She was just coming back from a mission when they brought him in. The first thing she noticed was the scent floating through the air, detectible only by her. She had to find the source. So she followed it to the medbay and peeked through a window.
Lying on a cot, unconscious, was a strange man, dark-haired and handsome-faced, lacking most of his left arm. He had not been changed into any form of hospital-wear, so the woman admired his dark-blue jacket for a little bit before continuing her study of him on a whole. Judging by his size compared with the cot he was on, the strange man was approximately six feet tall, perhaps a little less. He was a soldier of some sort, and for some reason she had a feeling that he was American.
She heard her name being called, and she looked up to see her mission-partner and the only person she could consider to be even sort-of a friend beckoning her and reminding her that they needed to get cleaned up. She did not look back at the mysterious man in the medbay as she jogged lightly to catch up with her partner.
When Bucky awoke, all he could see was white, but not the white that he had expected. No, it was the white of some kind of medical facility, judging by the smells and the feeling of a cot beneath him. He tried to sit up, but could not…he was restrained…and he felt numb. Wait a minute…something was off. He tried to move his left arm, and his eyes went wide when he felt nothing whatsoever instead of the vague feeling he got when he moved any of his other limbs.
Realisation and remembrance crashed over the dark-haired man with all the subtlety of a freight train, and he started to panic. Where was he? Who had him? Why was he there? How was he even alive? He pulled against the restraints with all his strength, but they did not even move, much less break.
There was movement to his left, and he turned his head to see a few unfamiliar faces in doctor's uniforms setting up…something. He tried to look, but their bodies were in the way.
One of the doctors on the other side of the…thing that they were working on noticed that Bucky was awake, and walked over. Bucky tried to speak, but his mouth wouldn't cooperate. The doctor gave him an unreadable glance as he prepared a needle.
Bucky tried to wriggle away, but his limbs still weren't responding properly, and the doctor injected him with whatever was in the needle. Immediately, he felt as if a weight was pressing down on him…he was tired, he just wanted to go back to sleep…no he didn't…yes he did…
Everything went dark as he slipped back into unconsciousness.
She heard the screams in the middle of a sparring session. How odd that whatever was happening was not in one of the usual soundproof rooms. Dropping her opponent on his head, she walked on silent feet to the medbay, where the screams originated. Ah, that's why. A medical procedure.
She stood like a statue as she watched Dr. Zola, one of HYDRA's scientists, cutting a good chunk of the clearly-awake and tightly-restrained American's remaining left arm off. Hmm. What was the purpose of that, she wondered? Her question was answered when she saw an impressively-designed prosthetic arm lying on a nearby table, clearly of HYDRA design. Now why was one of HYDRA's in the Red Room? Perhaps she would ask Sir when she got her next mission.
Her brows furrowed faintly as Zola started to cut through the bone of the American's arm, and the American screamed louder. Something bothered her about those screams…she wanted to make them stop. Why? That was odd. Perhaps something in the explosion from her last mission got in her ear and was messing up her hearing.
A moment later, the screams did stop as the dark-haired American passed out from the pain. Her face cleared back to its previous lack of expression, and she left the window. She would ask Sir if she had another mission, and if not she would practice. Neither she nor her partner could tell when Madame was going to make a visit.
At least a fortnight after Zola cut off the majority of the remainder of his left arm, Bucky awoke to find himself…in the exact same place he had been the last time he had woken up. Except this time, he was not as tightly restrained, and he did not feel nearly as sluggish. He looked at where the stump of his left arm had been…and found it wasn't a stump anymore. Rather, he had a whole left arm, made completely of metal.
He raised his hands a little, flexing his new left one. One of the scientists, not any of the ones from before, but that Bucky recognised as one of Zola's assistants from Azzano, leaned over him and started to speak…probably to explain Bucky's new limb. A powerful rage coursed through Bucky within a second, and he grabbed the scientist's throat with his new hand, crushing it easily.
A different scientist, another of Zola's assistants, appeared at Bucky's other side and tried to inject him with something, but he punched the other man in the head, sending him to the floor unconscious. More scientists and a few guards surrounded him and tried to restrain him, but he was quick enough to kill or knock out all of them.
Bucky pulled out the IVs that were in him, wincing a little, and stood, looking around the room. It was a medbay, like he had assumed. Very official-looking, and quite big.
His gaze landed on the cot next to where he had been laying, upon which sat a woman. She was pale-gold hair in a severe braid out of an angular face with striking blue eyes, and a body all lean muscle clad only in a black tank top and pants…no shoes? Shoes or not, she was beautiful…but most likely the enemy.
She looked at him, and spoke with a fairly heavy Russian accent. "Hello, American."
He grabbed a gun from one of the guards and pointed it at her as fast as he could, though she made no other movement. "Who are you!?"
Her smile was small, hard, and empty. "No-one."
His brows furrowed, stance wavering a bit. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"I am no-one…who are you?"
"Why should I tell you? You're the enemy."
"From what I hear, you are going to be here for some time. Best to not just call you American."
"Well, I'm not staying."
Bucky turned the gun to the windows of the medbay and shot them out.
The woman stood, almost as tall as he was. "You can't escape."
"Watch me." He grabbed a chair and threw it, breaking the glass.
In an instant, he was pinned to the ground, the woman on top holding him down. He blinked, for a moment not sure that was actually happening, then he knocked her off and started running for the doors. She tackled him again, and he fell, the gun sliding along the floor.
He tried to turn over and grab for her neck, but she pinned his arms down, sitting firmly on his waist.
The panels of his new metal arm whirred as just that one broke her hold and rolled them over, using his greater weight to his advantage once more. His metal hand wrapped hard around her throat, and she gasped and choked…but there was an odd little glint to her breath-taking eyes. He tightened his grip, and she grabbed at his arm.
Bucky almost paused. …he shouldn't be doing this…but she was the enemy…she was a woman, enemy or no; he shouldn't kill her.
Her other hand tried to grip his sleeve, then fell limp as her eyes rolled back and closed.
His face fell, and he pulled back to check for a pulse…it was there, and it was strong. He frowned a little, and then before he could react further, he was on his back again.
The woman's knees pressed painfully into the insides of his thighs, and her hand – why was her hand so cold? – wrapped tight around her throat.
"It is not wise to try to escape me."
Now it was Bucky's turn to gasp and choke, and he tried to hit her with this metal hand, but she caught it before it made contact and forced it down. Shocked at how much strength she had, he struggled harder, but to no avail.
The woman bared her teeth, a little sharper than they should be, a faint warning growl rumbling up from her chest as she squeezed his neck harder. "Do not make me kill you and have to defy my orders, American."
Despite how much he wanted to rip those hideous teeth out of her and escape, he wanted more to stay alive. Live to fight another day, and all that. He went still, and she loosened her grip on his neck just enough that he could breathe.
"Good soldier."
Bucky took his chance and shoved her off of him, her nails leaving littler bloody scratches in the skin of his neck. He scrabbled for the gun, and pointed it at her as soon as it was in his hand. Her electric eyes met his; her body language screamed predator, dangerous, and…somehow, deep beneath, hidden behind layers of who-knew-what…intoxicating.
His hands shook a tiny bit as he started to stand. "Stay back, or I will shoot you."
She mirrored his movements, then glanced behind him. He kept his gun trained on her and quickly glanced behind him, but when he looked back, she was gone.
A chill went up his spine. "What the hell…"
He darted for the door, but something invisible tripped him. He rolled, but kept his grip on the gun…as an invisible hand, small and cold, took hold of it, ripping it from his easily.
Suddenly his back was to the wall, the muzzle of the gun pressed under his chin as the woman appeared again with a shimmer of blue.
"Escape is futile, American. Even if you manage to get away from me, the only ways out of this medbay lead to more agents."
Bucky swallowed a little, tongue darting out to wet his dry lips. The woman's eyes flicked to the movement briefly, then up to his eyes. Her head tilted.
"If you're going to kill me, then get it over with."
"It is against my mandate to kill you. My orders are only to keep you from leaving this medbay until others come to fetch you for interrogation."
"I'd rather you kill me."
"I am afraid I must disappoint you, then."
His hand wrapped around hers, trying to pull the trigger. Her hand jerked to the side, the bullet missing him completely as, without her elbow bracing on his chest, the force she was using to keeping him pinned sent her forward, her lips crashing into his.
Bucky's eyes widened at the contact and he pushed her away. She looked completely off guard for a moment, and in that moment, he saw…something flash through her eyes…something alive. But then the moment passed and in a blink he could not move; tendrils of electric blue light wrapped around his limbs. What the hell?!
He struggled with no result. "What did you do to me?! Who are you?!"
"I am keeping you from both escaping and from killing yourself."
Her head turned toward the door as footsteps sounded from the hall.
The door opened at a group of at least five agents…not HYDRA…the symbol was wrong…came in.
The woman stepped away from him as one of the agents spoke up.
"Having troubles, Ruskin?"
Ruskin? Bucky looked at the woman as her jaw tightened and she said something snippy in Russian.
Chernov ignored her statement and turned away from her, pulling out a pair of heavy-duty handcuffs. "Let him down."
Her magic bindings disappeared with a thought, and the agents that have come with Chernov instantly swarmed the American, holding him still. He struggled, but Chernov struck him hard on the back of the head, and he groaned and hissed.
Chernov turned to her. "Knock him out."
She quirked a brow. "You're not Sir. You cannot order me. And even if I did knock him out, would you carry him?"
Chernov scowled, then turned to the agents he brought. "Take him to the interrogation cell."
They started toward the door, and she followed.
As they approached the interrogation cell, Sir's voice rang out. "Ruskin!"
I turned. "Yes, Sir?"
"You have until dawn to break Barnes. Then Zola has something he wants to test on him."
"Barnes?"
"The American."
At that moment, the American – Barnes – slammed his shoulder into one of the agents guarding him, kicking the other one.
Instantly she leapt into motion, dealing a hit to his groin, ribs, and throat before she had him on the ground, she herself sitting securely on his butt.
Sir raised a brow at her. "Get him in there and bind him tight. Zola does not want him damaged…and none of our agents want to train a damaged man. So keep the torture to a minimum, Ruskin."
She didn't ask why he switched to English, but simply responded in the same. "Yes, Sir."
Sir walked away as she immobilised Barnes with her magic again. She didn't see the sneers of the other agents, though she knew they were there. The others left, not offering to help at all, though they had been assigned to do so…but it was not like she was weak.
She hauled Barnes up onto her shoulders and carried him to the interrogation room, plopping him down on the chair and making sure he was as securely bound as she possibly could. Once he was secure, and she could be sure he wasn't going anywhere, she removed the immobilisation.
Bucky started struggling instantly, as the woman – Ruskin – sat elegantly in a chair across from him. He tried to break the cuffs with his metal arm, but only ended up straining himself.
"That is not going to work."
He fell back against the chair and glared daggers at her. Her expression was perfectly blank.
"That's not going to do you any good, American."
His hands curled into fists.
"I am going to be blunt; you seem to be the kind of man to appreciate that. So…who are you?"
"Well, you know my last name." His voice was hoarse, but dripped with disdain.
"That is not what I was asking, Barnes."
"Why should I tell you?"
"If you do not, I will simply keep asking until you do." She lifted a hand, blue light swirling around it. "Or I could invade your mind for the information Sir wants, and then we'll just sit here until dawn." She lowered her hand, the light fading. "Or we just sit here and I tell Sir that I could not get anything from you."
His brows furrowed. Why only those options? "That's it?"
She crossed her arms. "What did you expect?"
"Torture, bleeding, electrocution."
"Sir said to keep torture to a minimum."
He watched in silence as she shifted, one bare foot resting on the opposite knee. He let his head hit the back of the chair.
She watched him for a while, head tilted as the closeness of the room made it easy for her to read his scent. Leather, dark chocolate, plums…that was his identity scent. Layered over that was confusion, some fear, wariness, and beneath it was an unmistakable tang that she had only ever encountered in her own scent.
"What are you?"
His head lifted, brows furrowed. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"You smell different than most I've met."
"Smell? What, like body odour? 'Cause if so, that would be because I haven't freakin' showered in who knows how long, and I just lost my freakin' arm. So I'm sure I smell like blood too."
"Not what I'm talking about."
"Then what in God's name are you talking about?"
"Your identity scent…there's something different."
His eyes went wide, and the fear in his scent flickered to horror. "Lady, you've flipped."
She quirked a brow. "If you expect me to be alarmed by that declaration, you greatly underestimate me."
"I don't underestimate you one bit. But I'm guessing this is kind of an insane asylum where the normal go insane, so instead of you being alarmed, I'm alarmed."
A little crooked grin, dark and unpleasant, wound its way onto her face. "I'm afraid I must disappoint you…" A bit of poking revealed the information she wanted. "…Sergeant Barnes. This is no asylum…nor will you find any asylum here."
The horror flared, and he struggled against his bonds.
She arranged herself into an air of false relaxation. "You really do not know where you are?"
"No, and I'd really just like to get out of here and not know where I was."
"You cannot leave."
"I will eventually."
"Perhaps."
She watched silently as Barnes examined his restraints, tilting her head as he tried again and again, little noises of effort leaving him, and then gave up, his scent shifting between frustration, desperation, and angry resignation.
He looked at her. "What?!"
"You intrigue me."
Bucky glared at her. "And you're a stalker."
The woman chuckled softly, but it sounded…wrong, like humour was unfamiliar to her. "I just met you today, Sergeant."
He rolled his eyes.
"I realise that you have no cause to believe anything I say, but I am telling the truth."
"Yeah, yeah."
She frowned and leaned back in her chair, then looked at the door. A moment later, someone knocked. Bucky looked up.
The woman got up and opened it a crack, saying something in Russian. A deep, quiet voice responded, and she nodded.
Bucky's brows furrowed.
The deep voice said a few more things, and the woman stepped out partially, holding the door with her foot.
He tried to see who she was talking to, but the angle made it so all he could see was the door and the back of her leg. He strained a little, and got a glimpse of dark hair, but that was it before the other man left and the woman came back in…with two trays of food.
"If I release one of your hands so you can eat, will you promise to not try to get free? Otherwise I have to feed you."
"I'm not making any promises. Besides, if it's poisoned, I'll die by your hand. So I hope you'll get the worst punishment possible if it happens."
She quirked a brow, then put one tray down on her chair. "As you wish." She walked over and sat herself down on his lap, still carrying the second tray.
Bucky jolted a little…that was both awkward and uncomfortable.
She looked him right in the eyes and offered him a piece of one of the pastries on the tray.
He scrunched his nose. "What is that?"
"Pirozhok. Meat-filled pie."
"It smells funny."
"That is probably because you have never encountered any before."
"Well no duh."
"They're very good."
He rolled his eyes. "Whatever."
He opened his mouth, and she fed him the bit of pastry, getting another one as he ate the first.
Once they were done eating, the woman back in her chair and the trays taken away, she looked him in the eyes again.
"I dread to find out what Zola has in store for you."
Bucky's brows furrowed.
The woman popped a few fingers absently. "It is probably going to be something horrid, knowing that foul cockroach."
"Zola?! Here?!"
"Unfortunately. He is the one who...requested that you be healed and trained here. Why Sir agreed, I cannot fathom; we are not friends of HYDRA's."
"Well…then we have one thing in common."
She nodded. "Last time I encountered him, he gave me this." She turned her right arm, displaying a mass of scar tissue at least four inches down through the inside of her elbow. "He nearly lost the ability to reproduce for this."
Bucky frowned as the woman laced her hands together in her lap.
"Why did he do that?"
Her tone was hard and bitter. "Professional curiosity. He wanted to see what makes me tick." She scoffed. "He did not get nearly as far as the medics here, and even they still do not know."
His frown deepened. For some reason…even though he hated this woman…he felt bad for her. Why? He had no reason to have sympathy for her that he'd experienced.
She shrugged nonchalantly. "And now he wants to make super soldiers, or so I hear. But that does not concern me unless I have to train them."
Bucky's hands curled into fists, the left one whirring slightly.
The woman looked up. "What?"
He hesitated, then was about to speak…when someone knocked on the door.
The woman frowned and looked at a clock on the wall that somehow he had not noticed…how had he not noticed the clock?
"We have until dawn, so if that's one Zola's they will be getting a few words…" She stood and strode to the door.
The person knocked again, and she opened the door a bit.
She crossed her arms at the sight of Zola and several guards. "It is not dawn yet."
"Even so, Frauline, I am anxious to start."
"Even so, Zola, this is the Red Room, not HYDRA. Ergo, you have no authority here, and must abide by Sir's demands."
"And Sir abides by Skull's demands at the moment! You wouldn't want to be my little experiment again, would you?"
She snarled. "That was unauthorized, and if you try again, I will cut off your balls and shove them down your throat. Sir is doing this as a favour, not out of any sense of obligation. Skull will owe Sir for this."
One of the guards with Zola stepped forward and handed her a paper signed by both Sir and Skull, detailing what Skill had authority over until 'the asset's' training began.
She frowned, then stepped away. "Very well."
They all filed in, and she grumpily moved off to the side. Barnes watched Zola with a death glare.
"So, you remember me, do you?" A hint of an evil smile played on the human cockroach's face.
Barnes' eyes were full of hate, a universe's more than when he looked at her.
"Would you like to forget me again?"
Barnes remained silent, his hands curling into fists.
She blinked. How would the cockroach manage that? He was no telepath…
"Is that a yes?"
"Words can't even describe how much I want to rip your throat out."
Zola chuckled. "Ah, but you can't can you? You are at my mercy."
Barnes jolted to lunge at him, but with no result but the rattling of the restraints.
Zola turned to her. "Can you keep him from attacking once he's released, fraulein?"
"I can."
"HYDRA's a worthless piece of s**t."
She looked at Barnes, one brow quirked a little as he eyes glimmered briefly with amusement. Yes, yes it was. She wouldn't have put it that, way, though.
"If you're planning to use me against my own friend, then you'll fail."
Zola looked at Barnes as well. "I won't."
Barnes scoffed. She kept her mouth shut.
"Kindly let him loose and bring him. I need him in a different room."
With a faint glow of blue, the restraints clicked open. Barnes made a dash for it, but a moment later was surrounded by wisps of blue light, held immobile.
"Bring him and follow me." Zola walked out into the hall, one of the guards holding the door.
She threw Barnes over her shoulder and followed Zola.
He led her to a different interrogation room that had been converted to…something else. Several large monitors and a strange chair had been added…it smelled like electricity.
"Put him in the chair and strap him in."
She frowned a little, then did so.
"You can stop paralysing him once he's secure."
She didn't respond except to strap him in. The blue light faded away. Barnes struggled as she stepped aside.
Zola turned to his minions. "Is everything ready?"
They nodded.
"Start it up, then."
One of them flipped a few levers, and the chair began to move. Barnes struggled harder. She frowned. Zola smiled.
Two metal panels closed around Barnes' face, tight enough that he could no longer move his head, and then the air was filled with the scent of active electricity. Barnes began to scream.
Her jaw tightened as the sound…hurt? Since when did screams hurt? Well, whatever the reason, she wanted it to stop. She leaned casually against the wall, and sent a sharp current of magic to the socket the chair was plugged into. It sparked once, and then died, the panels around Barnes' head falling open.
Zola cursed. "What did you two idiots do?!"
Bucky breathed heavily, working his jaw a little as the panels fell open. He blinked a few times to get the spots out of his eyes…his head hurt, and his fingers tingled. He tried to move…but he couldn't.
Movement by his shoulder, behind him. One of Zola's minions working on the chair. A cold sweat prickled his back, and he shivered.
The woman…he should probably call her Ruskin, that was her name…stepped forward. "Well, Zola, it seems you cannot proceed at this time. Perhaps it would be wise to put him in a holding cell until such a time as you can once again proceed."
Zola glared at the woman. "I suppose so. But I want him back as soon as the chair is fixed."
Ruskin nodded once and turned to Bucky, unstrapping him and…tossing him over her shoulder again. His head throbbed…and he had quite an interesting view.
Eventually she put him down in a cell, locking the door before he had a chance to do anything.
"Keep an eye on him and tell me as soon as he's recovered. I'll think of something else to do with him if the chair isn't ready." Something about Zola's last sentence sounded awfully ominous as he walked away…
Bucky groaned and held his head in his hands.
"You alright?"
He gripped his hair, voice hoarse. "Not really."
The cell door opened, and when it closed again, Ruskin was inside with him, at least judging from the footsteps.
"Those poor assistants…" She sat beside him.
He glanced over, blurry vision making her seem as if she had some kind of aura around her.
She chuckled darkly, then frowned. "They are not going to find anything wrong with the chair…unless I fried the circuits."
Bucky's brows furrowed in confusion. "You stopped it?"
Ruskin nodded. "Magic and mechanics sometimes do not…get along."
A cold chill ran down his spine. "So you weren't going insane when you told me that?"
She gave him a Look. "How else do you explain the blue light that immobilised you, Sergeant?"
"I dunno…thought it was an angel or something."
Ruskin stared at him. "Of all the things…"
"Yeah, it was mind boggling to me too, 'cause you're nothing like an angel."
She let out a humourless little snort. "There it is."
A moment of silence passed, before Bucky spoke again. "Thank you…I guess."
"…you are welcome."
He sighed and tried to relax, then looked over at her. "Why are you still here?"
"Why do you care?"
"Because I like my privacy."
She looked at him, then stood. "As you wish." The cell door opened silently, and she stepped out, locking it behind her once more.
Bucky got up and laid on the cot, pulling the blanket over him and turning away from the door.
She glanced at Barnes once more, then left to find Natalia.
The redhead looked up from sharpening her knife as she sat on her bed. "Where were you, Liron?"
"Interrogating the American that Sir assigned me to interrogate. He's…intriguing. And a pain in the ass."
"Was that where the screaming we heard came from? You have such tactical ways of getting information." Natalia smirked teasingly.
Liron shook her head. "No, that was not me. Sir said not to damage him. That was Zola's new…machine. I shorted it out."
Natalia's brow rose. "Really? Since when have you had sympathy?"
"I have sympathy for you, always."
She rolled her eyes. "I meant for the prisoners."
Liron smiled crookedly. "I know." Her smile faded. "I…his screams bother me, and there's something in his scent that…"
"They bothered you? That's a first. What about his scent?"
"Remember when I explained my scent to you?"
"Yeah?"
"He has a…tang to his that I've only ever caught in mine."
"Huh…that's odd. Well, he'll be gone soon anyway. It's not like you to be distracted."
Liron nodded.
Natalia stood. "We have training in a bit, so you might want to look presentable."
Liron looked at herself, then shrugged.
"I'm saying that because Madame just got back."
Liron froze. "…Ah."
"Yeah."
Liron changed her clothes.