Disclaimer: I own nothing but my extreme obsession with sebastian stan
A room, people in white coats, a man working on his arm with tweezers and something that sparks.
Bucky.
He lashes out. The man with tweezers is gone. A man in a suit arrives.
They are just men.
He retreats into a small corner of his mind, rests, waits for his next mission.
He remembers.
"That man knows me." He says.
The soldier, the captain. He had said a name.
Bucky.
The name echoes in his head.
Bucky.
My name? Do I have a name?
Not any more.
"Wipe him."
Torn from his thoughts, he is strapped down again, just like last time.
He doesn't fight. He remembers enough of the last time, and the times before that. He fought then.
He remembers the pain, the scorching pain racing through him.
It hurts more when he fights.
Cleansing.
He doesn't fight. He bites on the mouth guard, and lets them restrain his arm, and the metal one.
He grits his teeth, knows what is coming, and the gear settles over his head.
Fire, blue fire, burning, ruining, erasing all that he is, all that he was, and all that he will be. He screams through the rubber in his mouth. They are ripped from his throat.
His memories return anew and he suddenly thinks something, a name, and before he can grasp it they are shredded, removed completely.
Briefly, heart-rendingly fast, he is James Buchanan Barnes.
And then he is nothing.