Chapter 4: The Truth Hurts

A.N: this is where plot happens and lots of arguing can be seen. I didn't flesh this out so much as touch on it so there might be some flow issues. Please tell me and I will fix them. I am in desperate need of a Beta right now. Flashbacks will be in the leading chapters up to the big event. Still working out the timeline for the flashbacks, so if it feel's iffy tell me. Also, Bucky's pregnancy will last long, around 11 months. Normal elvish/human hybrid pregnancies last from 10-12 months depending on factors. Numenorean pregnancies are the same; length dependent on how much elvish blood is in the parents. Bucky's baby is exactly half elvish because Bucky was only ¼ and Steve was ¾ elvish. I did the math. I am right; so that means the pregnancy will fall into the 10-12 months with the norm being around 10 ½. It was a little late.

I like getting my timelines straight. Drop me a line if you find a flaw in my math or logic.


Arion's first instinct is to contact his superiors, once Steven is out of sight and apprise them of the situation. But a thought pulls him up short: how did HYDRA even get the samples, and how could they have known Steven's nickname? It is with a cold and sinking feeling in the pit of his gut, that Arion realized that he didn't know if he could trust his own agency. After all, they were the ones holding Zola at the time of Steven's disappearance. Arion realized that he could only trust a small number to help him with this, and a handful of those people were across town waiting for him to check in.

Arion paid for his drink and quickly left; leaving a generous tip for the waiter so as to not raise suspicion, pocketing Steven's drawing as he left. Arion started walking toward a safe house just a few blocks from the café, knowing that he would need to get word to the others as fast as possible. Fëanor had a lot of pull up in parliament with the queen, and in Washington, but Arion knew of only two people on the Hill that had enough incentive and conscience to get the job done: Howard Stark and Peggy Carter, the co-directors of SHIELD. Arion walked quickly into the bolt hole and locked the door behind him. Three locks all clacked as Arion turned the latches and sealed them shut; once that was done Arion looked around the room. It was a bit dingy looking and sad with the yellowed wallpaper and scuffed up linoleum floor, but Arion went over the room with a careful eye. He took a few steps into the kitchen and as he did, he pulled a small device out of his handbag. (Arion was still undercover, and thus still went by his old codename from when he and Bucky were engaged in the war. It was a little awkward being groped by handsy politicians and dignitaries, but he was still Míriel Adria in public, so he paid the price with grace.) Arion waved it around the room hoping that the little red light wouldn't turn on, indicating a listening device, and he could get right to work. Thankfully the light stayed dark and Arion let out a sigh of relief.

Arion put the bug detector back in the handbag and went over to the phone hanging on the wall. It was one of the older models with a long hanging cord coiled up and hanging down under the cradle. Arion picked up the handset. This was a newer model with pushbuttons instead of the rotary dial but it still had the round screw on speaker and microphone covers. Arion quickly unscrewed the covers and looked for another listening device that could only activate when the phone was used. Just because he had already swept the room didn't mean that he wasn't going to be careful on the phone, especially not with this information. After he was sure that the phone wasn't bugged, Arion screwed the covers back on and dialed the number for the HQ Fëanor and Arion had set up earlier. He anxiously held the phone to his ear as he waited for the call to connect, all the while twisting and worrying the cord in his hand. The phone rang once then twice before he hung up and dialed again. This time he waited for the phone to ring three times before hanging up and dialing back; this was the code they had set up in advance: two rings then pause then three rings, before they were to pick up on the next dial. This time the phone only rang once before Fëanor answered the call.

"Yes," Fëanor asked, "what is it?" Arion breathed a sigh of relief before he spoke.

"Fëanáro, it's Arion," he said. Fëanor breathed a sigh of relief that Arion could hear over the line. Arion chewed his lip for a moment before continuing. "Something's come up, and the plan's changed."

"What? How?" Fëanor asked.

"I just…" Arion paused, and realized he couldn't reveal anything over the phone. Even if the phones themselves were clean, the lines could, and more than likely, have been tapped. Arion couldn't say anything in this city. He needed to talk somewhere safe. He chewed his lip as he thought. "I need you to call in and ask our old war buddies to meet us back at your place." Fëanor realized quickly enough that Arion was speaking in code, and didn't feel safe with whatever information he had found being old over the line. Old War Buddies was their code for Peggy and Stark while on tapped phones.

"Okay," he said, cagey of this rapid change, "when do we meet them?"

"How about tomorrow," Arion answered. "I have some new information about an old missing person's case that is going to blow it wide open, and they need to know." Arion worried the cord in his hand and waited a breath for the Noldor's response.

"Alright," he said. "I'll have our things packed and ready to leave on the next flight. We'll be back home by the time they land."

"Good," Arion said, breathing a sigh of relief. "I'll explain everything when I get there. Goodbye, Mellon nin."

"Namárië, Heru Arion," Fëanor said softly in return, sensing some of the panic and fear in Arion's voice. "Be safe." Arion swallowed a hard lump in his throat as he heard the call disconnect and heard only the dial tone.

"I'll try," Arion said to himself as he hung the phone back on the rocker. He placed his hands on the counter and took deep steadying breaths. After a moment he looked back up in determination and grabbed his bag from where he had set it down to dismantle the phone. He quickly unlocked the deadbolts and locks and left the safe house; a terrible resolve beginning to boil up from deep within his being, yearning for justice for his son, and the blood and hide of the men that took them, for robbing them of all those years of his and Bucky's joy and happiness from them. Resolve burned like a white hot flame in his spirit, and Arion vowed in that moment, whether or not he was given approval, he would free James Barnes and his son Steven from the iron clutches of HYDRA and the Red Room; and that he would make them pay for his suffering with their very lives.

Arion hailed a taxi and told the driver to go to the airport. Joyous Guard was the safest and most secure position to make their plans for Bucky and Steven's rescue, but Arion needed to get there first. He needed time to gather his thoughts and the proof enough to convince the ever-skeptic Stark what he was saying was true.

He stuffed his hands in his coat pockets to warm them from their sudden chill, and his hand came into contact with a piece of paper. His brows wrinkled in confusion as he pulled the crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket. He smoothed in out on his knee, and his eyes widened in recognition. It was the drawing of the base Steven had made with the coordinates. Arion zeroed in on the hastily scribbled sequence of numbers and letters and realized they were also coordinates, and saw the single word scribbled beside them stating "Proof". Arion smiled as he calculated the coordinates in his head and realized they were in the Alps. He carefully folded the paper and put it in his handbag. The elven prince looked out the window with a pleasant smile on his face and confidence in his soul. Howard could be as skeptical as he liked, Arion had more than enough proof to convince him, and after that… well… Arion's pleasant smile turned into a vicious grin. Howard Stark was a pain in the rear at times, but heaven help the ones that got in his way from helping his friends or righting a wrong, because Stark could be as mean, vicious and relentless as a Warg on the hunt, or a mother bear protecting her cubs.


The silence is palpable when Arion finished his impromptu debriefing. Each of the members in the room has various expressions of shock and disbelief on their faces, and they all have their jaws wide and completely dumbstruck. Arion glanced at them all in turn and found that none wanted to be the first to break the silence. Fëanor and Maedhros had near identical looks of horror and shock, eyes glazed over as they both remembered their little stint as prisoners of war. Joshua looked so pale, one would have thought him dead, though there was a greenish tint to his face; as if he was about to be physically ill. No doubt he was also remembering his panic and desperation in those long weeks and near months when Fëanor was captive. Adrian looked frightened and mournful, no doubt because of his blood relation to Steven. Carter was pale and as still as stone, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief, but there were minute tremors running through her hands, as she clenched them tight in her lap. Arion looked at all of them with desperate pleading, and opened his mouth to speak, when Stark finally broke the silence.

"Bullshit!" he exclaimed, loudly; every line of his body drawn with skepticism. His exclamation seemed to snap Peggy out of her stupor, because she looked at the man sharply, drew back her hand and smacked him. "OW! What was that for?" the graying woman leveled the inventor with a look so venomous it would have put medusa to shame.

"You don't have the right!" she yelled at him. Howard pulled away, tumbler of scotch still in hand and stood up, pointing at her, then at Arion as he argued.

"No, I think I do," he argued, "I have the right to call 'bullshit'!" He pointed his finger, hand still clutching the glass of liquor at Arion and turned his head to look at him, body still facing Peggy. "I call bullshit!" He said petulantly. Arion glared at him in impotent fury before he stood to his full and quite imposing height of six foot two with his added three inch heels.

"You think I'm lying?" he seethed, and Stark took a step back from the wrathful elf. "Why would I lie?! Steven came right up to me himself!"

"Why?" Howard asked incredulously, "Because you lost the man you loved and your child all in the same month! I think you're still hurting and the Knight took advantage. What proof do we even have that it was Steven, or if he was, that he was telling the truth?" Arion looked at Howard dumbstruck for a moment.

"What proof," Arion asked eyes filling with tears of boiling emotion, "I know my son! I cannot be fooled like that! He spoke to me with Osanwe, and no mere telepath can do that! I trained my son's mind. I know his mind!" he said slowly and deliberately enunciating his words as he fought the emotions from overwhelming him. Tears finally fell as he took a shuttering breath and clenched his jaw, a look of murder in his eye. "No one… Can deceive like that! No one! You want proof, Mr. Stark?" Arion turned and pulled the drawing out of his handbag and unfolded it before thrusting it out for Howard to see. Howard tentatively took the drawing into his hands and scrutinized it, all the while shock and old grief playing on his features. His eyes darted over the fine lines and precise sketches of the drawing before his eyes caught the handwriting on the page, and widened in recognition and shock.

"This is Steven's handwriting," he said breathlessly, and looked up at the room, shock and realization finally pushing some of the skepticism out of his eyes.

"Yes," Arion said, his grief finally overpowering his will for a brief moment, causing tears to run freely down his cheeks. "And those are the exact coordinates to where James fell. Steven found him, lying there, in the river, nearly frozen. He lost his arm somewhere in the fall, Steven found it too. He was badly hurt, but alive. He hit his head in the fall. Steven said he was incoherent at first, but eventually recognized him. He should have been dead, but he was alive! Steven treated him, cauterized the wound, and was doing everything he could to get him back to the nearest allied base." Arion started sobbing and Adrian stood up to comfort him. "They found them first!"

"Who," Peggy asked quietly, "who found them?" Arion looked over at her and calmed a little.

"The Soviets, the Red Room," he said and his eyes hardened with fury. "HYDRA!" shocked silence met his bombshell and Arion pushed on. "They were looking for them, for Steven and James; they knew who they were and how to find them. Howard, they knew Steven's nickname; his call sign!" Stark paled. "They took them and left everything else behind." The room was silent for a moment, before Stark again broke the silence.

"Zola," he said softly and all eyes turned to him. "Barnes was found in the isolation ward in the factory where he was held after HYDRA captured him. We always wondered how his body could withstand the accelerated pregnancy. Zola must have experimented on him with the Serum, somehow got it right, and…" Howard looked back up at Arion with determination and renewed hope. "What other proof did you say there was, because I am not risking a rescue op on Soviet soil, unless I have concrete proof." Arion smiled at him with renewed hope and pointed at the note and drawing again, reminding Howard of its existence.

"Steven said that he took a type of experimental handheld tape recorder with him," he explained. "And he used it to make audio journal entries. If he's telling the truth, it should still be right where he left it: buried in a metal medic kit. It should still be there, along with James' arm, Howard. That should be more than enough proof to get us into the USSR!" Howard looked skeptical but Fëanor was the one that finally broke the silence and settled the issue once and for all.

"If what you say is true, Ingwion," he said, his hands steepled before his pursed lips, as his brow furrowed in deep thought, "then HYDRA has held two good men prisoner for the last forty years; using them, abusing them, and controlling them at their own leisure. I never trusted the Soviets, but," he paused and lowered his hands, turning his piercing gaze on the younger elf prince, "to accuse them of such a deception, and indeed, of conspiring with a known enemy during a state of War, is not something done lightly." Arion wilted and finally showed the great elf lord how desperate he was.

"Then what do you expect me to do?" Arion wailed helplessly, "leave him there? Let the only man I ever loved rot and die in that Eru forsaken prison! Let my eldest son die there!" Arion's face turned stormy and his blue eyes blazed white hot like a flame, as he pulled himself up to his full and impressive height, stood his ground and glared at the eldest son of Finwë. "I would rather DIE than let my son's last moments be those of pain and fear! I would rather let my Fëa go into eternal darkness then let my James die there; alone and afraid! I will not have my beloved put down like a rabid dog!" He growled through clenched teeth. The two elves battled wills as they glared at each other, and the rest of the room acted like it was a particularly fast tennis match; eyes and heads darting back and forth between the two elves. Finally Fëanor's stony expression broke into a calm and almost smug smile.

"I was hoping you would say that," he said and finally stood, leaving Arion completely dumbstruck as he turned to Stark and his eldest son, Maedhros. "Nelyo, I would trust this mission to only you." Maedhros straightened to attention and gave his father a curt nod, to which Fëanor returned with a crooked smirk. "Stark," he said, turning to the man, leveling him with his piercing silver eyes, and the inventor found himself clenching his back ramrod straight at the commanding tone, "since you were the one to voice doubt that Arion's claim is true, you will accompany him and my son, Nelyafinwë, to the location written on the map for this proof, while we here," he said while sweeping his arm out gesturing to the rest of the assembled people, "come up with a plan of attack." Stark opened in mouth to argue the point but Fëanor beat him to it. "This plan will require stealth, and no small amount of courage, and we have little time for arguments. Steven and Bucky's lives depend upon the speed and secrecy of this plan." Howard's shoulders slumped with defeat as he conceded to the wisdom of Fëanor's plan.

Fëanor nodded and turned to Joshua and Peggy, when a very loud bark brought his attention back to the assembled group. He turned back and smiled at the sight of the large hunting hound, Huan, seated proudly next to his son's shoulder. The deep throaty woof that came from his chest and his stance next to his only re-born son could only mean one thing, and it brought a fond smile to the dark haired Noldor's face. With a chuckle and a shake of his head, Fëanor smirked at the Valinorean Hound, returned to life with his son, and nodded his assent.

"Alright, Huan," he said, "you too." The pony sized hound bounded to his feet and let out a happy bark. Fëanor looked up at his son and the assembled expedition team. "Huan will keep you safe from any surprise attacks, and will stand watch at night. Find this proof that Arion has been given, and return here as fast as you can. We will need all the time we can spare for planning. I, for one, do not want to be caught with my trousers down, so to speak, ever again." Maedhros smothered a smile and his urge to chortle, knowing there was a story behind that statement.

Howard and Arion gathered the needed equipment while Maedhros grabbed the much needed provisions. When they were ready, they suited up into cold weather gear and piled the provisions and equipment into Howard's small private plane. It was bigger than the one he took Steve to Austria in during the war, and had a few new tricks, but it still carried the Stark Industries mark on the side of its shiny silver skin. He started the plane up quickly and took off, carrying the three other search members as passengers. They were all grimly silent, just as their cohorts back at the mansion were. Arion's words on what Steven had told them were a grim reminder that even if they got Steven and Bucky out of that hell hole alive, they would both need serious treatment and help to be free. Though it was not said it was still implied that Steven carried a fractured mind in desperate need of healing. Though less fractured that Bucky's, it was no less dangerous if left untreated.


Steven stood before three girls. They were the Red Room's finest students, and had survived the transformation that had killed so many of their class. They also happened to be rivals, and two of them were the girls he had chosen to personally train. Steven forced his face to be as blank as paper and his eyes as hard as diamonds. The two he had chosen were by far the best of the girls, and one was even a prodigy by the standards of the Red Room.

Little Natalia, the red headed girl, stood erect and proud, her face carefully blank and her eyes watchful; she was his best Student. The serum had slowed her aging and had kept her youthful, while amplifying her flexibility and agility. She had an accelerated healing factor, but it was nowhere near what his and the Soldier's were. She was cunning and quick on her feet, and her tenacity and ability to adapt to her mission was what made her Steven's, and the Soldier's, best student.

Natalia was gaining a reputation in training as being willing to do anything to win, and that was what made the superiors smile at her while he put the girls through drills. That was why he was before them today, because today he was going to pick a personal student to instruct and train to become the best of the Red Room. Steven liked her well enough, and she had learned greatly from his training methods and fighting style, but she was the Soldier's. Natalia seemed to respond better to his hand than Steven's but she didn't know that.

The second girl was one that Steven nearly outright refused to train: Yelena Belova; A little blond haired pixie when he first met her, but she had grown into a beautiful young woman with big blue green eyes and lush lips. But as Steven watched her and looked into her mind, he knew that her beauty was skin deep. Inside was a vicious, conniving, cold-blooded killer that genuinely enjoyed watching her victims suffer. The very sight of what churned inside the young girl's mind was enough to make him recoil in fear and disgust, when he first saw it. If it weren't for the threat of punishment to his Ada, and himself, Steven would have refused to go near the girl, but he had no choice. And now the young woman stood before him, the finest example of his training.

Yelena thrived under the brutal treatment and punishing training regimen, and rose to become a star in her class, and among his pupils. Steven looked at the girl and saw twisted satisfaction in her eyes and in the line of her lips. Steven suppressed the reflex to sneer at her in disgust and instead turned up the coldness of his glare at her. Yelena shrank back as much as she could while remaining at attention. Steven was the only person in the Red Room that could illicit fear from the girl, and keep her in check. Steven didn't mean to show her what he could be like in full elven wrath, but it was just the trick he needed to bring her under his thumb for good. It took a lot to make her quail in fear, but Steven had just the right mix that kept her in line.

Steven turned his gaze to the third girl and his piercing gaze lost its icy quality. Anya was the third girl in his little group. She was the epitome of grace and beauty. Her long black hair was fine as silk and had just a little wave in it. Her eyes were a bright blue like Steven's with a little green at the center, and she was tall. Taller by far than the other girls her age, and with a lithe graceful quality to the way she moved.

Anya looked him in the eye without an ounce of fear and the corners of her lips quirked up in a secret smile. Steven returned that smile with his own, before forcing his face to be blank again when his handler and the Soldier walked into the room.

'Are the girls ready for the next phase in their training?' the Handler asked. Steven looked at the girls one last time, his gaze lingering on Anya the longest. Anya was his best student. Her innate grace and agile movement perfectly suited to Steven's training and fighting style. She would benefit most from his personal touch, though the Soldier could give her a broader array of techniques.

'Yelena has reached the limit of her ability to learn from myself and the Soldier,' Steven answered, training his gaze on the girl in question. Her eyes blazed with anger and rage, at his dismissal, but quelled as he turned up the intensity of his own glare. 'I believe both Anya and Natalia will benefit more from personal tutelage.' The Handler looked at Steven and pursed his lips.

'I was told that Yelena showed the most promise as a student,' he said while looking said girl over. Steven physically restrained his urge to bristle at the contradiction and clenched his jaw.

'Student Yelena is too violent,' the Soldier said, and both Steven and the Handler turned to look back at him. Steven felt his eyes widen in shock at the Soldier's unexpected rebuttal. Steven looked closer and smiled softly when he realized it was not the blank weapon speaking but the entity that the young girls had come to call Yasha. 'She does not listen when instructed and prefers her own methods and fighting techniques to the ones we impressed upon her. She continues to resist instruction, and lashes out violently against her sparring partners.' Yasha looked the handler in the eye before continuing, 'she will not progress under my tutelage or the Knight's. She is too reckless, and violent.' Steven glanced over at the girl in question and found her pale with fright. Steven smirked to himself. He agreed with Yasha's assessment, Yelena was far too violent and resistant to his training. No matter how much he trained with her and sparred with her, she still used brute force methods rather than the stealth and finesse that Natalia and Anya had picked up from him. She refused to drop them, punishment be damned.

The handler pursed his lips and looked at the girl before looking at Steven.

'Continue your training with her, but from now on you will focus your efforts on Anya's training,' he said and turned to Yasha, 'and you will spend your time with Natalia. It is obvious that she will be the star of this school, so only the best will be spent on her training.' Steven breathed a slight sigh of relief. 'And Knight,' the Handler said and Steven looked over at the man. He was cold and unyielding in his expression.

'Yes sir,' Steven asked, clenching his hands behind his back.

'If I find that you are lying to me, you will spend the next six weeks in the Cage,' he said and Steven paled, locking his knees to keep them from trembling. 'I don't care if they need you for a mission. These girls are the best of our training, and you and the Soldier are the best the Red Room has ever created. I do not want to be disappointed in anything I have created.' Steven forced every muscle in his body to stillness. The handler smiled and it was not a nice smile. 'I would hate to send the Soldier back to the Chair for insubordination.' Steven glanced over at Yasha and saw him as still and as white as a marble statue. 'Am I clear?' Steven nodded, and looked at the floor in submission.

'Yes sir,' he answered.

'Good,' the Handler said with a smile. 'I expect your students to be at the training grounds for sparring sessions and weapons training in the morning. You are dismissed.'


The Soldier trained with the girls more often than the Knight did. His methods were good for the older more experienced students, but around the first year inductees, his methods were brutal and lethal. The Soldier was more patient with the girls, and followed his Handler's instructions on their care and well-being to the letter. He taught them how to walk and move like confident girls instead of killers. He improved their American accents and helped them blend in to what normal girls would do in the west. At night he would sit at the bed of the youngest girl and braid her hair into two little plaits to keep her hair from tangling in the night or getting caught in the handcuffs.

He was kind to them and the girls all enjoyed his company, even if he didn't always recognize them. His thick Russian accent made them giggle at the oddness of it. Everyone in the school spoke with American accents or spoke only Russian. Rarely did they ever hear one of their teachers, or the Madam, speak with a Russian accent. As they got older his kindness became tough and unyielding discipline. They learned that he didn't smile unless he was pleased by their training, and so they did everything they could to please him.

As time passed, and the girls grew into their puberty, he became "Bol'shoy brat": Big brother. He was the silent guard that prowled the hallways outside their dormitories. Some girls said that he killed the ones that misbehaved in the night, and that was why some of the girls vanished and never came back; most looked at him as a protector. This belief was only solidified when one of the male guards attacked and tried to rape one of the teenaged girls. The Soldier caught him in the act and rather than listen to the man's orders to leave, his eyes turned murderous and as quick as a flash, he had the offender by the throat with his metal hand. The young woman trembled and watched as the Soldier crushed the man's neck with little effort.

When he turned back to the girl his eyes were calm and sympathetic, with a great deal of concern.

'Are you alright,' he asked. And she trembled; only barely nodding, before he knelt down beside her and gathered her up into his arms. Pulling her head to his broad chest and shushing her stuttering sobs, he gently rocked her until she calmed enough to stop crying.

'Thank you,' she said. 'What's your name; what do I call you?' he thought for a moment and shrugged.

'I don't know,' he said softly, sad and resigned all at once. 'I don't think I have a name.'

'How about Yasha,' she asked. The Soldier smiled and nodded slowly as he contemplated his name. 'It was my brother's name.'

'Yasha,' he said softly, 'my name is Yasha.' Looking at nothing, the look in his eyes far away, he repeated this and smiled at what only he could see.

From then on, after the girl told the others this, he was called Yasha when he was calm and kind, and Soldier only when he was blank and didn't recognize them. And Yasha loved these girls; they were his sisters and daughters, his to protect, and his alone. He hated the way the guards would look at Natalia and Anya, their graceful young bodies twisted in combat in a deadly dance. They were beautiful, and Yasha protected his beautiful girls, because he knew, without knowing how or why, how men thought and acted around pretty girls.

Yasha wasn't the only one to see the beauty in their two students. The Knight's gaze seemed to linger on Anya more and more, as he progressed from personal trainer and instructor, to something more intimate. Yasha warned him off and the Knight smiled and laughed bitterly, his gaze on his dark haired student as she went through her warm up routine.

"I would never hurt her, Ada," he said, and his gaze became filled with sorrow, and realization. "I love her."

Yasha watched him closely after this confession, and saw the way Steven would never push Anya past her limits but would nudge that limit further back the more he trained her. He watched as instructing hands turned into soft caresses as he helped her with her poses and movements. He saw Anya's gaze linger a little too long on Steven's face or her touch linger too long past proper. He saw the secret smiles thrown at each other and the longing glances. He watched as one day while they sparred, Anya came very close to Steven, her lips just inches from his, and the Knight gently pushed her away; regret and unending sorrow in his eyes. Yasha knew he wasn't always Yasha, that he didn't always remember, but he knew love. Somehow he knew love. (A part of him ached painfully and his mind saw a being of immense beauty, with hair like spun gold and eyes like the sea, and a smile that warmed a part of him again; one he thought was forever frozen.) And he knew that the Knight was deeply in love, and Anya returned it with equal fervor.


Dossier no. 18: Rytsar

Subject: Buchanan, Steven Grant; Captain US Army

Codename: Zimniy Rytsar/ the Winter Knight

Acquired: Feb 10th, 1945

Physical features

Race: Caucasian, Numenorean-Half elf

Hair Color: Dark Blond with highlights

Eye Color: Blue

Height: 6'4"

Weight: 240 lbs

Build: Muscular shoulders and chest, slim waist, strong legs

Identifying marks/Features: Pointed- leaf shaped ears, unnaturally bright eyes, dimpled chin

Notes

Subject no. 18, from now on to be referred to as Rytsar, displays extraordinary strength and stamina, characterized typically wit subjects of the Serum. The subject also displays an enhanced intelligence and memory response under cognitive stimuli. The subject displays incredible learning and creative tactical skills also seen in other subjects with the Serum.

Rytsar also displays extraordinary abilities not seen in other subjects.

The following abilities listed are at class five or greater strength:

Telepathy

Telekinesis

Some form of Technopathy or Technokinesis.

Electrokinesis

Some form of healing ability allowing him to heal wounds of others by skin contact.

The Electrokinesis allows him to absorb massive amounts of energy, electrical or otherwise, (see video file SGB 117) and return it at amplified also allows him to go long periods of time without consuming nutrition. It is not recommended that he go more than 2 months without sustenance or he will not be able to digest solid foods.

The Knight can combine abilities and create perfect clones of him with variations in physical appearance. He can integrate with any electronic device and gather digital intelligence through these means. His understanding of electronics and technology borders on the savant.

Because of his telepathy and telekinesis it is recommended that conditioning be performed via physical and telepathic means. Psychic triggers and code phrases must be at least the following trigger responses:

A Paralytic trigger

An off switch trigger

A suicide/berserker trigger for emergency situations when cornered only

The knight appears to have strong physical and emotional attachment to the Soldier. Such emotional bonds could be exploited to ensure loyalty and lessen his desire to escape.

The knight's physical strength and fighting prowess make him the perfect candidate to become a trainer. It is recommended that the Knight and the Soldier train together to hone their skills in hand to hand combat. Knife and handgun training will be needed to further their skills.

Recommend further stealth and advanced training in covert ops to improve upon previous skills.

Further notes:

The Knight has a volatile temper and unpredictable behavior after long missions. It is recommended that he be prepped for missions more thoroughly before such a deployment.

Asset Handler Journal No. 10

Jan 10, 1983

The Knight displayed overly violent and unstable behavior during the last mission. He has been becoming more unpredictable as of late and the cause is still unknown. I will consult with the Controller, Misha, on it later.

Col. Karpov

February 10, 1985

The Knight and Soldier have displayed tendencies of distrust and appear to no longer be loyal to Handlers.

The Soldier in particular has become more erratic and protective of the Knight.

It is my belief that they are no longer useful Assets to the cause. Replacement and decommissioning recommended. I believe that Project Winter Soldier has finally outlived its usefulness and is no longer profitable to keep them in storage, and the Knight in Containment.

Col. Karpov


TBC…

AN: well, what do you think? I will add more to the file as I add journal entries. It was so dang late, I couldn't type anymore. I will hint more onto Steven and Bucky's treatment in the Red Room later. Reviews are wanted. Beta too.