A/N: I was highly dissatisfied with Chapter 2 for a long time. This week some new ideas came to me and I was able to do some major re-hashing, which allowed me to finish the chapter and make it a little more interesting. Enjoy! Chapter 3 will likely take a bit longer to be published because of the Easter holiday.
I wake up with a start, and find that I'm in the laboratory strapped into the same reclined chair as before. However, the simple restraints that held me down earlier have been replaced with much stronger thick, buckled leather ones. Not only are there belts around my arms, wrists, torso, and legs, but there is also one holding my head in place. Metal braces curve over my shoulders and push me down and back into the seat. Several electrodes are attached to my bare chest and stomach.
Unable to move my head, I use just my eyes to look down and see that panels in my robotic arm have been removed, revealing an internal section of wiring and other electronics. A young blonde woman wearing welding goggles, thick gloves, and a lab coat is sitting next to me working on the inside with small instruments. Occasional zapping sounds and sparks jump from the open section of the arm as she manipulates the parts.
I try to move, but the combination of sedatives and restraints makes it impossible. I let out a small groan and the woman working on my arm looks up to see that my eyes are open. She sets her tools down on a small table next to her and walks over to the toadlike scientist from earlier. She quietly notifies him that I've awakened. He looks up at me from the monitor that he is studying and stands. Confidently, he strides over to me and sits on the stool that the worker had just been using.
"Sergeant Barnes, you did not follow your instructions very well. You should be ashamed." he says, peering at me through his spectacles with a serious, disappointed look. He pauses and I say nothing. "Attacking your trainer was quite unnecessary. You've caused much damage. We are still trying to fix your arm." he says, clicking his tongue and slowly shaking his head. I don't know if he expects me to respond. What am I supposed to say? This man is the only familiar face in this place that hasn't yet caused me any physical pain. I want to be on his good side.
"Sorry." I croak.
"That is very nice but I am afraid it is not good enough. Your beliefs from your previous life are getting in the way of advancement. It is very important that you are obedient to those who are above you, Sergeant Barnes. I am sure you understand."
I don't. I've been confused and disoriented from my earliest memory and nothing has been done to help me understand what is happening. I don't remember my previous life, if I ever had one. I don't know why I've been disobedient, but it is like that impulse comes from some of my deepest instincts. In any case, my immediate fate appears to lie in the hands of Dr. Zola and I don't want to be stuck in this same situation forever. I have to resist rebelliousness for now.
"I'll try harder." I reply.
"Excellent. We are going to make that easier for you. You need to know for what you are being trained. So, I have created a way for you to learn how the world works." Finally, some kind of explanation for what's going on, I hope. Zola walks behind me and I hear him pick something up. When he comes back around so I can see him, he is holding some strange helmet-like thing with several large cords attached at the top, which lead behind me into a machine I can't see, but that I can hear humming. "This is one of my newest inventions, Winter Soldier." Dr. Zola informs me, with the sound of pride behind his words. I've never heard the name "Winter Soldier" before, but it somehow feels familiar.
The girl who was working on my arm earlier is walking towards me with a syringe. I begin to worry that what happens next will be highly unpleasant. I start to shift around, trying to get out of the chair, but the restraints are holding me down tightly and my efforts are completely futile. The girl approaches my right arm, and prepares to inject me with a clear fluid. She eyes me warily, and then says. "I can't inject this if he moves so much. Tell him to calm down." I can tell she is speaking a different language than what Dr. Zola has been using to address me. She seems to think I can't understand her, but I can. So, I reply in the language she just spoke.
"You are both making me very nervous. I don't like being strapped down."
The woman looks up at me, and I can tell she is surprised that I speak her language. She glances at Dr. Zola, who is smiling. He nods at her and then looks back at me.
The woman gently places her hand on my forearm. "Winter Soldier, this will make you feel less nervous. Let me give it to you," she says, in a calm, slightly authoritative tone. This time it seems that I have no choice but to comply. I stop moving so she doesn't accidentally hurt me, and once she sees that I'm remaining still, she slides the needle into one of the veins in the crook of my arm. She pushes the plunger of the syringe down slowly, and whatever drug is inside enters my bloodstream.
After a few moments, a warm sensation comes over me, and I feel much calmer. Without a word, Dr. Zola undoes the strap around my forehead. He shoves the helmet he has been holding over my head with the visor covering my eyes, and he secures a strap under my chin. Everything goes completely dark. It's much darker than just having my eyes closed. I can't hear anything, not even my own breathing. I'm incredibly disoriented, but with my arms fixed to the armrests at my sides, I can't remove the helmet to get my bearings. After what feels like a few minutes, my heartbeat gradually slows and I become totally relaxed. I try to think about everything that has happened since I woke up the first time. I wonder who or what Department X really is. I even try to remember how I ended up here, but nothing comes up. Quickly, the questions float away from me, my mind softens into a hazy nothingness, and no new meaningful ideas form.
Suddenly, I feel a cold piece of metal pressing on the top of my scalp. At the same time, two flat metal parts push against both of my temples and another longer one presses against my forehead. Lastly, a spike drives itself into the base of my skull. It doesn't hurt much, but I can feel exactly where the point is in my skin. The injection that the woman gave me must be doing its job because even though I am surprised by all of this, I am completely unphased.
After a moment, an image appears. It isn't projected at or in front of me. It feels as though what I am seeing is right behind my eyes. To test the feeling, I close my eyelids, and as I suspected the image is still there.
What I'm seeing is gruesome. There are small children, men, and women scattered all over the street of a ruined city. They have sores all over their bodies. Some are definitely dead. Others are holding bleeding, mangled loved ones and screaming. Then bold red words appear over the top of the image. «Это, как Запад получает то, что они хотят.» -This is how the Westerners get what they want. A sequence of similar images cycle through my mind's eye. First, a soldier holding the muzzle of a large gun against the head of a blindfolded and restrained man kneeling in front of him. Next, a huge ditch filled with fresh naked corpses. Then a small child with her entire rib cage visible under her skin holding an empty bowl. Several more horrific scenes follow. «Они выбирают слово «Свобода», чтобы описать свое угнетение.» -They choose the word "Freedom" to describe their oppression. More and more disgusting images are shown. It goes on for a very long time. Hundreds of images bombard my vision, and there's nothing I can do about it.
Just when I think I can't take any more of these Western images, they stop. I get a moment of darkness and silence, and then a new image appears. Strong looking men working in a green field, and happy, healthy children playing in a dirt road nearby. Bold, red letters appear overtop and triumphant music blares, «Мать Россия является сильным противником!» -Mother Russia is a strong adversary! Slowly, multiple images of colorful cities, filled with people shopping and working together and children playing appear.
Then I hear a man start to speak as I take it in. "The capitalist devils of the West do everything they can to spread their misery and poverty all over the world, keeping any and all riches to themselves, crushing the spirits of Eastern nations. All of the nations but sweet Mother Russia. Russia gives her people freedom, peace, and happiness. All have enough to be happy and free. The West ensures that only a select few may survive, but Mother Russia will fight them until She has victory!.." The man continues to speak in Russian, and I barely comprehend what is being said. His words become garbled, and I've lost my connection to reality. Am I dreaming?
After a while, the voice addresses me loudly and directly, and I'm startled back into existence. "Winter Soldier, you are the key to world freedom. By helping Mother Russia achieve her goals, you will usher in a new age for mankind. An age of prosperity!" Finally, the images fade away and the music stops. I am once again in a world of darkness and silence.
I think about what I've heard and seen. I consider how strong and healthy the people in Department X are. They're intelligent, they're… brutal. But it seems they have a reason to be. No one would want to be a victim of the West's activities. Atomic bombs, enforcing poverty and promoting war in foreign countries... I'm supposed to help stop it all. The question is, how? All of these thoughts are going through my head as the metal bands and spike disengage. Dr. Zola finally removes the helmet and I squint and blink rapidly as I'm bombarded by the light from the laboratory.
"How was it?" the scientist inquires.
"It was… enlightening," I answer, "the West seems to be overrun with animals."
"That is a perfectly accurate description, my friend. Yes, they are beasts." Dr. Zola has taken on a much more enthusiastic air than before.
"How long was I wearing that?" I ask.
"Shorter than you think." he says, smiling slyly.
I realize now that I am exhausted. I'm dazed. My mouth is dry and I have a strange feeling of anger that I can't shake. I can barely remember what led up to now. Dr. Zola detaches the wires stuck to my chest and abdomen and then unbuckles the leather straps restraining me to the chair. "Once your arm is fixed, you will be taken to your sleeping quarters so that you may recuperate." He says, and walks out of the lab without further ado, seemingly leaving me alone with the aide from before.
The young woman returns to her stool on my left side and starts working again. She replaces some delicate looking wires in my prosthetic. I watch her handiwork and wonder why I feel nothing when it seems that I can usually feel the arm as if it was naturally there. As she works, my mind starts to solidify again and thoughts begin to take on a weight they didn't have for a while. I stare at the girl's gloved hands as they work, and think about how I really don't know how I ended up in this situation, or how this piece of metal became a part of my body. Then, a more specific question comes to mind.
"What is it made out of?" I ask, accidentally speaking my native language. The woman looks up at me with a blank face. "Sorry," I say in her language, "I asked what material makes up the arm." The woman gazes back down at her work and continues what she was doing.
"It's titanium." She mumbles without looking at me, remaining focused on the task at hand.
After about half an hour, she replaces the metal plating and asks me to move my fingers and flex to test that everything is working fine. Once she is satisfied, she walks behind the chair and tosses me a black t-shirt to put on. After I pull it over my head, I unexpectedly feel something cold and wet swipe up and down my neck, followed by a stinging where the base of my skull meets my neck. Then, she places a bandage at the spot where the spike from the helmet had driven into my skin. After all this, the girl steps in front of me and scans me with her eyes for a moment. Then, she gestures to get up, "All right, let's go." I stand and we exit the lab. We slowly and silently walk down several hallways
... She is so small... I could snap her neck in a heartbeat…
We reach the door to my room.
"If you find that your arm malfunctions, please ask for Viktoriya and I will come and fix it," the aide says. I realize she's speaking Ukrainian. Viktoriya opens the door and waits for me to enter. I go in, and she shuts me inside. I walk over to my cot and sit down, placing my head in my hands. I'm so tired I don't shut off the lights or remove my boots, I simply lay down, and fall asleep as soon as I close my eyes.