Authors note: Sorry friends. This is a random scene that I have in my head that doesn't fit into how I am writing the sequel of this story but is still part of this tale. Call it a missing scene,out of time and place not long enough to be it's own chapter but just a hint of what our dearest Sergeant Barnes might have lurking in his fragile, recovering mind. Featuring a young Rumlow in his first interaction with the Asset! Still writing my next installment of this tale, 'To Be The Man That I Am... Bucky's recovery!' The details of his abuse from the Russian Hydra Handler will never be fully discussed or graphically depicted in the next story as I am more into writing the hurt/comfort aspect of trauma then the actual violation and assault. It will just be hinted at for emotional devastation :)

Warning M for mention of non-con

The Winter Soldier was huddled in the corner of a Hydra lab, blood covering his hands, chest, and face, cowering as he mumbled in broken Russian and rocked. His eyes were dilated with unknown fear, his mind lost in a frenzy of fragmented memories. He was surrounded by dead bodies, a few Technicians still alive as they choked on their own blood, white coats splattered in crimson, the sound of an alarm going off with the echo of men shouting filling the Soldier's hyper senses. He was naked and shivering, body still recovering from Cryo.

The Asset had come to on a metal slab with the men standing over him, taking measurements and jotting down notes on their clip boards. His body had been paralyzed from the numb burning of his blood flow circulating through frozen limbs. Despite the vague familiarity of the torturous process, there was something different, something incredibly wrong and The Soldier struggled to understand why he felt the impulse to fight back and flea his keepers.

He remembered!... He knew he should not, he knew he was suppose to wake up blank and confused and disoriented, malleable and willing to let the technicians work on him and his handler's prepare him for a mission but something must have gone wrong because he was not calm, he was not sedated or kept compliant by medication. His eyes franticly scanned the room as his conscious awareness crept back into his mind. Something had happened. Something bad and sickening, and degrading beyond his conditioned tolerance. Something that left him feeling vulnerable and weak and... afraid... The Winter Soldier was not programed to feel, to react to pain, to process emotions and he was not definitely not suppose to remember.

The white coat Technicians had recognized that something was wrong the moment his heart rate increased, moving around him in uncertainty as one grabbed a flash light and shined it into his eyes. The Asset growled and forced his uncoordinated body to move, realizing that for some reason he was not properly restrained as he should have been during the defrosting process. With clumsy and jerking movements, limbs flailing, he lunged with violent force toward the shocked men in lab coats who had not expected his reaction, unprepared for Hydra's greatest weapon to awaken as an unhinged, volatile bomb.

Rumlow was the first to enter the newly constructed lab, gun drawn and eyes wide as he scanned the carnage then looked directly at the Soldier with a mixture of wariness and awe. Jack Rollins was right behind him as were the other Strike Team members, all guns loaded and directed at the trembling weapon who growled wildly as he cursed them in Russian, huddling in the corner.

"What the Fuck!?" Jack gasped as a dyeing Hydra scientist reached out to him for help. He glared at the white coat and kicked him away.

"Where's Pierce?... We gotta figure out what just happened,... The Asset is malfunctioning!... And get the Captain down here!" Rumlow hissed as Jack nodded and got on the phone. Rumlow slowly approached the unstable weapon with slow cautious steps.

"Hey there big guy,... No need to panic,..." Rumlow spoke in a calm even tone, hoping his Russian was understandable. He had been required to learn the foreign language over a year ago when Pierce announced that the American head of Hydra was in negotiation with the crumbling Soviet Union to take on responsibility for maintaining and operating the Fist of Hydra, the most valuable Asset and lethal weapon ever created by the shadow organization. The newly appointed Secretary had mandated that all Hydra personnel that would be in direct contact with the Asset must become fluent in Russian.

The Human Weapon was not easily handed over and after almost a year of resistance form the Russian's Pierce had triumphantly returned to the States with the Frozen Asset, and a very outdated maintenance chair. The Secretary was very excited about his new acquisition but had mentioned that he was frustrated by the continued resistance from the fast declining Russian Hydra branch who had calmed to have missed placed the programing and conditioning documentation needed to understand how to maintain and control the lethal weapon. He had been assured by his Soviet counter part and former Handler of the Winter Soldier that the vital procedure manual and video footage would send it along when it was recovered. Despite concern expressed by the now dead Technicians, Pierce had ordered the Asset be revived from Cryo so they could accurately asses his current condition and abilities after a prolonged span of inactivity. That decision had clearly been a mistake.

Rumlow came into view of the Asset who at the moment appeared to be a shivering, bloody mess, crouched like a wild animal, long wet hair curtained over his blood smeared face. Rumlow kept his gun ready, trigger finger locked but at his side one hand palm up, crouching down to become eye level with the flesh and bone weapon. He stayed several feet away as he called out in a firm but calm tone, his Russian harsh and bitter sounding to his own ears.

"Look at Me,... My name is Rumlow,... I am on the American Hydra Strike Team,...You have been Transferred here from Russia... You are the Fist of Hydra,... You will follow our orders,... do you understand?" Rumlow questioned with a strong unflinching gaze. The Asset's wide, confused eyes drifted up toward the man in front of him, a weary look on his blood stained face as he muttered to himself in Russian gibberish, hands clenched in fists as he stopped Rocking, the shivering slowing. His eyes slowly narrowed as his focus remained on Rumlow and he tilted his head to the side like a dog trying to understand his master.

"You will follow orders!... Do you understand Soldier?" Rumlow's tone took on a stronger more commanding sound, as The Asset studied the unfamiliar face. After a long moment the Asset nodded once not braking his gaze with Rumlow.

"Why did you attack these men?... These are Hydra's doctors,... they are needed to maintain you." Rumlow demanded. The Asset glanced toward the multiple dead bodies then huffed as he looked down at his blood covered hands, confusion evident on his troubled face. He bit his lip and brought his flesh hand up to grip his hair as he closed his eyes.

"Soldier,... you will answer when questioned by a commanding officer!... Why did you attack Hydra's doctors?" Rumlow's tone became a bark of an order and he felt a cold stillness settle over the room as the Asset opened his eyes, the confusion gone and a deadly glare settling in it's place.

"I remember!" The Asset spat with bitter resentment, harsh and angry Russian words sounding strained. The statement and fierceness of the weapon's eyes was startling and Rumlow felt his body go rigged. He forced his expression to remain calm and his voice steady despite the pounding of his heart.

"What do you remember Soldier?" Rumlow asked cautiously, knowing that despite a lack of complete understanding of the maintenance process, it was known and expected that the Weapon would awaken from Cyro with his memory of past mission's wiped but his programing and training remaining in-tacked. The Soldier's body began to shake again but not with fear, as he suddenly let out an anguished growl and slammed his metal fist into the cement floor over and over, shattering the ground beneath it. The Strike team looked at each other with growing apprehension and Rumlow focused on maintaing his calm composure despite the truly frightening display of unbridled rage and the deadly power he wielded.

The Soldier gritted his teeth as the distorted flashes of memory flooded his minds eye, images of his Russian Handler ordering him to remain still as the guards and Strike Team took turns using his body in a way that was not only painful but but made him feel sick and overcome with feelings he had no name for. His skin crawled as his jaw ached and his battered insides felt as though he was being torn apart. They were laughing as he choked and he felt his blood running down his exposed body. He was being punished for no identified reason. And the lust for his pain was evident in the eyes of his Handler as the man grinned sadistically at his abused Asset.

The Weapon snapped back to the present as new voices entered the room, a large man with heavy steps came toward him ordering him to stand up in Russian. The Soldier rose slowly, fists still clenched as he looked up at the owner of the new voice. His naked body was still shaking as he breathed harshly through his noise, eyes filled with seething rage. The Captain of the Strike team studied the Asset's expression, face and torso smeared in blood then he spoke to Rumlow, his eyes still fixed on the unstable weapon.

"What happened here?" The Captain spoke in English to his junior officer as Rumlow stood slowly, gun still locked and loaded, remaining at his side.

"He said he remembers." Rumlow's spoke his gaze remaining on The Winter Soldier.

"Remembers what?" The Captain snapped at Rumlow, a baton clutched in one hand and a electric prod in the other as he glared back at the Weapon, challenging him to show deviance or aggression.

"I don't know Sir,... he didn't say... Something from a past mission or something the Russian's did to him." Rumlow suggested as he eyed the Soldier with apprehension.

"They haven't sent him on a mission in over eight years,... But Pierce said they had brought him out stasis when he was there a few months ago to make sure the Secretary would be imprinted as the new Handler." The Captain spoke with speculative thought as he gripped each training weapon in his hands firmly, ready to strike.

"What do you Remember Soldier?" The Captain ordered, returning his language to Russian as the Asset stiffened and his head lowered, eyes narrowing. His jaw was locked and as he focused on the order his mind struggled to formulate a response. In truth he had no idea how to describe the heinous memory of his undeserved punishment or the flood of unknown emotions that went with it.

"Soldier,... you will answer!... What do you remember!?" The Captain shouted in Russian and the tone demanded the Asset's attention as he met the man's eyes. The Soldier felt a strange sensation of panic grip his chest as his knees buckled and he crumpled to the floor, his breathing becoming frantic and labored. He squeezed his eyes shut as he began hammering the sides of his head with his fists, animalistic cries ripping through his shaking body. He could not explain what had been done to him and he knew to not answer would receive a punishment. The agony of remembering was shattering his ability to function as he was programed to and there was no way to handle the chaos in his own mind or the debilitating grip of raw emotions he could not understand, drowning him in pain.

There was more shouting and then he felt the stab of dart shoot into the side of his neck. He growled violently as he pulled the dart out of his neck and lunged forward toward the Captain who deflected his attack with the baton and electric prod, invoking a howl of pain from the Asset who was struggling to get up onto his hands and knees. The Captain struck him twice more across his broad back and then kicked him once in his ribs before the Asset felt a sudden hot numbness wash over him, his body becoming heavy as his breathing slowed. He collapsed to the floor, dropping the needle as his body shook with tremors, his adrenaline dissipating as the powerful tranquilizer set in. His vision began to blur as his limp body lay in a heap next to the bloody corpses of the white coats. His last conscious thought was a need to join the dead and never wake up.