Hey Everyone! So I have been dragging my feet about posting this. It was been written in part for a long time but I never finished it until last night. The scene follows right after the torture scene in the Winter Soldier. I would assume that a wipe alone would not be enough to recondition Bucky as well as Hydra would want and other methods would be required as well.
The method was archaic and yet effective. By forcing the subject into submission through exhaustion and pain, he would be stripped of any further opposition. Pierce understood the desire to create a weapon, a soldier, that remained unquestioning and stoic- but no method was without fault. Over the years each technique Hydra employed had been modified time and time again though the core process had remained the same.
Pierce was currently standing, watching impassively as the subject strained against his restraints, the mouth guard muffling his screams. Behind him, Alexander could hear Rumlow cracking his knuckles in clear anticipation of the next method to come. The group remained there only a moment longer before Pierce turned and exited the room, the others falling into step and failing to flinch as the screams continued.
They did not travel far, only walking down the corridor a short way before entering another room. The space was empty except for a single metal chair, in which Pierce immediately sat down. He fidgeted a moment, straightening his suit jacket before taking the glass of milk that a low-level technician handed him. Rumlow motioned for two of his men to enter as well. All three soldiers fanned out amongst the room, Brock positioning himself to stand almost directly in front of Pierce. They all waited in silence, Alexander occasionally taking a small sip of his drink. It was not long before the door was opened once more.
Two marines appeared within the opening, dragging the limp form of the subject between them. The subject's limbs was bound in strong alloy cuffs which sealed his knees in a bent position so that his calves were tightly pressed against his thighs. His wrists were secured in front of him and his chestnut hair hung in a matted mess over his face, obscuring his vision. Red, painful-looking scarring surrounded the edges of his mechanical arm and a multitude of other more faded scars covered the rest of his torso.
Dropping their load with little care, the marine's fell back to stand in front of the still open door.
"Report to your handler."
The order was spoken loudly and with clarity and yet the subject failed to respond. He remained where he fall, his neck slowly rolling back and forth at odd intervals, as though he was reacting to something only he could see.
A silent prompt from Rumlow caused one of the soldiers to step forward, stun baton in hand. Another scream broke from the subject's lips- his throat raw from it's previous misuse. Perspiration shone upon his flesh and he fell to his side, curled up despite himself.
"Report to you handler." Rumlow order again, his voice level and mild. No other words were spoken, only the command was to be heard.
The subject's head twitched this time, indicating that the directive had indeed been heard. He struggled to stand, too disoriented to recognize that his legs were tightly bound. He appeared to flounder, moving only a few inches before falling limp.
Muted cries echoed throughout the room as the stun baton was once more applied, this time to the tender flesh over his ribs.
"Report to your handler."
Pushing himself up onto his hands and knees, the subject began to move. Shuffling a few meager feet, he attempted to escape the weapon that was still brandished menacingly above his head. His motion brought him closer to another of the soldiers, who was not wielding an apparent weapon.
"Report to your handler."
The words were spoken again, spurring the subject to move quicker. He was quickly confused, blinking rapidly while sluggishly turning his head to scan his surroundings.
Pausing only a moment longer, the second soldier stepped forward as well. He raised his boot before driving it into the subject's unprotected side. The blow was followed rapidly by another two with little mercy.
This method was continued for a while, the soldiers stalking the subject around the floor as the changed between the stun baton and their boots. Nothing was said other than the repeated phrase 'Report to your handler'. The subject struggled from one soldier to the other, hoping that one would prove to be his handler.
He dragged himself towards Rumlow, still unable to see Pierce.
"Report to your handler." Brock grinned as he spoke, already readying his own stun baton.
Sharp electricity coursed across the subject's sternum, stalling his heart and freezing his lungs. The subject was unable to even scream, mouth opened in agony but only a raspy breath escaping. Rumlow held the contact much longer than any of the others before finally relinquishing, Tremors continued to travel through the subject's muscles and he failed to move from his new position, curled up as tight as he was able.
"Report to your handler."
The cycle only repeated itself, adding yet another another burn upon his flesh. Groaning, the subject turned his head from where he lay, pressed tightly against the cement floor. His glazed eyes grew suddenly clear when he saw Alexander Pierce, who was sitting in the same position with an impartial expression.
The phrase was not needed to be said again, the subject now knowing without a doubt who his handler was, who could stop the pain, but it was anyways.
"Report to your handler."
The subject responded immediately, attempting to crawl towards the sitting man. Just as quickly, the men pounced, surrounding the subject and attacking him once more.
"Report to your handler."
It was said again, in the same tone despite the aggression.
"Report to your handler."
After each blow.
"Report to your handler."
Struggling forward, the subject's focus fell upon only Pierce, attempting to ignore the pain. His progress was slow but eventually he broke free to move to his knees before the man. The subject slowly straightened his spine when the blows suddenly ceased, steeling his gaze to stare straight forward to wait for the next order.
Pierce failed to keep the small smirk that tugged at the side of his mouth hidden for only but a brief second. Leaning forward, Alexander reached past the kneeling subject to take the mask that Rumlow was holding from him.
The black muzzle was placed over the subject's face, covering his moth and nose without impending his breathing. When it was securely in position, Pierce leaned back, raising the frothy milk to his lips to take another sip, content that the 'Winter Soldier' would remain obedient to his handler once more.
Short, I know but it was just meant to be a snippet. Also, I probably drove you crazy constantly using 'the subject' but I wanted to avoid any words that would make Bucky appear human compared to an experiment and weapon.
I would love to hear what you all think! Thanks for reading!