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Summary: Not much is known about James Buchanan Barnes' descent into madness. We know he was taken by HYDRA after the train accident. We know he was tortured into obedience. But we don't know the entire story. What did he truly endure before the Winter Soldier was created? What wild beast overshadowed the identity of the once humble solider?

Author's Notes: Captain America: The Winter Soldier is one of my favorite Marvel movies, if not my favorite. Bucky is my favorite MCU character. I love him as a character so much. It's probably because I'm a writer that I'm drawn so much to broken characters in fictional stories. I love Bucky because of his strength. His faith. His trust. He's been through so much and his story is such a tragic one.

About the Book:

One day, I got the sudden, random idea to start a Winter Soldier fanfiction about Bucky's time in HYDRA. I started thinking about what Bucky really experienced with HYDRA to make him completely brainwashed, to hook him to those Russian words, to train him to be a rival to Captain America, and all the things that Bucky became because of HYDRA. I don't think Bucky's times with HYDRA are talked about enough. Of course, he doesn't want to remember them, but I want to shed some darkened light on his story and write it my way.

This is a first person, present tense fanfiction. It is an altered novelization of Captain America: The Winter Soldier in Bucky's perspective. It's not as much The Winter Soldier as it is the 70 years Buck spent with HYDRA, but I still call it a Winter Soldier fanfiction because the majority of the book will be during the time of that movie. The lengths of my chapters will vary depending on what cliffhanger I want to end with, my style of writing, the context of the chapter, and stuff like that. There will be characters that I will add/(probably) take away for story purposes or by choice.

A lot of this fanfiction will be made-up story and scenes because we really don't get to see a lot of Bucky's HYDRA experiences through the Winter Soldier and even in Civil War. Bucky doesn't really get screen time in The Winter Soldier until the last 45 minutes of the movie.

This book starts with Bucky being collected by the Soviet soldiers after his fall from the train.

There will be quite a few scene breaks in this chapter, but for the most part throughout this book, I will try to avoid them. This just happens to be a very choppy chapter because of Buck's condition.

All right. You ready? I feel like a part of me will regret this, but without further ado, let's begin.

Soldier?

Ready to comply.

Disclaimer:

I do not own the Captain America movies, the Marvel franchise, or any of the characters. That all belongs to Marvel Studios. Everything to Marvel Studios. Any added dialogue, plots, or characters are mine, but nothing else. I don't own it.

Chapter One - Operation Winter Soldier

A frozen cold terrorizes my flesh like snakes of ice as the mangled nightmare jolts me into awakening. My vision floods with white and I blink sluggishly to clear the scene before me.

The sky, grey and dreary with the pouring of winter snow, sneers down on me as the stinging flakes melt on my face. Faint outlines of snow-laden pine trees dot the corners of my vision, dark against the colorless backdrop. Barren trees stripped of cover hide amongst the pines. Two mountain peaks spear upward on either sides of me, climbing up into the misty atmosphere like towers of white stone.

I part my lips and draw in a wheezing breath. The inhale cuts off with a choking cough as a coppery liquid gurgles in the back of my throat. Blood. I resolve to swallowing, nearly retching as the taste flips my stomach.

A hand seizes my right shoulder and wrenches me forward as I cry out against a sudden explosion of pain.

A masculine voice hisses through my agony. "Watch it, soldier! He's awake."

Dizzy and half-conscious, I twist my head back. A man overshadows me, his focus elsewhere. Even upside-down, I can make out the clothes.

Brown jackets. Leather belts over the chest. Muskets strapped to their shoulders. Fur hats. Stern faces.

The same voice echoes around me. "Don't hurt him more than that fall already did."

I close my eyes, whimpering as the two men communicate.

"So we bring him to HYDRA?"

"Of course. They'll want a prisoner. And I've seen the footage. This one's Captain America's closest friend."

I shiver, fighting to understand their talk. HYDRA? Prisoner? Captain America? My mind spins.

"How're we going to get him to a base?"

"There's one nearby. We can carry him."

"I'm not touching this bloody mess."

"We're not leaving him. Schmidt will have our heads if we surrender the possibility of a living captive."

"Won't be living for much longer. Bled everywhere. Look at all that."

Trembling, I cough again as more blood bubbles in my throat. Bled…bled everywhere? Are they…? Me…?

"Pay attention! I don't care if you have to drag him, just help me lug him to the base."

The hand wraps around my right shoulder, hoisting me off the ground with the aid of a stronger grip at my legs. My head lolls about, straining my neck as I struggle to stay awake. Another groan escapes me. I crack my eyelids open, sight trained on the ground. The image tears me back into consciousness.

A massive pool of blood stains the blanket of snow where I'd been lying and from it leaks a heavy trail.

"Won't be living for much longer. Bled everywhere."

Steve… The mission… I fell. Off of that train. One look at my left arm sends my mind into a panic. My left arm is gone completely, torn from my body due to the fall. The rip still bleeds, pumping my lifeblood from the snapped veins.

Everything catches up to me.

HYDRA. They're taking me to HYDRA. Can't let that happen.

I attempt to pull out of the mens' grasps, but the pain and cold slow the movements. Before long, blood loss prompts the darkness and I sink into unconsciousness to the erratic surge of my own pulse.

The time ticks on. Moving in and out of consciousness, I catch flashes of my surroundings and bits of dialogue before I'm pulled under again.

Snow falling. Still. Rocks. Icy rivers. Blood. Those soldiers hauling me through the mountainous landscape.

An abrupt jerk sends me into darkness once more.

Awake.

"How much longer?"

"Keep… We're almost…"

"He'll…dead before we…base…"

Darkness.

Fingers jab into my sides. Someone barks an order. The grip on me vanishes and I hit the ground with a moan.

"Careful!"

Feet shuffle around me and hands creep along my limbs, prodding every muscle.

"He's been out for hours, Doctor. Probably got hypothermia already. He'll die in jail soon anyway."

The wind growls, seeping into my garments like frozen hands. I curl into myself, every breath rattling in my chest.

The rough words scrape along the howling of the gales. "He won't be going in jail."

"I thought you said Dr. Zola wanted prisoners."

"Oh, he does. But this one… No, this one will be used for a greater purpose."

"Where's Zola?"

"He was captured by the SSR on the train. We're not sure when he'll return, but we have our orders. It's ready."

"What shall we do with him in the time being? Take him to our– ."

"No. The procedure has already started."

Darkness.

Flickers of reality dance across my mind.

Three men stalking toward me, gripping metal tools. Robed in black. Eyes blazing with madness as the scientists hover giant needles over my skin. Greedy fingers looped in silver as they extend. Basins spilling over with a red liquid. Shots. Razors digging, stabbing, grinding into my left shoulder, scraping off flesh and peeling through muscle. Bloody dissections. Flashes of amputation. Gloved hands flexing around metal contraptions while others mutter about an experiment. An operation. A name.

Operation Winter Soldier.

A rusty wail tugs me awake and I pull my eyes open. My limbs twitch. My pulse electrifies. Wires spill from my arteries, dark with my blood. A white sheet drapes over my body. I'm lying in a medical bed Where…am I? Blinking slowly, I observe my surroundings.

Large room. Door far away. White walls, white ceilings, white equipment. Bright, painful lights. Silver beams snaking along the ceiling like vines. Scientific tools of all sizes hang on the wall. One in particular catches my eye. A razor dotted in red. Flashbacks throw me into the recent past.

Razors digging, stabbing, grinding into my left shoulder, scraping off flesh and peeling through muscle. Bloody dissections. Flashes of amputation.

My arm.

I shift my left arm and my nerves convulse, sending my body into a set of spasms. Dropping my gaze, my mouth falls open. A metal limb curls up to my shoulder where rows of scars mark the connection with my organs. Fighting to calm my breathing, I move one finger at a time. With each movement, the spasms grow less frequent. After a few minutes of the process, I can slide the entire arm a few inches in both directions.

I let out a shaking breath, my head falling back against the bed rails.

I have a metal arm. I have a…a metal arm. Wires are sticking into my skin. I'm in an unknown facility–

"So we bring him to HYDRA?"

"Of course."

This is HYDRA. I fly to a sitting position. HYDRA.

Three men choose this moment to come trudging in, deep in conversation. I stiffen as they notice me.

One holding a clipboard approaches me, raising his eyebrows and grinning. "Ah… You're awake. We figured you might be soon."

"Where am I?" A pause. No answer.

The other two scientists flank me from the other side. I break out in a cold sweat. The first one smirks, stretching out his hand to stroke my metal arm. "What a beauty… HYDRA will get fine use out you."

His nails grate against my arm. I bolt from the bed, crushing my hands around his throat. The strength from my metal arm compliments my motive as I squeeze tighter and tighter. Blood seeps from my silver fingers. The man's pulse drums on my skin as his companions endeavor to stop me. For a moment, I hesitate, but a hollow madness rages in my lifeblood, setting the beast loose.

My grip tightens, the heartbeat slows, and the eyes glaze over. Dead. The pale corse slips from my bionic fingers as a stab of pain in my right shoulder brings me to my knees. The two scientists pin me to the wall, despite my moves to stop them. A crowd has gathered now and the taller of the two men clenches a needle in one hand. The pain in my back laces to my head and the room sways.

Before my consciousness is stolen from from me once more, one voice breaks through the shadows.

"Take him to Room One."

Groaning, I awaken with a slow pain building in my chest. My vision rocks with a migraine as I flutter my eyes open but the pain fades at once when I become aware of my surroundings.

I'm latched to a half-broken chair with both of my arms tied to the posts in metal ropes. A faint, dying bulb dangles from a single wire above me, drenching me in a pale glow. Everywhere else is pitch-black, so I have no way of determining how large the room is. An icy wind whistles from an unknown source as each breath rises in frosty clouds. Squinting through the shadows, I can barely make out the shape of a muscled man in the corner, his arms crossed. I grit my teeth. "S…Steve…?"

A rough chuckle echoes through the room. "Captain America ain't gonna save you now. As far as he's concerned, you're dead, and better for it."

I grimace as the migraine returns with force. "Who are you, where am I, what do you want, and why should I care?"

"Hmm. They were right. You are persistent."

I lunge toward the figure against the bindings. "Who are you?"

"Slow down, soldier. You can call me Rumlow." A few steps bring him into the light. Tough plates of leather cover his chest and torso, his arms and legs studded with sharp objects and guns. A ragged haircut spikes over his head. "You should probably memorize this face. You ain't going to be seeing many others as much as me."

A growl slides out from behind my teeth. "I'll escape. I did it once, I can do it again."

"Yeah. And Captain America held your hand through it all." Rumlow spits on the ground. "You could barely walk on your own after Zola's experiments. The doctor tried to make you stronger. Instead, all he did was make you…soft." He scowls, sticking out his bottom lip and kneeling down to my level. "It was said that you and Rogers were inseparable. You know why? Because you can't do a thing by yourself, can you?"

Straining, I glare at Rumlow, fire behind my gaze. "I am not soft."

"Prove it." Rumlow sneers and slams his fist in my temple.

A flash of white. Blurriness. I recover with a moan, crushing my eyes closed. My pulse roars as I sit there, dazed and gasping.

"Look at me."

I don't listen.

"Look at me!" Rumlow wrenches my head up by my hair.

Flinching, I blink into the man's face.

"You will do what I say, when I say it. No later. Understood?"

I nod, grinding my teeth.

"Good." Rumlow rams his knee into my stomach and I double over with a painful cough, gagging.

He barks an order to his right. "Put him on ice!" Turning back to me, Rumlow lifts my chin with the slap of his hand. "Operation Winter Soldier has begun."

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I know, I KNOW, I can already hear some of you people going, "Why the heck is Rumlow here?!" Let me explain.

I want Rumlow in here because I want there to be one single person that deals most of Bucky's torture, physical training exercises, stuff like that. In the Winter Soldier, Rumlow seemed to be a pretty good leader and could be the head of a team, but when we saw him as a HYDRA grunt, he was ruthless, powerful, and merciless. When Alexander Pierce went to visit Bucky after the highway fight, Rumlow was at Pierce's right side. Usually, the one who is considered to be the most loyal subject is their "right-hand-man." Zola wasn't physically around and neither was Schmidt at the time of the movie, so it looked like a few of the S.T.R.I.K.E. commanders were doing most of the ordering people around in HYDRA. Since Alexander Pierce would be busy trying to be nice with the World Security Council, he wouldn't have all the time in the world to be out there telling Buck what to do. It seemed like Rumlow would be the man in charge when Pierce was absent. He's still going to be in the Winter Soldier portions of the book, but I'm going to make it so that HYDRA maybe created some kind of longevity serum that made him live longer and not age.

There we go. Hope you enjoyed the first chapter!

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