I Know What You Did In the Dark ch 2
Steve
"Be careful, Steve. You might not want to pull on that thread." Black Widow said to me, a serious look in her eyes. I wasn't sure who she was warning: herself or I.
She turned, walking away and I looked down and opened the file. A grainy black and white photo was inside with the file of Bucky on ice. My gut twisted to see him like that. Below, was a smaller photo of him in his Army uniform before he set off to battle. I could feel the heat of my temper rising at the sight. Maybe she was right. Instead of pulling that thread, I was going to tear the whole friggin' thing down.
"You're going after him." Wilson stated plainly as I gazed down at the file.
"You don't have to come with me." my tone was dark.
"I know." Sam admitted with that accepting note that I knew meant he was going to anyway because he wanted to and it was the right thing to do. "When do we start?"
"We just did." was my curt reply.
I hadn't been home to New York in a while since the DC incident, thanks to Bucky putting four holes in me. Good thing I don't hold grudges long and he is my best friend or my attitude might have been different. My apartment still was in a bit of a ramshackle mess from my earlier departure but I can't ever claim being a tidy guy. Bucky always made sure I was organized, after Mom died.
Sam stayed behind in DC to do some old fashioned legwork on any leads we might have had on James. Even if he was an assassin, it is hard to hide that silver arm. With a heavy heart, I knew I dislocated his other one. Someone must have seen something.
The file and its English translation sat next to my steaming cup of coffee as the morning sun crept into my windows, highlighting the fire escape in sharp black lines against the glass panes. Pull that thread, I thought in my mind, for him, not for you. Furrowing my brow and steeling myself, I prepared to dive into the past seventy years of hell they put them through.
December 14, 1943
HYDRA Soviet Division
Laboratory Notes
" A curious specimen was brought to me today from the HYDRA patrols in the valley below the rail line. Sgt. James Barnes of the United States Army was found in a ravine after Dr. Zola's train was tragically beset by Captain America and Zola captured. Judging from his injuries, he must have fallen from the train as it passed by.
I recognize him from Zola's notes. Dr. Zola used him for some preliminary testing when his lab was located in Azzano, Italy. Brilliant work. Unfortunately, we had to amputate the specimen's arm, but I can see the genius of Zola's work in the subjects' resiliency. He will make a fine sample to continue HYDRA's work on."
My gorge rose in the back of my throat, hot coffee and stomach acid. This is what happened to him after he fell off that train. I let him go, to fall not to death but years of torture. What kind of man am I? Holding my chin in my palm and feeling my teeth grind in anguish; I looked out the window at the beautiful day dawning before me. Till the end, I recalled telling him and I meant every word. I read on.
December 25, 1943
Hydra Soviet Division
Laboratory Notes
" The graft of metal to man is complete. The Subject has fully recovered from surgery to repair his left arm. We had to sedate him for a few days until he stopped trying to pull the artificial arm off. The engineering of the bionic arm is exquisite and the Subject has already attempted to use it, although it resulted in the unfortunate death of one of our guards. He also broke several pieces of equipment. Apparently our Subject is quite feisty and keeps stating the Captain America is going to rescue him. We supplement him with a sedative to keep him calm."
I couldn't help a smirk at the description of Bucky being feisty and fighting like hell to get loose from those monsters. Then my sense reeled me in and reminded me that I didn't rescue him like he thought I would. My head began to pound with a splitting headache as I absorbed it all.
January 15, 1944
Hydra Soviet Division
Laboratory Notes
" The Subject's designation has now been changed to Asset. He is in robust physical health, despite his initial shock to having a metallic prosthetic arm. The mental portion of our work begins. I am told we need to erase his memory and create a new one for our grand purpose. Dr. Zola had some theories in his notes regarding how to accomplish this goal, but for the most part, this is new territory for HYDRA and us. I feel honored to be a part of such a grand undertaking.
We have attempted many different psychoactive drugs on him. Some create a stupor, which is unacceptable, and others create great agitation in him. One of the stranger concoctions almost burned his veins to cinders. We shall not try that one again.
In therapy sessions, even under medication, the Asset keeps repeating a name: Steve Rogers. It is almost mantra-like in his repetition of that name. I have been told that was his best friend and the Captain America. He curses otherwise, typically at us, and then returns to chanting 'Steve Rogers' when he catches his breath.
I think we will have to combine pharmaceuticals with traditional electric therapy and verbal therapy to achieve our goals. My confidence level is high."
My cheeks were wet with tears. What can you say to that? He called my name, over and over and I never came. Now I truly understood what Natasha meant by pulling that thread.
I had to stand up. This was harder than I imagined at all. Luckily, my phone rang right about then distracting me from the cruelty outlined on my kitchen table. Sniffling to clear my nose, I answered it, "Rogers."
"Steve. I have a slim lead." Wilson's voice said carefully.
"What is it?" my heartbeat picked up a tick or two.
"I was trolling the homeless guys that hang round the basin and I found one who said Bucky robbed him of his clothes a few weeks back." Sam replied and I could hear DC traffic behind him.
"Are you sure the guy really saw Bucky?" I answered suspiciously.
"He was very clear about the silver arm. Especially when I gave him a ten. Said that the person who attacked him was arguing with himself about 'Finishing him off' and he kept screaming 'No'. Sounds like an off-kilter assassin to me." Sam finished.
"How long ago?" I replied a sliver of hope rising.
"He said about two weeks ago." Falcon responded.
"So, he was in DC, but now where? And what is he wearing now?" I rejoined.
"That I have no answer for but he's wearing a dark hoodie, jeans and a dark t-shirt. Also a baseball cap." Wilson replied.
"Ok. It's a start. I am reading his file." I said flatly.
"You ok, Steve?" Sam inquired, the therapist tone creeping in.
"I'll be ok. Catch you later." I lied and hung up.
With a huge sigh, I sat down to the misery at my table and continued to read, looking for any clues.
March 18, 1944
Hydra Soviet Division
Laboratory Notes
"We have setback with the Asset. Today, some distinguished guests from HYDRA came to watch our latest demonstration. Some Ally POW's were brought in, a mix of English and American soldiers who were in average physical condition compared to our superb Asset. We wanted to demonstrate the Asset's training and ability. A battle room of sorts was created with a selection of weapons where we put the POW's. They quickly took up the arms and looked for a way out, as expected. Through mirrored bulletproof glass, we observed what occurred next, which was to drop our Asset into the room from the ceiling, simulating a real mission. His instructions were clear- kill all the POW's as quickly as possible.
The Asset was highly efficient in dispatching the American and English troops with great efficiency and grace. However, the break down occurred when he got to the last American solider, who evidently (and unknowing to us) knew the Asset before his accident. The soldier looked up at the Asset before he shot him and called out the Asset's former name.
The Asset paused in his onslaught and stared blankly at the man. He then looked around the room at the results of his excellent work. At that moment, a realization that he was the source of the carnage occurred and he let out a loud yell and began to sob uncontrollably. He begged the American POW for forgiveness and the two of them clutched each other collapsing to the floor, crying.
Our superiors were not impressed by his mental and emotional weakness and we were firmly instructed to remedy it.
The POW was removed and we sedated the Asset.
I have a theory that cryotherapy may help with the mental stability of our Asset. We are constructing a freezer at this time."
My God, they made you kill innocent men, I thought bitterly, but you didn't give in.
April 25, 1944
Hydra Soviet Division
Laboratory Notes
"The cryotherapy has been a success by augmenting the prescriptions and verbal therapy to wipe his mind. He believes he has no mother or father. His recollection of his school days and home are not present. We have inserted the appropriate background into his mind so that he believes that he was a part of HYDRA from the beginning. However, we still have one hurdle to overcome. That is the troublesome memory of Steve Rogers. The Asset does not remember him as the Super Soldier he is now, but he still harbors their childhood memories. We will begin a process of verbal therapy to finally eradicate that name from the Asset."
I found my fists curled into tight balls, nails biting into my palms. Every muscle in my being was taught with anger.
Addendum to Lab Notes:
"This is a transcript of our verbal therapy with the Asset to erase the final memories of Steve Rogers. The Asset was sitting in his therapy chair and administered a serum of proprietary design. Once the drug had taken effect, we began.
Therapist- Asset. Can you hear me?
Asset- Yes.
Therapist- I want to talk about Steve Rogers.
Asset- He's coming for me.
Therapist- Yes, you think this.
Asset- I do.
Therapist- I want to ask you why you think he has not come?
Asset- Because that punk couldn't find his way out of a wet paper bag.
Therapist- I see. And what does Steve Rogers look like?
Asset- He is the scrawniest kid I ever saw. Tiny. He's always sick and I… I think I take care of him. Yes. I do. He's my friend.
Therapist- I see. And it is because he is so frail and small you care for him?
Asset- No, because he is the bravest, most honorable guy I know. He's a real trooper. He's my friend.
Therapist- But real friends help each other, correct?
Asset- Yeah.
Therapist- Then if he's your real friend, then why has he not come?
Asset- I dunno. ** there is confusion in his voice with uncertainty.**
Therapist- I have a letter here from a few months ago stating that he's been seen with other friends and he knows you are here with us. ** The therapist holds up a letter with gibberish. A prop**
Asset- That's not true. Lemme see that.** the Asset is trying to see the letter but he is restrained.
Therapist- I am sorry. I cannot. But its signed here and notarized. It is the truth.
Asset- can't be true. Stop it. ** the Asset is struggling against his bonds**
Therapist- I also have bad news about Steve Rogers.
Asset- What!? Tell me.
Therapist- He is dead. He contracted pneumonia and died this week.
Asset- NO. NO. NO. ** he is struggling mightily against his chair. The technician applies a delicate shock**
The therapist waits for the tetanus of the electricity to cease then repeats that Steve Rogers is dead, followed by an electric shock. This is repeated twelve times until the Asset is exhausted. Now that the Asset is in a weakened state, the therapist produces a photo of a facsimile 'Steve Rogers' which we created. It shows a dead boy that matches the description we have on file.
Therapist- I have something to show you.
Asset- No.
Therapist- I think you should see it.
Asset- No.
The therapist nods to the technician and a gentler shock is applied. The Assets eyes are open as he responds to the electricity. The therapist puts the photo in front of the Asset's face. He emits a very loud, mournful sound for several seconds and then looses consciousness.
We will see tomorrow if this final procedure has obliterated the memory of Steve Rogers."
I found myself breathing heavily as if I had just run a marathon. I scanned down further and in neat slightly faded fountain pen handwriting there is the note: Success!
They broke him.