Daybreak

2014. Berlin, Germany.

Steve studied the files on his screen. Jessica Drew, the young woman who masqueraded as a university student, according to these files was an assassin. She seemed to specialize in "perfect murders". She could slip in anywhere, kill her target and be gone before anyone noticed anything.

But what astounded him the most was the mission dates. According to her file, she was born in 1970. She was "recruited" around 1985 and was an active agent until 2010. How was she still so young?

Though the file on her quickly answered that. After training her for three consecutive years, while brainwashing her, they put her on ice as well. But she was not held in Siberia, like Bucky was. She was held at Wundagore Mountain in Transia, a country in Eastern Europe. She was part of a HYDRA project, deemed Project New Men. It was marked as a fail as a whole, with Drew one of the few living successes still around.

In 2010, she had been assigned to kill Nick Fury. The attempt on his life was almost successful, but somehow the former Director was able to reach through the HYDRA programming and wake the girl underneath. Afterwards, she disappeared from both SHIELD's and HYDRA's radar. Steve suspected that Fury had a hand in that, the secretive bastard.

He looked up the picture. Named "Arachne", the girl wore a similar half-mask as the Winter Soldier, except that it was a muted blood red. A pair of red goggles with opaque yellow lenses concealed her eyes. The image of a young girl dressed in such a way, it was haunting.

"So that's her?"

Sam hovered over his shoulder, his arms crossed. He nodded.

"Another one of HYDRA's assassins. Who is apparently "rehabilitated". I don't know about this one, man."

"Fury found her. And I trust in his judgement. Besides, it might be better if we work together. I don't think we should openly oppose her. She might do something unpredictable. We don't need another complicated variable in this whole mess."

"I'm glad you think so," Jessica called, through the door of their room. She was keeping Dr. Anders company, attending to the unconscious scientist.

"See what I mean? Man, she gives me the heebie-jeebies," Sam muttered.

"Heard that too."

"Damn it."

The door opened to reveal the young woman.

"I get why you're apprehensive. But we're here for the same reason. To end Project Clairvoyant. Every day that passes, the closer they are to completing that device. It needs to be destroyed."

"Have any ideas where to start, assassin extraordinaire?" Sam asked sarcastically.

"Daniel Whitehall. He's an American leader of HYDRA. He has some ties to the project. Brainwashing apparently is a side hobby of his."

"Where is he now?"

"Well, from what I know of, he's still in the States. But a friend of mine is trying to find him."

"And what kind of friend is that?"

"A mutual friend of Nick Fury. They have agents tracking his movements. According to my intel, he has severed his connections to the Project, in favour of an old passion with some alien artifact. Point is, they'll be sending me information soon."

A little beep sounded. Jessica withdrew her phone. She held up a finger, while answering the phone. She made sure to drop her voice enough so that Steve's enhanced hearing couldn't pick it up.

"What'ya got?"

"Nice to see you too, Jessica," a familiar dry voice answered. "No how are you? Or how are you doing, Director?"

She waved a hand. "Yeah, yeah, Coulson. Got it. Well?"

"We got some intel when we raided one of Whitehall's safehouses. He's dead, if you're wondering."

"That's good to hear. So what about Project Clairvoyant?"

"We were able to save some data of that project. Apparently, the facility that was conducting the research is in the Austrian Alps. Hidden within the ruins of the old HYDRA base where they kept the Howling Commandos prisoner."

"Surprised that SHIELD didn't pick up on that before."

"Haven't you heard? Apparently, HYDRA is SHIELD."

"Thanks Coulson. Really appreciate it."

"No problem."

"Do you want me to pass on any hellos? I'm with Captain America."

There was a pause. Coulson was publicly known as a Cap fanboy before his death. Or before Fury decided to bring him back to life.

"No. They can't know I'm alive. Not yet anyway. Perhaps another time."

"Okay. Bye sir."

"Good luck."

He hung up.

For good measure, Jessica clutched the phone in her hand, the metal crunching underneath her grip. It was a pile of shards at her feet when she returned to Steve and Sam.

"You remember where the HYDRA base is in the Alps?" she asked Cap.

"It would be hard to forget."

"Cool. We're heading there."

…

HYDRA base, Austrian Alps. 1943.

"Prisoner 56898."

Bucky looked up from the pile of parts surrounding him. He tried to hide his shaking hands behind his back as he stood. He knew what the guards wanted from him. His fellow POWs had warned him. Despite their efforts to conceal his worsening health, it wasn't enough. His empty stomach clenched in fright.

The two guards gestured for him to leave his post. When he hesitated, they launched forward, with punishing blows of their batons. Weak from hunger and overwork, he couldn't even defend himself from their onslaught. Even as one blow broke his nose, blood gushing down his chin. Cursing in German, they hauled him up and out of the work area. The last thing he saw through his swelling eye was the POWs, dipping their hats to him in salute. A salute for a fallen comrade.

The rage burned in him once more. He was not going to die strapped to a table, while some loony scientist experimented on him. He was gonna put up a hell of a fight.

Centering himself, he kicked as hard as he could, his foot connected with one of the guard's back of the knee. Crying out, he collapsed clutching his knee to his chest. Grabbing the fallen guard's baton, he clipped the other hard in the jaw, the man falling like a puppet with its strings cut. He knelt down to search his belt for anything important; keys, a gun, anything useful. There was a communicator, which he took as well as his Sten. Making sure it was loaded, he took off.

And quickly found himself lost. He was already coming down from the rush of attacking the guards, and hunger and fatigue were beginning to take over. But he found himself falling into his sniper mindset, or what some of his compatriots called, the eagle-eyed stare. He tread carefully, keeping his weak fingers clasped tightly around the stolen Sten. Tucking himself into a corner, he raised the gun. The weapon bucked in his hand, as he took out one guard after the other with cold detachment. The unfettered rage still burned in his chest. He was going to kill every one of these Nazi bastards in this place.

But it was only a silly revenge fantasy. Soon enough, he was surrounded and was quickly subdued. By the time they were done with him, he was sure he had a few broken ribs, broken jaw and shattered fingers. He was a mess.

A short doctor waited for him, tapping a pen against a clipboard as the guards strapped him against a gurney.

"This one is a fighter," the doctor remarked, adjusting his thin-rimmed glasses. Bucky spat at him, a gob of bloody saliva splattering his lenses. He didn't react, just taking off his glasses to clean the blood off them.

"Please retrieve the newest serum," he ordered an assistant. They quickly scurried off.

"Sergeant Barnes. Hmm," the doctor talked to himself. "Perhaps you will be the successful one."

He struggled weakly against the restraints as the assistant returned, passing a syringe and a vial containing a blue liquid to the doctor. Zola quickly stabbed the syringe into the vial, drawing up the fluid. The assistant took notes, eyes coldly studying Bucky, while he was strapped to the table.

"First trial," Zola said to the assistant. "Subject is Prisoner 56898. Full name: Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes."

"It's Bucky," he snarled, still thrashing in the restraints. The guards pinned him down. His furious breaths hissed loudly in the cold room, as Zola injected him with the serum.

"Observe him through the night. We will know if it was successful soon enough."

…

Soon after, he began to hallucinate. The shadows would leap off the walls, and snarl at him with dark, pointed teeth. Sometimes they would launch themselves at each other, coaelescing until they formed someone that he knew.

First, his mother appeared. No matter what he said to her, she wept, clutching a handkerchief. Her blue irises seemed to glow in her tear-filled eyes. She wore black.

Then it was his siblings. They didn't cry. They just stood over him, staring blankly in the distance. Again, they didn't answer him when he called.

After them, it was his first kill as a soldier. A young man, who didn't look older than sixteen. Bucky had collided with him as they managed to take some Italian foxholes, killing him in a fury with his serrated knife. The front of his uniform was stained black with his blood. Red tears ran down his pale, sunken cheeks.

Before the kid faded away, Steve appeared. His eyes, which usually always seemed to spit fire at him, were dull marbles. A uniform hung off his small frame, spattered with mud and blood. His best friend leveled a small pistol at him.

"Steve, what-"

"Hail HYDRA."

Bang.

…

2014. En route to Austria.

The Winter Soldier stirred from his sleep. Riri sat across from him, her nose buried in a book. Tunnel lights flashed by their window, as the train hurtled through the darkness. Unzipping his backpack, he withdrew one of his journals, and scrawled what he remembered into it. The dream still haunted him. Feeling Bucky Barnes' panic, fear, anger. It was all so intense. It was so different than what he, as the Winter Soldier, felt; detachment and cold purpose. Though it seemed that the rage of his former self was beginning to return.

He opened the journal where he had pasted a picture of Captain America. Steve Rogers. Bucky Barnes' best friend. No. His best friend.

He flipped through the pages, trying to refresh himself on all his past self knew about the HYDRA weapons facility. The Soldier highly doubted that it would have the same layout. The base itself had been blown to bits. It would be likely that it was underneath the ruins of the old base. The ruins themselves would provide an additional obstacle to those attempting to get inside. It would almost certainly be booby-trapped as well.

He closed his journal and tucked it back inside his backpack. Adjusting his cap, he studied the passengers around them. None really stood out in this passenger car at the moment, and he wasn't going to draw attention to himself by patrolling all of the cars.

Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted, as the train slowed to a stop. Many of their fellow passengers departed the car, until only he, Riri and a few other men remained. One man rose and secured the doors closed as soon as the last passenger left.

"Riri, get down to the floor. Things are about to get ugly."

She didn't even question it. Closing her laptop, she slowly lowered herself onto the floor. The Winter Soldier rose. Before the HYDRA agents could react, he gripped one of the empty seats beside him, yanked it from its bracket, and threw it hard. The man at the door yelled in surprise as the chair collided with him, pinning him to the floor with its weight. Without stopping, he whirled, grabbing the man that attempted to sneak up behind him by the shirt, and threw him to the other end of the car. Grabbing the tops of the chairs closest to him, he propelled himself forward, his feet colliding into the chest of another agent. Something cracked underneath his boots. He probably broke some bones.

Another pulled out a small pistol. With disgust, the Soldier plucked it out of his hand and squeezed, the metal squealing in protest underneath the force of his metal fingers. With the tangled mess of a gun, he clipped the agent in the jaw. He immediately dropped.

Despite how good he was, he wasn't fast enough to stop Riri from being grabbed. But just as he reached for a discarded gun, she grabbed her laptop and smacked her captor hard in the face. Followed by a sound kick between the legs, the last agent was down.

Riri sagged into her chair.

"Well, that was fun."

….

2014. En route to Austria. A different train.

Steve tensed. Sam immediately picked up on it, raising an eyebrow. He made a small motion with his chin.

Their car was strangely empty. No conversations passed between any of the passengers, which was highly unusual.

He looked to Jessica. The younger girl was seemingly relaxed, until he saw sparks of yellow energy sparking off her fingers. She met his eyes briefly. She pitched her voice low, low enough that only Steve would hear, with his enhanced senses.

"They're here. They want to stop us from getting to Austria."

Steve's response was equally quiet.

"Then let them try."

….

Things have started to come together now. My memories were blocked from me, hazy and far away. But now daybreak is piercing through that impenetrable wall. I will reclaim who I once was.

Excerpt from Bucky Barnes' journals. Collected as evidence by the Anti-Terrorism Task Force in the Vienna Bombing. 2016