I had considered not participating, thinking of an excuse not to have to see this horrible display. However, my nightmares of that moment worsened when I imagined that James would have to go through it alone. So I dutifully walked behind Zola, closely followed by my patient in handcuffs customized for him with several HYDRA agents beside him.

His gaze pierced the back of my head and I clung to my file. He didn't know what to expect. I did.

James had asked me several times to tell him their plan, but I couldn't. As bad as my discretion felt and it seemed like a betrayal in my mind, I still thought it would be best if he knew as little as possible.

Zola led us into a bright room, flooded with light and filled with several technicians and scientists walking around muttering. I sighed and felt like I was completely crushing the file in my hands, I was probably more tense than the man behind me for whom cruelty awaited.

I stopped next to Zola and watched as they harnessed James into the huge machine. A kind of chair to which his arms and legs were lashed. He didn't resist this time, just looked at me. His steel-gray eyes seemed sad, but there was something else there, too. Something I didn't recognize. Without really noticing it, I had already walked up to him.

"I'm right here with you," I said softly and couldn't help but put my hand on his.

I felt how he wanted to turn it around to hold mine, but his wrists had no possibility to move because of the cuffs. This was where HYDRA had really made sure they could keep James' strength in check. I immediately regretted writing reports about our training sessions.

"I trust you, Doc," he gave me a wry smile that was probably meant to cheer me up.

This sentence triggered an unpleasant feeling in my chest and I had to suppress a small whimper. I didn't expect him to trust me. We had talked before about how I didn't feel better than HYDRA because I went along with everything. But James was understanding about everything, he knew that my brother was yet the last part of my family. Besides, he had theorized to me that without me they would have found someone else to do my job. And maybe that person was just as cruel to him as they expected me to be. I had never thought about it that way before.

Slowly I retreated back to Zola behind a protective structure of cement and glass. Shelter from accidents but with the possibility of still being able to observe everything.

With trembling fingers I held on to it, as one of the scientists put a dental protector into James' mouth and the gigantic arms of the machine rested on his face.

Someone pulled a lever and for a moment there was dead silence before buzzing sounds filled the room. This was closely followed by a cry of pain.

He screamed through clenched teeth, his body shaking uncontrollably from the electric shocks, and I felt like I was going to throw up. 'Stop it', I wanted to shout, but the words stuck in my throat without even making a sound.

Eventually his screams died down, but he still struggled. Vasily Karpov, who was not with us behind the protective concrete but directly in front of the machine, took out a small red book.

"Zhelaniye". [Longing.]

Briefly he looked up to wait for James' reaction, he gasped, nothing else happened.

"Rzhavyy". [Rusted.]

I knew what they wanted to use those words for. I also knew why it should be exactly these words.

"Semnadtsat'''. [Seventeen]

They were chosen at random so that no outsider could ever figure them out. Only the people who were present here and the one who would read the little red book with the star could know.

"Rassvet." [Daybreak]

Zola and Karpov had argued about who should get the book. Karpov had probably decided it for himself.

"Pech'". [Furnace]

James started screaming again, his hands balled into fists, and I saw that he was trying to get out of the machine through the pain of the electricity in his body.

"Deyvat. Dobroserdechnyy". [Nine. Benign]

When Karpov also noticed this, he talked faster.

"Vozvrashcheniye na rodinu. Odin." [Homecoming. One]

I closed my eyes as the shouting turned into a desperate growl.

"Gruzovoy vagon." [Freight car]

Suddenly, the sound of the machine subsided and the man inside was also completely silent. As if his body tension had released him entirely, his head fell forward as the contacts for the electric shocks left his face. The dental protector fell to the floor.

Karpov closed his book and stepped a little closer to James.

"Soldat?" he asked.

James finally raised his head slowly, staring at him with hateful eyes.

"Fuck you".

"Disarm," Karpov instructed James, but he did not move.

Zola was furious that the Memory Suppression Machine hadn't worked and, of course, that his patient had been so disrespectful to Karpov. The ex-sergeant had promptly punched James in the jaw, which he probably wouldn't have dared to do if he hadn't been tied up.

They would certainly try again another day, they would never stop until it worked perfectly.

After this failure, we had moved to a training room, including Zola and Karpov. They didn't want to give him a rest, the normal training rounds weren't enough for them. So James was facing a tall, broad-built HYDRA agent. He carried a sharp knife, but James had nothing.

"And what if I don't?".

"Are you really considering getting stabbed, Sergeant Barnes?".

I sighed and watched as the agent rushed towards him as if he had understood this as a command. With quick and skillful movements, James was able to dodge or fend off his counterpart's charging attacks. But he did not try to take the knife from him. I didn't know if he wanted to tire him out or enjoyed how much anger rose in Karpov after he refused his command.

He laughed and turned briefly to the project manager. This, however, led to a moment of inattention. It had taken less than two seconds for the knife to stick into James' body.

I drew in the air sharply as I saw his thin shirt becoming drenched with blood. They hadn't even given him any protective clothing. The attacker was still holding the knife, pulling it towards his spine before finally pulling it out and kicking the wounded man right in the cut. With a groan, he fell forward onto the mat, still able to catch himself with his knees and elbows.

Blood dripped onto the floor and now it was up to Karpov to put on a grin. Of course, it had pleased him now to see the ex-soldier fail, but he stood back up with a rumble in his throat.

His eyes had that fire in them, as if his injury and Karpov's laughter were the tip of the iceberg. Jaw tightened, he caught the next swing with the knife. He turned the attacker's hand over in his metal hand and squeezed, it cracked and the knife fell to the ground.

Karpov's features slipped as he still didn't stop now. The human hand thundered into the stomach area of the agent. In pain, the attacker went to his knees, James seemed to have caught himself again, because he let go of him and collapsed as well.

Zola had led the agent into his office with Karpov and ordered me to look at the soldier's wounds.

"This needs to be stitched," I stated.

James had pulled his bloody shirt over his head, groaning in pain, and was sitting on a gurney with his back turned to me. He hadn't said anything to me since our brief conversation, and I felt awful. The cut had looked worse during the fight - I had feared that organs had been damaged. Fortunately, only the skin, connective tissue and some of the muscles had been affected. With a little rest, it would heal quickly. Rest that HYDRA would not allow him.

"I'll get an anesthetic," I was already turning to leave when James held me.

"No, it's okay," his voice was rough and low, "Just do it".

"You don't have to endure any more pain," I murmured softly, releasing his fingers from my sleeve, he lightly intertwined them with mine.

I could see the slight burns on his face where several hundred volts had gone into his body. I was surprised that he had not suffered any brain damage.

"I need a cigarette."

"How do you know I smoke?", I raised an eyebrow.

"I've been smelling it for a while," he admitted, "Since we got here. You know, enhanced sense of smell."

He grinned a little when he saw the look on my face. I had indeed received the cigarettes from Zola. Either it was a nice gesture or he knew that I had started using them after my father's death and was desperate for them.

"Are you telling me you smelled on me?".

James laughed and it was terribly relieving to be able to cheer him up at least a little. His cheeks got a slight pink shade and I told myself that it was from the burns.

"I wouldn't have put it that way, but yes."