Chapter 23

I wasn't being shot at anymore, but I could hear the sound of trucks in pursuit. The trees here weren't close enough together to stop them either.

The sound of flowing water caught my attention and I turned towards it. Any river large enough to remain unfrozen at this time of year would be a substantial obstacle to a vehicle.

My guess was confirmed as I broke out of the trees at the riverbank. The river was fast-flowing and looked about three feet deep. In the near-dark it was hard to tell though, and I wasn't totally sure trying to cross it was a good idea.

Something moved in the corner of my vision.

I looked back the way I'd come to see an indistinct figure fast approaching through the forest. A sense of unease filled me. No one from the base should have been able to catch up that quickly on foot, which left only one possibility: Rogan had an enhanced.

I ran along the riverbank, trying to put as much distance between myself and the inhumanly fast figure. The river dropped away to my right as I ran, the bank caved away by hundreds of years of flowing water. I didn't dare slow my pace to allow for the risky footing.

When I glanced back after a minute, the figure was nowhere to be seen.

I only realized they'd caught up when a black-clad figure suddenly slammed into me, throwing me off balance. I grabbed at them instinctively and we both toppled over the edge of the bank. There was a brief moment of weightlessness, then ice-cold water closed over my head and I bumped against the stony riverbed, losing my grip on my assailant's arm.

The water was too shallow to break my fall and the impact caused my breath to escape in a cloud of bubbles. I staggered to my feet in the thigh-deep water and faced my opponent, gasping for breath.

Time seemed to come to a grinding halt as I stared into the ice-blue eyes of the man facing me, because he was, quite simply, me.

Water dripped onto his powerful shoulders from his dark, shoulder-length hair and he stared at me with a steely expression that was a hundred percent mine. The only difference was his natural left arm. When he spoke, it was in my voice. "I hoped I'd get to meet you."

"What on earth?" I breathed. This couldn't be real. "Who are you?" I demanded.

He stepped closer. "I'm you."

"I don't think so." I struck out with my metal fist and he caught it in his hand, stopping my blow in its tracks. Only Steve had ever been able to do that.

Before I could react, my double slammed his other fist into my stomach. I doubled over and he put his hand on the back of my neck, pushing my head under the surface just as I gasped for breath.

Icy water filled my lungs, burning like fire, and I twisted frantically, wrenching myself free from my double's grip. I regained my footing and coughed up the water I'd inhaled, raising my cybernetic arm to block a punch to my face.

My double's other fist slammed into my wounded shoulder and I gasped as pain streaked down my arm like lightning, leaving it numb.

I smashed the heel of my metal palm into the underside of my double's chin and his head snapped back. He crashed backwards into the water and I took the opportunity to step back, trying to return functionality to my human arm. Watery blood ran down my fingers as I flexed them repeatedly, dripping into the river.

The other me got back to his feet and we eyed each other warily. I'd expected to face difficulties during this escape, but I hadn't expected myself to be one of them.

"How are you even possible?" I asked.

My double started forward again. "Don't know, don't care." He threw a spin kick at my chest.

I went to block with my injured arm and couldn't raise it in time. His booted foot smashed into my collarbone and the force of the blow knocked me off my feet. Water closed over my head once more.

This time when my double held me down, I couldn't break free, regardless of how hard I tried. He held me under the surface as I writhed about in vain, trying to get an arm free or land a decent kick.

I needed air so badly, but there was none to be had pressed against the stones at the bottom of the river. Finally need overruled common sense and I tried to take a breath.

Pain flared in my chest and I tried to fight it, but the dark water around me was fading into nothing and I was fading with it. I stopped struggling.

The next thing I became aware of was being dragged out of the river by my arms. My double released me and I lay on the stony ground, vomiting up the water I'd taken in and dragging in rasping breaths between coughs.

My double waited until all the water was out of my lungs. Then he stepped forward and slammed his fist down into my face.

I woke up on a cold concrete floor, still soaking wet and with a pounding headache. I blinked and the gray blur around me sharpened into the bare roof and walls of a cell.

My double was leaning against the wall, watching me without expression. He'd changed into a dry uniform that closely resembled my old HYDRA one, sans mask. As I met his gaze he called out, "He's awake," to someone beyond my field of vision.

Rogan appeared and stared down at me. He wore a look of disappointment. "You failed me badly this time, Soldier."

"I'm not your Soldier," I muttered, pulling myself into a sitting position against the wall. My head swam with the movement.

Rogan wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, a pity about that. Fortunately I now have your clone." He gestured at the other me. "We took some of your DNA when we first found you and made this guy. It was quite the scientific breakthrough when we got the process working last year. Not only is he an exact physical replica of you, but he also has your thought patterns and IQ. He does not, however, have your problematic memories."

"So you came up with an elaborate Plan B for if the brainwashing failed," I summed up.

Rogan shook his head. "Cloning Avengers was always the plan," he corrected. "That's why I sent the Molniya to capture Romanoff in Miami, why they came after you and Barton in Tehran, and why they tried to lure you three to the chopper in Pardis – where we could have killed you without problematic witnesses."

He shrugged. "Of course, we both know how that all turned out. Romanoff will be cloned soon, and I'd say two out of three is pretty good, wouldn't you?"

Guilt filled me as I thought of Natasha. I had failed her as well as myself with this escape attempt. Now I could only hope she'd find her own way out of this mess. That brought a new thought to mind. "What happens to me now?"

"That's the million-dollar question, isn't it?" Rogan spread his hands out. "We could try to wipe your memory and start again, but I have other priorities at the moment. You're too valuable for me to simply put a bullet through your head, so I think we'll have to revert to the old HYDRA standby."

Cryostasis. He meant cryostasis.

A shiver of fear ran through me at the thought. I didn't want to spend the next however many years frozen until Rogan thought up some other sick use for me. Death was preferable, especially if I could take Rogan out with me.

That thought drove me to my feet and I lunged at Rogan, bionic hand reaching for his throat.

My clone slammed me into the wall before I could touch Rogan, pinning me against the concrete.

Rogan tut-tutted as he came over. "You see, this is exactly why I have to put you in cryostasis, Barnes. But first you need to be punished." He nodded to the other me.

I barely had time to brace myself before my clone slammed his fist into my gut. His second blow knocked my head back against the wall and black spots flashed across my vision momentarily. More blows landed, and suddenly I'd had enough.

With a yell of rage, I caught my clone's fist in my metal hand as he reared back to punch me once more, jerking him off balance. Then, before he could recover, I kicked his legs out from under him.

He crashed to the floor and tried to roll away from me, but my cybernetic grip was too strong from him to throw off easily. My fist crashed into his body once, twice, three times. I kept hitting anywhere and everywhere, deaf to his cries of rage and pain.

My metal hand found my clone's throat and I pressed hard, determined to choke the life out of him, to kill the creature that had dragged me back into Rogan's grasp.

But then my gaze flickered up to meet Rogan's, and I saw that he was smiling.

Horror flooded through me as I realized why – because for weeks Rogan had been telling me that I was a killer. And right now, while in my right mind, I was proving him right.

I jerked my hand back, releasing my clone and stumbling away from him as if he were made of burning hot coals. I stared down at my hands, at the broken skin of my knuckles and the blood – mine and my clone's. The sight sickened me.

"Don't feel bad," Rogan said quietly, smoothly. "This is what you were made for."

Was I? Was I made simply to kill? My own actions just now spoke against me, but some small part of me still clung to the hope that maybe Natasha was right, that maybe I was more than what HYDRA had intended and the world believed.

I met Rogan's gaze, putting all the defiance I could muster into my words as I said, "No."

Rogan's expression darkened. When my clone got back to his feet and looked to Rogan for orders, Rogan simply jerked his head toward me.

My clone moved forward once more, nothing but hatred for me in his gaze. This time around, his hits held even more force than before, as if he was trying to make up for being so helpless mere moments ago.

But this time I didn't fight back.

"Why won't you fight?!" my clone yelled as I sank to my knees under the force of his attack.

I pressed a hand to the floor to keep from collapsing onto it. "'Cause I'm tired of fighting the wrong people," I mumbled. Choosing not to fight wasn't the same thing as surrendering, I realized, even if it felt like it right now. That thought gave me a measure of comfort as I slipped towards unconsciousness.

Rogan crouched beside me as I crumpled to the floor, shaking his head in disappointment. "I didn't think you were so weak," he said.

Natasha had told me it was my choices that decided who I was. I was choosing not to be controlled by my anger and frustration, to not lash out at the confused, messed up version of me that stood beside Rogan. It was my choice not to be the monster Rogan wanted.

I almost smiled at the thought. "Is mercy a weakness?" I asked.

Then I blacked out.