No more daily updates after this one because writing is hard.
Chapter 20
They trailed the van to an old, abandoned factory on the edge of town. No lights were visible from inside, but Bucky could guess that they'd put blackout curtains over the windows.
"Rather foreboding," Steve noted. Bucky didn't care about the air of the place; he checked his weapons one last time, making sure that everything was in working order and that nothing had vanished when he wasn't looking.
They'd left Jordan to freeze to death. Freeze. To death.
Cold seeping into his skin his muscles his bones his mind—
An innocent punk (innocent of HYDRA, at least) didn't deserve that.
Glass frosting over in front of his eyes, reaching for the reflection he can barely see it's so cold and dark—
"Buck?"
32557038.
"I'm fine, Steve." The factory was large, but Bucky had no idea how many HYDRA personnel were inside. The van they had tailed had disappeared inside a garage.
After a few minutes spent planning, Bucky led the way behind the factory, searching for one of the maintenance entrances. Steve had deferred to him for reasons Bucky didn't really understand, and part of him found leading Steve around slightly awkward. Steve was always the one in front, Steve had the shield—
I have the arm.
The part shut up.
No guards. That made sense, if they were trying to keep up the idea that the factory was abandoned. It also made it far easier for Bucky to pick the lock on one of the doors and slip inside, Steve on his heels.
Steve eased the door shut behind them and Bucky waited a beat for his eyes to adjust before he continued walking, rifle in hand.
They heard the first guy coming before he heard them. When he rounded the corner Bucky grabbed him in a headlock and cut off his air supply. While the man struggled for air he wouldn't get, Steve grabbed the second of the two-man patrol team and put him in a headlock, forearm pressed to his windpipe. They then dragged the two unconscious men out of the way and Bucky lifted a security pass from the one he'd taken care of. He also grabbed the pistol. No doubt it was standard-issue in this facility, and it wouldn't hurt to have a weapon that had renewable ammunition.
Taking the lead again, Bucky crept through the hallways with Steve at his back and his rifle in hand. They encountered two more patrols in the narrow corridors, and dealt with both accordingly.
After a little more searching, Bucky located a ladder leading into the higher levels. Ascending quickly, Bucky ducked out of sight right as a soldier passed by. While the man had his back turned, Bucky silently rolled onto the floor and got to his feet. While Steve followed, Bucky slammed the butt of his rifle into the man's temple. He went down like a sack of potatoes and Bucky quietly lowered him to the ground.
They jogged over to what appeared to be a computer terminal with silent steps. Bucky booted it up while Steve stood guard.
The startup sequence took long enough for Bucky to almost start fidgeting, but when he began paging through the information, he frowned.
"Steve," he said under his breath, "this is just regular factory information. No sign of HYDRA files."
"The guys we knocked out are definitely HYDRA."
"Right. Which means they weren't here for very long." Bucky frowned, shutting down the computer when it became clear that it had nothing useful to offer. There was only one explanation for why a new HYDRA froce would suddenly move into a new location. "They're here for me."
Steve was already giving him that look, but he didn't say Bucky was wrong.
You know I'm right.
Bucky had to find the leader and figure out why and how they were tracking him. Then Steve could call whatever institution was cleaning up his messes now. He said it was friendly remnants of SHIELD and other agencies, but Bucky had his doubts.
HYDRA didn't appear to be using the factory as anything but an excessively large hideout. Traversing the walkways suspended over the defunct factory floor, Bucky staggered from a sudden bout of vertigo.
Fire and smoke making his eyes water with everything shaking and dark and a headache that had his brain splitting his skull or his skull splitting his brain but Steve was there and he was telling him to leave like hell Rogers I'm not—
"Just go, I'll—"
"No! Not without you!"
Steve caught him before he hit the railing. Bucky blinked the afterimages out of his eyes and brushed off Steve's worries.
32557038.
I'm fine.
Three guardsmen were talking on a lower walkway. Bucky and Steve got as close as they dared and eavesdropped while keeping an eye out for anyone that could spot them and raise the alarm.
"Why the hell are we even up here?" One guard groused. "Jim's better with heights than all of us. He should be here, not me."
"Stop complaining. We'll be moving out soon, anyway."
"Oh, sure. General Klavik said that last week."
"They just needed more information. Relax."
"More information my ass. How hard would it be to just go in and take the damned guy back? He's just a fucking robot. Wouldn't have to stand here like a buncha dumbasses that way."
Bucky kept his breathing controlled. The plates in his arm softly clicked into place. Steve stayed close, probably wondering whether he should say something.
I'm fine.
"You know it's not that easy. Bastard's holing up with Captain America."
"So? Fill anyone with enough lead and they'll go down."
Bucky had his rifle aimed at the man's head. He didn't remember lifting the weapon.
"You're both being stupid."
"Shut up. I'm being logical."
In the span of two seconds, all three guards received bullets to their brains. Bucky could feel Steve's gaze on him as he dropped to the lower catwalk, but he ignored it. After grabbing the radio from one of the guards, Bucky debated the merits of dropping their bodies onto the factory floor. It would be a pointless action. They were already dead, and doing so risked discovery.
"Leave them, Bucky," Steve said as he dropped down as well. Bucky nodded, standing straight.
"They mentioned General Klavik."
"You know him?"
"No. But he's likely the leader of this operation."
The radio in Bucky's hand crackled to life. "Four unconscious patrols in the southern maintenance halls. We've got intruders."
Bucky raised one eyebrow. It had certainly taken them a while to find the patrolmen.
He and Steve left the main area of the factory and captured the next person they came across. Yanking the woman into a back room, Bucky held a knife to her throat.
"Where is Klavik?"
Her face had gone white. "You're—"
"Klavik. Location. Now."
"S-section C," she stammered.
Liar.
Bucky pressed the knife a little harder against her throat, drawing a thin line of blood that quickly slipped down her neck and stained her shirt.
"I won't ask again."
She bared her teeth. "Hail HYDRA."
Frustration and rage iced over to form cold fury. He stared the woman down, bringing the knife up and holding the point in front of her eye. He brought it close enough that she tried to jerk away, but Bucky's other hand had a viselike grip and she barely moved.
"Where."
She looked past him, probably at Steve. Bucky brought the knife even closer and her gaze fixed back on him.
Fear. He could see it in her eyes.
Good.
He just had to make her more afraid of him than her superiors. Bucky adjusted his grip on the knife slightly and smiled. He could do that.
Two minutes and three knives later Bucky and Steve were heading to Section B, floor two, room 263. They were careful to take the least populated routes, consulting a map of the facility that Steve had pulled up on his phone. They couldn't avoid enemies entirely, however, and by the time they made it to where they had to be, Bucky was down to two magazines on his rifle and only one for the p220. He'd switched to using the HYDRA-issue weapon, looting ammunition from their enemies. A bullet had grazed his cheek and though the cut had already begun to close, Bucky could feel Steve looking his way even more frequently.
Bucky glanced around the corner and saw two guards standing outside the door. His pistol didn't have a silencer, but the rifle did. After signaling to Steve, Bucky stepped around the corner and dropped the guards with two clean shots. He and Steve advanced quickly, with Steve disabling the security camera before they got in range with a well-placed throw of his shield.
The door was old and a little rusted. It would be impossible to open it silently, but the schematics of the building showed that it was the only entrance and exit into the room.
Bucky switched to the pistol. Steve kicked the door down without needing to be asked and they ducked the first hail of gunfire. Bucky blocked two bullets with his arm, feeling a third narrowly miss his thigh. The pistol found the gunmen and Bucky eliminated them while registering that Steve was doing the same on the opposite end of the large room.
Flickering light made it hard to see—someone had shot out the light with a stray bullet, leaving nothing but computer screens. A man tried to jump Bucky but he ducked under him, unsheathing a knife and opening up his stomach before he hit the ground. Flicking the blood off the blade, Bucky sheathed it and turned his attention to the only man left standing in the room. The man was staring, his eyes wide with not-quite-fear, and his hand reached for the gun holstered at his waist.
"I wouldn't do that," Steve warned softly. The man—he could only be General Klavik—glanced at Steve and scowled before raising his hands, palms up.
"And here I thought we'd be going to you," he snarled at Bucky. Bucky stared at him. The man stared at the pistol in Bucky's hand.
"Why were you pursuing me?" Bucky asked.
"You're our soldier. Our assassin. Our Asset. You think you can just run away? No, we're here to bring you back. Special orders."
"From whom?" Steve sounded tense. Klavik grinned.
"Wouldn't you like to know, Captain."
This man wasn't like that woman from earlier. Bucky could see it in his eyes; there was no fear there. He wouldn't break easily, if at all.
"Why did you kidnap the boy?" Bucky asked. Klavik glanced at him, something akin to surprise in his eyes that vanished quickly.
"How far you have regressed…it will take some time to make you fully functional again."
Bucky's grip on the gun tightened. "I don't do that anymore."
"You will."
"Answer the question."
"Hail HYDRA."
Bucky switched his aim to the man's leg and his finger tightened on the trigger—
"Sputnik."
OBEY.
Current mission priority set 0. Awaiting new orders.
The Soldier lowered the gun and removed its finger from the trigger.
"Bucky?"
That was not the Handler. The Handler was looking at the Soldier. The Soldier listened for orders.
"Kill Captain America."
New orders accepted. Adjusting mission parameters.
The Soldier turned to face the target, pistol raised. Three shots, all deflected. Long- and medium-range combat ineffective. Close-quarters combat required.
"Bucky, stop! Bucky!"
Target distracted. Shield out of position; left side exposed.
"Bucky!"
Target not fighting back. Greater speed and power needed to circumvent defense. Gun unholstered, shot fired at target's—
NO.
Shot missed. Bullet deflected, gun knocked away. Target not pressing advantage. Priority switching to knives—
STOP.
Target skilled in close combat. Target's strength exceeded that of the Soldier. Advantages: metal arm, superior arsenal. Target only on the defensive.
The Soldier landed a punch with its left arm and Steve staggered back—
Steve.
ELIMINATE THE TARGET.
Another two shots. Two misses.
What.
The Soldier lunged forward and tackled the target, tossing its —his that's Steve — shield away with the metal arm. Four solid blows connected before the target slipped away. The Soldier had sustained damage on his chest from the target's foot when it got away.
The pain was negligible.
ELIMINATE THE TARGET.
The target had recovered its shield. The Soldier pressed the advantage of the fight's momentum, pushing the target back against a wall.
"Bucky, please! I know you're in there."
Hesitation—
ELIMINATE THE TARGET.
The knife buried itself in the wall a fraction of an inch from the target. The Soldier felt a flare of—something. In his stomach. Unpleasant; he wrenched the knife out of the wall and engaged in combat once more.
STOP.
Target fleeing out of range. Medium-range weapon required.
PLEASE.
The target—
Steve—
ELIMINATE THE TARGET—
Blocked a shot with his shield and then threw the shield. It hit the second pistol out of the Soldier's hand. Proximity needed.
The Soldier got closer, pushing the target back again. It kicked out the target's knee when the target's defense lapsed and the target fell. The Soldier pulled out a knife—
LISTEN.
The target was staring, its —his — blue eyes wide open and split lip sluggishly leaking blood. He wasn't moving.
"Bucky."
The…feeling. In its stomach—overwhelming. Nausea, momentary vision impairment—
UNTIL THE END OF THE LINE.
Pain beyond the mission failure exploded behind the Soldier's eyes. The Soldier's brain was fragmenting into thousands of pieces that cut and sliced away at the mission as they scattered and it couldn't focus, couldn't see past those blue eyes the word and the name parading on the edge of its consciousness—
ELIMINATE THE TARGET.
Images, so fast and bright they left stabbing pains that drove hot nails through the Soldier's skull and it suddenly knew through the pain—
Steve. Not the target. Steve.
The knife fell from numb fingers.
ELIMINATE THE TARGET.
The Soldier backed away, its—
His. Bucky. You're Bucky—
Hands on his head, brain splitting because—
ELIMINATE THE TARGET.
He was yelling something. Numbers. He shouted them over the screaming in his head, over the yelling and noise from the outside world—
32557038.
He was on the ground. It was suddenly very quiet.
32557038.
Respiration elevated, heart rate elevated.
Eliminate the target.
"He's dead, Buck. I ki — Klavik is dead."
The Handler is dead.
Respiration elevated. Heart rate elevated.
Breathe.
The—Steve was coming closer.
Breathe. Fucking breathe.
Eliminate the target.
Shut up.
"Stay back," the S—Bucky growled, knowing that he was going to attack if Steve got too close the same way he knew his world was spinning the wrong direction. His metal hand flexed and the motors whirred.
Eliminate the target.
He bit his lip hard, using the burst of pain to focus. "Don't—just don't come any closer."
Steve listened. For far too long, the only things Bucky could hear were his own breathing and the deafening silence.
Eliminate the target.
32557038.
He got his heartbeat and breathing under control but he didn't know how long it took. His metal arm was still ready for combat and Bucky could feel his body vibrating with tension so he slowly rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, forcing himself to remain in the open and vulnerable position because goddammit Steve is right there.
32557038. 32557038. 32557038.
Eliminate the target.
Shut up.
Please, just shut up.
"Buck?"
The name grounded him almost as much as the numbers. Steve's voice reminded him that he wasn't the Soldier, he was Bucky, and fucking hell he'd attacked Steve again.
Cold. He was cold.
"We have to get out of here," Steve continued. Bucky flicked his gaze over to the other man and hid the wince he felt when the voice in the back of his head hit an entirely new pitch.
Eliminate the target.
32557038.
"Yeah."
Get up.
One step at a time. Don't look at Steve. Focus on the mission—focus on getting out. The mission is getting out. Focus on your breathing, your mind—
Eliminate the target.
32557038.
Bucky substituted the target with the patrols they came across. Killing them on the way out was far easier than on the way in, even though the alarm was raised. By the time he walked out of the factory, he was out of bullets for his rifle and down a knife. He was splattered with blood, almost none of it his own.
Steve was a few paces behind him. He had crimson staining his uniform as well, but not as much.
"Are you okay?" He asked.
Damage minimal. Functionality unimpaired. Bucky said as much. Steve didn't respond.
Eliminate the target.
The voice was quieter now, but still there. And Bucky couldn't say no. He ignored it or told it to shut up instead.
(Was fighting Steve the punishment?)
"We're going back to the house," Steve was saying. Bucky made an effort to focus on his words. "I'll call Sam, and we can—we'll figure this out. Okay?"
Steve sounded strained. His voice had cracked.
Elimi—
Shut up.
Breathe.
"Yeah, okay."
Why did he feel so unsteady?
Breathe.
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