Hydra could be boiled down into three words: clean, cold, and efficient. Everything was made of metal. Unforgiving and unyielding metal. Steam billowed out of various machines and the eerie artic colored energy glowed out of every corner. The entire castle also smelled of damp and dirt, polluted with the artificial scents of grease, oil, and disinfectant. This particular facility was first and foremost, a weapons manufacturer. Production lines weaved in and around every instrument. The men buzzed about, going to and fro, forced into labor by their, ever watchful, masked guards. The clinking of chains was common as they were secured to their posts. Despite the power hungry purpose, the base was an impressive sight to behold. No other country could compare to the technology currently under development in the Hydra camp at this moment, not even Stark Industries. But, it wasn't enough.
It was never enough.
Two men walked by, chained to a carrier as they hefted a case of the finished ammunition to a storage unit. "As you can see." Doctor Arnim Zola said to Schmidt, "Production and the work here is progressing on schedule. Even with components of this size." He finished, pointing proudly to his designs as they briskly walked by the other prisoners.
Unimpressed Schmidt casually ordered, "Increase the output by sixty percent. And speak with our other facilities to do the same."
"But these prisoners," Zola asked in disbelief, "I…I'm not sure they have the strength."
"Then use up what strength they have left, Doctor." Schmidt commanded uncaring, "There are always more workers. " he nodded then passed the Doctor, leaving to monitor progress from the command room.
Zola shook his head, stressed, after the encounter. It seemed as if nothing he accomplished would ever be enough for Schmidt. With each new development, he became more power hungry, more sadistic, and that did not sit well with Zola.
-permafrost-
Below the factor floor, in a different part of the castle, were the cells. The circular cages held about ten men each. They were simple really, thin metal rods that traveled from floor to ceiling, just narrow enough so that none of the prisoners could pass through. A few of the cells had grates for ceilings, where the floor above them could be scene. They were not the most comfortable of living spaces, but at least they weren't dead…yet.
It was the end of the workday. The men were ushered into their respective cells and locked in for the night. It was an endless cycle that started again the next morning, bright and early, and finished late into the night. Most of the men lost hope that they were ever going to be rescued. They knew how risky a rescue mission would be so deep into enemy territory. Nevertheless, if you were working on the floor, you did not happen to be the unlucky soul who was picked to be taken away. Nobody genuinely knew what happened to those soldiers. If you rebelled, you were most likely taken away. If you caught them observing you, muttering over some hidden clipboard, you were probably taken away. They took strong men, weak men, it almost seemed random. The only certainty was that if you were chosen, you were never coming back.
As the men ambled into their cells, a Hydra soldier pushed Timothy "Dum Dum" Dugan, knocking off his bowler hat. "You know, Fritz." He picked up his hat. "One of these days, I'm going to have a stick of my own." He glared at the soldier who did not respond, locking the cell door behind him.
-permafrost-
The forest floor was completely shrouded in fog. Silence dominated the blackness and stillness controlled the air. Every crack or groan of the protesting underbrush that hissed beneath Steve's boots was like a beacon in his mind, calling every Hydra operative to his location. He moved quickly between the trees. His now leisure place would have been impossible to keep up, in his earlier form. A few minutes at this speed would have consequently resulted in an asthma attack.
The former castle was now a heavily guarded military operation. Searchlights flooded the area, making continuous sweeps of the landscape and tree line. Guards could be seen posted every couple meters along the fence. They were not stationary either. Ever alert, they moved back and forth at their positions.
From his hidden viewpoint, Steve could hear the rumbling of engines approaching. Four trucks were coming up behind him about to enter the compound. Waiting until the last vehicle was about to pass, he stood up and gave chase. With a great leap he vaulted into the cloth covered back of the car.
Spinning, Steve landed in the back and greeted two masked men. "Fellas." Recovering from their shock, they lunged at him.
With a few swift punches and kicks they were soon deposited out the back of the automobile. And that was how Captain America gained entrance to the Hydra Weapons Facility.
-permafrost-
Knock, knock, knock. Came from behind the door, interrupting the guard's musings about sweet, sweet, sleep.
His wish came soon enough. Just as he opened the door and peered inside, his head was smashed into the doorframe, knocking him out cold.
Steve snuck by. Wandering through the manufacturing floor, he came across a table covered with various glowing objects. Observing them curiously he plucked a small device from the array and tucked it into his pocket. 'For Lucy…' he thought, 'and Stark…' he tacked on as an afterthought. Whatever Hydra was making they needed to know about it, and fast.
-permafrost-
The men in the cells sat around trying to sleep. While the ceilings were high, that did not nothing to help the sleeping arrangements. Most were sat leaning against the bars to make room for the others. It was quiet. The only sounds came from above where a guard paced, his steps reverberating throughout the room.
They suddenly jerked to a stop. The thump of a body hitting the ground was heard, causing the captured Allied men to jump to their feet. A figure could be seen pulling a ring of keys from the limp body.
From below, one of the squinted trying to see their funnily dressed savior, "Who are you supposed to be?"
"Um…" Steve breathed, still looking around for more guards, "I'm, Captain America."
"I…" came a distinctly confused British lilt; "beg your pardon?" finished James Montgomery Falsworth.
Steve ran down the stairs and began to unlock all of the cells.
"What are we taking everybody?" Dum Dum asked frowning at the shorter Asian man.
"I'm from Fresno, Ace." Jim Mortia replied. Offended he pulled out his dog tags to prove his point.
"There anybody else?" Steve asked urgently, not having time for their petty arguments, "I'm looking for a Sergeant James Barnes."
"There's an isolation ward in the factory." Falsworth responded immediately. "But no ones every come back from it."
"Alright," Steve nodded, that would be his next target. Turning back to the men he instructed, "The tree line is northwest, its eighty yards past the gate. Get out fast and give them hell. I'll meet you guys in the clearing with anybody else I find."
"Wait." Dum Dum argued, "You know what you're doing?"
"Yeah," Steve deadpanned, "I've knocked out Adolf Hitler over 200 times."
The newly released soldiers shared mutual looks of confusion as the man with the shield ran off. Shrugging, they left to unleash their pent up frustration on the Hydra camp. Wreaking as much havoc as they could, the men all but razed the facility down to its foundations.
-permafrost-
Meanwhile, Schmidt started all of the timers, counting down to the base wide explosion. Doctor Zola, on the other hand, was saving all the notes he could from the isolation ward. Just as he exited the door he spotted a man in the hallway. It was the man from the monitors. The man who set off all of the destruction and released the prisoners. Without a backwards glance, Zola fled from the intimidating soldier.
Steve considered chasing after the scientist but instead stopped to inspect the rooms. Inside one of the labs, he heard some faint mutterings mingling in the moonlight.
Steve exhaled with relief.
"Bucky!"