Chapter 5
"Blueprint has one floor above ground and three below," Natasha said. "Bottom one is designated weapons storage, one above that is barracks, and the one above that has what looks like tech equipment."
"First floor?" Steve asked.
"Guise of a hunting cabin. It should have skylights."
"How exciting," Sam commented. "I'll use Redwing, get an idea of what we're up against. Everyone got their comms in?"
"Yeah," Steve and Natasha confirmed.
"All right. Here we go."
Bucky opened his eyes to bright lights and dull noise. His body felt heavy, and when he tried to move, metal restrains kept him locked in place. There were people around him—white lab coats, a few uniforms with guns.
Military?
Bucky didn't want to have to deal with this. He'd just been leaving town. The whole point of disappearing was to avoid getting caught, to avoid having to do anything until he sorted out exactly who he was. He'd tried in Wisconsin and that clearly hadn't worked (Steve), so he'd figured getting an apartment somewhere else—somewhere warmer, somewhere not in America—would work out. But now? Now he was caught, and getting caught meant probable torture. He knew full well that SHIELD wouldn't forgive him for what he'd done.
He didn't forgive himself for what he'd done—not that he could do a damn thing about any of it. There was guilt in there somewhere, but it was buried beneath layers of sharpened steel and serrated blades.
"Ah, you're awake."
Bucky focused on the man leaning over him. He was old—older than anyone else in the room. He looked vaguely familiar, but Bucky didn't know where from.
Someone shone a bright light into Bucky's eye and he squinted.
"Pupil reflex is normal. The sedative is almost out of his system."
So you were the ones shooting those darts.
The scientist was speaking again and Bucky refocused on him.
"We've been looking for you for a long time. It's good to see that you're in good health, soldier."
That title set off alarm bells in Bucky's mind. SHIELD would never call him that; only one group had that habit. Bucky looked past the scientist, at the other people manning the computers and other equipment scattered about the room.
(There were no windows. Was he underground?)
He saw SHIELD insignias on the walls and machines, but no one in the room had one on their uniform. Were these people actually SHIELD, or something worse?
Who the hell are you?
Bucky watched as the scientist moved over to the table next to him. He began rummaging around in the drawers, and Bucky took the chance to look around again. This wasn't a HYDRA facility, at least. Bucky saw no signs of the machines that had caused him so much agony and erased chunks of his memory at a time.
(He was relieved. They couldn't take everything from him again.)
"Now, the only problem with finding you now," the scientist continued, standing up straight, "is that we cannot be sure of what you have been doing in the time since we last saw each other, yes?"
Bucky just stared at him, recognition finally falling into place in his mind.
I know your face. You were part of HYDRA.
"Yes, well. The world is a cruel place and all that. Why do you think we've gone after you?"
I don't know.
He blinked.
Leave me alone.
The scientist's lips quirked. "Silent, I see. That's perfectly fine. We didn't expect you to talk much." He cleared his throat and Bucky noticed the paper he held in one hand. "Straight to business, then. Your friends are coming after you, which could prove to be a problem for us."
Bucky kept his expression clear with some effort.
Who? Steve?
He wondered why even though he already knew the answer.
"I'm with you to the end of the line."
Bucky tested his restraints again.
Where's the end, Steve?
"We need you to take care of them."
Bucky leveled the man with a glare. That wasn't happening; Bucky was leaving. In ten seconds he could free his metal arm, and another ten after that he could be completely out of his restraints.
"желание."
Bucky froze. The scientist continued to read from the scrap of paper.
"ржaвый."
"Stop," Bucky said, flexing his hands as fire began to flow through his veins.
"Семнадцать."
"Stop it now."
"Рассвет."
Bucky grit his teeth, the motors in his arm whirring while he jerked against the metal holding him in place.
"Печь."
"Shut up. Shut up."
"Девять."
"Shut up!"
"добросердечный."
Something cold and dark began closing down on Bucky's mind and he fought against it, putting everything he could into getting out so he could shut that man up—
"возвращение на родину."
Bucky roared in animal rage. His arm broke free and he ripped off the rest of the restraints—
"Один."
He reached for the scientist—
"грузовой вагон."
Translations:
желание (zhelaniye) - Longing
ржaвый (rzhavyy) - Rusted
Семнадцать (Semnadtsat' ) - Seventeen
Рассвет (Rassvet) - Daybreak
Печь (Pech') - Furnace
Девять (Devyat' ) - Nine
добросердечный (dobroserdechnyy) - Benign
возвращение на родину (vozvrashcheniye na rodinu) - Homecoming
Один (Odin) - One
грузовой вагон (gruzovoy vagon) - Freightcar
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