Held by the Black Infiltrator.
The Soldier watches as the Avengers murmur to each other. Barton and Romanoff whisper so quietly he can barely hear. Stark and Rogers converse in hushed words, "Is it him?" and "Are you sure you're alright?" Banner seems to be explaining what this all means to Thor, the supposed god nodding along with a thoughtful hum.
He remains silent however, unwilling to impede on anyone else's conversation. Instead the Soldier focuses on sliding pieces together in his mind. His memory is in broken fragments, a scattered puzzle missing most of its pieces, but it's something to do and the Soldier wants to do it.
Want. It's a foreign concept. The Soldier—the asset, the weapon—does not want. He is emotionless and empty and follows orders, the wants of others. Not his own.
Never his own.
Weapons do not want. They do not need. They are mere tools to use. And no one keeps a broken tool. They either fix it or throw it out. And HYDRA would never throw him out. The Soldier was theirs. Was. He will not go willingly when they inevitably come for him, and he gets the strange feeling that Rogers will not let them take the Soldier back either.
"Barnes."
The Soldier snaps to attention more because of the shout itself rather than what was shouted. That name… It's not who he is, is it? He's the Soldier, the Asset, the Weapon. He's— No, not the time. He can't ignore a handler.
His gaze turns to Stark and the man continues, "Do you remember anything else about this spy guy?"
The Soldier frowns and his brows furrow as his mind races. Taking too long to answer earns punishment and punishments hurt. They're never kind to him, HYDRA— The Soldier scowls to himself as he once again remembers: this is not HYDRA.
"Not HYDRA, no punishment," he finds himself mumbling aloud before he can stop himself.
A deeper scowl crosses his features as the Soldier feels the room tense. His stupid mouth. The malfunctions are getting worse and he hates it.
"No one will punish you, Buck," Rogers murmurs, cautiously placing a hand on the Soldier's shoulder, his flesh one. "I promise, no one here will hurt you unprovoked."
The Soldier eyes the blond. Why would he promise such a thing? If he malfunctions, it warrants fixing. Simple as that. But he was asked a question.
"The Infiltrator," the Soldier starts. He speaks slowly, voicing what he knows as the information comes to him. "He's in charge of HYDRA's tech. He is the one who set up the protections. The most important information… It's stored on a hard drive that only he can access. A short preview of the files is available on the main drive but those are incomplete."
"So that explains the screaming lady cut-off," Barton mumbles before speaking louder, "And you said he's a spy too?"
The Soldier nods. "He will infiltrate to steal information or objects… He gathers information for missions sometimes. Other times he collects sightings of the Asset from missions and deletes the records from the source, keeping them for HYDRA."
"Right, 'cause after what Cap and Widow told, it's hard to believe you were just a ghost story without some sort of help," Stark comments, smiling cheekily as Rogers and Romanoff glare at the names.
"This Infiltrator," Thor muses suddenly. "How is he held by this multi-headed beast? Why can he effectively infiltrate and not be seen as suspicious, but never seems to remember like our metal-armed friend here?"
The Soldier frowns in confusion. He sees the others frown as well and decides he is not the only one confused by the god.
"That's actually a good point," Banner says, his expression clearly showing his thinking. "To be a spy requires acting and the appearance of normality. Now the Soldier didn't have that, he was blank. On top of that, HYDRA couldn't have kept a tight leash on the Infiltrator while he's doing this. So why hasn't he tried to escape or at least remembered anything?"
"He doesn't get the Chair," the Soldier rasps out. An unwilling shudder races through him at the thought. He swallows tightly to answer the questioning looks of the Avengers, "The memory-wiping device. It electrocutes and hurts. The Infiltrator is not wiped. He remembers. He is loyal."
Rogers' fist slams down on the table. All attention is instantly on the Captain and the Soldier swallows tightly, nervously.
"They must have wiped him," Rogers says, his voice low and strained. His eyes are full of pain and his lips are twisted into a grimace. "There's no way Theo would willingly agree with HYDRA."
"Are you sure?" Barton asks tentatively. "He was only five when they took him, Steve. He still had a lot of learning to do and HYDRA would have taken full advantage of that."
The Soldier finds his lips twisting into a scowl at the man and he answers before his mind can process his words. "Theo knew right and wrong. He was as stubborn and strong-willed as Steve. And he would not listen to anyone but Steve."
He tenses, swallowing thickly. The Soldier barely remembers the Infiltrator before he became the Infiltrator but he believes in his words. The boy would not willingly join HYDRA. And Rogers' name… It just slipped out. It didn't feel awkward or forced… It just felt natural.
Rogers gives him a wide smile and the Soldier decides that natural isn't bad. He likes the smile on Rogers' lips. He can see that same smile in a rundown apartment and in a warmly-lit bar surrounded by other soldiers. The Soldier feels his own lips tug upwards in something that must resemble a smile. A strange, forgotten smile.
"He listened to you too, Buck," Steve says, smile still on his lips. "And he was our little General. Hell, even Mrs. Barnes and Rebecca played along sometimes."
The Soldier frowns as Steve's smile turns sad. The other Avengers say nothing, curious at the rare occurrence of their teammate talking about something from his past.
"Sister was Colonel," the Soldier murmurs slowly.
Steve nods. "Yeah, Rebecca... And you were—"
"Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th. Rank 32557038."
The Soldier says it almost instinctively. There's a flash of something in his mind and he remembers. He remembers repeating those words over and over to himself, trying to hold on to what he knew when it was being ripped away from him. He remembers trying to resist the memory wipes only for everything he knew to be ripped away with the force of a tornado taking a home.
"I… Yeah." Steve blinks, surprised but pleased. "Yeah, you were."
"Not to interrupt," Stark voices, raising a hand, "But can we go back to the Cap Junior issue?"
"He won't be caught easily," Romanoff states firmly.
The Soldier remains silent. There's a flash of red in his mind, his memory, and for once, it's not blood. His brows furrow and he knows Romanoff sees him staring but he can't tear his gaze away.
Slowly, a quiet murmur passes his lips. "I know you…"
Romanoff blinks in surprise but her expression unwillingly softens and she nods. "Yeah…"
"We were going to escape." The Soldier continues slowly as the shards come back. Romanoff nods again, the rest of the Avengers remaining silent in rapt attention but the Soldier doesn't care. "They found out."
"And then they wiped you and punished me," Romanoff finishes. She shakes her head, shakes herself out of her memories, and turns her hardened gaze to the others. "The Winter Soldier trained me and the other girls in the Red Room. The Black Infiltrator taught us how to hack and spy and leave no trace."
"You know him?" Steve asks, hopefully interested.
Slowly, Romanoff nods and sighs. "Last I saw, he was around a preteen's age. He goes by Theo… Or Zola."
Steve's light goes out instantly, a raging storm replacing it. His scowl is prominent, fists clenching in his lap. The Soldier can see the fury boiling under Steve's skin and he finds himself shrinking back, not only because the handler is furious but because Steve is furious. Seeing that expression allows the Soldier to vaguely recall the raging rants the blond could go on and he could do nothing but sit in silence and let his presence be enough. He glances at the others in the room and hopes his warning look will be enough to get the message across: do not interrupt him.
"That fucking bastard," Steve growls out. He glares hard at the table, fire in his eyes. "That fucking bastard takes my son and thinks he can fucking raise him?!"
"Did Capsicle just cuss?" Stark whispers rather loudly, causing the Soldier to wince.
Steve's gaze snaps up. "Shut the goddamn hell up, Stark." Stark's eyes widen in shock and he raises his hand in surrender but Steve doesn't stop. "That mad fucking scientist uses my son and you're worried about a little cussing? Hell, Theo probably doesn't even know he's mine, god damn it. Fucking Zola stole my kid! My little boy, mine! I swear, I'm going to fucking tear HYDRA apart if it's the last fucking thing I do!"
His curses turn to Irish Gaelic and the rest of the room can only sit in stunned silence, the Soldier at seeing Steve ranting and the rest of the team at hearing the Captain curse so vehemently.
"You're not the tiny punk you once were," the Soldier comments instinctively as Steve gets up to start pacing. "You can't punch a wall and think you'll do more harm to yourself than to the wall."
Stark and Barton snicker quietly at that. Even Banner, Romanoff and Thor look amused. The Soldier doesn't let this slow him from taking Steve's shield from where the Captain had set it on the table next to him. He stands as well, strapping the shield to his metal arm and stepping back from the table. Steve watches him and when the Soldier crouches in a defensive position, Steve understands.
The Captain doesn't hesitate to force all his serum-enhanced strength into a powerful punch right in the center of the shield. The metal rings lowly and Steve curses in pain. The Soldier stumbles back slightly but he otherwise doesn't react.
"Better?" Barton asks tentatively.
Steve shakes his hand out with a hiss, "Painful. But yeah, a little."
The Soldier sits once again as Steve does the same. He sets the shield back where it was while Steve gives him a grateful look that the Soldier only returns with a nod.
Stark claps his hands with a whistle, "Well, how about we search this database for more info? JARVIS, search HYDRA's crap for the Black Infiltrator and cross out incomplete files, please."
"On it, sir," the AI replies.
It's seconds later that a good-sized list shows up on the wall-screen. Most of the items are crossed out, a line running through the file name, but a small group files are clear. Three video files and four documents.
"What's that one video?" Steve asks, his voice tense but lacking his previous rage. "'The Winter Soldier Skill Briefing created by the Black Fox.'"
"JARVIS?"
"Playing it, sir."
The lights dim and the screen turns black for a moment. There's quiet music, a beat and a voice mixed in. Hydra's red logo appears in the centre of the screen and is then replaced by a video image of the Soldier. The clips are from various cameras, some black and white, and others of lower quality. (A/N I got this idea from a video clip on Pinterest)
Don't touch
Think twice
The black and white video shows the Soldier lying on a gurney and strangling a scientist with his metal hand.
Don't touch
Motherfucker, think twice
He fights against another, a powerful woman able to put up a good match. There are people watching around the room, some fascinated and others disappointed.
Look but don't touch, motherfucker, think twice
You don't want me do a bang-bang
The Soldier strides towards the camera, gun at his side and fully armoured. The next clip is from a highway camera; the Soldier stares at it for a second before shooting it, a car crashed into a tree along an isolated road behind him. Steve gasps softly as the Soldier is thrown from the roof of a car, landing in front of it and digging his metal fingers into the road to stop his momentum.
Look but don't touch, motherfucker, think twice
You don't want me do a bang-bang, don't cha
The Soldier flips across the screen, firing twin pistols as he goes, hitting a group of far-away human-shaped targets. He brings a knife down on Steve only to be blocked by the shield. He lies on a roof, aiming a sniper rifle. He fights against a group of girls, one with familiar, flaming hair.
And the last clip, black and white and grainy, shows the Soldier's before. He sits in the Chair, bruised and beaten and broken, but with a fierce glare on his face and his hair much shorter. His arm is metal but his eyes aren't empty.
"Say it, Soldat," someone offscreen orders. "'Hail HYDRA.'"
The man the Soldier used to be sneers and, despite being in obvious pain, hisses out, "Bite me, you fucking bastard."
The Soldier doesn't miss hearing Steve's small, pained gasp.
Then the HYDRA logo is back, and under it the red text 'Hail HYDRA.' There's a quiet snickering from the video and a soft whisper of, "Good luck handling him."
No one speaks for a long moment, stunned. The Soldier avoids anyone's eyes, expecting hate and anger. When Barton lets out a long whistle, the others seem to snap out of their own dazes.
"That was excellent!" Thor says animatedly. "A blending of short and long range weapons, all with wonderful skill! And even when broken, you remain unbreakable! You are an admirable warrior, Sergeant Barnes, what I believe Midgardians call 'badass.'"
Barton snickers slightly at Thor's words but he nods, "Hell yeah. Avengers, pft. Let's make this the Assassins team. Nat?"
The Black Widow shrugs, "Fine by me. Barnes?"
The Soldier blinks at being addressed in such a casual manner but he turns to Steve replies almost on autopilot, "Sorry, Stevie, but now I've got friends who won't get into back-alley fights at every chance they get."
He recoils as he realizes his words, preparing for a punishment, when he hears Steve snicker in amusement.
"Come on, Buck," he says, no hint of malice in his voice whatsoever. "You wouldn't know what to do with yourself if you weren't watching my six."
The Soldier finds another foreign smile creeping up on his lips, one that matches Steve's. Others in the team smile at the exchange as well. The Soldier can almost feel HYDRA slipping away from him, it's branches retreating in his mind. It's a relieving feeling, knowing he's becoming free and unchained, and the Soldier finds that he doesn't want to leave the Tower. Doesn't want to leave Steve.
"There was some recent stuff in there," Banner says suddenly, very business-like and stern. "Which means this video was updated in the last few days. Which then likely means the Infiltrator is out of cryo-freeze."
The Soldier sees Steve tense instantly, as if his fears were confirmed. The Soldier watches the blond, feeling the need to comfort him yet not quite knowing how. He takes a bet and reaches out to place his flesh hand on Steve's shoulder, squeezing in what he hopes is a reassuring manner. The small smile Steve gives him shows him that while maybe it's not perfect, the gesture helps.
This mildly confuses the Soldier. He was certain he would fail in this mission of comfort Steve. Weapons do not comfort, they do not sympathize or empathize. Weapons do not feel and they do not show weakness without benefit. Weapons are tools.
But he is not the Weapon anymore, and maybe he's not the Soldier.
Maybe he's… What did Rogers call him? James Buchanan Barnes.
Bucky.
Maybe he's… Not Bucky, not now, but becoming Barnes.
And with it, becoming Bucky.
•••
My metal arm is deciding to be a bitch. Jerking instead of giving me smooth movements and there's some delay in reacting.
It happens sometimes after waking up. Doesn't make it any less annoying. It's not my dominant hand, I'm left-handed, but I still need both hands to work so I need to fix it.
Growling softly to myself as I stare into the opening in the plates of my arm, my left hand flails around the worktable beside me before finding the little multi-tool. I'm not a mechanic, I'm not an expert in tools, but I know just enough on how to fix my temperamental arm. I open the pliers and insert the tip into the gap between the silver plates.
"Are you sure it's the wiring?"
"It's always the wiring," I reply.
"Sometimes it's the frozen joints."
"But more often, it's the wiring."
"Whatever you say, General."
"Screw off, Reb."
My AI gives a quiet huff. I don't even know how she learnt to do that. I programmed her and chose her voice—from an old video of a woman with a voice that sounds exactly like how I pictured her sounding—but I don't remember giving her the sass. Maybe it's a fault in my programming (I'm not an expert but you pick up a thing or two in my line of work), but it's not a mistake. It makes her more human and I like it.
Her digital face, a simple but expressive mouth, eyes and eyebrows, watches me from my computer screen behind me. My computer station is next to the worktable, the two forming a corner in well… the corner of the room. There's some basic lab equipment for if I need to experiment, and in the corner opposite to my work corner, there's my gear and weapons. There's also a door to my private quarters, meaning my personal living room, bedroom and bathroom.
There's a small spark as I adjust some of the wires in my arm. I can feel my fingers curling as a result and I try to force them straight.
"Any sighting of the Soldier?" I ask to help make this less painstaking.
"Not yet," Rebecca replies. "But there was a viewing of that fun video you made of him. The one for new handlers on the main database."
"Someone opened it? And after I just updated it?"
"Coincidence, I'm sure. I already followed it, General. I'm in the viewer's system and get this: their entire building is connected to an AI."
A smirk crawls up my lips. "So it's open to you."
"Of course. I'm still working on getting camera access without alerting anyone."
"Who is it? Must be someone rich enough."
"I believe it's Tony Stark, Gen."
My head snaps up and I accidentally jerk one of the wires. My metal wrist snaps back but the previous glitch in movement seems to have stopped. I flex my fingers, testing my arm just to be sure but it works perfectly. I frown and shrug, deciding what the hell.
With that problem solved, I close the little multi-tool and slide it back into its tight little compartment in the bicep of my metal arm. The plates slide closed and I push back from the work table, my wheeled chair rolling back towards my computer.
"Tony Stark, huh?" I muse, settling before my few computer monitors again. "He has his own AI?"
"Indeed," Rebecca replies. "The program is complex. I believe the AI is called JARVIS. He's quite like I am to you."
"A sarcastic shit?"
"More like the one doing all the work and acting as caretaker on top of that."
I nod, "A sarcastic shit, then." A small alert dings on my computer screen and I sigh, reaching for the little pill bottle beside the computer monitor. "Stupid pills for a stupid sickness."
"Those pills are keeping you healthy, General," Rebecca argues, rolling her eyes. "Now take them."
"I am, I am." I pop one of the little white tablets into my mouth, "See? When do you think you'll have camera access in Stark's stuff? I want to know what he's doing rooting through HYDRA files."
"Maybe an hour. As I said, it's a complex program. If you bothered to help, it would go faster."
I wave a hand. "As much as I love breaking into other people's shit, Reb, I should find out more about what's going on around here."
"I'd start with that god's scepter then," Rebecca says, rolling her eyes again. "You did dismiss the Baron about it earlier."
"It wasn't that interesting earlier," I whine.
"Whatever you say, Gen."
I huff and turn away from her. My room/workshop is a fair distance from the main floor of the facility… With another huff, I get up and grab my phone before walking out into the hall.
"Oi, von Strucker! What was that about those enhanced individuals?!"