"What's going on, Doc?", James was lying on a gurney when I entered the operating room.
Extremities and torso securely fastened, as if he was a wild animal ready to attack. I couldn't look him in the eyes; after reading the plan for the surgery, I was speechless. I was generally strictly against anything HYDRA had planned for this person. But this was too much. Everything in me refused to perform this surgery, yet with trembling fingers I took the syringe with the anesthetic. I knew there was no other way than to grant HYDRA this wish. I swallowed.
"Doc?" he asked again.
"Dr. Erskine is going to set a milestone in medicine with me today, Mr. Barnes," Zola sounded almost excited.
When James caught the sight of him, his entire body tensed and his eyes grew wide. With all his strength, he braced himself against the gurney, hoping he could break free and escape from this terrible scientist.
But there was no escape here, no chance. A soft sound of despair left him as Zola grinned and came closer and closer. I struggled for breath as his eyes met mine. They were so desperate, full of fear.
"No," he gasped, "not him".
"I'm sorry, Sergeant Barnes," I whispered and injected him with the anesthetic.
A HYDRA agent came into the room with a case, which he opened for Dr. Zola. I didn't want to look inside, I knew what was in there. But then I did - further proof that HYDRA wouldn't use James as a human. Zola took out the metal arm. The silver reflected the light and flashed, which only enraged the patient more. He did his best to fight the anesthesia, which of course was doomed from the start. HYDRA had learned from the last operation and adjusted the dose to his quickened metabolism.
That amount would have knocked out three ordinary full-grown men. So it didn't take long for his struggles to come to an end and his eyes to close. A small part of me hoped they would never open again. Maybe I had miscalculated the new dose? I didn't want him to die, but that would probably have been a humane redemption, considering HYDRAs plans. But more questions immediately popped into my head. Would they kill me if James died? Would they kill Isaac?
The procedure was terribly complicated, long, and beyond anything I had ever seen in my studies and career as a doctor. Admittedly, that career had not been very long so far. I had graduated at a young age and had only worked briefly as a surgeon, patching up soldiers. After Steve Rogers had stood up for my father and his ideologies, it had felt right to support veterans.
In a better world, the only place I would have met Sergeant James Barnes was at work, not in this macabre kind of hell.
For a long time I had discussed with Zola, I thought James would not survive this procedure or at least would suffer severe nerve or brain damage. Zola wanted to connect the wires and sensors in the arm to the remaining nerves, the new arm would function just like a normal one, but much stronger.
The scientist was convinced that he could make this vision a reality. I finally gave in and agreed to help him, I had no other option anyway. How he had acquired the knowledge to execute this kind of operation was questionable to me. Although I was sure that the serum in James' blood was powerful and definitely improved his wound healing. But combining technology with the human body? Really unthinkable to me.
The smell of burning flesh snapped me out of my thoughts. The skin of James' shoulder was fused to the metal to create a perfect transition. I wondered if the skin would reject the foreign material, causing necrosis. I shuddered at the image in my mind.
"Just look at that," Zola spoke in awe, "perfection".
I was still silent. It was everything, but not perfection.
We must have finished just in time, because James slowly opened his eyes. Blinded by the light, he kept blinking before he could keep them open properly. I was glad he didn't wake up in the process this time.
"Look, Mr. Barnes," Zola unlocked the cuff of his right arm.
As if in slow motion, he lifted both arms at the same time and turned the metal arm back and forth in the light, moving his fingers. He closed them together into a fist and opened them again. So Zola had really succeeded, apparently he could move the new arm without any problems. The scientist looked proudly at his work.
"What have you done to me?", his voice was rough and he spoke slowly, his body still breaking down the anesthesia, "I am a monster".
,,No, not at all. This is the next stage of evolution".
Zola bent over James' new arm, surveying every movement with admiration. But he had not considered the ex-soldier's first impulse. Even before James had clenched his metal hand into a fist, I saw his jaw tighten. Even if I could have done something about it, I probably wouldn't have, actually Zola deserved it. The closed fist shot forward like a bullet and hit his counterpart right in the face. His glasses shattered. The crack as metal hit his nose was painful and he fell over from the force of the attack.
One of the interns ran over to the gurney and started a pitiful attempt to reattach both wrists. Zola should not have freed him, the metal hand sped to his neck and he squeezed. The poor man gasped and coughed, trying to free his fingers from his throat, but they didn't move an inch.
I couldn't move, I was frozen. A second assistant plunged an anesthetic syringe into James' body with a well-aimed movement, distracting him enough to withdraw his hand and jerk the second person away. Much like Zola, he flew halfway across the room before crashing into one of the tables.
It all happened so fast.
Hastily, James grabbed the metal restraints around his legs, which he tore off, with a grunting sound coming from his throat, before jumping up from the gurney. There was no trace of the man who had been wriggling on the gurney defenselessly just a few hours ago. I blamed it on the serum, which released adrenaline faster under these conditions, and the metal arm, which was built to strengthen his attacks. The shot had its effect, as he stumbled and struggled to get up again.
"Sergeant Barnes, don't," I finally told him as he wanted to continue to attack the men lying on the ground.
He growled and effortlessly yet carefully pushed me aside, avoiding my pleading gaze. I took his human hand in mine, ignoring the feeling it had triggered once before, and tried to pull him away from Zola, who must have lost consciousness.
"You're only making it worse," I said, pulling him back onto the gurney.
He was swaying and seemed to be getting closer and closer to the edge of consciousness, so I supported him a little.
"He literally asked for it," he mumbled, barely audible.
The agents, who immediately streamed into the room, eyed us briefly and helped Dr. Zola and the residents up on their feet. Zola's nose was bleeding and he put his hand to his face. The serum must have built up incredible strength in the metal arm, even though his mind was still foggy. It was hard to imagine what he would be capable of in top form.
Breathing heavily and a bit wobbly on his legs, James tried to keep himself on his feet. The tingling in my fingers reminded me that I still held his hand tightly and finally released my grip.
"Lie down, rest," I instructed him, pushing his uncovered torso back.
"Will you stay here with me?" he asked, looking at me pleadingly before his eyelids fluttered closed again.
I nodded, even though he could no longer see me, and turned briefly to Zola and the agents, who were engaged in a lively discussion. The scientist was seething with anger, flailing his arms and pointing in our direction repeatedly. I knew my patient would not get away without consequences, but I hoped they would deal with him mercifully. They took the injured outside and left me alone with him. The dose they had given him was not enough to keep him asleep for long. They probably just wanted to stop him from doing more damage.
His face was almost angelic while he slept, earlier he had the face of a fighter, a soldier. Probably exactly the face that HYDRA wanted him to have. I had noticed exactly how he had looked at them and I winced at the thought that he would look at me with the same hatred.
"I heard the surgery was a success".
Vasily Karpov appeared next to me, his voice was full of sarcasm, I knew he had spoken to Zola. But I could not look away from James' calm face.
"Are you unharmed?" Karpov eventually asked a little more calmly.
"I'm okay".
Karpov reached for the shimmering silver arm, which was now lying very still, but this caused James to startle again. I carefully helped him up, after he moved back and forth and made a few pathetic attempts to sit up.
"Mr. Barnes, you will remain in your cell until further notice," the man said sharply, giving him a warning look before leaving, "And mark my words, you can't afford any more mistakes".
James puffed, looking at his new arm.
"What are they going to do?" he asked quietly.
"How are you feeling?" I wanted to know, hoping to distract him, "Move all the fingers again, bring them all together with the thumb".
He did as instructed and looked at me, I could not interpret the expression in his eyes.
"Do you feel that?", I took his hand and pinched each finger.
"Just the pressure," he replied, watching as I checked the arm for reflexes and reaction to touch, cold and heat.
The arm strangely felt warm rather than cool, as if it had been in the sun. When I had first seen it, I thought it was awful. As if I were robbing him yet another part of his humanity and turning him into the machine HYDRA wanted him to be. But this felt almost real. Deep furrows crisscrossed the arm to encourage almost ordinary mobility. Lost in thought, I traced each one with my index finger, stopping when his other hand paused me. Goosebumps covered the human arm, and again I noticed how his touch made my cheeks flush with heat. But he seemed to feel no different. Without my involvement, the corners of my mouth twitched slightly as I saw how tensed he was. I tried to tell myself that it was from the tough surgery and the adrenaline rush and this had nothing to do with me.
I immediately pulled away from him, cursing myself internally for always losing my professionalism around him. However, we were both prisoners of HYDRA, so wasn't this useless anyway? Wasn't there a benefit of having each other to hold on to?
James shrugged and cursed under his breath as I began to sterilely cover and bandage the burned areas of skin.
"I'm sorry, Sergeant".
"Call me Bucky".