahead of time and not giving Becky the chance to get the last word. Dottie descended to the hotel lobby, smiling and waving kindly to the other residents. While the reputation for this place had been nothing but scum and criminal elements, there was a clear sense of community here. Reports about secretive enhanced individuals hiding out, subversive elements of governments and political prisoners were usually found out here but the more she saw, the more she felt like this could be a good home for people who need to be away from the drama and calamity of the world stage. As she arrived at the hotel lobby, she found a set of landline telephones attached to the brickwork wall. They were each sequestered in glass dome like cubicles to discourage eavesdropping but the hotel owners themselves encouraged people who knew how to, to find ways to secure their lines, as Dottie did with every device she used for communicating with headquarters.“Underwood.” She spoke one word and on the far end of the line, a quick click and buzz could be heard as she was patched through to her handler, she expected Fennhoff but a smug sounding American voice arrived at the far end, clearly she’d been patched through to another department by mistake. “Widow, report?” He knew her call sign, she’d adopted it in tandem with Becky, becoming a team that was infamous for infiltration using their feminine wiles before using those talents to assassinate. “Letter in the postbox, marked Red. Where’s Doctor Fennhoff?” She asked after submitting the collectively recognised small amount of spy talk before becoming concerned for her old friend. “Johann is on his way to you. Upon arrival you’ll be briefed, pleasure talking with you Dot. Hail Hydra.” He told her as he placed the telephone on the hook at his end, a soft click and long tone followed where she became a little concerned but at least he was on his way to them, he wasn’t just dead in a ditch for not saying Hail Hydra at the right time.‘Short and sweet I guess…’ Dottie thought to herself, wondering where she’d heard the voice before, she knew she recognised it but couldn’t place it. She watched curiously as Becky arrived in the lobby from the elevator wearing a short skirt and vest top, she’d not been eager to wear a bra in the past and it showed on occasion, she was often accused as a bit of a hippy for not containing herself but it was so easy to forget she used to be Bucky Barnes… America’s Lap Dog’s Lap Dog.“Fennhoff’s on his way here, guess I’ve not got any other prep to do until he gets here so… shopping?” Dottie smiled as she pulled a cigarette and lit it with a match from her purse. She smoked a lot more on missions now, Becky didn’t mind because she knew she had a constant state of healing but the reports being developed on the unsafe nature of them had her worried. “Great! Now you can’t complain about what you wear, even though we’ll probably wind up switching or something while getting ready…. You always do that.” She complained as to the two of them headed for the busiest part of the city, the bazaar style marketplace lined with stores and businesses pushed here, either by legality or other immigration issues. They walked quickly, a selection of the stores were clearly selling stolen goods but it wasn’t too much of a problem, they weren’t scared of the locale, they seemed to just move in and out of crowds without much problem and before she knew it, Dottie had somehow managed to acquire the wallets of four different men on their travels with a large collection of funds that were off the books. Becky was trying on a dress, a short black and sequined piece of fabric that they could swear was worn on a dancer in a movie and chose that one. It was short but at this point Becky was leaning into her own femininity and only sometimes seemed to remember who she used to be in a way that made her doubt it.Dottie had already picked hers out, a longer red dress with slinky ribbons that kept it held over a shoulder. As the pair moved to pay out their purchases she noticed something on one of the wrists of the sales person behind the desk. Becky wasn’t far behind as she looked where her friend was looking and grew curious. “Nice tattoo… What’s it mean?” She asked, catching Dottie’s ire in one fell swoop but clearly mistaking the error as a flight of curiosity. She watched her friend’s face as it never shifted into anything other than acting and cover. She was playing the part of a curious tourist, it was almost endearing. “Just something us locals do. First rule of living in Madripoor is there’s always someone you owe money to for something, best way to make it known is…” The young Asian girl at the counter responded. She couldn’t be any more than thirteen years old and was apparently already embroiled in a protection racket. She had rosy cheeks and long black hair kept in two pigtails behind her head that fell down a long way. “You’re a smart kid then.” Dottie commented, knowing full well the brand of criminal that would run this racket and were operating, some even claimed that they had founded the city. Before a few seconds could pass, a small light seemed to flash on her side of the sales desk. Dull and blue but blinking slightly with a rhythm. “If you’d like to learn more… there’s a fight club tonight at Broker’s Tower. It’s the big one covered with all the flags at the centre of the city. You’d be able to meet interesting people from all over the city then.” The young girl said with a strange look in her eyes as well as gesturing with her head towards the tower in question. It was a tall cylindrical structure, hollow in the centre but covered in reflective mirror like windows that seemed to return any kind of sight back out into the world. At the centre of a crowd of flags draped over the side of the building was one, featuring prominently the pattern of the tattoo the young girl bore. “I think we will. I’ve been telling my sister she needs to let loose for a while… maybe this’ll be the perfect way to make new… friends.” Becky responded to the whirring eyes of Dottie with a knowing glance. It was a fair point, to gain access to an undercity sort of perception of what is known as one of the most criminally condensed city states in the world.Becky and Dottie departed the store with their purchases and soon found themselves back into another store fairly shortly after finding somewhere that sold some more rather… provocative for the time, underwear. Female empowerment was on the rise and for what it was worth, Madripoor didn’t seem to suffer from the same stiff and rigid gendered rules as the rest of the world. Men were able to kiss their boyfriends in plain view for any to see without judgment, women just as well. While America was catching up thanks to the work of Doctor King, there was still some distance to make up before they arrived at this stage. There didn’t seem to be any discernible animosity between anyone walking past you in the crowded streets. Once upon a time, Becky would have thought this place too alien to understand, too far removed from her own Brooklyn guy sensitivities but now… It felt right up her alley.“Please tell me you’re not serious about us going to that fight tonight?” Dottie asked as the pair navigated through a selection of these skimpy underwear. The very sight of some of them bringing blushing red cheeks to the store assistants face as she watched these two women fondle their way through the wares. “Protection rackets are one thing… But that was a child… No kid should have to worry about shit like money and staying in business or paying off their extortion… We go in, we have a look see and maybe we can convince them to lay off the child labour shit… okay?” Becky had seemingly overstepped as Dottie struggled to contain her latent frustration behind her normally very docile attitude.“Now that’s a definite no… Going out for drinks in one of the most dangerous pirate ports in the world is one thing… Going to a fight night at… We can’t change anything here. This has been the way here for a long time… long before the United States was even an idea… You don’t mess with these people…” Dottie was clearly flustered and smiling to cover her clear anxiety, bordering on panic at the idea.“You’re really okay with indoctrinating kids into lives of crime and gang warfare? I know you mentioned when we first met that you started young but…” Becky was hitting a sore point and clearly making her friend uncomfortable but it was a subject they hadn’t discussed before. The war in general wasn’t something they were able to discuss without some kind of post-traumatic stress rearing its head. “In this matter, I know better than you… so please… drop it. Please…” Dottie seemed to calm down with a desperate plea, holding her friend’s hand and pleading, Becky grasped hers in return with her cold metal arm and in one movement seemed to diffuse any of the tension between the two. “Okay… I promise. But you know if we went, we could fuck up any of the competition right?” Becky replied, clearly noticing and adapting to the terror in her companion’s face.“Don’t press your luck darlin’… You could fuck them all up… But not all of us are as enhanced as you.” Dottie retorted, knocking twice on the metal tang of her arm with her knuckles and smiling.
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“God damn… That is a lot…” Becky commented, pulling her black sequined dress tight as they climbed out the car at the front of the tower. For a shockingly lawless place, the whole thing was incredibly organised when it came to people being where they wanted to be, when they wanted to be there. An efficient valeting system had both of the women ready with a set of clutch purses ready to go in and make wagers on the fights being held by whatever this organisation had in store. Once the girls had retired to their hotel space, Dottie managed to explain some of the local mythos surrounding the organisation that had claimed and seemingly managed all activity in the port of Madripoor, gaining riches beyond imagining thanks to the brutal and efficient management of the territory. The Ten Rings. From everything she’d told her… she was right to be a little tentative about crossing them on how they conduct their businesses. They’d allegedly, according to the limited information their Division had on them… they were ruled by a single man, for as long as they’ve been in power. Which, quite rightly, Becky found suspect. The organisation was apparently dated back hundreds of years, it couldn’t possibly be under the management of a single person for all that time. The mystery of the endeavour drew her attention all the more. It wasn’t until they arrived at a trio of elevators, all privately used by guests with an armed security detail to examine them in the enclosed space. She expected to be questioned about the arm but she had the advantage that it will always be considered a prosthetic, not to mention it might be the interesting point of conversation if she is pulled into contention for a fight. She wasn’t exactly dressed but if she was invited… Becky was sure she wanted to punch something. “Spread… Please.” The security guard standing in the slow moving elevator asked as the duo arrived, spreading their arms wide and allowing the male agent to run his hands over them to check for stashed weapons. They didn’t bring any, they didn’t need to.Dottie was glamorous, dressed in her red gown and made up in matching shades. She really was unbelievably beautiful but one thing became a worrying idea for Becky as she watched her get herself ready. It had been five years since she’d been awoken and adapted to her new womanly life and living a life of combat and travel hadn’t had the most impact on her… but it had on her companion. What was once a security risk that required some kind of insurance alongside the conditioning provided to her, Becky was now more and more reliably loyal to who she considered her employers, failing to question it. She was starting to have to consider… she wasn’t getting older or slowing down but everyone around her was and she was quickly coming to terms with not knowing how she could keep up with the world when part of her was still that guy from Brooklyn, the only memento she had to those days being the dog tags she kept in her purse. “Nice arm…” The guard commented as he patted it down, watching the movement she demonstrated with the fingers as dextrous as it were her own. “Thanks, see… a few seconds with his hands on my tits and it’s my arm is all they want to talk about.” Becky laughed and watched the toothpick in the man’s mouth rise with his smile. The doors opened and the man gestured for the two to continue onwards. What awaited them on the far side was a collection of large glass like tanks, inlaid with a lattice style fencing. Each small room behind these glass and metal lined panes featured some kind of fight, some were animals against humans, others were humans against what appeared to something like human but… not. “Holy shit…” Dottie pulled their attention forwards as they looked up to see the centre of the hollow tower was lined different sections of this organisation’s efforts, at any one point there were dozens of fights going on, each with competitors fighting, and some dying and gamble and come to plea for assistance from the leader of this group. At the centre was a large pagoda looking structure, suspended by metal cables almost three hundred yards from the ground level, with no other access to it except a small glass lined walkway, they assumed that was where the leader would be, an ostentatious and gaudy display of power to hold himself above the rest of what he would consider beneath him. Becky noticed the bar first, pulling her friend towards it as the crowds seemed determined to remain focused on the fights. One of the more beautiful displays was a group of dancers in a large spherical tank above the bar, dancing for those on the upper levels to look in on, for those on the higher levels to look down to and for those at the bar to watch from beneath as they flew around the spherical construction with ease, gripping their hands and feet to different accessories like metallic poles and handle bars. It was unlike anything Becky had ever seen. “Well hello there pretty ladies…” An American accent sounded behind her as she looked up, catching the eye of one of the dancers and turning around somewhat shocked. “Dot…” She pulled her friend’s attention to the man behind her as she turned around. The aging and bald but very sharply dressed older man in front of them was the very person they were supposed to meet in the city, clearly he was here for business ends, perhaps to trade information with the Ten Rings but… he almost looked surprised that they were there. “Jonas… At your pleasure. How’d you like to find some place to chat away from the loudness of… this?” Fennhoff spoke perfectly without any trace of his natural accent, adopting a kind of American cowboy persona. Dottie moved with the man but there was some strange force keeping Becky at the bar, as if she was pulled there and then. Dottie watched on not knowing what was happening and choosing to go with her old Russian forces mentor, assuming her friend would bring them a set of drinks to watch a fight from their seating place. “… And what’s a dame like you doing in a place like this…?” Fennhoff remained in his persona while discussing with Dottie. The pair had found a booth surrounded by a horseshoe like nook that looked out of the tower down into the city below. Bamboo scaffolding was still lining the building as it was clearly being built upon and developed on the upper levels… still. “She wanted to see the sights. I’d have preferred to stay in for the night and catch up on work but… She’s ever the tourist…” Dottie watched as the man’s face never shook, his expression never changed from the kind American face he seemed to be able to play out as though it was his. “Couldn’t let her outta’ your sight huh? I hear ya. Look, little lady, I’ve got what I wanted from here so I’ll leave this with you… If you wanna spend a bit more time… say a week… here. I’ll be at this address… Thank ya kindly…” He said with a seemingly metaphorical nod of a Stetson mounted to his head despite not actually wearing a hat. Dottie took a small note and card he’d left on the table, an address, two actually. One was a hotel address where Fennhoff would be staying for delivery of an object, their mission. The other… being the mission. The process had become clear to Dottie over time, to discern meaning behind her mentor’s actions. Meanwhile at the bar, Becky was seemingly being held in place, unable to pull her arm away from a metallic handlebar that lined the waist high shining wooden construction where glasses were kept for the customers. Seated at the bar was a young man, probably the same age as Becky give or take a few extra years. Probably in his early thirties, which considering Becky was feeling more and more conscious about her own age and life… Suddenly felt like less of a worry. He wore a waist coat dark and pinstriped with a smart fedora sitting on the bar next to two glasses of whisky. As Becky stopped resisting the attraction of her arm to the bar, the man gestured to the second glass and she sat at the stool next to his. “I am sorry, miss… But I feel there is something unique about the arm you wield…” An enigmatic voice, full bodied and hypnotic but not in the same way Fennhoff would have her believe.“It’s… one of a kind, far as I know.” Becky responded in her typical Brooklyn accent, feeling at ease and comfortable talking to this man and feeling so secure that she felt her guard drop completely around him. “The same can now be said of the other. It is a marvellous mechanism of machinery… may I?” The man offered his own hand and she offered her arm out to him to examine, curved at the elbow but still cold to the touch. He never seemed to lay a finger on it though. In the moment, she felt a strange coolness run along the metal of the appendage, along her other arm, her hairs stood on end as a chill shot up her spine. It wasn’t unpleasant but it was unexpected. A sensation she had not expected to ever feel again in the artificial arm. “Is it a tool… Or a weapon? You strike me as one who carries their strength proudly.” The man continued, hints of his own accent coming through, western European, perhaps Poland, Germany or the Baltic states.“Sometimes both… I’m sorry who… ah…” She began to ask a question but in one smooth motion the man pulled at his index and thumb together and a small fragment of a bullet came loose, enclosed in between his fingers. The sensation was immediately kind of uncomfortable but brought a staggering amount of relief as she realised this was what was bothering her since Russia. “A contender, like yourself, finding ways to fill the time I’ve been fortunate enough to be blessed with…” He spoke in such clear diction that at times his accent could be mistaken for the Queen’s English but occasionally, very slightly… elements of a Germanic tongue slipped out. “You’ve been fighting here? You do more than pull bullet fragments out of prosthetic arms? Consider me intrigued.” She continued, sipping from the glass and discovering it to be her personal favourite since she could drink, the single best alcoholic drink she’d had since she stole a bottle from her Dad’s cabinet to share with Steve as teenagers. “I’ve won three fights tonight… Not a scratch on me. The people here are reliant upon weapons made of the very material I use to win.” The man swirled the bullet fragment around his thumb in one smooth motion with his thumb. He could control it…“You’re… what? A wizard? I’ve just read Lord of the Rings last week… You got a ring that makes you invisible too?” Becky japed with the man who seemingly cracked a smile at the idea. “Not quite, I’m different, like you but not quite… I feel it about you… You were not born, you were made different… I had hoped you might be like me but… I suppose my search continues.” The man’s smile held for the time. He was erudite and handsome, proper but tortured. His piercing green eyes seemed to drill into her for a moment as he seemed to raise her metallic hand in his and kissed it gently. “What? You’re leaving now…?” She complained slightly, almost annoyed the stranger wasn’t going to introduce himself and tempted to offer herself to him now out of sheer curiosity what this man was fully capable of. “No… I have another match, watch carefully, my dear and you will see the lengths of my difference. It will either terrify you… or entice you.” He spoke into her ear, past the deep red hair tucked behind her ears and the very notion continued to send so many confused signals into her mind. In one hand… she’d never consciously crossed a line with men before, opting only to engage in sexual activities that didn’t require penetration… but on the other… She was becoming very, very attracted to this man. He moved away with so much suave energy that she was sure he must be some kind of magical being, something fictional and powerful. She turned on the spot and found her eyes resting on Dottie, calculating something in her mind and opted to order another glass of the same whisky he’d ordered for them both and carried them carefully to the table.“This place… is fascinating. So what did the cowboy want?” She asked Dottie as she planted herself in the self same booth and planted a glass in front of her companion. “Orders. We’ve got a week here to secure something and get it to him… Who’s your date…?” She replied, compiling information in her mind while simultaneously flipping the hotel’s card between her fingers like a plaything, taking a sip of whisky from the glass and withdrawing in awe at the taste. There was something of an air of jealousy about the question though, Becky hadn’t seemed to be able to take her eyes from the man and there was a smile in her face that she found suspicious.“I have no fucking clue… I think he might be a real-life wizard.” Becky spoke and sipped again at the liquor, clearly enjoying the nostalgia and taste. “You… How many have you had… Actually never mind you can’t even get drunk… what do you mean a wizard?” Dottie looked at her with more confusion than anyone had ever asked her with before in both of her lives.“Oh shit… He’s about to go… Come on.” Becky watched as the man in his pin striped waistcoat and fedora hat stepped into a large glass stage jutting from the inside cylinder of the tower. It was clearly one of the largest arenas in the place and drew a crowd from almost every single level to observe. There were a few instances of individuals who tried to get a peek at the competitors using cameras to take stills of the fights, assumingly to sell as wonders of this place but were quickly dissuaded by security, clearly a mantra existed here that whatever happens here, stays here. The girls leant out over the railings and observed the entire tower from top to bottom seemingly enamoured by this fight. With one turn, the dark haired man seemed to lock his eyes on Becky, looking around for less than ten seconds just to cast a smile her way. “Okay damn… You’ve got good taste… He tell you his name at least?” Dottie commented as she saw the steaming gaze arrive at her companion. “Nope… I don’t know… He just…” She started to respond but observed as at the far side of the arena, entering from the other side of the cylindrical construction. “He’s not got any weapons or discernible arms… What’s he gonna do… seduce it to death?” Dottie asked as she watched the entrant from the far side as well. A large metal armoured soldier arrived, arms seeming to cast out gaseous billets as though, and did, catch flame. The man inside was visible, wearing dark clothing but he was somewhat exposed. He seemed to be able to manipulate his arms to aim the flames and control the output but that was about it. “Ladies and Gentlemen! The final centre stage match is about to begin so please… place your wagers. In the east side we have, Pyro! A mechanical menace, a soldier on leave from the front in Vietnam advising his soldier brethren… In the west… we have our reigning champion… Max. The master of all things metal…” The announcers called out three times, once in English, once in Chinese and again in English. A dainty looking showgirl seemed to one of hundreds moving around the cylinders layers, the wages were coming in thick and fast on all fronts but there were enough of them to go around. Seemingly an honour system was in place and these individual women didn’t carry money, just incase they were attacked in some manner of heist. It became clear, that the man in the pagoda like construction, suspended above it all could observe everything and had measures in place to prevent people from leaving without paying their dues. “Give me a thousand bucks on Max…” She called out to the bookie woman who noted the bet. “What the heck are you doing… The man’s going to get cooked alive, he’s wearing his Sunday best and he’s fighting a psychopath from an active warzone…” Dottie complained but Becky shook her head, her confidence telling as she watched the two combatants, Pyro seemingly pacing in his heavy mechanical suit, lighting the flames of his throwers as if to scare his challenger. Max simply stood there… calmly and confidently in the face of terrifying heat. A few minutes of rampant betting later… a series of lights embedded into a large billboard like construction began to show a timer until the fight would commence, it shone above with a countdown of ten seconds. Becky watched in uncontrollable anxiety and excitement as the seconds ticked down. “You sure know how to pick your men sis…” Dottie joked but as the seconds ticked to zero, the large mechanical force started charging full pelt, sending flames billowing from either arm with magnifying intensity, turning white hot and spilling boiling hot flames on to the surface of the glass. Max took one action, looking at his target. Pyro stopped in his tracks, seemingly held in place by a single look. “What the hell is happening? Why’d he stop…?” Dottie asked, confused and in awe as well by the tension. With one movement of his hand the large construction began to float slightly above the glass and metal layered flooring of the arena. Max raised a singular hand which seemed to cause some level of agony and horror in the face of his opponent. The audience were just as confused as he was, open mouthed gasps of exasperation as they tried to discern his skill, the trickery behind it. In one more instant, with outstretched fingers, Max sent the metal suit shooting in every direction. It left the man at the centre as he collapsed to the floor with a heavy thud as the suit of metal flew into the glass walls, impaling but not shattering a single inch. With one more step, the soldier drew a short military issue knife hidden in his boot and threw it at the standing defender. Everyone gasped as the knife seemed to vanish from view… It took barely a few moments for the crowd to see the action itself as the knife flew past Max hair, turning around his head and firing back into the stomach of the soldier, naked of his mechanical construction. The lights dimmed with a singular focused light descended on the victor as his opponent was pulled from the arena, his corpse staining a line of blood into the glass and metal latticed floor. Max turned back and took his time, calmly stepping towards the side of the building where Becky and Dottie stood, awestruck and amazed by the display of… something… that they just witnessed. “Can see why you were so… attracted to him now…” Dottie muttered under her breath to her friend and companion. “Told you. Wizard.” Becky responded as she watched the man she couldn’t pull her eyes from take a staircase to the top floor as it was and step into the clear glass walkway towards the owner of the establishment. This was the first time Dottie had ever seen Becky like this. Knowing her history, who she was and how apprehensive at first she was to the idea of engaging in romantic and sexual relationships with men… She was… smitten at first sight with a man who was a living weapon. “You want to stay? Hang around for him? I… I think I might turn in, maybe get some recon on where we have to go.” She spoke and saw as Becky looked back at her with a thin layer of concern. “I don’t know… I don’t know what’s going on in my head… For every picture that rolls in my mind of being with him, I can see my old self and I can’t… Am I wrong? Am I fucked up for… for thinking I could… be with a man… when I was one?” Becky mumbled in return as she clutched Dottie’s hand in hers. She felt the tight embrace and hug of her companion, tighter and more compassionate than she had ever felt from her. “You didn’t ask for this… I know you didn’t. But you can’t live the rest of your long… long life afraid of what who you were would think of the person you are now. You’re Becky Fucking Barnes… The Winter Widow. Go get your rocks off with a magic man…” She clutched her tightly, the scent of the old favourite whisky on both of their breaths. She couldn’t help but feel like the sisterly connection between the two might have forced the idea that they could have been an item from the possibilities but she knew this woman was going to outlive all of them, an eternal warrior for Hydra, so long as the serum in her friend’s blood get her powerful. “You’re going to be okay getting back to the hotel right? If you need me… signal me.” Becky assured her and released her from the tight control, finding a stair case to an upper level to at least be present for when Max left the office of the man in charge. Dottie descended with a worried feeling in her mind. She tried to claw back memories from dispatches in ’42. Every passing year seemed to lose one more memory or two from those days and left only the most devastating. Every corpse. Every kill. Every officer that demanded her for themselves. She knew she could recall something, somewhere about a camp where the officers became so afraid of using metal in any of their weapons or devices they had to coax prisoners from their chambers using extortion and threat of death… before luring others to the gas chambers. She knew she recalled the photos of dispatches from the camps… With fences and barbed wire collapsed, rifles and pistols contorted into grotesque displays of power over power. She just didn’t know where… “A pleasant surprise.” Max uttered in his full breathy tone as he placed the hat on the bar on the topmost level, the only connection to a glass walkway bridging the suspended office to the rest of the building. “I… uh…” She fumbled the words as he arrived, carrying a black briefcase made of leather with brass handles and locking switches, a chain and cuff connecting to his wrist. Clearly his winnings from the fights of the evening. “Would you like to come with me this evening? I would be delighted to keep your company.” He continued, asking and peering deep within her eyes, she nodded an affirmative as she felt her anxiety clutching her heart. “Mr Eisenhardt…” An Asian man called over, sharply dressed as well with a riveting collection of bangles lining his arms. They were engraved with strange symbols from a collection of languages, in her history as a spy, she understood maybe a third of them, not what they referred to but simply that they were. Max and Becky remained at the bar as the Asian man walked over, a power in his pulled up sleeves and presence of his walk. He… was the man in control of this entire building and no-one would tell him no. He knew it… he walked with that knowledge. “Was there something I had forgotten… Mr Xu?” Max referred to the man, watching him with a kind smile as he looked back at Max, darting his eyes quickly to the woman at his side. “It was I who forgot, to thank you for your professionalism regarding my inquiries. I simply sought to wish you luck on your travels, you will always have a home here in my city.” Mr Xu, seemed to caress the metallic bands that seemed line both of his arms. He looked over Becky’s own arm with curiosity and suspicion. “I will always remember your kindness and thank you again, for your support in my own. If you will excuse me…” Max began to turn as he bowed his head in gratitude to the man and placed his hat back where it belonged. The man was tall, older but not as old as the myths seemed to imply about the leader of the Ten Rings. His hair was well kept and he almost looked like he simply enjoyed conversing. If it weren’t for Dottie’s pleas and her own promises… she was tempted to ask her own questions of the man, to see if there was any truth to the stories about him.
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The pair rode the elevator down in a strange quietness, it seemed to her that he was comfortable and confident in what might transpire later in the evening but she… just felt nervous. She hadn’t fully experienced sex as a woman yet in a real way and her first time was going to be with someone so… put together. There was an anxiety there, about her own ability to perform for him. “Are you comfortable walking the distance to my abode?” He asked her, pulling his dark brown leather coat from the coat check at the lobby level of the tower and wrapping it around her as the pair stepped outside. He pulled a metallic cigarillo case from his pocket and a lighter and offering her one. She took it, out of pure nerves, hoping it might settle her nerves. As it lit and the first breath of the smoke filled her lungs she felt a sudden serenity in the taste, it was not arid or harsh like normal smoke and seemed to carry none of the telltale scent. “I’d have thought you’d be driving with… that.” She looked down at the briefcase, the chain linked binding on his wrist telling of just how much might be inside. “My dear, I ask you because I care more for your safety than that of the wealth inside this case. Say the word and I will summon a driver.” He spoke like some kind of gallant knight from a history book but nothing about his attitudes or behaviours seemed forced or inconsistent with everything she’d seen so far. “I… I’m happy walking, actually… The more I see of the city, the more I enjoy just… looking at it.” She explained, watching his arm and hooking hers onto it like a debutant lady attending a gala. It was only at this point that she saw his own arms, thin layers of dark hairs lined them but there was a marking in his skin, a tattoo of a series of numbers. She clutched her purse tightly to her as she cast her mind back and thought if it were a military code of some sort. “It is usually at this stage that people begin to question my display. If you wish to ask anything, please do. I am happy to share with you.” He spoke and it made her feel so reassured and safe but there was a question that instantly provoked a response.“Usually? How often do you pick up one armed strangers from fight club bars?” She joked and found herself giggling slightly. For the first time as well, she heard him laugh and it was deep and pleasant, casting into the sky. “Never. I simply mean after a few minutes, the questions start to form in anyone’s mind. I am sure you have also experienced such curiosity, I myself have to ask how you came about your arm.” Max continued his slow walk with her as she looked down at her metal arm, holding her purse steady as the chain over her arm connecting it clattered slightly against the metal. “You said you knew I wasn’t born with my gifts, that implies you were… Have you always been… this powerful?” She asked, trying to turn off the interrogation side of her mind that said she could use different tactics to secure information about this man. “I was, however they did not present themselves until adolescence, I thought at the time they were a gift for me to lay upon mine enemies but I have since learned they are a tool as well that can be used to build. The more the world is made of metal, the more I feel I can do for it…” He smiled at her as she clearly wanted to know what enemies the man had, or even still had, if they were still around. “Answer for an answer… May I ask how it happened?” He inquired to her, looking down on her as she became increasingly aware of just how tall the man was compared to her. In her life as Bucky she never really had to look down on anyone, most other men remained at eye level but now… he seemed to tower over her, she became increasingly aware of the fact that in order to look her best and feel her best tonight… she didn’t wear a bra with this dress.“I lost it in the war…” She told him. She was quickly trying to figure out a level at which she could discuss the past without letting on who she was before this. “My condolences, we all lost much to it.” He divulged, looking at the arm and reaching around with his before squeezing her tightly, seemingly pulling himself closer. “Why are you looking for more people like you? Do you think there are more out there?” She asked him, as her turn run around. He continued to clutch her to his side and increased his pace slightly and she felt it too, a sudden unexpected following had developed of men, attempting to follow close behind but not too close as to scare him. They were trying to be discrete but they failed terribly. “I have wandered the world for almost two decades with only memories of my loved ones and I… I need to know that I am not the only one, I have no-one of my own kin to ask. It is why I’ve come to Madripoor… I heard about these contests, the competitors being both human and not… And I had hope that the proprietor Xu Wenwu may be able to assist me, I answered his questions and he answered mine.” Max slowed their pace again as he relaxed slightly as the tailing men began to slow themselves, clearly aware they were perhaps giving themselves away. “What should we do?” She asked him, hoping he might understand her intention and pulled them both into a closed nook of space by the side of a building. She finished her cigarillo and realised he’d finished his a long while before. “It seems my new wealth has attracted some unsavoury characters. You will be safe with me… I promise.” He spoke but she… already knew that. Not to mention her own skills in combat that she had honed for years… If he really was one of a kind like him, he knew just how more powerful he was than them and could feel the end of the fight before it had even happened.A series of calls from behind them followed as the aggressors began, they spoke Chinese and Japanese and approached with a series of melee weapons to hand, a few with guns, a few with short swords and one with a swinging chain. “I assume there is no other end to this road? Can we not part amicably?” He asked them and one amongst them approached to the front. “Sure… part with your case… Jew and we’ll let you and your broken little American whore walk…” The leader of the thugs answered back and the rage that seemed to emanate from Max became… palpable. Something about his entire demeanour seemed to turn aggressive as he heard his heritage used against him as an insult… or slur.As one after another stepped closer, Max raised his hands in a seeming gesture of peace before loosening the chains on the case with his powers, freeing himself and using his gifts to send the blades of the swords into the heads of their wielders, gripped the chain from almost two metres away with no hint he had done so and strangled him with it. A quick burst of gunfire succeeded and Becky watched as the bullets held in place before him. He stood with calm and peace as he stood to the side and invited those aiming at him to try again. As he made a dance of his abilities, Becky felt a sudden grapple at her, a man approached from behind and tried to assault her, fondling her dress and body as he tried to pick her up from the concreted floor. She pushed him away with ease, shrugging off the leather coat that was laid on her shoulders and watched as he tried to punch at her, catching the fist in her metal hand and feeling her training kick in, running over the wall in her heeled shoes and bringing one to bear in a kick against the man’s teeth. Both Max and the Leader watched in awe as she landed to the ground with grace, turning to a few more attackers approaching from their rear. The leader sent his orders, a barrage of bullets collided into the concrete struts of the buildings around them as Max deflected them all, making sure to avoid sending them in Becky’s path as she charged full speed at her group, sliding on the ground with ease and pulling herself back up. She gripped the head of one of the attackers who looked around for his target and before he had a chance she pulled his head tight enough to hear the cracked bones as he collapsed to the floor limp. Max began to send the bullets back towards their senders, shattering the metal of their weapons with a glance and triggering the hammer as he loosened barrel, a falling mess of fire shot into the wielder’s gut and he fell in seconds. Becky approached another man who tried to throw a kick at her, she spun on the spot, gripping the knee of the man and sending the first of her robotic arm chopping into the kneecap and shattering the bone underneath. She heard the screams of agony and pain as the man collapsed to the floor in horror at the sight of his shinbones peaking through his flesh in a deluge of blood. “One more step…” The leader uttered as he directed a grenade towards Max. “I might have let you leave… But you insulted my lady. Insulting a lady’s honour sir… Is worth than the theft of a million dollars.” Max responded, flicking a pair of fingers in the Leaders direction, pulling the grenade from his hand, watching as the pin released on his finger. He thrust the grenade into the mouth of the man and with one final flourish sent him flying into the nearby river that ran almost two hundred yards away, the loud bang of the explosion sounded and he knew he was secure, he allowed the last of his targets to flee and found himself watching Becky as he pulled the case to him with his magnetic abilities. Becky gripped the final attacker’s fist and in a display of it’s ability to carry her weight and leverage her body, seemed to spin on an axis in front of the man, using the momentum of her turn she flung the body of the man into the side of the building where his head collided with the brickwork, sending blood and teeth cascading to the floor. “Grace and violence in equal measure… You are certainly one of a kind.” Max smiled as he slipped his lost case’s chain back around his wrist and offered a hand to his companion. The pair made the rest of their way quickly to Max’s abode here in Madripoor. “You are certain you are not hurt?” He asked her as he welcomed her into his penthouse level home. The main room was a large living space, glass coffee tables decorated with dark wooden stands, a bookcase cramped with autobiographies and historical texts, treatise on charismatic and powerful individuals. “Not hurt at all…” She responded, finding a quiet place to slip her black heeled shoes from her feet and finding a cushioned settee to lounge on while he approached the open kitchen that adjoined into the space. “I believe… it was my turn…?” He asked, bringing over a pair of small glasses of something on a metallic tray, he carried it by hand, even though he didn’t need to. He also brought a crystal decanter filled with the same liquor. “I suppose so…” She responded, taking one of the glasses as it was offered and turning to face the man as he sat on the same seat, facing her, it was the first real opportunity she had to size him up from the front and her eyes fell all over his body, picturing him in his entirety and becoming flush as she could picture his manhood right there before her. “Is this your first time?” He replied to her… He’d clearly detected her nervousness and change in her behaviours from before their first conversation to their latest. “Oh… technically… no. It’s kind of hard to explain but… It’d be my first time… where I wanted to.” She answered, seemingly being interpreted as a lack of consent on her part in any previous happenings. He looked at her with concern and empathy. “I will not press… Simply know that if there is a moment you feel coerced or under any kind of pressure… I will cease.” He responded, a continuingly surprising being as… most men of the time would simply say that she deserved it… or just choose to shun it away as something uncomfortable. “I appreciate and adore that, thank you. My turn. Mind if I ask… where you were held?” She took a sip of the whisky, knowing it felt like a question on the same level of awkward to answer inquiries. “The vernichtungslager in Poland… Auschwitz. I was corralled like the rest of my people into chambers… I saw the gross and monstrous experiments by the scientists there. I helped to scatter the ashes of my loved ones from the crematoria… I saw the very evils of humankind first hand and I was marked for the imaginary sins of my father.” He spoke his piece and Becky understood immediately the amount of torture and horror the man must have experienced. She was only held in a prison camp with other soldiers during her time against Hydra the more she heard about the totality of violence and brutal extermination that occurred as part of that regime… She couldn’t tell if she was proud of helping to put an end to it… or if she felt like a failure for not being able to see it through to the end. “I am… so sorry…” Becky told him, he’d heard it before but he seemed to believe it when she said it, it resonated with him. “Thank you… My turn, I believe?” He asked and she nodded, seeming to not want to separate her hand from his as he divulged his traumatic history to her. She took a sip of her drink and the moment he asked his question… she almost felt it rise like a pile of vomit and bile from her throat.“Who was James Barnes to you…?” he asked, seeming to set off a panic ready alarm bell in her mind as she worried and felt that he knew her secret. “How… How do you know that name?” She asked him back, curiosity her only response for the moment. “You carry the dog tags for the man in your purse… I can feel the metal. I apologise if it was invasive but my gift cannot be controlled in some ways. I feel the very metal around me and can read the engravings…” He confided in her and she believed his apology, knew that maybe it wasn’t something he could control. In a briefest moment of pure terror and anxiety and… not wanting to disappoint him after he’d just spilled his soul to her…“They’re mine…” She told him. He half-smiled as though she had told him a joke or was… hiding the truth. “You… are James Barnes? The fallen soldier who fought to free Europe from the grip of Hydra? Or you believe you are?” He responded, an awe and curiosity in his own mind as he… he believed it. He didn’t think she was lying but he didn’t understand how it could be. “I am. I was born James Buchanan Barnes… Bucky. I fought until ’45 with my friend… Steve Rogers. I… was saved by scientists… preserved and… remade as a woman. I’ve spent the last five missions running secret operations worldwide for the organisation that saved me… gave me this. If my handler knew I was telling you any of this… but I don’t want to lie to you…” She gestured to the arm and felt his eyes trace her body as though he tried to imagine her as someone else. “I…” He seemed to stammer for the first time since they’d begun talking and the half smile he bore turned into a full one. “I am honoured… that you have shared your tale with me. I promise, on my word… I will not share it to a soul…” He spoke, directed his eyes into hers and made the vow, in that moment she felt the most drawn to him, the most appreciative for his time and the most attracted to him. She moved from the couch and mounted him, her legs over his, his head in her hands as she kissed him. She felt his hands rise around her back and a tinge of anxiety shot up her spine. “You’re not… You’re not disturbed… I used to be a man… Most people would want me dead for playing them…” She mumbled to him with staggered breaths as she felt his magnetic powers caress her arm, sending chills through the metal into her core. “You are what I believe you to be… A beautiful woman, with the scars of her history written onto her soul like all of us… I am not one to judge based on the flesh or gender of a person, only their deeds… and the honesty of their soul…” Max stood, carrying her as she bent her legs upwards while they remained splayed in front of him. He continued to hold her back against him as he kissed her, again and again on the lips before moving his mouth lower, planting kiss again and again following a trail down her neck to her collar. She revelled in the joy and ecstasy he filled her with in that moment, his power still playing with the sensations of her robotic arm. He walked her to the dark wooden door of another room and without a control turned the switch on. She didn’t see much but watched as the wall behind his head turned to a dark wallpaper with swirling patterning. “I meant, my dear… If you feel at any point you need me to stop…” He tried but as he did, she planted a heavy and passionate kiss on his lips as he leant forward and she found herself falling into a thick and welcoming bed. It was covered from top to bottom in dark coloured sheets, thick woollen duvet between her fingers as she pulled her dress from her thighs upwards around her head, feeling her breasts exposed to the man before her. “Perfection…” He told her as he leant down on top of her, kissing her lips and carrying his kisses down and down. He felt her recline and began to trail his kisses past her breasts, down past her navel to the thin black underwear she’d bought in the store with Dottie. He pulled them down around her thighs and found the soft fleshy lips between her legs. He planted a kiss on them, feeding his tongue against the lips and running against the hyper sensitive spot at the highest point. From one moment to the next, she felt unimaginably brilliant surges of pleasure all over her body, surges filled with electricity and static energy coursed through her from head to toe as she slipped further and further inside of her with his tongue, kissing passionately against her flesh. “Oh… fu…” She moaned, as she gripped the headboard of the bed, wrapping her legs around his shoulders as the very moistening between her legs sent her entire body freefalling into a seemingly never ending spiral of pleasure and elation, the likes of which was nothing she’d experienced before. His mouth moved away and looking into her pleasure filled maw he saw the delight of another being, joy in its purest form. He knelt in one smooth movement and unbuckled his trousers, looking down on his paramour and waiting patiently for her to come out of the elation spiral he could send through her body with waves of static electricity. He grazed the tip against her flesh… She looked at him as their eyes met one more time… she nodded an affirmative and in the same beautiful moment she felt his manhood enter her and send an explosion of potential energy surging through her, arching her spine as her tight body contorted with pleasure. She gripped the headboard harder and harder, trying her hardest to control the robotic arm to not break anything and ruin the moment. “Oh… my… god…” She moaned, letting out instinctual and emotionally bursts of the energy in loud crying moans as he plunged deeper inside of her with every thrust of his body. He placed a palm on her arching body and pushed it back into the bed, holding her in place as he continued to thrust deeper and deeper inside of her, a line of sweat drizzled from his chiselled chin and dropped onto her already sweating body. This display of carnal wonder carried on until both of them could see the sunrise glinting from their sweaty bodies, she never wanted this experience to end and neither did he. Just as she wished upon whatever stars of the flag she knew, she felt Max twitch and jerk, thrusting a few final times before shooting a series of full bursts inside of her. He looked down on her face again, watching as her elation and pure ecstatic joy in that moment was captured in his mind. “Perfection…” He said again, almost making the whole experience feel effortless but at the same time… the most work either of them had ever contributed to anything ever in all of their lives. The sensation was the strangest feeling to her, the feeling of the viscous liquid inside of her, being aware of how it felt with him inside and the absent space that seemed to miss his presence. The two relaxed and fell asleep faster than either of them had in years, more full of emotion and cherishing the night they’d just spent together in their dreams thereafter. Becky felt a sudden tinge of guilt as she fell asleep with his arms cradling her in his bed. She almost wished they could spend their lives together now… just like this. She hadn’t ever thought of a life beyond being a soldier… and now a spy. She felt guilty that she knew she couldn’t have this… even if he was somehow enhanced in some way… She’d not age with him. She ignored these thoughts, trying to put them out of her mind, as she watched the sun begin to rise over the buildings of this city through the clear glass wall that faced it. She fell asleep with his breath running against her hair, feeling content… and human again.
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The morning after seemed to end far too quickly. Becky felt her eyes open as she looked out on the bustling Asian city but couldn’t hear a single noise, the windows themselves blocked the invasive cacophony from reaching them. She turned in the bed, shocked at being left alone and now discovering how it felt to be the last one up. In her time she’d always been the first to rise, to make breakfast and coffee for her lady-guests. “Good morning.” Max exclaimed at the sight of her standing off the edge of the bed, wearing nothing but the black underwear she’d found just by the bedside cabinet a few moments earlier. She couldn’t help herself but smile at the sight of this topless man who barely a few hours ago had felt like every missing piece of her life. “Good morning…” She responded, looking down at the man wearing his pyjama bottoms and seeing the faint outline of his manhood grazing the fabric on the inside and remembering the sensations it sent through her. “I hope you forgive my imposition, the lady I share this apartment with is of a similar stature to yourself, I gathered a few items, they’re on the bed in the other room…” He gestured towards the settee they’d been seated on earlier and she found her eyes drawn to a room on the far side of the living space from his. She hadn’t noticed it earlier, assuming that he lived alone, a bachelor. She moved over to investigate and found herself curious about something else. “Is she… someone special to you?” She asked, curious about the relationship. “Not at all. We share this space due to our combined work and interest in this place and the opportunities for work and information Xu Wenwu may provide. She is a friend… treasured and true.” He responded, nostalgic about his friendship with this person and for all that was her suspicion, he seemed genuine. It wasn’t like she was going to walk in and start blasting the man with explosives for cheating on her. “I’ll go have a look… Are you sure that’s okay? She won’t be mad you went through her things?” Becky approached the room, finding a similar dark mahogany style door open with the exact same layout as his bedroom, it was however, more decorated with a few more photos of her loved ones. She knew Max might not have many photos or pictures of his family to hand, he told her that he held them deep in his heart and mind. “We trust one another. Breakfast is ready whenever you finish getting dressed. I apologise if my demeanour comes off as dismissive or rude… But I have an appointment this morning that cannot be delayed… as much as I wish I could spend another minute with you…” His head poked around the corner of the room as he watched her pulling on a dark red bra and black blouse before pulling on a long pair of tight black trousers, presumably some kind of biking leathers, along with a pair of rather heavy steel toe capped boots that rose almost halfway up her shin. She caught him looking as she bent down to pull the zip of the boots up the side of her leg, taunting him with her rotund and ample rear. “It’s okay… I should probably get back to my hotel, if I don’t check in soon, my friend will worry you’ve taken me on an adventure to destroy a golden ring…” She joked, realising the reference to wizards the night before had tickled him, he simply smiled and returned to the kitchen just off the main living room. “I meant it, what I told you last night. I promise to take your secrets to my grave… And I hope you understand my desire for you to hold my own information in such discretion.” He asked her, pleaded with her, to hide his history. Clearly as a special individual of interest, he might even be wanted on the organisation’s radar as a potential ally or agent. “I will, and thank you… again. It felt good to tell someone… To tell you… and be accepted regardless of it.” She replied, holding on to a blinding surge of emotion that almost had a tear fall from her eye. She returned to the living room and saw a small plate of eggs, sausages and bacon with a side of baked beans ready for her to eat with a still steaming hot cup of coffee. “I pray we will meet again, Becky Barnes…” Max told her as he appeared to be pulling his coat from the rack with his magnetic abilities and finding his hat still set on a counter top where he’d left it last night. “We’d better… and if not. I hope you find someone else… like you. Even if it’s a new friend who can turn water to wine or talk with his brain. I hope you find that kind of brotherhood…” She told him, hoping it didn’t seem like she was giving up hope of ever having her body rocked by this enigmatic master of metal. He leant down as she stood there, hoping she hadn’t said the wrong thing and planted a passionate kiss on her lips. “I bid you… auf wiedersehen. Until we meet again…” He turned on the spot, keeping his fingers gripping the top of his hat and pulling the dark leather case to his side, this time removing the chain entirely from the carry case. Becky looked at the breakfast and, taking her time, devoured the entire collection. She prayed it was definitely okay to hang on to the clothes of his roommate. She looked like a kind soul in all of her photos with her friends. “Welcome back… So…?” Dottie was immediately interrogative as Becky walked through the hotel room door, she was seated on her bed looking over a hand drawn collection of routes and a layout of a building where their mission presumably would take them. “It… was fun. I… uh…” She tried to put into words something that might describe the experience but something in Dottie’s face knew the struggle. “I’m happy for you… But… while you were getting your organs rearranged by Mr Magnet Man, I was scouting out the lab we’re after.” Dottie returned back to normal but she wouldn’t stop the little jokes for a while, it was always her thing to get hooked on to something and laugh it off for a bit until the next thing came along. Like the first time Becky tried her hand at speaking Russian. “First off… No-one is THAT big… secondly… I thought you wanted to get some sleep? If you wanted to keep working you could have said and I’d have come with you.” Becky relaxed on the armchair in the hotel room as Dottie looked her new dark and in charge outfit up and down. “I’m a big girl, I can scout out an underground lab’s security by myself and get back here safe and sound.” She reassured her and it was certainly true. Dottie was the senior spy and knew more of what she was doing, without the enhancements. “So where are we going and what are we stealing?” Becky asked, moving and sitting on the adjacent bed where she could see the diagrams her friend had made. Dottie went into a kind of briefing mode, describing the security of the immediate area, the patrols of potential guards in and out of uniform. She seemed particularly discrete about who the lab belonged to and what exactly they were looking for but told her that was by design, they wouldn’t know exactly what to look for until they’d been able to access the rudimentary filing system and locate the object. “Okay… Sounds basic smash and grab to me. When are we going? Doesn’t feel like a night raid is going to be any more or less effective than just going now and having a look…” Becky interjected, looking over the camera placements and finding one or two blindspots she could take advantage of. “You sure? If you need an extra minute to recover from the mind blowing banging you got… I’d forgive you.” She smiled and laughed slightly as Becky seemed slightly embarrassed about the whole ordeal the way she talks about it. “It was mind blowing… Better than any you’ve had that’s for fuckin’ sure…” Becky joked right back, sure that the joke would land well. Becky waited in the hotel room for Dottie to finish getting dressed into something discrete. She wore a tight black pantsuit with her small shining black pumps. She always pulled off these kinds of looks and the more she saw them… the more Becky felt like they’d suit her too. The journey down to the block where the lab was located was quick and simple. Dottie knew where she was going and the pair simply treated the journey like they were just out for a walk around a new city, still playing the tourist sisters card. When at last they arrived, Becky was surprised to see the building looked like an old apartment building, dilapidated and falling apart. A small gang of young kids circled around the outside of it on bicycles and quickly scurried off at a quick pace as they saw people looking for the place. “Doesn’t really scream… Lab…” She commented, hoping Dottie would shed some light on the situation as they passed the building once and carried on walking. “Deepground echoes show a huge labyrinth of secret labs down there. They’re rented out to arms manufacturers, pharmaceutical companies… all because the work they can do here isn’t bound by any legal or ethical laws.” Dottie went through the information she’d left out originally for some reason. Becky was becoming curious about who the organisation was that they were here to steal from, what kind of dangerous chemical or agent were they being sent to discretely pilfer and handle. “But we’re just after one, so we get down there and look for the company we’re after, head straight to the lab, act like we belong and get in and out no fuss.” Becky simplified the mission as she had always done, finding ways to make it a quick clear and precise set of points to follow.“If you’re ready… then lead the way sis.” Dottie gestured to a fire escape like set of metal stairs that led all the way to the roof of the building, a middle point break in the building where the staircase had been broken or left to fall into ruin. Going up felt like the best way to circumvent a lot of the primary security measures and allowed them to get a better perspective on the building as a whole, looking for a hidden entrance or exit. It didn’t take long for the pair to find a secondary exit in case of fire and emergencies, the way was guarded by a simple patrol route and easily manipulated cameras. The pair slunk in, stealthy as they could and found the underground laboratory. A series of rooms lined a long series of corridors owned and rented by a myriad series of businesses, organisations and groups. Anarchist groups, drug manufacturers and legitimate pharmaceutical groups were all doing work here that they couldn’t do anywhere else without drawing the wrong type of attention. “Move up.” Dottie gestured with her hands as the pair hid in one after another of the small nooks of unused labs, passing those in use and occupied in a flash. “You know it’d probably help if you tell me which business or shady group we’re supposed to be stealing from…” Becky was becoming insistent but Dottie just seemed to become more and more irked by the continued questioning of their orders and desire for more information. “I… I can’t. Please… just trust me. Right… the lab we’re looking for is down this way. I’m going to grab our sample and bounce. Just keep an eye down this way and tap your heel twice if you see anything heading my way.” Dottie continued ahead, pleading with her to stay put, she watched carefully around a corner, a series of glass doored cell like constructions with symbols on the doors detailing a series of logos for the organisations involved in that research. Each was a corporation that she’d become familiar with in some capacity over the last five years, trying her hardest to come to terms with the changes around the world. The dramatic changes that’d happened to cars in the time since before the war and into the 60’s was… entertaining. As Dottie arrived at the lab she was looking for, Becky edged slightly further forward to watch one of the metal corridors where she heard the unintelligible conversation between two of the occupants. A few seconds passed. Then a few more. Becky took the initiative. She knew and trusted Dottie to be able to get the work done but she also knew how competent and able she was. If something was wrong, it wouldn’t be on Dottie to make it known, it’d be on her to investigate and that’s exactly what she did. Moving up the corridor she found the lab room, the door was clouded glass and she could only see the faint shapes behind it. The logo by the side of the door looked familiar, however, and Becky wanted to know why exactly they were stealing from Stark Industries. “How is stealing from Howard Stark benefitting the peace and prosperity of the world? I wish I could say I was surprised that he had a lab here but I knew the man, he was building flying cars in the 40’s…” Becky interjected, sneaking behind Dottie with a suspicious efficiency. She jumped in her skin, not expecting another interruption. The room was dark and dimly lit at the moment, a dark wooden desk sat on one side of a large half room clouded glass office space and the other half of the room looked like a sterilised hospital bay. Dottie was delayed because she was now responsible for shredding or burning the collection of work Stark was conducting here.“You… you were supposed to stay out there…” Dottie mumbled, seeming to catch a lump in her throat as she tried to divert attention from the man in the suit lying crumpled behind the dark wooden desk. Becky slyly advanced into the room and checked the man’s pulse on his neck and saw that he’d pulled a gun on Dottie and her training must have kicked in. “We did some morally questionable things in the war… But you told me Stark was a founding member of this Strategic Division we work under. Why would we be ordered to steal something from someone they could literally just ask for it…?” Becky was beginning to work her mind into circles, it didn’t make any sense, if the organisation truly shared information for the sake of peace and prosperity and security… then there was no need to steal these kinds of things. “Please… keep your voice down…” Dottie exclaimed as quietly as she could, gesturing to her reluctantly accepted guest to move away from the clouded glass doorway. She was now in the progress of adding a small device to the torn and shredded pile of documentation in the bin that she was about to set a light to. “And… and now you’re planting a Soviet shell casing at the scene… We’re not here for good reasons and until now I’ve understood that… But we just spent a week, with my tits hanging out in a Russian manor on some weird flying peace event and now we’re trying to set them against each other… If Howard thinks the Russians…” Becky was piecing things together and… unfortunately, it meant that Dottie had to take action… in the worst way she knew how. “Furnace…” Dottie uttered the first word directly to Becky and in a moment she’d become confused, dazed and unsteady. “Don’t… Don’t do that… Please.” Becky started to plead but Dottie continued, a tear running from one of her eyes as she spoke the remaining words, watching her self-proclaimed sister writhing with resistance to the mental conditioning that gave her no autonomy, took away her consent and consciousness. “Benign… Rusted…” She continued. “Dottie… Don’t… Please, just tell me…”It all went dark in her mind. There was nothing to process no second chance at resisting the process. In one fell swoop the person she trusted the most had taken away all of her self control and made her a mindless husk that didn’t question their orders. She couldn’t help but draw the comparison to the stories she’d heard about just after the war, the consequences for those German soldiers who claimed to only be acting on orders, but they at least had the capacity to decline. They had the choice…
An Hour Later.
Dottie climbed out from the car they’d hired to spirit them away from the lab building. They’d managed to escape and remain undetected, using the fire in the Stark Lab as a diversion to wipe all security footage for the entire complex, planting evidence it was the Soviets that stole what they had from the lab all with only one casualty. “Winter Widow… Report.” Fennhoff asked as he noticed the stiff, almost robotic movement to the agent now under the command of her companion. “I questioned orders… Agent Underwood was forced to place me under conditioning in order to prevent me from becoming hysterical and problematic to the mission Sir.” Becky’s voice was monotoned, no emotional inflections or accent of any kind. She just spoke the piece and Fennhoff judged for himself. “Agent Underwood? Were you successful?” He neglected to refer back to the standing tall, emotionless and stone faced woman again. Dottie nodded an affirmation, handing a small glass vial filled to the top with a thick and viscous blue fluid. “That was the only sample of the serum Stark is trying to replicate Sir, one other sample was produced but it was purchased by a third party, the records don’t hold the identity but I believe I can track them down, I suspect the Ten Rings of providing information regarding the serum to others before you, Sir. Destroying the lab should set him back but from the records it looks like he still has all the available samples of Captain Roger’s blood. I will take full responsibility for Winter Widows actions sir. I should… I should have intervened.” Dottie stood at attention, her feet together, shoulder to shoulder with Becky. “It’s understandable. You two have been too close… I had simply hoped that she might come round to our side, that we could approach the topic of her allegiances without the conditioning… But it seems I had too much faith in both my own ability to program… and your ability to supervise. You are to take her back to headquarters and place her back into cryostasis for the time being… If she cannot be trusted under her own mind… I will simply have to diminish her capacity of self-control even further… Zola and I have been working on a way to destroy targeted memory centres in the Amygdala… I believe we might simply be able to erase her memories that provoke her more… free-thinking behaviours and allow us to start again with something of a… fresh slate.” Fennhoff had proposed this idea previously to Zola but found resistance, wanting to earn the loyalty of their soldiers and weed out the weak and morally stubborn of them. In its previous iteration, Fennhoff had elected to attempt lobotomising agents, using the most brutal and barbaric forms of psychosurgery to manipulate the memory centres of the brain to create his pliable and manipulable young women. “Isn’t… Isn’t that a little extreme? I’m sure we can talk to her, try and get her to see we’re not the same Hydra she fought.” Dottie pleaded with her old friend and mentor but knew it was in vain. This was also the man that sold her to Nazi officers as a plaything for the sake of cover when she was only thirteen years old. He was willing to do the heinous things and he thought he was justified in it. “I am heading back to the Kremlin to deliver this and collect Mr Vanko for transport. When I return we will have a thorough discussion of her… activities and ways to improve performance. We cannot fail now… not when we’ve been given the cohort for the Red Room…” Fennhoff genuinely looked slightly concerned about the state of his pet project, the training and manipulation of young girls into becoming dangerous and controllable agents for the will of Hydra. “I will ever be at your service… Sir. Even without the Winter Widow, I can handle training with Dreykov.” Dottie interjected, it wasn’t the first time her mentor had mentioned this particular project of his and it stemmed from his treatment of her during the war. She agreed that her particular set of skills, combat abilities and training would allow her to train another generation of scouts and spies… loyal to Hydra. “Hail Hydra…” He uttered to her, quietly and only for her to hear and then directed her to the cargo vessel that would take her to one of the submersible transports. “Hail Hydra…” She replied as she followed his instructions, leading her sister towards it and expecting her obedience. “For what it’s worth… Becks… I really wanted you to be at my side when we start training these girls. To have you to ease their burdens, even a little bit, would have made all the difference in the world… You would have been like their Mother.” She mumbled to the under controlled woman, attempting to ease her conscience, trying her hardest to move more of the blame to her actions, her inconsistent behaviour, her undiluted morality and still… after all these years still being unable to let go of the example of Steve Rogers in her mind, telling her to do the right thing. Becky Barnes stood there, stone-faced and emotionless, a pure blank slate that could be programmed and activated to do whatever she ordered it to, she could tell her to run, to live a free life but… her loyalty to Hydra won out, regardless of how she felt about Becky Barnes.