Just beyond the line of trees was a wall of mercenaries, all stationed with their guns pointing outward towards the palace. Bucky counted assault weapons aplenty, rocket launchers and even tanks, all gleaming with the distinguished shine of vibranium. Shuri had been right; Klaue had enough vibranium to invade a small country.
The guards paid no attention to Bucky as he strode by, their eyes affixed to the walls without flinching. Trees had been knocked down haphazardly and a shack had been hastily constructed in the clearing. It was hooked up to some kind of electricity source and humming ominously. As he got closer, he could see the tell-tell sheen of vibranium lining the walls. Whatever was inside here was nothing good.
"Winter Soldier," Klaue emerged through the open door, grinning like they were old friends.
Bucky chose not to respond. Klaue paid it no mind, still smiling through his auburn beard. His hair was still severely short and he still looked dressed for a safari. It was the look in his eyes that had Bucky concerned. There was far too much glee there.
"I see you've gone with the heroic route," Klaue observed, walking towards him casually. "Predictable."
"What do you want?" Bucky spoke at last, keeping his voice flat.
"Brass tacks, isn't it?" Klaue seemed amused. "Very well, we'll cut to the chase. It's no secret you're a powerful weapon."
"I don't do that anymore," Bucky assured him.
"You say that, but I've got a hundred guns pointed at your little group of mates that says that you do." Klaue gestured to beyond the tree line. "Once I eliminate them, nothing stands between me and Wakanda. And I'll have you anyway." Klaue shrugged as though it were all inconsequential.
"I could go with you and you might kill them anyway," Bucky pointed out.
"I could." Klaue titled his head thoughtfully. "I have to admit that I considered the possibility. But it's such a waste of resources."
Bucky glared at him. Klaue seemed amused.
"I assure you that my plans are far less nefarious than you are used to." Klaue took a set on an upturned bucket and rolled up his sleeves nonchalantly. "No world-conquering ambitions on this end, I'm afraid," Klaue looked up at him, almost like he was talking to a friend. "But I could take the black market. No small feat." His smile returned.
"Money," Bucky almost sighed. It was almost always the motivation.
"What else?" Klaue raised his hands amicably. "It's the commodity that makes the world go round. You're the key to that commodity. You could come willingly you know, skip all of this messy business."
"Messy business is kind of my specialty," Bucky told him, uncrossing his arms. His hands flexed, contemplating just reaching out and smothering the life out of the man in front of him. It would be easy...
"Ah, well in that case," Klaue gave a nod to one of his associates. He spoke into a headpiece and a hundred guns cocked at once. "Shall we?" Klaue gestured to the room behind him.
Bucky walked in, bracing himself for whatever was there. It took his eyes moments to adjust to the darkness. The walls were air tight and the atmosphere was stifling. Warm, humid molecules filled his lungs and saturated his hair and clothing. The heat permeated everything, making it shine gently as the light from the setting sun streamed in through the door. The jungle was heavy with humidity now as the evening rain rolled in. Bucky knew that once that door was closed, he would be in total darkness.
"Well, take a seat," Klaue strode in and laid his hand on the chair in the middle of the makeshift shed.
Bucky's heart jumped as recognition set in. He had sat in this chair before, and often. Pain always followed. The reason for the electric panel outside became excessively clear. For years he had rallied against sitting in it, fought until the strength left his body or until dozens of men forced him into it. Decades wore on and the fight slipped out of him until he came to the chair docile as a lamb for the slaughter. The agony had been commonplace, as frequent as some people took a nap. Ice and heat had been his companions as he was dragged from freezer to electric chair.
He ran through his options quickly. He had been prepared for the words, but the words and torture might be his undoing. He could kill Klaue, certainly, but taking out dozens of heavily armed militia would be a difficult feat under the best of circumstances. His friends could die before he even got to them. There was no sign of Shuri, nor her brother. He was alone.
He sat in the chair quickly, before he could change his mind. Klaue smiled.
"A wise decision." The man nodded. Someone behind him shut the door, plunging them both into instant darkness. The restraints were fastened around his wrists, but his feet were left free.
"It's not in tip-top shape," Klaue admitted. "But it should serve our purposes..."
The sound of some machine powering up penetrated the pitch black.
Stay focused. It became a mantra in his head as Bucky's other four senses kicked into high gear to compensate for his lack of vision. He could fight the words when he focused. He just had to fight through the pain.
The first jolt came without warning, just a quiet pop and the tell-tell flare of heat before the energy coursed through his whole body. He clenched up, refusing to even so much as groan. Focus, he told himself. Focus.
The second came a few moments later, when Klaue seemed to realize that the first had little effect on Bucky. He grit his teeth so hard that blood filled his mouth, the sharp iron-like taste anchoring him to reality.
He lost count somewhere after the six blast, as Klaue methodically turned up the energy, like he was fiddling with the dials on the radio of Bucky's childhood. Up and down, high and low, short bursts and long one, the pain was never ending. Bucky was growing tired quickly, his body drenched in sweat.
"We've been at this for a while," Klaue at last took a break, his voice breaking through the silence. "You've proven quite resilient. Don't fret though; we'll find the right combination. It is good to know that you can sustain so much damage. It will come in handy."
The pain began again, searing and seemingly unending. Bucky's hands clenched the arms of the chair he was in, his mouth filled with warm blood, tears coming unbidden to his eyes and he struggled. The saltiness coursed down his face and into his mouth.
The beach. The memory came swooping in all at once, almost as though he had never forgotten it. He and Steve at the beach as children—Steve, scrawny and sunburned and shivering in the waves, but bravely refusing to be beaten at a race, and himself, taller and stronger and determined to make it to the buoys before his best friend did. The saltiness of the water had filled all of his senses then, but he relished in it, even as his mouth had become a salt lick.
Bucky frantically followed the train of thought, desperate to hold onto any distraction. The memory of sweat stinging his eyes as he squinted from below Sam came to him. The feel of the rock in both hands as he climbed, trying desperately to not show how afraid he was of heights. Sam's cocky grin silhouetted by the sun above them as he teased Bucky to keep up, the view as they finally reached the top, and the feeling of meeting a new friend at last.
The shocks paused for a moment as Klaue searched for something. At once, a mechanical voice began to read out his trigger words methodically. Bucky kept his eyes shut, determined to keep remembering.
Cool water streaming into his hair and ears as he dove, the rush of the waterfall from beneath the surface, Shuri's legs as she kicked a steady rhythm to stay afloat.
"Семнадцать," the machine read out, but Bucky refused to hear it.
He thought of the smoothness of her skin as he learned to feel again, to touch someone gently, to be touched without flinching. Her little gasps of pleasure, the way it felt as she grasped at him, the way her skin tasted when he kissed her…
"рассвет," the machine continued.
The sound of the rain as it beat against the sliding glass door, her still, steady breathing as she lay on his chest, her hand still clutching his as though it were real and not just a metal tool…
"девять," the rain sound was growing louder now, even through the sizzling of the shocks on their never-ending loop. The sweat on his face even began to feel like droplets as they dripped.
The sound of crunching metal caused Bucky to open his eyes just as Klaue gave a shout of surprise. The heavens flooded in, drenching the room in a torrent of water. Bucky's chair let out another bolt, but this time the water on the floor sent it dancing across the little room to reverberate through the walls. Klaue let out a scream of agony as it reached him, dancing in place like a marionette being jerked around by an amateur puppeteer.
Bigger and bigger the hole in the ceiling grew, letting in more and more rain. The machine reading his words died in a shower of sparks, even as Klaue screamed. The shocks kept coming, but sharing them with Klaue was enough to give Bucky strength.
He gripped the seat with all he had left in him, his left hand crushing the armrest and breaking free from the restraints. He stood up on shaky legs, jerking away from the chair to try and free his right arm.
"Bucky!" he followed the voice upwards to where two Black Panthers were staring back at him. He could hear the gunshots now from outside of his prison. War was being raged.
"Go!" the larger of the two panthers ordered, and the smaller one was happy to oblige. She dropped down onto the wires of the chair, ripping them to shreds with vibranium claws as her partner descended on Klaue with similar purpose. Klaue's screaming grew more panicked. He turned and fled on wobbly legs, bursting through the door and out with none of the finesse he had employed earlier. The larger panther was on him at once, easily chasing him into the darkness of the forest.
"Shuri," Bucky could barely speak, but he managed her name as she freed him, supporting him with her body as she all but dragged him from the shack.
"I'm here," she said simply, her free hand finding his metal one and squeezing reassuringly.
"Thank you," they were his last words before his body gave out at last.
A/N: Thank you to the people who pointed out my factual slip up! I've changed it. You guys are great!