15th April 2014
The Winter Soldier's conditioning as the perfect weapon had been broken completely, as the dam holding back a lifetime of memories shattered. At that precise moment, Bucky watched in horror as his saviour plunged into the Potomac along with several tones of debris from the crashing hellicarrier. On autopilot he dived into the water and pulled his critically injured and unconscious, best friend from the water. The name James Buchanan Barnes drifted around his head and felt so right he could cry. First and foremost he needed to check that the casualty was breathing and stable. The area was not clear as he could sense the near by spectators to the collapse of the Triskelion and spectacular crash of the three Insight Hellicarriers. Help would be swift arriving as sirens of emergency vehicles screamed closer. It was the cue for the assassin to melt into the shadows.
After stealing a car, Barnes made his way to an equipment drop. It was a huge risk, but the whole of the DC area was. Most locally based Hydra agents had gone down with SHIELD headquarters. Nether the less, He scouted the area thoroughly, making sure there were no handlers or members of the STRIKE team waiting to re-acquire their Asset. The stash included a wad of money, three changes of clothes, two fake ID's and a small arsenal of replacement weapons, all were stowed in a rucksack were removed, as he made his way to a place of safety. A location picked at random, with good escape routes to three major roads and with no technicians, no pain, no wipes or any chance of being put back on ice.
In the motel room, he vomited into the toilet bowl and shivered as he processed the shattered fragments from the horror of his conditioning as well as all knowledge of his use as the Puppet of Armin Zola and Alexander Pearce. He was too exhausted to weep as he recalled better times from his childhood, life as mechanic, docker, labourer and the miriad of other thankless jobs he'd done for a pittance before the war, as a sniper with the 107th Infantry. Steve was a beacon of hope and happiness through everything. Years of wipes had become undone as he one again became James Barnes; his mind freed all as a result of Steven Grant Roger's pig headed refusal to give up on his childhood friend. The man crawled to the shower and sat under the lukewarm spray to wash away the pungent smell of the river water, stale body odour, piss and puke. Later, as he lay on the bed, he took sips of bottled water to rehydrate. As the night passed, Barnes planned two excursions for the next day; to visit the exhibition of Captain America he had seen advertised on billboards and to burn the Bank vault where he had been kept by Pearce to the ground. Steve was real, but it was the only sure thing he had to hold on to at this moment. His friend had given him choice to be his own master.
He strolled through the patriotic exhibit and he looked blankly at photographs and films of Captain America and the Howling Commandos. James Buchanan Barnes could remember the taste the cookies baked by Steve's mom, feel the weight and the familiarity of the rifle designed by Howard Stark and the smell of Peggy Carter's French perfume. He could also remember that Dum Dum had snored something awful. He read all the details of Project Rebirth and the strange miracle of Dr, Erskine's serum. That even after the procedure, Steve had not really changed from the scrappy kid from Brooklyn with a big heart and no time for bullies. Bucky had recalled his friend making a fool of himself in front of the beautiful and terrifying Agent Carter. He could empathise as Steve had also had his life stolen from him. Those bombs had been destined for New York, and it had been just like Steve to make sure a plane loaded with certain death for thousands was ditched into the Arctic, not caring for his own safety.
Then again, Steve had already confessed to his best friend his fear of again becoming nothing more than a lab rat in peace time, when the perfect soldier and the dancing monkey were no longer needed.
The soldier had relocated to another dingy motel. The news channels had speculated that an unknown agent had rescued Captain America from the Potomac and showed grainy and blurred footage from a phone camera. As much as he wanted to stay and watch over Steve, who was still in danger from the rapidly regrouping remnants of Hydra. He was a realist and knew Steve had capable friends and was no slouch at picking his own fights. Fights that kid could now win, no problem. Barnes knew he could not return to a life in Brooklyn, as that had possibility been stolen from him by time and captivity. He was aware his best friend would try to follow him wherever he went. However, the Winter Soldier had unfinished business with his former captors.
For years, before and after every mission, his handlers, the doctors and technicians had treated their pet assassin as part of the furniture. Letting him overhear information on bank transfers, bases, operations, sympathisers and agents. As an accomplished and decorated soldier with the 107th, the former sergeant planned his next moves with the precision of a chess master. He would strip hidden funds, to establish his own drops and safe houses and maybe some contacts with free agents. With money, he could become an instrument of vengeance and make sure HYDRA continued to reap what the had sown.
James Buchanan Barnes emerged from the wreckage of the warehouse in Baltimore with enough money, documents and information to help another lost soul. The kid HYDRA had kidnapped to be the backup to their asset. A teenager who was another victim of conditioning and torture to form a perfect assassin, robbed of conscience and identity. The other asset in training was currently frozen in a small Hydra facility in the Serbia. Barnes needed to seek redemption and try to start to mop up the red in his ledger. It was not the path of mindless revenge. Steve had broken his conditioning after seventy years. There was hope for the backup to escape Hydra as he had.