Bright. Way too bright. And cold. Cold, cold, cold, cold. He could feel himself shivering as consciousness started to return.
"Is this normal?" a voice asked.
"Of course, he was a literal ice box two minutes ago. Just wait until he wakes up, then we can do our work."
Oh, that didn't sound too good. Probably not in the presence of friends then. Was he ever in the presence of friends?
A memory flash. An enemy-former enemy?-and someone who he remembered as Steve. Kindness, and words, then cold again-
Other memories, and he internally cringed at the content of some. Was this really him?
"Hey look, he's waking up!" the first voice said.
"Finally, some action!" the second one crowed. Might just be the two then. Should be simple to get out of here, if it weren't for the strong metal clamps and the lack of an arm that he was just now starting to realize. Those two facts complicated things a little.
"Wakey wakey, Sergeant Barnes, don't want to keep us waiting," the second voice sing-songed. Sergeant Barnes? Oh-he remembered his past life as Sergeant Barnes, decades ago, and pain flashes across his face. One of the men cackled.
He didn't open his eyes. The man met out a growl and slapped him, filling his ears with the crack for a moment. He cracked his eyes open and scowled. "You interrupted a perfectly good nap."
"You've been napping in cryo for two months, it was time for you to wake up. Someone wants you."
So that was why he was cold. "Everybody wants me, so you'll have to be more specific."
"He's distracting us, let's just get done with it," the second man said. He looked younger, less hardened than the other. Brothers, probably.
"Go set up your camera." The man moved in front of him, a hungry look in his eyes. He could see it coming before the man even moved, the first punch to the gut. Another. Jaw, nose. Jaw. Gut. Stop.
Panting, blood dripping down his face. "Is that the best you can do?"
"I'm so glad you asked that." An evil grin, stereotypical. He walked to the side, grabbed a crowbar. Bucky rolled his eyes, breathed through, went back to look at whatever memories popped up-he stopped that after half a minute. When the dude was done, he could feel the warm liquid down his back and side, the sharp edge of the crowbar stained with his blood.
"I've had so much worse, you know. You don't stand a chance."
He growled again. "Shut it. Is the camera ready?"
"Definitely ready, cuz! Whenever you're done killing people…"
He rolled his eyes. "Turn it on."
Bucky grinned. "Aw, are you getting something to remember me by?"
"I said shut up! Look, you have 48 hours to claim your precious Winter Soldier. I know you're still out there, and if you're going to get anything done, you're going to need him. We'll give him back in 48 hours, and all we need is a little sum of five million. Should be easy for you."
"Oh, five million? You love me that much? You really shouldn't have."
Slap. "He won't be coming back unharmed, however. We need our fun, too. If you do not show up in the parking lot of Rundell's in Berlin at 0100 on Thursday, we will assume you no longer want him and will create our own soldier out of him."
Rush of memories. Hydra. White. Metal. Electricity. Jumbled words. Freight car. Pain. Murder. The Winter Soldier. "No, no, no!" he said, voice growing in intensity from a whisper, eyes wide, chest tight. "Please no, not again!"
Crowbar landing hard on his head, dazed for a moment. "Come get your boy. Hail Hydra." The camera shut off.
The next two days were blurred by panic and pain. New memories. Whips. Taunts. Electricity. Video of what he did, of what they did to him. Broken fingers, ribs, needles, drowing. They forced a muzzle and metal collar on him after a day because every time anyone got near he would bite and headbutt, since he couldn't move his arm or legs.
But finally, at some point, they came in, the older guy with a key. The chains were unlocked and they led him outside by the stupid collar. Three hours in a silent car, chained in the back, not able to talk or move any more than half a foot in any direction. After that, half an hour on his knees in a parking lot. Humiliation and torment to his injured rib cage. Pete, he had learned the older one's name was, ripped the muzzle off after the time ended.
"Looks like Hydra doesn't want you around anymore."
"They don't deserve me," he weakly retorted, and smirked.
"Phantom's gonna program the snark out of you, you can be sure of that. You're gonna be the Blazer now."
He rolled his eyes. "That's a stupid--"
He was cut off by the collar jerking him upward. "You better show some respect. I could kill you tight now!"
"Congratulations. So could I."
He stared at Bucky for five seconds before jerking on the collar again. "Come on, we're meeting someone else."