verb.
To fall back under pressure. To shrink back physically or emotionally.
noun.
The kickback of a gun upon firing.
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It takes a stubborn mind to cling to their humanity when the world seeks to strip it away.
It takes a desperate soul to reach f...
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In the summer of 1991, clearance was given for the serum trials to continue.
This time, the test subject had been chosen carefully. A volunteer who stepped forward willingly, who understood the risks. Someone who wasn't an assassin, barely a fighter, even. Someone who didn't seek power, or strength. Someone who hadn't been conditioned by HYDRA since childhood.
Those were the qualities that the two Agent Ivanov's had highlighted as being vital for this trial. They had drawn them up together, over a shared flask of coffee in Erik Ivanov's office, listing what they deemed to be traits that they hoped to enhance in a person, and those they wished to avoid. Intelligence, perspective, patience, balance. Not the qualities of a solider, simply the qualities of a decent person.
Though, as they had looked at each other over their list of requirements, a grim realisation had settled upon both father and daughter. Those qualities were not easy to come by within HYDRA. In an organisation of militant fanatics, they both seemingly realised that the only candidates they could think of were sat within that office.
It should be me.
No, Kat. I won't let you take that risk. It should be me.
It's a calculated risk. You've given enough to this organisation, let me volunteer.
You're too young to throw your life away.
And you're too old. My reactions would yield results closer to what we'd hope to see in future subjects.
In the end, a coin had been tossed. Literally. It had settled enough petty disputes when she was a teenager, and it settled this one too. Katrina had watched the Soviet ruble turn in the air, a soft utterance of 'sickle' leaving her lips before her father caught the coin on the back of his palm, covering it with his other hand. She had always chosen sickle in the past.
"Agent Ivanov?"
The call of her name jarred her from rerunning that conversation in her head once more, making her glance up from where she had been staring across the echoing laboratory at the glass cabinet of failed serums. She counted sixteen phials.
"I'm ready." She softly assured the doctor, forcing her lips to curve into a smile as the warm hand of her father squeezed her shoulder.
"You're sure, Kat?"
"I am, papa." She nodded, rolling up the sleeve of her fitted sweatshirt to present her right arm to the doctor.
She was sure, that was the surprising thing. Aside from the obvious reasoning that she was protecting her father from taking this risk, she had faith in the precautions they had put in place. The serum was no longer administered in a single dose, but rather broken into nine micro-doses that would be administered over the course of a year, giving her body time to adjust. It wasn't to be rushed, they weren't trying to build a soldier, but rather prove that the serum could remain stable in a body, whilst enhancing what existed. If it worked, then HYDRA would at last have a clear path to follow, in pursuing the next stage of the Winter Soldier program. The next stage of building army that would help them sculpt their vision of a perfect, balanced world.
