SPUTNIK. The word echoed in his empty mind, clawing around for an escape, screaming to get out. What...what did it mean? It was so familiar...yet...so distant. He couldn't grasp what it signified...couldn't remember who had said it...or why. Something important was missing...in its place, a clouded understanding of who he was. He wasn't sure why, but he was supposed to be...fighting? Eliminating threats. Threats of world security.
Your work has been a gift to mankind. You've shaped the century. And I need you to do it one more time. Yes. Yes! That was it. The missing piece. He was a gift to mankind. A hero. Pierce had told him that. Believed in him. Supported him. Loved...him? Had he? He must've. Else he wouldn't have given himself up to the American bastard for the cause.
The man clenched his metal hand into a fist, the image of his leader's death sending a surge of anger through his mind. He'll pay….
And all of a sudden, there it was. The Winter Soldier. The words resurfaced in his mind. Yes. That was his name. His title. He was a soldier. The greatest asset the world would ever have against pain and suffering. The American government complained he had damaged their plans. Idiots! Didn't they know or understand that sacrifices must be made to obtain the greater good? If eliminating rebels that would cause havoc and chaos was necessary for the peace of the people, wasn't it worth it? Rebels and troublemakers corrupt society. They cause more pain and suffering than their deaths entail. Men like that don't deserve to live. Men like...Captain America.
He spat at the thought of the so-called "hero." Liar! He claimed to support freedom when the only thing he did was enslave the people with deceit and false hope of the peace his twisted morals would bring.
He deserves death.
There was never a thought clearer in the soldier's mind. The man called a "symbol," a "light to the nations," an "example of bravery and courage" - under all that, what was he? He needed to be exposed for what he really was: Torn down from his throne of lies, he was really a symbol of failure. He deserved to die. And now, it was The Winter Soldier's newfound duty to see to exactly that. Anyone who got in the way - well, they deserved it too. It was time the old man in stars and stripes retired - permanently.
Zemo clicked down the hallway, recieving updates from Rumlow every once in a while over coms. "How is he taking the briefing?"
"Better than was expected, Baron. It was an excellent move to use SPUTNIK on him - now, as far as we can tell, he doesn't remember a thing about his past or his name."
"You'll learn my plans rarely fail, Rumlow. But what of the Captain does he remember? Less than I, I hope?"
"Much less, sir. He knows of his existence, of his crimes, and nothing more. No association, no names, no feelings toward him besides a death wish." Rumlow smirked as he gazed through the glass windows around the briefing room, watching their asset as he was reduced to a dog at their heels.
"Excellent indeed. Excuse the screaming in the background - we're merely playing with one of our insubordinate toys. He really was being a pain earlier."
"We've got one too many stubborn ones around here. At least, we did. Three men went through the chamber and the chair before the rest of the scum gave in." Rumlow gave an edgy smile as he watched his men prep their asset. "He's ready to kill, sir."
"Well, let's not spoil him while he's in the mood," came the answer over coms. "Get him jacked up and get him out as soon as possible. The sooner I see Roger's blood run, the sooner we can drink to our good health. And, mind you, I'm not referring to a pint of half-aged brandy. I'm suggesting we break open my personal stores."
"I look forward to it." Crossbones grinned. "Wouldn't mind seeing a little more red in the flag myself."