Origin of the Wendigo
Siberian HYDRA Base — 1987
"How long has it been lieutenant?" Boasted the Hydra captain, sick twisted grin on his face.
"A-Almost a month now sir." Shyly replied the scrawny lieutenant.
"Is the bastard still alive?"
Alive? Is that what they called it?
His ribs were practically protruding out of his chest, kevlar armor shapeless and falling off his body. His lips were withered and scarred, hidden beneath his mask.
Disobedience was met with a different punishment each time, and each time the pain was more severe. The scars were deeper and broken bones never properly healed.
This time, the punishment was starvation.
The Winter Soldier had survived so much torture and neglect, it seemed like nothing could kill him.
Truly Hydra's greatest weapon.
But— he knew he wasn't invaluable, all they needed was his blood to create more monsters just like him.
Unfortunately, the monster they were about to create was to be much worse.
"S-sir I don't think he's moving." Said the petrified, young lieutenant.
"Well make sure he's breathing then." Growled the Hydra superior, shoving the bony agent in the direction of his cell.
He took cautious steps, gun in hand. The cell carried the suffocating scent of death and despair, the soldier chained to the wall, motionless.
"I don't hear anything, sir." Squeaked the lieutenant.
"So take his mask off then, it's not like he's going to bite you!" Barked the Hydra Captain.
The lieutenant swallowed hard, though skin and bones, the asset towered above him. Shaky hands reached up hesitantly to unclasp the assassin's mask.
Fatal mistake.
The soldier snapped awake, using what ounce of strength he had saved to rip himself from the wall. The agent had no time to react, just scream.
A blood curdling scream that echoed throughout the base until… silence.
The Hydra captain stared in horror as the asset tore into the lanky lieutenant right before his eyes.
Then he began to… change.
A monstrous, antlered entity emerged with a sickening howl. They pushed him too far this time…
A Wendigo was born— born of desperation and pure rage.
The captain knew he was next as the beast charged toward him. He had no time to pray, nor repent… only-
"Hail Hydra-" And his head was torn clean off his shoulders. Blood spattered the walls. His skull crunched between mangled fangs, cerebral matter gushing down the cryptid's throat.
It all adds up.
There was no alarm sounded. No warning. The rest of the base left to succumb to their fate.
And it all adds up.