[There was a distinct sort of parallel between the memories that played out. Things taught in pain and suffering, death a constant current that ran through it all. Just like she hadn't really been surprised to see what had done to him, he didn't really seem surprised to see what played out here, what she'd been forced through, what she'd endured. But he does comfort her through it, holding onto her, the way that his fingers slide through her red hair and she sighs softly, leans into it. Lets the contact remind her that this is all memory, that Ivan is dead and she's in a cave in a blizzard, not back in the Red Room's cold walls.]
Order in pain. [It's a soft echo; not a mantra she'd ever heard before, but it was a truth. It was how the Red Room worked, and from what she'd seen, how Hydra worked too. She nods at the question, a low murmur of agreement.] Everyone thought he was dead after the night Natasha picked me up in Odessa. No way he could have survived the explosion. I would have killed him without blinking, if I had the chance. But I was supposed to disable the OPUS machine while Natasha kept his attention.
[They'd all had their roles to play. The way she describes how things had gone down in the end is short, skips some of the big pieces, her own personal tragedy, doesn't mention Alexei. Not because she doesn't trust him, but because it's a hard thing for her to talk about at all, to anyone. Even with Alexei's name carved on the wall of SHIELD agents that have lost their lives, she doesn't even talk to Natasha about it much. she'd told her team about it, once. But they'd wanted to understand her, wanted to splice her life into some hero's tale like one of the Avengers, so she gave them her story.
It'd mean more if she told him, so she doesn't, not yet. It'd be more than just why she pushes herself, and why she is what she is, and the fact that she's not anyone's hero.
The memory, however, continues to play out. Soldiers in uniform dragging her away, through doors to what looks like a bathroom. They handcuff her wrists around a pipe under a sink, and she struggles, alone for a few minutes until one of the soldiers comes back and douses her in cold water. They leave her there for a while, struggling against the cuffs until her small wrists bleed, small feet slipping on the slick tiles, unable to get her footing, shivering from the cold.
It's later when Ivan walks in, and she's exhausted, energy spent on her struggles, so all she can do is look up at him, and there's still anger there, but with less of the hate. Less pointed and vicious, most of that spent. He tells her than she is an animal, worthless, something for him to shape into something that can be used. And as he talks, demeaning and humiliating, he beats her, kicks her as she tries to escape, but there's nowhere for her to go.]
<< An animal that can't be broken is worthless. So it's the same. The Red Room demands loyalty. We are all good patriots, we all understand the cause. And you could be special. >>
[But the gentleness, how soft and coy his tone is, doesn't make her punishment gentle. There's a slim length of metal, and it sparks at one end with current. Her wet skin makes it conduct better, gets more coverage, and he's careful about where he stands. He presses the end to her collarbone, through thin wet fabric and her body spasms. Ivan repeats the gesture, over and over, sometimes giving her space to breathe between his tortures, and sometimes he doesn't. He repeats it until he makes her scream, and then he smiles, drawing out those cries. If Rumlow's sharp, he might pick up on the fact that Ivan had her attached to the pipe for the acoustics. So that the sounds would carry. So that the other girls would hear her screams. This is a lesson for her, but also for all the others.
He tortures her until her body gives out, until she's shaking with sobs on the floor. And that's how the scene fades out into shadows.]
I hated being kept prisoner in 7B. But, remembering what the Red Room was like-- What Ivan was like? [HYDRA might not have been good people, but they'd never treated her like Ivan did. Even if she'd clearly learned those lessons, at least in part. She'd never been perfectly loyal, perfectly obedient, never a true patriot. Maybe it was why she was the one he gave to HYDRA. Instead of finishing the thought they both understand she just sighs, leans into Rumlow softly, curls fingers in the back of his hair.]
warning for electrotorture
Order in pain. [It's a soft echo; not a mantra she'd ever heard before, but it was a truth. It was how the Red Room worked, and from what she'd seen, how Hydra worked too. She nods at the question, a low murmur of agreement.] Everyone thought he was dead after the night Natasha picked me up in Odessa. No way he could have survived the explosion. I would have killed him without blinking, if I had the chance. But I was supposed to disable the OPUS machine while Natasha kept his attention.
[They'd all had their roles to play. The way she describes how things had gone down in the end is short, skips some of the big pieces, her own personal tragedy, doesn't mention Alexei. Not because she doesn't trust him, but because it's a hard thing for her to talk about at all, to anyone. Even with Alexei's name carved on the wall of SHIELD agents that have lost their lives, she doesn't even talk to Natasha about it much. she'd told her team about it, once. But they'd wanted to understand her, wanted to splice her life into some hero's tale like one of the Avengers, so she gave them her story.
It'd mean more if she told him, so she doesn't, not yet. It'd be more than just why she pushes herself, and why she is what she is, and the fact that she's not anyone's hero.
The memory, however, continues to play out. Soldiers in uniform dragging her away, through doors to what looks like a bathroom. They handcuff her wrists around a pipe under a sink, and she struggles, alone for a few minutes until one of the soldiers comes back and douses her in cold water. They leave her there for a while, struggling against the cuffs until her small wrists bleed, small feet slipping on the slick tiles, unable to get her footing, shivering from the cold.
It's later when Ivan walks in, and she's exhausted, energy spent on her struggles, so all she can do is look up at him, and there's still anger there, but with less of the hate. Less pointed and vicious, most of that spent. He tells her than she is an animal, worthless, something for him to shape into something that can be used. And as he talks, demeaning and humiliating, he beats her, kicks her as she tries to escape, but there's nowhere for her to go.]
<< An animal that can't be broken is worthless. So it's the same. The Red Room demands loyalty. We are all good patriots, we all understand the cause. And you could be special. >>
[But the gentleness, how soft and coy his tone is, doesn't make her punishment gentle. There's a slim length of metal, and it sparks at one end with current. Her wet skin makes it conduct better, gets more coverage, and he's careful about where he stands. He presses the end to her collarbone, through thin wet fabric and her body spasms. Ivan repeats the gesture, over and over, sometimes giving her space to breathe between his tortures, and sometimes he doesn't. He repeats it until he makes her scream, and then he smiles, drawing out those cries. If Rumlow's sharp, he might pick up on the fact that Ivan had her attached to the pipe for the acoustics. So that the sounds would carry. So that the other girls would hear her screams. This is a lesson for her, but also for all the others.
He tortures her until her body gives out, until she's shaking with sobs on the floor. And that's how the scene fades out into shadows.]
I hated being kept prisoner in 7B. But, remembering what the Red Room was like-- What Ivan was like? [HYDRA might not have been good people, but they'd never treated her like Ivan did. Even if she'd clearly learned those lessons, at least in part. She'd never been perfectly loyal, perfectly obedient, never a true patriot. Maybe it was why she was the one he gave to HYDRA. Instead of finishing the thought they both understand she just sighs, leans into Rumlow softly, curls fingers in the back of his hair.]