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[ZERØ]
"So these other Winter Soldiers," as the voice filters across from the other end of the bay, he lifts the feed tray assembly of the M249 to inspect it. "They have any form of leader? Someone to take orders from?"
He checks the space between the bolt assembly and the chamber, his head tilting, eyes flashing over the cartridge indicator.
"Depends on which one of them wakes up first." Is his reply.
The Winter Soldier flattens his mouth into a thin line, inserting two fingers of the left hand into the magazine.
ETA one hour and fifteen minutes, thirty-three seconds according to the in-flight diagnostics and now, Steve Rodgers is all about the details. It's an endless rattle of questions that press on him like weapon fire. Do they have any special skills? Steve enquires. Barnes replies thinly, with little enthusiasm. It is hard to define 'special' when they utilize their abilities quo-quid-quo. He thinks it'll end there, but it doesn't. It doesn't end. He's not entirely sure why he expected it to, either.
Do they have any weaknesses? Aside from being unconscious since 1994?
Were they controllable? Certainly not by Captain America.
Could they be reasoned with? You tried reasoning with me at the beginning and look where that got you.
"They have no leadership?" The Captain is thinking of tactics and advantages; the necessity of purpose, motivation, inspiration and standards, the balance of attack brought along by a lack of structure; Barnes wants to remind him that the Death Squad doesn't work that way.
"They're individualists," Barnes replies flatly. He closes the feed cover assembly and locks it. "HYDRA called them a squad for collective cohesion, but they operated separately themselves, unless the situation required it. They had different roles. Preferred to work alone, unless the situation called for it."
"So they can't fight effectively as a unit?"
"Oh they can fight," Barnes drawls as he pushes the safety from right to left. "Perfectly well."
He thinks of the training, of the feeling of pain and the feeling of defeat ― he thinks of Comrade Karpov's short-lived smile.
He adjusts his grip on the rifle, hands sliding across the finish, and glances toward's Steve.
"If you're on the lookout for the one you need to be worried most about, I'll say watch out for all of them." Barnes, while maintaining control of the handle, presses the trigger and ease the bolt forward. "But you might want to keep an extra eye out for Josef."
There is a crease between Steve Rodger's eyebrows. "You've talked about him. He the leader?"
"Primary instigator," Barnes corrects as he stands, turns, and places the rifle back on it's rack. "One of the reasons for the suspended animation, in the end. HYDRA called it Program Failure. They couldn't use 'em because Josef ― that one ― knew how to encourage them, incite dissent. He kept, eh, "inspiring" 'em to fight back until HYDRA ended up completely losing control and Karpov finally lost his patience. Don't know if kept on doing it because he'd slipped the net, or if he just found it funny. Never stuck around long enough to find out."
Barnes thinks for a moment, and then says, in humored afterthought.
"He's very good at it, though." And his eyes wander back to the rifle, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I was proud, back then. Unpredictable mad bastard. He was very good at everything."
