Chapter 4
The scalpel cut through her skin with surgical precision.
The pain came first—sharp and slicing—but 616 did not move. She did not scream. She only watched, her eyes fixed on the red line opening across her small arm.
The blood trickled down, warm against her cold skin.
The scientists did not react. They only observed and took notes.
The cut began to close almost immediately. The skin stitched itself back together, as if it were alive.
‘Less than thirty seconds for a superficial wound” One of the scientists murmured.
Kraus simply nodded.
616 lowered her eyes to her now-intact arm. The pain was gone. But the memory of the scalpel remained.
“Now, let’s test a deeper cut.”
--
Time was a blur.
She didn’t know how many days had passed, locked away in that cold cell. Her stomach growled—a strange, painful sound, something she had never felt before.
At first, she tried to ignore it. But as the hours dragged on, the emptiness inside her became unbearable.
Her hands trembled. Her eyes burned.
She started seeing things that weren’t there.
“Three days without food. Two without water.” Kraus’s voice echoed beyond the glass. “Let’s see how much longer she can last.”
She curled up in the corner, her body too weak to move.
But she didn’t sleep. She couldn’t.
They wanted her to endure.
So she endured.
--
The lights never went out.
She blinked slowly, feeling the burn in her eyes. Her head throbbed, her thoughts tangled.
The scientists' voices echoed, distant. She knew they were there, watching.
“One hundred and twenty hours awake” someone said.
Her body felt heavy. Every muscle screamed for rest.
She tried to stay focused. But for a second, everything went dark.
“Don’t sleep, 616.”
The order jolted her awake.
She didn’t sleep.
--
The ground beneath her feet moved too fast.
She ran. She ran until her lungs burned, until her legs felt heavy. But she didn’t stop.
The treadmill sped up.
Faster.
Kraus watched, impassive.
“Six hours nonstop. No signs of exhaustion” someone reported.
She could hear every beat of her own heart.
The world around her became a blur.
--
“Jump.”
She looked up. The lab ceiling was high—much higher than she had ever thought possible to reach.
“Jump, 616!” Kraus repeated.
She bent her legs and leaped.
The first attempt was weak.
The second, a little better.
On the third, she touched the ceiling.
The scientists exchanged glances.
She didn’t know if that was "good." But if this was what they expected of her, she would do it again.
--
The water was freezing.
616 kept her gaze fixed on the surface above, watching the bubbles rise while her body remained still.
The scientists had left her there. No air. No way out.
Minutes passed.
Her lungs begged for oxygen, but she didn’t react.
The pain in her chest intensified.
She didn’t know if she would die there.
Her muscles relaxed.
--
She didn’t understand the order right away.
The man they brought into the room was much bigger than her, stronger, and his gaze made it clear, he wouldn’t hesitate.
“Combat test.” Kraus announced.
The soldier moved first.
She didn’t think, only reacted. Dodged.
Her senses were already faster than before. Time seemed to slow before her eyes as the man’s movements became clear. The way he shifted his weight onto his left leg. How he raised his fist before striking.
She spun and kicked him in the stomach. He staggered.
The scientists murmured louder.
“Continue!” Kraus ordered.
She obeyed.
The next blow was stronger. The soldier dropped to his knees.
“That’s enough” Alexander Pierce spoke for the first time, interrupting.
She stopped immediately.
He stepped closer, watching her with that look that seemed... satisfied.
“You’re doing well” he said. And then he smiled. A smile that didn’t belong in this place. “Keep this up, and soon, you’ll have a name.”'
--
616 already knew every routine.
Strength tests. Endurance tests. Speed tests. Pain tests.
She learned fast. Improved fast.
The scientists called her a "success."
Yet, even after a year, she was still just a number.
But that day, something changed.
The training room door opened with a mechanical hiss, and 616 stepped in without hesitation. Her body already knew the way, her bare feet moving effortlessly across the cold floor.
But something was different.
She sensed it before she even looked.
The metallic scent in the air was stronger. There were more people than usual—scientists, soldiers, figures she didn’t recognize. They murmured among themselves, eyes sharp, as if waiting for something.
Then she saw him.
In the center of the room, a man stood motionless, as still as a statue.
He was larger than anyone she had ever seen, dressed in black from head to toe. His left arm gleamed under the lab’s cold light—dark metal, shining like a freshly sharpened blade.
His eyes were empty.
Not like the scientists, filled with calculation and coldness.
Not like the soldiers, hardened by obedience.
It was a different kind of emptiness.
Like a bottomless pit.
She didn’t look away.
She didn’t blink.
“616” Kraus’s voice called behind her. “This is the Winter Soldier.”
She felt the eyes on her back, waiting for her reaction.
The man before her said nothing.
He only breathed.
But even that sound felt calculated, as if he was no longer a man, but a machine.
“You’ll train with him today.”Kraus’s voice carried satisfaction. “Watch and learn.”
The Soldier slowly turned his head, staring at her.
There was something unsettling about that empty gaze.
And for the first time in a long while, 616 felt something different inside her.
Not fear.
Not pain.
Something deeper.
She didn’t know its name.
But she knew that nothing would ever be the same again.
The silence in the room was dense, heavy, like a storm about to break.
616 remained still, watching.
The Winter Soldier moved.
The recruits were trained men, disciplined, but they were nothing compared to him. He moved like a shadow—fast and precise. The first soldier attempted a direct strike—a mistake. The Soldier dodged effortlessly, spinning and landing a sharp blow to the man’s chest, sending him flying backward as if he weighed nothing.
Another tried to approach from the side but was met with a brutal punch from the metal fist. The crack of breaking bones echoed through the room.
Two more attacked at the same time.
It made no difference.
The Soldier took them down as easily as one would sweep dust from the floor.
616 watched everything.
Every movement.
Every strike.
Her eyes analyzed the way he moved, how his attacks were never wasted. He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t miss.
The last two recruits tried to flank him, but the Soldier was already in motion before they could react. He spun, his metal arm gripping one by the throat while he kicked the other with enough force to send him crashing against the wall.
Silence.
Everyone lay on the ground, groaning in pain or unconscious.
The Soldier simply stood there, breathing, his empty eyes waiting for the next command.
Then, the door opened.
The sound of footsteps echoed through the room. A different sound.
Alexander Pierce.
His immaculate suit contrasted with the chaos around him. His gaze swept over the fallen bodies, but he didn’t look surprised. Only satisfied.
“Good.” His voice was calm, yet carried undeniable weight. “But something is still missing.”
He took a few steps forward, stopping beside Kraus.
“I want him to fight 616.”
The air in the room shifted.
The scientists exchanged discreet glances. Kraus raised an eyebrow but didn’t object.
616 remained where she was, absorbing the words.
She knew this would happen sooner or later.
The Soldier turned to face her.
The empty eyes were now on her.
And then, Pierce smiled.
“Let’s see what you’re truly capable of.”
The cold floor of the training room pressed against 616's skin, but she barely registered the discomfort. Her body burned, her muscles screamed in protest.
The Winter Soldier loomed over her like a shadow, his presence overwhelming, his eyes empty and emotionless. He wasn’t fighting just another recruit. He was crushing an experiment, testing her limits.
She tried to move, but he held her tightly, his metal arm pinning her wrist to the floor, while the other closed around her throat. The world began to darken.
She kicked, twisted, tried to breathe.
No one moved to stop him.
Pierce just watched, his eyes fixed on the scene, his face impassive.
“Get up, 616!” he ordered, his voice sharp. “React!”
She fought against the darkness threatening to consume her, against the pain burning through every inch of her body. That’s when she realized.
Pierce was no different from the scientists. He didn’t see her pain. He didn’t care about what was happening in that moment. He didn’t care if she suffered, if she bled, if her body was at its breaking point. He wanted results. He wanted her to be perfect.
A machine.
Alexander Pierce didn’t see 616 as anything human. Just an unfinished project.
Rage built inside her, mixed with exhaustion. But for a brief second, that was what kept her conscious.
She couldn’t fall. Not for them.
So she raised her fists.
Her eyes burned with determination.
"I can do this all day."
The Soldier stopped.
Something changed in him.
Confusion flickered in his cold gaze, a flash of something… human.
His lips parted slightly, and he stared at her as if seeing someone else.
“Steve?”
The name echoed in the room.
Absolute silence.
Then, everything crumbled.
“Get him out of here!” someone shouted.
The Soldier began to breathe heavily, his eyes wild. He stumbled back, clutching his head as if something were breaking inside him.
Pierce stepped back, his gaze hard.
The agents moved in, surrounding the Soldier, trying to drag him away. He roared, fighting them off, his metal arm knocking one of the guards down with a brutal blow.
“NO!” his voice exploded, filled with something 616 couldn’t understand.
But soon he was forced to the ground.
“Get him to the chair! NOW!”
The screams and the sound of the shocks filled the air.
616 remained where she was, her knees trembling, her body burning.
Then, cold hands grabbed her.
Dra. Mayer pulled her out of the room without a word.
The hallways blurred around her until the metal door of her cell closed behind her.
She sat on the small bed, feeling the pain radiate through her body.
“Did I do well?” her voice came out low, hesitant.
Mayer looked at her, impassive.
“You could have done better.”
Without further explanation, she turned to leave.
“As a consequence, you will wait for your injuries to heal on their own.”
616 didn’t answer.
She simply pressed her fingers against the thin blanket, feeling each pulse of pain in her body.
Learning.
She would learn.