Maybe it was from his years of working with the enemy but Bucky Barnes could spot a Hydra agent from a mile away these days. He knew their behavior, he knew their habits, he knew them and because of how of his training over the last few decades, he knew how to find them without being seen.

They had made him a ghost; a lethal shadow that would appear only when necessary and though he had strayed from Hydra nearly a year prior, some of his training had stuck. No, he didn't kill these days – not if he could help it, at least – but he was able to use the skills he'd attained and put them to use in puzzling his old life back together again.

A lot of his answers had come from the handful of Hydra agents he had been able to track down since he had shed his title of Winter Soldier. Neither were willing to talk, of course, but he had grown accustom to that. Rarely did they hand over prized information, especially to a previous weapon, no less, but Bucky was still just that: a weapon and he always managed to get the information he needed.

Currently, he was still in London and had been following this specific agent down for four days straight. He had first caught wind of him the night he had left that old forties bar and had been on his tail ever since. The agent was yet to see him, however. Bucky ensured he was always just far enough away to see everything without actually being seen himself.

So far, he had spotted only one agent but he knew that was hardly the case. There was a reason the evil organization had a name like Hydra; cut off one head and two more always appeared.

So, Bucky waited. He waited for the agent to slip up and make contact with another proxy but the moment never came. Now, it was nearing the end of day four and Bucky was growing restless. Patience was not a word in his dictionary anymore given that he'd lost a fair chunk of his life while under Hydra's rule, and the little he did have was dwindling by the second.

With an agitated sigh, Bucky adjusted the cap on his head as he watched the agent walk back to the shelter he had been keeping base in since he had found him. Night had long since fallen on the city but it was a nice, cool night and the streets were crowded and bustling with both tourists and locals alike. He knew that he should wait, he knew it, but try as he may to listen to that small voice in his head, his predisposition took over and within seconds, he found himself hastily walking towards the near-empty building.

On instinct alone, he pulled his black cap further down to cover more of his face and splayed out the fingers of his metal hand beneath its glove. He knew the glimmer of it was well hidden beneath both his dark shirt and jacket but even knowing this, he glanced down at it regardless before subtly nodding his head.

He was ready.

Glancing over his shoulder, Bucky crossed the street that would lead him to the barren apartment and slipped in through the open door. It hadn't been locked, in fact he wasn't sure it could lock anymore judging by the look of it, but as he took a step further into the dark hallway, he noticed a tiny red light glimmering in the far left corner. A bomb or some sort of trap for any poor soul that wandered a little too far for his own good. Bucky simply clenched his jaw and remained standing perfectly still as his steely eyes swept up his surroundings.

He counted three traps that awaited him if he was not careful.

With an agitated sigh, Bucky turned back on his heel to head back towards the street but was stopped when an elbow collided directly into his nose. With a grunt, Bucky stumbled just slightly before the familiar swell of anger erupted in his belly. The agent swung for another hit, clearly trying to sway Bucky in the direction of the three triggers that awaited him just down the hallway, but Bucky remained firm in his footing as he swung his metal arm to connect with the agent.

At first, the agent looked shocked – as if realization hit of just who he was fighting – but as quickly as the shock had come, it passed the second Bucky punched the center of the man's ribcage with his metal arm. He knew the places easiest to kill a man and hitting him where he had with the pressure he'd delivered was enough to shatter the man's ribs hard enough to splinter several organs at once.

At first the man simply just stood there gasping for air but Bucky watched as those gasps slowly became polluted by the blood seemingly entering his lungs. Without so much as batting an eye, Bucky watched the man fall to his knees before finally succumbing to his injuries.

Bucky eyed the dead man's frame before bending down to his level. No, he was no longer a weapon for Hydra but he knew better than anyone that fighting, killing came with the territory now. Try as he may to avoid it, it always came. With a small sigh he began to sift through the man's jacket before feeling an unfamiliar object in his right pocket. Slowly, he pulled out the small black entity only to realize it must have been an off switch to the three traps set down the hall. With furled brows, he observed the set of buttons carefully before glancing back to the small red dot in the corner. With bated breath and ready to run, Bucky hit the small button and relaxed slightly upon watching the light disappear. The other two followed in suit.

Standing back up to his full height, Bucky eyed the body carefully before dragging him further into the base. If another agent decided to show up tonight of all nights and find his dead associate in the corridor, he knew he'd have a mess on his hands.

Once he had successfully pushed open the doors that lead inside of the base, he dropped the man's arm and immediately went to searching through the messy apartment for any hidden files. From experience alone, he knew to search the walls and floorboards first. Having kept much of his own memories and belongings in those exact places, he knew something would be there and after splintering through the floorboards beneath an old couch, he was not disappointed.

Three separate files were there and though neither of them pertained to him, there was on that piqued his interest.

The file spoke of a new subject under Hydra's control, subject 301, but the characteristics of his treatments and this new one were eerily similar. Both involved creating a hybrid for Hydra to use as a weapon, and what was potentially the worst of it, both involved the complete cleansing of one's mind.

Subject 301 was meant to be brainwashed, wiped clean - just as Bucky had been all those years ago.

Grinding his teeth, Bucky continued to flip through the file only to have two photos slip out of the beige encasement. The first was a picture of a man he recognized right off the bat, but just why he recognized him, he had no clue. The man was a SHIELD agent; blonde, broad, strong - but it was his eyes that he knew.

They were a strange shade of greenish grey and though he couldn't recall as to why they seemed familiar, they did.

With his interest piqued, he read through the man's file. Clay Quartermain: infamously involved with such cases as the Hulk and Red Hulk; one of the top agents SHIELD had to offer. He was not shocked to find out he had been found dead seven years prior solely because that's how it worked. Quartermain seemed to be a raw, direct risk to Hydra and when Hydra caught wind of potential risks, they either used them or disposed of them.

Unfortunately it seemed to be the latter for Quartermain.

Still, Bucky couldn't shake the feeling that he knew the man. He wanted to believe it wasn't because he had killed the man once upon a time, that was a feeling he knew too well, but for as much as he hoped he had at least gotten a handle on deciphering who he had killed and who he hadn't, there was still that niggling feeling of doubt in the back of his mind.

That was when the second picture caught his attention. It was a photo taken from a distance of a woman walking along the street. From the angle it was taken on, he couldn't quite make out her face but her long, blonde hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail and she wore gym attire on her tall, fit frame. She didn't seem to know the picture had been taken and as he continued to flip through the file and more and more pictures came to light he was sure she hadn't known about any of them being taken.

There were pictures ranging from being taken through the blinds of her apartment to pictures of her walking into the large hospice downtown, but it wasn't until a rather zoomed in photo of her came up that realization hit Bucky like a ton of bricks.

There, plain as day, was a picture of the blonde waitress he'd seen from the bar a few nights prior. Below it, the words Subject 301

The muscle in Bucky's jaw clenched as he immediately began to read through the various pages of information Hydra had kept on the girl. Just as he had expected, Clay Quartermain's eyes had been a familiar sight only they weren't directly his but those of his daughter.

Just how long they had been keeping track of the girl, he had no idea, but it was obvious they were intent on their decision. They had her height, weight, blood type – everything they would need to know to turn this girl into a mindless weapon.

What got him, however, was the lack of details the file had on just how they were going to get her. He knew for a fact that as of four days ago, she was still working at the bar but being ill-planned for the unexpected wasn't like Hydra. The only thing the file spoke of was the promise of Electromagnetic Pulse Emissions gained from exposure to chemical radiation.

An unfamiliar feeling swirled in Bucky's gut the more he read through the dossier. It made him feel strangely ill knowing this woman had absolutely no idea (or so he assumed) that this was going to happen to her and the emotion that followed was oddly intense. Was it pity? He still couldn't quite grasp human emotion too well at this point but whatever he was feeling nearly floored him.

Just as quickly as the feeling had come, however, it vanished the second a deafening sound of a blast echoed out around him.

On instinct alone, Bucky dropped the folder and covered his head as he anticipated the fallback of an explosion but when none came, he slowly stood. His feet propelled him to the door faster than he could process and with wide eyes, he looked around him, instantly trying to find the source of the explosion.

Screams followed the discharge soon after and the few people that had joined him on the street either ran the opposite way or wore the same look of absolute fear on their faces as black smoke suddenly began to bleed into their senses.

The smoke was thick and sulfuric but it was the pungent smell that lingered afterwards that made Bucky anxious.

It smelled almost chemical.

That wasn't good.

He debated running at first. It would be easy with the distraction of the bomb after al. He could slip back into the shadows without so much as a second thought, but there was a sense of obligation he felt upon finding that folder. Something in his gut told him that the explosion had little to do with chance and everything to do with Hydra.

This was how they planned on getting subject 301, he just knew it.

So, without so much as a second thought, Bucky found himself walking briskly towards the blast. No one looked at him as he sifted through the crowds of people starting to gather outside of their homes but as he rounded the final corner that would lead him to the bomb site, Bucky halted in his tracks and took it all in.

True to his gut, it was the bar he had been just days prior that now sat smouldering in flames. Half of the roof was gone and the entire front end of the building had been blown off in the blast, but it was the overwhelming smell of compounds that forced Bucky to be more alert. At first, his eyes scanned the premises for a means into the mess without getting himself caught in the flames, but when he noticed a man sneaking out of the building unscathed, his blood boiled.

The man was obviously Hydra and clearly had not seen Bucky watching his every move as he threw something resembling a needle into the hot flames that licked the side of the building. A large part of Bucky wanted to follow the man knowing full well he could potentially get some answers out of him but his feet remained firmly planted on the ground as he thought of the woman inside of the building.

There was a fiercely protective side of him that sparked to life in those few moments, another completely foreign feeling to Bucky as he watched the agent slip away into the night. He couldn't pinpoint the exact feeling but something in his head told him that this was part the Bucky that had lived in the forties. He had felt protective in the past, he knew it, but such an emotion hadn't been stirred since that day at the Potomac with Steve. It had been a slow process, but he was learning to differentiate between right and wrong again. He had been right to save Steve Rogers that day and he knew deep down that letting a woman burn to death – or worse, captured by Hydra – was not the right thing to do.

With an almost animalistic growl, Bucky found himself stepping over the scalding pieces of metal and debris that now littered the street as he walked into the building. An overwhelming sense of anger pounded through his veins as he walked through the falling ash but just who the anger could be directed at he couldn't quite tell. Was it himself? The agent? The woman?

Within seconds of him climbing through the wreckage, Bucky saw the blonde.

She was either dead or unconscious and had slight burns on her upper arms and gashes on her left shoulder, face and neck. The closer he got, however, the more he noticed the slight rise and fall of her chest.

She wasn't dead, at least not yet.

Reaching down, he threw the smouldering pieces of remains that had fallen on top of her away with his metallic hand and without missing a beat, swept her up. The second her hair fell behind her shoulder as her head lulled back, he noticed the rather large and swollen needle mark that sat at the base of her neck.

So he had seen the agent dispose of a needle.

Clenching his jaw, Bucky began to walk out of the building with the woman in his arms. Whatever it was that Hydra had planned; something had already been implemented but the lack of answers was eating away at him.

He heard her groan slightly and mumble something beneath his breath, but he couldn't make it out. Not with the raging fire that burned just inches away from them. He did, however, notice the moment her eyes opened up to reveal that strange shade of grey he had recognized right off the bat. At first she didn't appear to comprehend what was happening, simply just grimaced slightly from what he could only assume was from pain, before a strangled sob escaped her lips.

"What—" The sentence went unfinished as her head once again lulled back against his arm but he noticed her blink several times as if to try and focus in on her surroundings. When she clearly couldn't, the blonde raised her head and this time looked directly at Bucky with both fear and confusion. He noticed her swallow several times as if trying to formulate her words but for moments, none came.

She was in extreme pain and the fear in her eyes was as clear as day.

"I've seen…" The woman furled her brows as she tried her damnedest to focus in on Bucky's face and he could see from the corner of her eye that there was confusion there. She was still lying limp in his arms and the small bit of energy she found was fading fast, but the emotion was obvious. "Bucky Barnes?" She swallowed. "H-How?"

Bucky's back stiffened the second his name rolled off of her lips and if he hadn't been careful, he knew he would have dropped her from the shock of hearing it. How did this woman know his name? Bile stirred in his throat but he swallowed it down. Who was she? Why did she know him? Dozens of questions swirled through his mind as they finally escaped the burning building but before he could get a single one answered, the blonde's eyes fell shut and her head lulled back lifelessly.

Sirens were in the distance now. It wouldn't be long before there would be a handful of first responders scouring the scene, but Bucky simply continued to stand there eyeing the injured woman with wide eyes for what felt like ages as her words sunk in.

She had said his name. His name.

The sirens were closer now and crowds were starting to gather outside of the building. He was lucky if he hadn't been seen by now and he in no way could afford to have the police's attention on him. His options were limited.

Before he could change his mind, Bucky quickly walked towards a woman and her teenage son who had been standing there watching the entire interaction and gently set the blonde down on the bench that sat just feet away from them.

"She's hurt." Was all he said, pushing his hat down to cover more of his face. His eyes were cold as he looked at the two strangers, his jaw firm, but they nodded at his words nonetheless and the woman immediately offered the near-lifeless body her coat.

"Don't you want to—" The woman began to say, but Bucky had already walked away from the scene and slipped back into the shadows that the city had to offer.

Just like that, Bucky once again became a ghost.