Chapter 2 : The mission

He was sitting in the back of the black SUV. He had put on the dark clothes. He had been given his usual weapons, rifle, mini-gun, gun, grenades, knife. His boots were laced tights around his ankles. His black mask was covering his lower face, and his goggles before his eyes were steady. The men around him were speaking low. They were almost there.

He was focused. He had a mission. He had to kill Steve Rogers. There was a picture of him in the file Pierce had shown him while he was dressing up. He was tall and muscular, with blue eyes and short blond hair, and wore blue. Steve Rogers. In the picture he had a round shield, blue, white and red, with a white start in the middle. He had focused on the man's face, but it came with no feeling except the urge of succeeding in the mission he had been given.

Rumlow was here. And so was Rollins, and two other men. Rollins and a man sitting at the front, the first was driving. Him, Rumlow, and a man were sitting at the back. The plan was to track the target and kill him. Steve Rogers was his target. Pierce had said it was his target to kill. He had to obey Pierce. He knew he had to accomplish this mission for Pierce.

The SUV stopped, and Rumlow grabbed the Soldier by his scalp, ready to push him out of the car. It hurt, but he didn't say a word. Rumlow did that every time. The door opened, and Rumlow pushed him outside, following him with the other men. The Soldier stood up, he was in the middle of the road, in a busy street of a city centre, the SUV had stopped there. People were walking past, wondering why they had stopped there. The sun was bright. It blinded him for a second. It had been quite a long time since he had been out in the sun, during the day, like this. A mother was pushing a stroller. Two old men were walking at their own slow pace, giving him a funny look. That's when Rumlow took out his rifle and shot several times in the crowd that the cries began. They all started to run, in every direction. Rollins took out his ringing phone.

"Yeah ? ... What do you mean on the bridge ?" he snapped "oh c'mon...", then he turned to Rumlow : "Rogers is on the highway. Romanoff, Sitwell, and some other dude are with him".

Rumlow groaned and rolled his eyes. He pushed the Asset back into the SUV, and sat next to him. Rollins and the two men with them hopped back into the car and hurried to the highway.

It was another drive, but shorter. They arrived on the highway. Cars were passing by, yellow, blue, white, and red, but the Soldier was focused on only one thing : his target. It was the only thing he had to do, and he would do it, just like every other mission he had successfully finished. When Rumlow had confirmation the grey car in front of them was the one they were looking for, he opened the glass roof of the car and pushed the Soldier up.

He got onto the SUV's roof, and walked carefully to the hood. His eyes were locked on the blond hair he could see in the front passenger seat of the car. A command came into his ear : "Kill the bald man and the woman too."

He frowned. "They are not the targets." He answered. "They are too, now." Barked Rumlow in his intercom.

He did not like this very much. But an order had been given, and he had to obey. The SUV got near enough. Inside the grey car, they looked like they were arguing. They did not pay attention when he stealthily hopped onto the grey car's roof. He secured his position, and drove his metal arm through the back-left window.

He heard a cry of surprise, and felt under his cold metal touch a collar and a tie. He grabbed it, and took the bald man out from the car through the broken window, before throwing him into the traffic. He heard a scream when he took out his gun and shoot through the roof of the car. He heard rumbling. Nobody was touched by the bullets.

The black man behind the wheel braked brutally, and the Soldier was projected forward onto the asphalt. His metal arm slowed him down, and he rose up. He saw clearly his targets. Steve Rogers, and the woman. He saw the redheaded female trying to hold up a gun, but the black SUV drove into them from the back. He tilted his head a bit as he was calculating his jump. He leaped up on the roof of the grey car again.

These were stubborn. They wouldn't let themselves be pushed around like others would sometimes. He could feel his metal arm get warmer with the friction of the road from earlier. It slightly burnt the skin where the limb was attached to with a disagreeable smell. He clenched his jaw from the pain, but went on with his task. His very important task. He had been given an order. A mission. He would accomplish it.

He drove his left hand into the windshield, and seized the wheel in his metallic fingers. He threw it out, and escaped a few bullets from the woman by jumping back on the SUV's hood. The car in front of them slowed down, and Rollins drove into it to make the machine collide into the median strip. The car did a barrel roll, and Rollins braked when he saw the three passengers jump out on the road on a detached car door. The black man let it go after the impact, but the blond man and the redhead continued sliding for a few metres.

He jumped off the hood, and was handed a grenade rifle. He aimed at the two, and pulled the trigger. The blond man pushed the redhead away, and protected himself with his shield. That shield. Blue, white, and red. With a white star at the centre... He shuddered and focused again on his targets, as the man had flown off the bridge onto the road under the bridge. He shot another grenade at the redhead, who was trying to fire at them with a gun. Another grenade, and she too fell off the bridge.

"Get them." ordered Rumlow. Rollins handed him a machine gun. He attached the grenade launcher in his back. He grabbed the weapon, and stood near the edge of the bridge, looking for his targets.

He felt the flames of the burning cars at the back of his head. It was hot. Too hot for him. He was sweating in his black suit, but he had to focus. He squinted behind his goggles. He could feel it now. The violence. The blood, the screams of pain and terror behind him.

Lost in the feelings surrounded him, he did not have time to replicate when the woman appeared from under the bridge and shot straight at his head. The shock made him take a few steps back, and sit behind the wall. His goggles were fissured. That woman could really aim. He noted that he had to be careful around her. He took off his goggles and threw them on the ground.

He got up, and fired directly at her. This woman was in his way to his primary target. He needed her out first.

"Женщинa меня, найти его." The Soldier said to Rumlow. He jumped off the bridge onto a car, his machine gun in his right hand. He was followed by Rumlow, Rollins, and the two other men.

He walked up the road. She was hiding. He had to find her. His metal arm was a bit cooler now, and the burning feeling had diminished a bit. He launched a grenade at an upcoming police car without slowing down his pace. He was walking straight, his eyes searching every nook she could be hiding in. He reloaded. A man ran past him crying, but he didn't mind him. He had to kill her. People were hastily leaving their cars before him, running away. He slowed down his breathing, and heard a weak voice. It was hers, he recognized it from earlier. He stopped. The voice was two cars away. He took a grenade at the back of his belt, squatted, and let it roll under the first car to the next. The grenade exploded, in a big fire, but something was unusual. He barely had time to turn around that the woman was already on him, jumping on his shoulders. They fought, but she managed to get free, and to throw something at him. The little electronic disc stuck to his metal arm and sent electric waves up and down his arm. He winced in pain, the lightening bolt suffering again, running from his arm and into his skull. He moaned in pain as his remaining nerves and the artificial nerves were surcharged with electricity. He grasped the little disc with his flesh arm, and finally managed to take it off.

His arm. His left arm. Something was wrong. The electric lashes of pain were gone, but his arm was twitching, his hand rotating from left to right. He shook it brutally, and the hand stopped its nonsense. He had lost strength in his arm, and the pain was still here. It hurt. It hurt so much. His knees had shaken for a second, but he remembered the order. He had to complete the mission. He had to.

He stretched his arm, and went after the woman. She was running in front of him. He aimed at her, took a second to adjust his shot, and pulled the trigger. He shot her right in the shoulder, and she collapsed behind a car. He jumped onto another car to have a better angle to exterminate this target, but fast foot steps were running towards him. He turned his head, it was the man, shield first, sprinting to him. The Soldier hit his shield with his metal fist to stop him.

The pain ran from his knuckles up to his neck, striking his brain like a stab. His head turned for a second, but his target was here. His target was here. The target had to be exterminated. Now.

He pushed away the shield and the man onto the asphalt, and shot at them. The man hid behind his shield. His shield, blue, white, and red, with a white star in the middle... The man ran to him again, hitting him with his fists.

He was strong, almost as strong as he was, and his shield was hard and painful to be stricken with. They fought for a couple of seconds. The Soldier threw bad blows but he received some too, at his abdomen, at his head, again, and again, and again. His skull was buzzing and his vision was starting to blur. He had to obey. He had to obey. He had to obey.

Mission.

Target.

Mission.

Target...

He was projected against a van, and fell on his behind. The back of his head had hit the van with great force, and he could feel the warm blood running down his neck.

His target came at him. And hit. And hit. And hit. He could only see stains of colour now, and could barely activate his reflexes, but he managed to stop one of the man's harsh blows, and sent him away.

He took a deep breath, and concentrated on his task, trying to ignore the blood leaking from his head and the electrical waves torturing his arm, shoulder, and neck. He gritted his teeth, and attacked the blond man again.

He was fast, as fast as he was, and he didn't seem to feel pain. He had always manage to read the pain and fear on his targets' faces, but this one was determined to destroy him, and beat him down.

His abilities with his knife did not help, the target was blocking every one of his hits, one after the other. During a second the Soldier tried to yield his fist, the target drove his shield, blue, white, and red, with a white star at the centre... He drove it into the metal arm.

Another painful wave made his arm twitch, and as the electrical impulse ran again through the nerves to his brain he groaned in pain. He retained himself to fall on his knees under the shock, and felt the blood run in his mouth and drip from his lips.

Mission.

Target.

Mission.

Target.

The man punched him and pushed him forward, and he barely had time to roll back. His mask had detached from his face because of the blow.

The suffering. His incapacity to overcome his adversary. He was failing. Failing. Failing. He could not fail. He had receive a mission.

Mission.

Target.

He stood up, and turned to the man, determined despite the blood running in his back and on his chin to succeed in his task. He looked at the man.

The man tensed, his eyes widened, he let his arms fall at his side. He seemed in shock, all of a sudden. The Soldier tilted his head on the side, narrowing his eyes to try to understand that expression. What had happened ?

"Bucky ?" The man uttered under his breath.

Mission.

Target.

The Soldier grasped his gun. "Who the hell is Bucky?", he mumbled in return, frowning at this name that felt like nothing to him. He aimed at his target. That was it. The man was too much in shock to realize in time. He was going to succeed in his mission. He was going to obey the order. Him, then the woman, then he would be...

Something attacked him from behind and he fell hard on the ground. He could stand up again the second after and faced his target, still in shock, straight in the eyes.

This look.

Those blue eyes.

They came with a feeling. A very muffled and indistinct feeling from deep down his guts. He had never felt this feeling before. He looked down. Look. Blue eyes. Feeling.

Mission.

Target.

He held up his gun and pointed it at the man. But he didn't have time to pull the trigger, a grenade was flying to him. He jumped back. The car next to him exploded. The flames licked his face, and the dizziness came back. He fell on his back, and his head hit the asphalt under him. He saw from a corner of his blurry vision the black SUVs and the armed men jumping out of them, rifles up, pointed at his targets. He heard the voices of Rumlow and Rollins pass by him while yelling "Drop the shield ! Get on your knees !", "On your knees!". The propellers of a helicopter echoed through his brain, as the pain from the electrical waves ran through his body, shaking him like a seizure, each wave harder than the former. He moaned in pain and tried rolling on his side, but the suffering was taking on his entire body, paralysing him. His metal arm was heating up by the car burning next to him, and soon he felt like the skin at the juncture of the metal shoulder was boiling, the nerves still under the power of the electrical waves ; he screamed, the pain occupying his whole mind like the devil was replacing his cells with hot embers, burning him from inside, he screamed again, and again, and again... The electrical components had melted, and he could no longer move his left arm, helplessly enduring the boiling of his flesh.

Finally, after what seemed a century of torments, a man grabbed his other shoulder and dragged him away from the burning car. Another man came, and quickly opened a bottle of water that he poured on the Soldier's fuming shoulder.

The freezing bite of the water made him strangle himself on his own scream, and he passed out, his body still moved by the electrical waves.

"Oh shite..." said the first man with a seemingly Irish accent. "Alex, goddammit!" The second man raised his eyebrows with a sorry smile. "The docs are definitely going to kill me, he's in a pretty bad shape." Rollins came over next.

"What's wrong with him ?" he asked in a taut voice. "He was in the flames, we dragged him out.", answered the Irish. Rollins knelt next to the Soldier, took his chin between his fingers, and made his head turn. "Uh... Yeah, Mina and Claire are definitely going to kill you, he was brand new this morning. Did he pass out?" The second man uttered a sorry "Yes." and Rollins rolled his eyes. He asked them to help him up and to load him discreetly in one of the cars quickly before the medias' helicopter would film them.


The burning pain was what he felt first. His shoulder, it was hot, boiling hot. And the great lashes of pain started to strike him like a piked whip again. He opened his eyes. They were blurry, blurry, everything was blurry all around him, because of the hits, because of the blinding suffering seizing his entire body. He locked his fists closed and let out a terrible yell, pleading for all this pain to stop. Everything was moving fast around him, faces were above him. Voices, voices, voices around. He couldn't catch what they were saying. Everything was moving around him, everything, everything, moving... In a flash of light, he saw the shield, blue, white and red, with a white star in the middle... Another painful electrical wave ran from his left fist through his body like a tsunami, and before he could scream, someone stuffed something in his mouth to keep him quiet. He could not move, he felt restrains around his arms and legs. The restrains were tight. Tight. Too tight. The one at his ankle was so tight he could barely feel his foot, let alone move it.

"Yeah, on our way, almost there." He heard at his right.

He knew this voice. He had heard it before. Above the pain, he felt he had to obey it, it was Rollins' voice. He heard doors open, and was ushered into a room. It smelled like chloroform and blood. The lights at the ceiling blinded him.

"Tie him up."

The restrains were detached, and he was shoved onto a leaning chair. He recognized the harshness of it, and that it smelled like sweat, and felt like bad news for him. White stains in his vision moved around him and cut his clothes open.

"What have you done to my work ?!" groaned a stern voice above him.

"He met the Captain."

"I see... Detailing of the wounds." she demanded

"Subject seems to be suffering from a serious commotion, first degree burns on the left side of the face, second degree burns on the junction area and on the side of the left thigh." responded a first voice.

"Probably one or two broken ribs." added a voice while he felt clumsy fingers palpating his painful right side.

"No sign of collapsed lung." indicated a third voice.

"Brain and general scanner, now. Blood test."

A cold disc of metal hit the skin above his heart and he winced. His head was buzzing, he felt the blood stuck in his hair and stuck at the head rest, and along his chin and neck line.

"Claire, what do you got ?"

"Motherboard is fried... and has melted into the mechanical matrix." answered a voice with a French accent.

"Take it off so the burns can be taken care of."

"Got it."

An electrical seizure shook his body and he bit on the cloth he had in his mouth, screaming through it ; he tried to force on his right arm to put his flesh hand on his shoulder to stop the pain, and the cuffs gave way. He grabbed his shoulder with his hand, and for a second the pain diminished, just a little bit. Another hand attached to a figure in white with red hair tried to force his arm back into the cuffs, so he grabbed the throat next to the red hair and gripped tighter around the neck with his powerful fingers. He felt the man strangle himself on his words, his air completely stopped.

He immediately felt the fangs of a taser bite into his skin and the electrical impulse knocked him unconscious for a couple of seconds. That face. That look. Those blue eyes. This forgotten feeling... When he came to soon after, he was tightly restrained on the leaning chair. His vision had cleared up a little. The raging face of Rumlow was watching over him with disgust in his eyes. "Fucking tin can..." he mumbled between his teeth.

"Get back!", barked the blonde woman in a white lab coat at his feet. "You've done enough already. Look at all this engineering that you wasted ! Do you have even the slightest idea how much a single finger is worth of money and work ?!" She pushed Rumlow away with her shoulder to sit on his left. She put some gloves on and tried to open the melted controlling panel.

The machine attached to him, reluctant, sent another electrical wave up his arm and neck and he screamed to death, it was unbearable, unbearable, unbearable. He clenched his fist, he had to take it off, he had to, he had to, it was painful, it was so painful... He yelled again, in despair, tears falling down his dirty cheeks, the taste of blood and salt melting on his tongue.

"Ugh, there's a lot of noise..." complained the blonde doctor.

"Nothing I can't fix." answered the stern brunette. He followed her voice with his eyes as he saw her prepare a needle filled with a yellow-ish liquid. He looked at it closely. He didn't like it. He felt it, in his guts, this liquid, it was bad, it was bad, it was bad...

While looking up to the monitors, the dark-haired woman stuck the needle in his arm, as he pleaded with a muffled scream and all his heart and eyes.

The effects were quick. Just after the needle had come out of his arm, he felt it, the numb. It took his arm, then his shoulder, chest, legs, and soon, his head. His whole body was limp. He couldn't move an inch, not with great effort, he couldn't move anything under his knees anymore, let alone his right hand. Unfortunately, it didn't stop the pain. The electric waves kept coming in, and it was even worse when the blonde doctor was fidgeting in his recalcitrant arm. He wanted to scream, but he could barely open his mouth anymore, or contract his diaphragm. The shield, blue, white, and red, with a white star in the middle... His body was repetitively shaken by the seizures, but now he was helpless against them. His mind was screeching, and the wolf trying to claw his way out of his skull was back again, scratching against his bones and skin. He could only blink from the stream of tears pouring down his cheeks, his mouth half-open that could only let out a small indistinguishable moan of pain.

All he could hear now was the female voices speaking above him, and some laughs further away in the room. A man came closer with a sigh.

"Ugh, it's in a pretty bad shape."

"Yeah. We need to update it.", answered the female voice at his right.

A little silence followed, then the voice with the French accent :

"You still haven't answered, Mina."

"About what ? Restaurant ? I'm not going to your French restaurant. Snails and stuff, it sounds gross. I like the Italian."

Another wave came over him and tensed his spine uncontrollably.

"Ugh, ok, Italian. You're sure you don't want a double date night ?"

"Oh yeah ? And with who could I come ?" responded the mockingly fed-up stern voice.

The French sighed, and turned to the soldier at his feet.

"Rollins, you like Italian ?"

"I sure do." answered the deep voice with a smile.

He wished he could move, just a little bit, just slightly, just a millimetre, maybe if he shifted his position, he could feel just a little bit better...

"There you go, you can bring Rollins !"

"Oh, no, Rollins, I wouldn't want to inflict you that."

"What do you mean inflict ?"

It hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt...

"I'd love to, really, I insist !"

"Okay, fine, Claire !"

"Tonight at 7pm ?"

"Fine..."

The blonde doctor pushed a last button, and detached the arm.

The excruciating electrical lashes of pain finally stopped. Finally... He sobbed in relief, finally, finally, the pain had left. He felt his head light due to the sudden alleviation, and he felt like he hadn't really breathe for hours. This face. That look. Those blue eyes. This forgotten feeling... His head fell on his right side, as his respiration slowed down. The other wounds were starting to stand out, but even if a couple of broken ribs were rather disagreeable, it was mere discomfort after what he had just gone through.

Tied down to the chair, he felt the lab coats patch him up and sticking different IV lines into his arm to solve this or that. The numb was starting to wear off just a bit, and he managed to bend some of his fingers. He tilted up his head a bit when he heard Rumlow's footsteps come forward.

"Pierce is on the way for the Asset's return." he informed the Lab crew with a harsh voice.

"Okay." answered the blonde woman, working on the arm two meters away from the leaning chair, surrounded by two other lab coats.

Silence fell in the room again, for a moment. He winced sometimes when they were sewing him up and could moan in discomfort, bot none of his little sounds was considered, as always.

Some steps were heard, and the doors opened, and Alexander Pierce enterde, followed by two armed men in black suits.

"Sir, he's unstable..." tried a lab coat. Alexander Pierce glanced at the intern with a condescending look, and the dark-haired doctor pushed the intern back in his place with a dry comment.

Rumlow untied the cuffs and grabbed the Soldier's hair in his brutal fist, to make him sit up and face Alexander Pierce. The rugged face of the old blonde man faced him.

"Mission report" he demanded.

The Soldier blinked a few times and took a deep breath, but couldn't answer yet. Rumlow gripped his hair tight, it was like he was trying to rip off his scalp. He couldn't answer yet. A question was burning his lips.

Alexander Pierce handed out his hand and slapped him across the face.

"Mission report, now !" he added with gritted teeth.

The Soldier finally looked up to him, and with a trembling chin he asked :

"The man on the bridge... who was he?"

Alexander Pierced sighed and straightened up.

"You met him earlier this week on another assignment."

He looked down at his feet. He had ? Was that why he had this muffled feeling coming from his guts ?

"I knew him", he added softly, his eyes lost in memories he didn't have.

Pierce waved at an armed man to bring him a chair. He sat down facing the Soldier, and looked at him with his lips tight with anger :

"Your work has been a gift to mankind. You shaped this century. And I need you to do it one more time. Society is at a tipping point between order and chaos. We're gonna give it a push.

This shield, blue, white, and red, with a white star in the middle...

"But, if you don't play your part, I can't do mine, and HYDRA can't give the world the freedom it deserves."

The Soldier bit his lip.

"But I knew him." he insisted, still not too loud. He felt Pierce was on edge, and his hand ready to throw another slap. Pierce sighed and got up. Rumlow let go of the Soldier's hair and stood behind Pierce, looking at the Soldier arms crossed, face closed, a disgusted curve on his mouth. The old blond man face the dark-haired doctor.

"Prep him."

She shook her head : "He's been out of cryofreeze too long." Pierce rolled his eyes, and considered the Soldier, sitting on the chair, a sad and confused look in his eyes.

"Then wipe him, and start over."

"Yes, sir." she responded.

She sat facing the monitors, as the interns pushed the Soldier back into the chair, and activated the cuffs, that rolled back on around his limbs. The redhead whose throat he had grabbed earlier approached a small rubber semi-circle from his mouth. He pouted. He knew what was following this. He didn't want this to happen, but he opened his mouth anyway, and the intern put the rubber thing in his mouth.

"Memory erasing sequence, initiating." announced the doctor at his right, still without a look for him.

Two robotic arms came down on him, and stuck to the sides of his head. He gave the rubber semi-circle a squish between his teeth. He felt his spine tense from the oncoming pain.

"Lauching in three, two, one..."

The current ran through his head like a burning spike piercing his brain, frying up his cells like the furnace of Hell, boiling his skin to the highest temperature. He screamed his lungs out hurt, hurt, hurt, hurt, hurt, again, and again, and again. The shield, blue, white, red, with a white star in the middle... The robotic arms were squeezing his head, not letting him move an inch, condemning him to the ardent pain and nothing else ; nothing else but brutality, this shield, blue, white, red, with a white star in the middle... his vision blurred, and his mouth was filled with the taste of blood.

Pierce and Rumlow, both satisfied little smiles on their faces, left the room.

"Countdown to finish. Ten, nine, eight..."

The current took his brain away, and he could smell the burnt flesh and hair, red saliva dripping out of his mouth as he clenched his jaw as hard as he could, screaming his lungs out.

"Seven, six, ..."


Hi everybody ! Thank you so much for reading this chapter ! I hope you enjoy the story for now ! Please consider reviewing about anything really, I'd absolutely love to know what you think of it :D ! Please follow/favourite so you will be told as soon as the next chapter will come out !
See you next chapter ;) !