"Please," the man begged, his voice shaking. Blood dripped out of his mouth and ran down his chin from where several teeth had been knocked out. The smell of gasoline burned the Soldiers' throat as he took his time loading the gun. He stood on the crumpled hood of the black car and peered in through the shattered windshield. The driver was staring with unseeing eyes into oblivion, a single bullet wound prominent in the middle of his forehead. The target was in the passenger seat, the deployed airbag now resting in his lap. The girl in the back struggled, but she was pinned to the seat by the seatbelt. The Solider realized she was young, perhaps sixteen or so. He slowly rose the gun, pointing it in her direction.

"No!" The target yelled, struggling. The Soldier pointed the weapon at the man. "Do whatever you want to me, just don't hurt my daughter." the target begged. "Please." he added again.

"The girl is of no interest to me. My instructions were clear." the Solider said emotionlessly. It didn't occur to the Solider he had replied in Russian, and that the man in the passenger seat had no idea what he had said. Yet, the targets eyes widened as he realized what was happening. The Solider tightened his grip on the gun.

"This man is trying to tear down everything that, Hydra, you have worked so hard for." His handler told him as he shoved the targets picture in his face. "Torture him. Then, kill him. The message must be clear to the rest of his associates!" The handler paused and took a moment to walk over and gently place a clammy hand on what remained of his left shoulder. "You are doing great things for this world." he ran his fingers down the cool metal of the arm and traced the red star with his finger tips. "Hail Hydra." he said at last.

"Hail Hydra." The Solider replied icily.

As his fingers tightened around the trigger the man yelled out again. "Please! Not infront of my daughter, please!"

It was in that moment the Solider found the weakness. Everyone had a weakness when it came to torture he had learned. With some it was mental. With others it was physical. But it seemed like everyone he came across had some sort of weakness tied in with their loved ones. The Solider then decided this mans torture.

"This will be the day your daughter will forever remember!" he hissed in English. He waited just long enough to watch the horror fill the mans face.

Panicked the target said loudly, to whom the Weapon assumed was the girl in the backseat, "Sarah close your-"

The shot rang out through the air and the girl screamed as her fathers blood rained into the backseat. This disturbed the Solider for an unknown reason. He hesitated and the girl continued to scream, covered in blood that didn't belong to her. Her screams were awful, filled with pain at losing someone she loved. And the horror of watching it happen. A faded image of a blonde man on a train flashed through his mind. The blonde man let out a scream in the same way the young girl did. Startled, the Solider stumbled off the hood of the car and ran into the woods, wiping blood off of his face. It began to run out of his hair. Then it seeped from his pores. He screamed, his mouth filling with the blood that ran from wounds he didn't have and he staggered into a clearing, collapsing into a pool of water. He looked into the reflection and the man staring back at him looked identical to him. However he had short hair and was wearing a green sort of shirt with visible dog tags. The Soldiers eyes widened and the reflection didn't follow his movements.

"You." The reflection snarled. "You killed those people. It was you!"

"No!" The Soldier gasped, blood running down his face and dripping into the puddle. He tried to stand, but the reflection reached out and grabbed his clothes.

"Your fault! Murderer! Terrorist! Sinner!" The man snarled again, his mouth filling with black blood.

Gasping, Bucky awoke to the sound of a car horn. His body was drenched in sweat despite the chilly air that surrounded him. It took him a moment to recognize his surroundings. He was safe, in a crappy motel room. Outside he could hear people yelling and car horns honking and he rolled onto his side, listening to the soft whirring of the arm as he did so. No he pushed himself into a sitting position and turned on the lamp next to the bed. He grabbed the notebook and the pencil, and quickly began writing down the dream. He assumed the first part of the dream really happened, but figured the second was brought on because of his own guilty conscious. After he wrote down the parts he figured were important, he flipped the light off lay back down on his back, staring at the ceiling in the dark. He had been on the run for about a month now. He knew he didn't have enough money on him to stay here another night, which meant he would be sleeping on the streets like he had the first week. It had only changed because a man had left his wallet unattended, with a generous sum of money in it. Something had told Bucky taking the money was wrong, but he was so desperate he took it anyway.

He was just starting to dose off again when there was a loud knock at his door. Eyes snapping open, he listened carefully, not moving, hardly daring to breath. The knock came again, this time with more force. Grabbing the gun from beneath his pillow, he slowly walked over to the door and looked through the hole. A woman was standing there, her back to the door, in a motel uniform. He looked at the time. 5:40. Did they come this early to clean motel rooms now? He tucked the gun into the back of his pants and unlocked the door. The woman turned and instantly his heart seemed to stop.

"Well, hello there stranger." She said, a smile on her lips as her red hair peeked out of the top of her hat. He stood motionless. "Are you going to invite me in?" she asked after a moment. When it seemed like he needed extra coxing, she held up a bag. "I brought you food, you know, in case you're hungry."

"I shot you." Bucky breathed as he looked into her eyes.

She shrugged and pushed passed him, into the small room. She set the food down on the bed and took her motel shirt off, reveling a red shirt beneath. "Yeah, well, do it again and I wont bring you anymore snacks." after a couple seconds she said softer, "We have a lot to talk about, Mr. Barnes."

"Are you alone?" he asked sharply. She looked at him then her eyes darted behind him for a moment. He whipped around, and saw the blonde man standing in the doorway. And in that moment his mind shouted one name.

Steve.