Chapter Ten
Bucky's POV
Everyday I awoke to the same sight. It was the sight of ugly gray, slab concrete walls with matching floors, a single light hanging in the middle of the ceiling, a single window with steel bars covering the windows, and a steel door blocking any escape. The bad part about being held captive in the Soviet Union is that it always seems to be freezing. Well, not the only bad part, but it was quite overwhelming. The only time anyone ever came to speak to me was to bring me the poor excuse for a meal or to put me to work, despite the fact that I only had one arm.
So when I was awoken in the early hours of the morning by the sound of the steel door to my cell sliding open I was severely confused. Two guards walked into the cell followed by a short, somewhat stout man with a round face and wire framed glasses perched on his nose. He looked vaguely familiar but I couldn't place where I had seen him before. I sat up on the extremely uncomfortable cot and threw the thin sheet off my legs.
"Barnes, stand." The soldier to the left of the mysterious man ordered. I rolled my eyes before slowly standing and leaning against the cold wall.
"Sergeant Barnes. I am doctor Arnim Zola." The man spoke in a heavy accent. That's when it clicked. Zola was the one that was on the train… that I fell off of into a ravine.
"Okay." I shrugged trying to hide the anger building in my chest.
"I have come to offer you an opportunity." The man said simply taking a few steps toward me.
"I'm listening." I said, still not fully invested.
"We have developed new technologies that we would like to offer you." He smiled slightly, obviously trying to intrigue me. "We understand that you lost your arm in an accident about two years ago and we have developed a fully functional prosthetic arm."
"And you want to offer this to me?" I questioned knowing that there had to be a catch somewhere in this situation.
"Yes, Mr. Barnes. I understand you lost your arm after trying to capture me. I have served my time and I am a changed man." Zola said with a sly smile.
"Okay, and, hypothetically, if I were to accept your offer what would this entail?" I asked with my interest piqued.
"We would bring you to a secluded facility where you would undergo one procedure to remove the remainder of your arm up to the shoulder and another to attach the prosthetic." Zola explained suddenly sounding very scientific. "So, what do you say Sergeant Barnes?"
I took a moment to consider it. I was shocked. I had been here for almost two years and never been offered any means of leaving. This might be my only chance. "What happens after the surgery?"
"You're free to go." Zola said as if it was supposed to be obvious.
I stopped to consider for a minute before making my final decision. "Okay, I'll do it." I stated simply.
Zola's face lifted into a large grin for a moment before returning to it's usual resting state. "Very well. We will leave immediately." Zola proclaimed. The two guards walked over to me and grabbed me by my arm. They pushed me toward the door and out of the prison that was only inhabited by prisoners captured during the war. There weren't many because most of them had been released and claimed. To my knowledge everyone that I knew in New York has no idea of… well my current state.
I was pushed into a car and we drove for hours before finally reaching their secret facility. It was in the middle of the mountains that were covering in eternal snow. The room they kept me in was certainly nicer than my cell.
A day before the initial surgery to remove the rest of my arm Zola came into my room with some other men to take some measurements to make sure the prosthetic would fit properly. Once that was finished Zola stayed behind and sat at the table in the corner of the room. He had a large file sitting in front of him and he kept eyeing me suspiciously as he read over it.
"Can I help you, Zola?" I inquired, finally addressing his constant stares.
"Oh nothing, Sergeant Barnes." He said simply, standing up and exiting the room.
The next day I lay in a hospital bed, being prepped for surgery. Zola entered the room and sat in a chair next to the hospital bed. "May I ask you some questions, Sergeant Barnes?"
"Yes." I answered simply shifting in the bed as the nurses checked my pulse and such.
"You grew up in New York, yes?" He asked looking down at the file.
"Yes, I did."
"Alongside Steve Rogers?"
"Yes."
"Now, were you married, seeing anyone, engaged maybe?" Zola pried.
"I was engaged." I answered cautiously, not understanding what this had anything to do with the surgery.
"To a Violet Brooks, am I correct?" He asked with a somewhat dark tone.
"What does this have to do with anything?" I questioned starting to become agitated.
"Just answer the questions, Barnes. It will go by quicker that way." He practically demanded.
"Leave her out of this." I practically growled at him. I started to sit up but a nurse quickly pushed me back down and gave me a look of warning.
"Just answer yes or no to the questions I ask and you will be out of surgery before you know it." He demanded. My teeth clenched together and my jaw set firmly waiting for him to continue. "How old is Violet?"
I took a moment to think before answering through clenched teeth, "26."
"Does your fiancee know that you are still alive?" Zola continued. I shook my head in response. "When was the last time you had any contact with her?"
"What do any of these questions have to do with the surgery, Zola?" I demanded. I sat up again and the nurses tried to restrain me but I shook out of their grasps and it was my turn to send them a cautionary look. They stepped away and shrunk away slightly.
Zola remained silent, writing things in another language that I could not decipher. He finally looked up from his file and closed it with a pleased expression on his face. "I think I've found the perfect match." He said finally before standing.
"What do you mean?" I demanded. I made a move to grab him but the guards that had been posted in either corner of the room behind the bed grabbed my shoulders and held me back. "Leave Violet alone!" I yelled watching two new officers who Zola addressed as Abram and Varick enter the room.
"Retrieve Violet from New York and bring her here. Then the surgery can begin and we can finally see some results." Zola informed them. Anger erupted inside me and I tried to pounce at Zola but a guard stuck me with something and pushed me back down. I looked over and saw it was a syringe filled with what I was assuming to be a sedative because I suddenly became very tired.
"What are you doing?" I questioned feeling myself grow more and more tired by the second.
"Let's just say, there's always a catch." Zola said with an evil smile before turning and leaving the room and I felt myself slip into unconsciousness.
A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter from Bucky's perspective! It was really fun to try to write from his point of view and I hope you all like how it came out! Don't forget to follow and leave a review if you like this chapter, it really helps encourage me to write more and update quicker! Thank you all so much for reading and I will see you all in the next chapter!
- Nearlybandoms