Chapter Text
November 14th, 1861 - United States - Red Wood Falls, Iowa -
Clint could barely remember how the hell he ended up here. Well actually he could. But he had always been one for the dramatics. His brother had just lost the battle to extreme blood loss. Clint felt as if someone had just peeked at his hand of cards. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not like this. Clint was on the verge of his own last breath. It came. But he hadn’t thought death would be like this. Maybe it was because moments after he felt himself slip away next to his brother, he awoke. The bullet once embedded in his chest was now in front of him. He sat up and braced himself against a wall. His vision blurred and he lost himself again.
The next morning when he finally came too, three people stood over him. A female brunette with a frightening gaze, a man with an eyepatch and a long leather coat, and a man dressed to perfection in a newly tailored suit.
“Hey kid welcome to the club,” The women quipped.
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August 20th, 1921 - Somewhere Outside of Moscow, Russia -
Natasha has always been a bright girl. Taken from her home at a young age; she was forced into a program. At the time she would have never guessed what her captors intentions were. But now at twenty-two it was clear. Actually since she was handed a gun at thirteen and told to kill the man in front of her the truth had become crystal. But after nine years she continued to kill for these people. Knowing retaliation would mean death. Relentless training regimens for the majority of her life had turned her into the perfect weapon. A ruthless spy who turned children, orphans and wives widows.
One day after a particularly dehumanizing mission she decided that she had enough. She spoke out. Tried to run. As expected she was thrown into a cell. Beaten beyond recognition. Nothing she couldn’t handle. The Russian had always been strong; always learning from her mistakes. No one could break her. That was until no one came back to treat her wounds. She was left to die. Only when she was thought to have passed away, did they throw her body into the snow. Natasha never thought she would touch snow again. Let alone take another breath. But there she was. Her red hair covering her face with the same comforting familiarity. She gained her balance and ran as fast as she could.
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February 13th, 1945 - Unknown, Germany -
Steve never considered himself much of a man. Nor did he ever think he would come face to face with the barrel of a gun. Here he was. Toe to toe with the enemy. He felt like he had before he forged his way into the Army. Just a skinny kid from Brooklyn, who had made enemies from just being himself. That was until he decided no more. After his third time at a new recruitment center did his plan fall into place. Under the name ‘James Barnes’ was he accepted. Though he was sure that his papers weren’t quite what many recruitment officers looked for. They were so desperate, they let him in.
Here he was face to face with the enemy. Maybe if he fought a little harder when he was younger. Then maybe just maybe he would have not been in this situation. But when the time came. He was left defenseless. At the complete mercy of a boy no older than himself. He feels himself fall to his knees. His left hand reached for the metal tags around his neck. His fingers glide across not his own name but the one of a friend. A friend who had given everything up for Steve. In a forest in Germany he took his last breath, until he woke up in a German prison.
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January 23rd, 1974 - United States - Delacroix, Louisiana -
Sam never thought he had a chance. After being denied from the fifth college in two months, and being kicked out of the Army, he found himself back at his childhood home. Though the two bedroom house had been abandoned for some time now felt at home. At home so much pulled four syringes from his pocket. But, he wouldn’t let himself think about how the same substance destroyed his chance at college. Which then led to the military. Yet again it was the same thing that brought him to this point. Broke, wasted and alone. Like a broken record, time after time he watched his world crumple around him.
The one thing he had was the thing which teachers and mentors urged to never think about. But had any of them really cared? If they did care why didn’t they help him when he reached and called for it. If he had whispered a little louder. Failed a test he should have aced. Would they have noticed? Probably not. Which is why he is sitting in his old bedroom eye level with his nightstand.
One more time. He thinks. One more then I’m done. If only it was true, then he might have not taken an extra dose. When he wakes up, his wrist is clear of any needle marks.
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May 7th, 2020 - United States - Cedar Hill, Texas -
Wanda was the ideal daughter. Straight A’s and played two sports. Yet she never felt like it was enough. Though the D1 commitment had proven otherwise; she still wasn't satisfied. Years of being called a ‘teacher pet’ or a ‘perfectionist’ had worn her down. She never meant to come across as ‘stuck-up’ when she would ask for extra credit after scoring an 88 on a test. Wanda liked to think she had high expectations for herself. Though somewhere, deep down she knew that an 88 would never be enough for her foster parents. She hoped to be adopted before her eighteenth birthday. But that was next month. How could she go to her dream school with no support? Let alone get to Boston from her small town in Texas. She knew she had excuses. Most definitely she could use ‘trouble at home.’ But she never played the card.
Nights of tormenting herself on whether or not she could make it, was all she could think about. Sleepless nights turned to multiple all-nighters. Teachers began to notice her slack off. One even asked her if she was ‘ok’. Though, Wanda never really did know how to answer the question. What was being ‘ok’ like? The girl felt lost. So lost and distraught; one night staring herself down in her bathroom mirror, in a losing battle. The conclusion she came to was she simply wasn’t enough. She brought a razor to her left wrist. She surly thought this was it for her. She sunk to the floor covered in her own blood. No one came to check on her. No, her “parents'' were asleep already. The next morning when she woke up. She was for once in her well educated life, clueless.
Terrified she cleaned up as much of the blood as she could. She checked her wrist where the wounds should be. Yet her fore-arm is unscathed. Shocked and confused. Wanda packs her school bag. Instead of binders and notebooks, she fills the bag with clothes and any money she had.
She ran out the front door not looking back.