He slowly stood amid the carnage surrounding him, eyes flickering from body to still body looking for any movement. His months of going after HYDRA bases and operatives had been successful. This was the last safe house he knew of in the area and tonight he would head to Austin to take out an operative HYDRA considered particularly crucial.
He wiped the blade of his knife on his pants before reinserting it into its sheath. Turning his attention to the files and papers on the table he swiftly scanned them to determine if there was any Intel on other bases, safe houses or operatives he had missed.
The papers were for a mission in Belize. A memory assailed him.
"Can he be trusted?" A man in a business suit stared at him critically.
"He is completely obedient to HYDRA." His handler answered.
"Good, here is the target."
Gunshots resounded in his head. Blood everywhere, so much blood and screaming. He had to get away, couldn't be caught here. They would…he didn't know, but he knew HYDRA would not tolerate the incompetence of being caught once he was back in their custody.
He dropped the papers like they were hot, glancing around nervously as though he had been caught doing something wrong. He left the scene for the authorities to find and do with it as they liked and stumbled out of the house and into the wood seeking to distance himself and maybe rest before he made his way to Austin.
The fight hadn't gone easily, but neither had the last several. His twisted knee throbbed and the knife wound in his shoulder hadn't fully healed from the last safe house he'd raided. Bruises in various states of healing weren't anything he hadn't dealt with before, but his list of injuries was growing with each encounter with HYDRA and, since he gave himself little time to rest, exhaustion was threatening to overtake him. He wouldn't complain, the physical pain was almost a relief compared to the pain memories brought.
Memory. Something coveted in the past was now his worst tormentor. Sleep, however, was a close second. It had never occurred to him to be thankful for Cyro freeze or the drugs he was sometimes given to sedate him for sleep. His handlers probably didn't care if he had nightmares or not, just didn't want his body and cognitive functions impaired for his mission and even super soldiers needed rest. On the other hand maybe he was frozen and drugged for another purpose. Each time he drifted off to sleep new memories flooded his unconscious. Maybe they realized sleep and dreams wouldn't let him forget his past or present.
The man on the bridge was apparently part of his past, before he became HYDRA's deadliest solider. Part of him wanted to believe when he was told his name was James Buchanan Barnes. The memorial in the museum and subsequent information found after HYDRA was exposed only confirmed the truth.
The man, Captain America, Steve Rogers had apparently been James Barnes', Bucky's, best friend. For all of five seconds the Solider had considered seeking him out after he visited the museum. But the Captain was sure to be surrounded by others who would most certainly not be welcoming to the assassin.
He also had an unpleasant sensation when he considered talking to his former Mission. In the past the Soldier had no need for emotions, HYDRA was his existence and they made it clear his personal memories, emotions or thoughts were not welcome. Now, without HYDRA consuming his every waking minute, new feelings were starting to creep into his consciousness. Almost as if they were there and just waiting for the block to be cleared so they could pour out. Sometime he couldn't identify them, they were so foreign. What did he feel when he thought about approaching Captain America?
Was it fear? He couldn't think of a reason to fear him? Yes he was a strong opponent, far superior to the Winter Soldier in some ways, but on the carrier he had the Soldier at his mercy and did nothing.
Anger?
Shame?
Shame was an emotion he was quickly becoming accustomed too.
It was getting harder to breath by the day. One good thing about going after Hydra was it gave him a tangible enemy to focus on. Without them the only enemy he saw in sight was himself. And the questions in his mind threatened to drive him to insanity.
What kind of person allowed himself to become a monster? Any good soldier would have died before willingly killing innocents. He'd committed murder for them. Why? In hopes that they would spare his own pathetic life?
The price of disobedience became a price he was unwilling to pay and he became the gun in their hand. Why had he been so weak?
He'd lost count of the number of times over the last few months that he's put a gun to his head ready to pull the trigger, but he couldn't. Not yet. It would be selfish to end his own pain before he cleaned up a mess he was very active in making. He had helped spread the cancer that was HYDRA. And now that he knew the truth, he had to make it right.
He had never been sure if he believed HYDRA when they told him what he was doing was for the greater good. That would mean HYDRA itself was good and that was something he had a hard time reconciling. They stole his memories. During the last mission he had remembered and they had maliciously stolen those memories.
They often caused him pain, they said he was helping but they treated him with such contempt. He had assumed it was because he was bad himself.
He tripped over a root in the path falling and landing heavily on his bad knee. He welcomed the pain as he swallowed the cry, considering it penance. God knows I deserve worse than this. He thought.
He stayed kneeling on the ground only a moment knowing he didn't have much time to spare. He had to stay ahead of those who were after him. HYDRA, S.H.I.E.L.D., Captain American and who knows who else. Shakily getting to his feet and slowly continued down the path.
This chapter was going to include the search on Captain American's front, but I got going with Bucky and decided to end it here.
Next chapter will have Steve. Thanks for reading!