"Dr. Erskine?".
I jolted up from the folder I had been submerged in. The story of a man who had much worse ahead of him and didn't even know about these plans. I sighed and looked once more into the steel-gray eyes on the photo before looking up.
"Mr. Karpov," I replied, puzzled, "to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"
It was him who had brought me here, if it can be called that.
I had felt that someone had been following me all day, but I had not taken it seriously. After all, Vasily Karpov had been waiting for me at my parents' house that very night. 'Your father would be proud of you', was the first thing he said to me, 'So young and already so talented'. But I believed exactly the opposite, he would probably rather turn in his grave if he knew what his invention was now being used for.
Karpov had sat in my father's wingback chair in the old library and read my doctoral thesis, which my father valued so much that he even had it on display in his library. The former sergeant had not been surprised that I had tried to escape after discovering the HYDRA emblem on his jacket. So he had already positioned HYDRA agents in front of every escape route. He had introduced himself as the head of the Winter Soldier program and said he would need me to realize his vision.
"You know why you are here", his accent was hard to miss, "there is a lot of work ahead".
'Work,' I thought, stopping myself from snorting contemptuously. This wasn't work, it was torture. Not mine - but I had read the file in front of me so many times and I was sure I had not studied medicine for this purpose. Not to turn people into machines. It hadn't been easy to get by as a woman in college. But my father had called in all his contacts who had supported me.
Vasily Karpov was still standing expectantly in the doorway of my room and did not seem to change his mind.
In my mind I said goodbye to the man with the gray-blue eyes and the uniform on the photo, closed the file and put it on my insufficiently lit desk. There was something intimidating about the dark-haired man in front of me, as if I would be next on the surgery list if I didn't do what he asked for. I followed him into the operating room with my head a little lowered.
"Go ahead, doctor. You'll get all the help you need."
In the middle of the room, a man was lying on a gurney and if his chest wasn't slowly rising and falling, I would have thought he was already dead. I had never met this man before, however, I knew his face instandly.
"Sergeant Barnes, can you hear me?".
There was no response. He opened his mouth, but nothing happened. His dark clothes were dripping wet, cold and his left side was covered in blood. I quickly saw the cause, something or someone had cut off his left arm.
"What happened?", I asked, tearing myself away from the almost comatose face and looking into Karpov's piercing eyes.
"A soviet soldier found him on the edge of a river in the Swiss Alps, fallen 400 feet".
So the serum had actually saved his life, a normal person could never have survived that fall. Still, I could only pity the brunette man, what would happen to him was worse than death. HYDRA's plans haunted me even into my deepest nightmares. I had tried to contradict the project manager when I had read everything. No human being could voluntarily participate in this kind of ordeal. I quickly realized that I had no choice.
"Sergeant Barnes?", I repeated a little louder and put on my gloves.
I checked for a pulse, too fast for his condition, probably also triggered by the serum. He had to get out of those clothes, blood kept dripping from the torn sleeve. Without hesitation, I grabbed a pair of scissors and wanted to open it further to get a picture of the horrible accident. But one quick movement and I froze. Steel gray eyes stared into hand was around my neck, he had straightened up and I wondered how he could even move through that pain. His eyes were full of fear, suffering and a hint of anger.
"Don't touch me", James Barnes hissed through clenched teeth. So softly that probably only I could hear him. I didn't know if this was intentional or if he just didn't have the strength for anything more.
"I want to help you, Sergeant".
He must have quickly regretted his hasty movement; he dropped back onto his back, groaned, and closed his eyes again. His breathing was panting, his jaw visibly tensed.
"Then kill me," he gasped, the air escaping his lungs in pain, "please".
"Propofol and morphine, now," I instructed the intern, who had been watching curiously.
"The serum will break it down too quickly for the whole operation," Karpov replied instead, "Get started".
Meanwhile, I had freed James Barnes' remaining upper arm from its clothes and continued cutting toward the chest. The arm was not severed, it was torn off.
"I will not perform surgery on anyone while they are fully conscious," I removed my gloves, Karpov looked at me in anger.
Sergeant Barnes' body lost its tension and I checked his pulse again to make sure that his wish for me had not already come true. He passed out, the pain was too much.
"You are not in the position to talk back, doctor," he stepped a little closer to me, "your problem has just been solved anyway. I trust you, my dear".
Karpov even forced a smile, turned around and a couple of agents followed him out. Again I instructed my assistant to prepare the anesthetic and painkiller, I didn't care what this cruel monster or the rest here thought of me. Most of the agents and staff didn't like the fact that Karpov had brought in a woman. They all did not want to reveal it directly, but I knew it very well. I often got looks that told me I would probably be better off in the kitchen or in their bedroom. I inevitably wrinkled my nose.
Despite their obnoxious thoughts, most Hydra agents were perfectly polite to me in a one-on-one conversation most of the time, even if much of it was an act. No one was really mean or condescending, I didn't live in a cell but a real room - this one wasn't really furnished neatly, but this wouldn't help me to feel at home here anyway.
Vasily Karpov was a cold man despite the fake facade, which he had already proven in his time in the military. He was really perfect for this job - a cruel man with a cruel goal. But as empatheticless and calculating as he was, he was also intelligent. So he should also be right about his prophecy. James woke up halfway through his operation and filled the room with heart-rending screams that would probably follow me for a long time. As a precaution, my involuntary 'assistants' had strapped the patient to the gurney, so he was now trying with all his might to free himself from his terrible position.
The leather creaked and groaned, and if Barnes were in better condition, his restraints would surely have simply shattered under his muscular strength.
He stared at me, I didn't think the expression in his eyes was any worse than his desperate cries of pain. We had to remove some of the ruptured muscle and tendon and clean the wound - pure torture while awake. Immediately, one of the interns was beside me with a new shot of anesthesia, which was also quickly used. After a few seconds, the kicking movements of his legs subsided more and more, but his gaze was still directed at me. Heavy, slow breaths left his throat and I asked for more painkillers. I wanted to spare him as much misery as possible.
With quick and skillful grips, I cut away the torn infected skin and sewed everything up. There was no way to work sterilely in HYDRA's operating room, so I hoped the serum was doing its best to protect him from infection.
While the interns left the room, I wanted to wait until my patient would wake up again.
I pulled a chair up to the table and carefully cleaned the small cuts and scratches on his face and torso. I briefly caught myself thinking about loosening his restraints, but then remembered his first reaction to my touch and decided not to.
"What did you do to deserve all of this?", I asked, but more to myself.
I had read all about his past, of course. It was no coincidence that James had ended up in HYDRAs arms again. They had tried a modified form of the super-soldier serum on him a few years ago and thus sealed his fate.
His pulse and blood pressure, which in the meantime were monitored by a device as I requested, told me that he would soon wake up. As a precaution, I moved my chair back a little.
"Am I dead?" he asked after a while and slowly opened his eyes, blinking.
"I'm afraid not".
He did not answer me, his breathing was calm and I hoped that at least the painkiller was taking effect.
"How do you feel, Sergeant?".
He still ignored me, but turned his head slightly in my direction.
"Are you in a lot of pain?".
I stood up and looked for something to write on one of the many tables, Karpov required reports for all examinations, which would also end up in his file.
"You've lost a lot of blood, I'm going to order a transfusion," I muttered and began to write down my thoughts.
Still no response and I gasped a little. I could only guess how he must be feeling right now, so I looked up from my notes.
"Sergeant Barnes, I want to help you. But you have to talk to me," I said gently.
"You don't want to 'help' me," he emphasized the last word almost condescendingly, "otherwise you would have done what I asked for".
His tired eyes looked at me closely for a while. They were so hopeless and empty, quite different from the eyes I knew from the pictures in his file. HYDRA must have really done research for his file, part of it was practically an album full of photographs. One in particular I had looked at many times. Grinning next to Captain America, Steve Rogers. This man had been present at my father's murder and had even tried to avenge him.
"Tell me, how much are they offering you for this?".
I winced and gripped my pen a little tighter. He had hit a sore spot that I couldn't hide.
"Nothing at all," I growled, "unless kidnapping my little brother counts as payment".
I stood up and once again examined my work on the ex-soldier's arm. Wordlessly, he stared at me and I thought I detected a hint of shame and pity in his gaze, but quickly shook off the thought. James pressed his lips together before opening them, I made a dismissive hand gesture and turned to leave. Briefly, I instructed my assistants to perform a blood transfusion and then take him to his room to rest.
His sharp words still burned in my brain, but I couldn't blame him. In his situation, he could only think that everyone would turn against him. Nevertheless, the images of the little boy desperately calling my name did not leave that night.