19 Names

Trigger warning for violence

When Bucky returned to his hotel room, there was a stack of manilla files sitting on his bed. He disliked Fury's sneakiness and wished he didn't have to worry now about who knew where his room was and who had been there, but regardless, he had information now and he couldn't complain. Bucky sifted through them and found pictures and names and information. Fury had made notes in the corners of some and labeled each file with numbers. Bucky was alarmed to discover that most of his targets were suspiciously close. It was as though they had all been moving in on him. Bucky shuddered and put aside his fear, beginning to make plans for the first file, a one Artyom Kablukov. Russian, of course. He was 47, he was currently in DC and he was the closest to Bucky. He was apparently staying in a hotel four blocks away.

Bucky found a hat and pushed the brim down so it mostly covered his face and walked four blocks down to the hotel his target was staying. He looked up at the rows of windows, his hands in his pockets, and counted them until he found the room he was looking for. His gut reaction was to find a good place in the building across the road to sit and watch for a good shot, but he made himself stop. He wanted more than that. He wanted answers.

So Bucky waited. He tracked Artyom Kablukov for a few days or so until he was sure of his schedule and then he devised a plan.

Kablukov went out for most of the day. He ate at restaurants, spent a suspicious amount of time walking past Bucky's hotel, and bought souvenirs. On the whole, he spoke to no one and Bucky didn't see him take any calls.

An important thing Bucky wanted to take notice of was how much of a coward Kablukov was and how much he valued his own life over Hydra's well-being. The cowards were easier to pressure. Bucky could point a gun and they would tell him everything. But heros never talked and if Kablukov was of a stronger will, Bucky would have to get creative in his threats or else he wasn't worth interrogating at all.

That night, Kablukov got home late. He shut the door behind him and as he turned to flick on the lights, a metal fist came out of darkness and socked him in the face. Kablukov gasped and fell backwards. There was a gleam of metal in the darkness and Bucky stepped forward, wanting his target to see his arm and not have any doubts about who was there in his hotel room with him.

"We can do this the easy way," Bucky said in Russian. "Or the hard way. Your choice."

"You," Kablukov gasped.

"I have a name," said Bucky. "Not that you would care." Kablukov started to pull himself up and Bucky pressed a foot on his chest, shoving him back down to the floor. "I want to know about Hydra. Now."

"And if I refuse?" Kablukov asked. Bucky glared down at him.

"Don't refuse," he said, pressing on his target's chest harder. "You'll regret it." The man laughed.

"This is a building full of people, a city just full of them and you think you can come in here and threaten me and not be discovered?" He scoffed.

"I don't know, can I?" Bucky said. "You tell me." He stared steady into Kablukov's face as if to remind him exactly to whom he was speaking. "I want to know where Hydra's headquarters is. Where are you regrouping?"

"You are alone," Kablukov said with a grin. "Even if you think you have help, you are so alone, yeah? We are growing and you will never be able to take us all." Bucky sighed and frowned. He kneeled down now, pressing his weight into his knee on the man's chest and held his throat with his left hand. Kablukov's eyes bugged. Bucky put his face close to Kablukov's.

"I'm going to ask you one more time," Bucky said quietly. "This is your last chance. Where is your headquarters?" Kablukov grinned as he gasped to breath. Why is it that you always smile before you die, Bucky thought, sickened. They always smile.

"You don't want to go back to Russia," Kablukov said.

"Is that where the headquarters is?" Bucky asked.

"We are scattered," Kablukov replied. "I know nothing more."

"Liar," Bucky said as he snapped his neck.

Out on the street again, Bucky straightened his jacket collar up around his face. Kablukov had been right, Bucky wasn't keen on returning to Russia, but he figured if he could attack the heart of Hydra, the rest would wither. He wasn't here to cut off heads and wait for more to grow. He wanted to stab the whole thing right in the heart.

The next morning, Bucky awoke early and considered calling Natasha. He didn't really care what they did or talked about, but he realized he didn't want to be alone and he craved company. But he knew he couldn't just call her without a reason. He played over the scenario in his head multiple times and wasn't sure if he could do it. What would he say to her? Should he suggest they do something together? He was afraid he just didn't know how to talk to people anymore.

A knock on the door interrupted Bucky's thoughts and he froze up, his hands curling into fists, staring at the door. A second later, he realized that he was being paranoid and there was no way Hydra was at his door and he loosened up a little.

"Bucky?" A familiar voice called. Steve. Bucky exhaled tiredly, wishing Steve would just go away despite Bucky's desire for company, and then feeling bad that he'd thought it. Bucky approached the door and looked through the peephole. It was Steve alright, and he was alone. Bucky unlatched the door and opened it just enough to slip himself out.

"Do you need something?" Bucky asked coldly. Steve was looking around the hallway with a sad frown.

"You're staying here?" he said. Bucky raised his hands a little.

"Clearly," he replied. Steve made a face.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked. Bucky actually wasn't sure off-hand. He hadn't thought whether he was comfortable or not. He supposed he was comfortable enough.

"Sure," Bucky said.

"Your cheek looks better," Steve commented. Bucky let out a breath.

"Steve, why are you here?" Bucky asked point-blank.

"Can I come in?" Steve asked. Bucky glanced back towards his room and considered it. He supposed there wasn't a reason Steve couldn't come in. He moved out of the way of the door and let Steve enter. Part of him wished he'd just given in and called Natasha.

"It's warm in here," Steve commented as Bucky followed him in and shut the door.

"Well, I don't like it cold," Bucky replied. Steve half-grinned.

"I knew that," he said. Bucky looked at him, a little surprised, as Bucky had just figured it out himself.

"What else do you know about me?" Bucky asked. Steve looked over at him, eyebrows raised just the slightest.

"I know you've got a stupid sense of humor," he said with a chuckle. "I know you like to look clean. It makes you feel more confident." Bucky listened as Steve rattled off facts, his heart breaking as he heard all these things about himself that he didn't know. Steve continued walking around the hotel room, inspecting Bucky's living conditions as he talked. Bucky watched him. "You're a brilliant dancer," Steve said. "And you were always more suave than me. You not scared to talk to women. You love being with people. You like vanilla over chocolate. You like rollercoasters."

"What's my favorite color?" Bucky asked, his voice sounding more desperate than he had meant it to. Steve stopped and looked at him, as though realizing for a moment just how important all of this was to Bucky. Bucky watched Steve sigh.

"You like green," he said. "And yellow."

"Do I have a favorite food?" Bucky asked. Steve thought for a minute.

"Spaghetti,"

"And meatballs?" Bucky prodded, uncertain. Steve bit his lip.

"I'm… Not sure," he said. "Do you want to try it?" Bucky stared at him, realizing with a sinking feeling that the moment was probably over. Steve couldn't give him all the answers. He shook his head slowly.

"No, I'm fine," he said. "Did you have something you wanted to say?" Steve was inching towards the door now, although for the first time, Bucky didn't want him to leave.

"No," Steve said, excusing himself suddenly. "I'll talk to you later, Bucky."

"Bye," Bucky said sadly and Steve was gone.