Chapter 8
"What do you mean, you don't know where he is? He has to wear the loudest costume out of all the Avengers!"
"Except Thor. And Iron man."
"Your input is not necessary here, Falcon," Nick Fury snapped. The SHIELD agent that had reported to the director looked nervous, especially since the guy had been the bearer of bad news regarding the (lack of) knowledge about Captain America's whereabouts.
Falcon, for his part, sighed. He was just trying to lighten the mood, but Fury was having none of that.
"Director," a newcomer said, walking up to the small group. Sensing that his opportunity of escape had come, the SHIELD agent quickly fled the scene, to be replaced by Hawkeye and Black Widow, both of whom were fully dressed in their combat gear. "Permission to search for Captain America?" It was Black Widow who was speaking, one hand on her hip and a superior expression on her face. Falcon had no doubt in his mind that the two of the Avengers were a match for the Winter Soldier.
Before Fury could reply, another SHIELD agent came running up, waving an image.
"Sir!" He yelled. "We have confirmation that HYDRA is holding Captain America prisoner!"
Nick Fury gave the agent the most intense look Falcon had ever seen, all channeled through his one good eye. The agent somehow withstood the visual onslaught, though he was sweating with nervousness, and held out the photo. Falcon heard Black Widow mutter something to Hawkeye.
"He had to print it out? When did we even get a printer?"
Everyone within earshot except Fury and the agent cracked a small smile. Fury, meanwhile, was glaring at the picture with everything he had, making the new agent quite uncomfortable, even as he began walking away, sensing that he wasn't needed anymore.
"Sir?" Falcon said tentatively. "I think it would be great if we played by kindergarten rules and shared the picture with everyone."
"Secrets secrets are no fun," Hawkeye muttered, earning himself an elbow from Black Widow.
With an unintelligible grunt, Fury tossed the picture to Falcon, who juggled it for a few brief moments before finally catching it and looking at it. When he did, his breath caught in his throat. The image depicted Captain America strapped in a chair, various nefarious machines arranged around him. There were more than a few needles, and HYDRA personnel were visible.
"That equipment . . ." Black Widow murmured, somehow having gotten behind Falcon without the man noticing. "I know it."
"Care to share?" Hawkeye asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I'd bet your left arm, Clint, that that's the same machinery HYDRA used on the Winter Soldier. I saw it during my training."
Black Widow had gone tense as she mentioned her training, and it was obvious that any questions from the audience on that topic would not be welcome, even though it was Black Widow herself who had brought it up.
"Hold on a second," Hawkeye protested, "my left arm? What about yours?"
"Why would I risk my own arm?" Black Widow replied sweetly, giving Hawkeye a smile so obviously insincere it made Falcon roll his eyes.
"Can we get back to the point, people?" Fury demanded, instantly catching everyone's attention. "Cap is currently prisoner in an enemy base in a location we don't know yet. We need to find him, before HYDRA extracts any of the secrets hidden within him."
"Wait," Falcon muttered, frowning. "Didn't we say earlier that the Winter Soldier had taken Cap with him and not to HYDRA?"
"Apparently," Fury replied darkly, "we were wrong."
...
The Winter Soldier stared straight ahead as the elevator descended, his eyes focused on everything and nothing. His mind flashed back to what the Captain had been talking about - if freedom is a disease, why is there a nation founded on it? - and grit his teeth. The man's words simply wouldn't get out of his head, not matter what the Winter Soldier did.
Where's my shield?
His metal hand slammed into the side of the elevator, leaving a sizable dent and causing the entire mechanism to shudder, momentarily screeching to a half before it continued moving again. The Winter Soldier's breathing slowly calmed while he held his right hand - his flesh-and-blood hand - in front of his face. He frowned, seeing that it was doing something he'd never seen before.
It was trembling. Why was it trembling?
The Winter Soldier felt the urge to hit something again, but he contained himself. He shouldn't be feeling this way; his emotions were his to control. He would not be controlled by forces outside of his control.
A headache sprung up and thoughts previously suppressed began pouring into the Winter Soldier's mind. I am being controlled. HYDRA is controlling me. They wipe my memory; I know that. But I let them do it because it's the only way . . . it's the only way for what?
The elevator made a soft noise to signify that it had arrived at the correct floor and the doors smoothly slid open. The Winter Soldier quickly stepped out and made his way through semi-familiar corridors, heading to a place he barely remembered. He hadn't been in that area of the base since he had gotten his last upgrade to his arm, and even then it was a fuzzy memory.
Did they wipe that from my mind too?
He immediately banished the thought, trying to focus on what he was doing. Distractions would do nothing but make him lose sight of why he was here, why HYDRA needed him.
But does HYDRA actually need me?
With a deep breath, the Winter Soldier silenced the thoughts in his head and simply concentrated on walking, one foot in front of the other. It took five minutes of traveling for the Winter Soldier to make it to the advanced sciences division of the HYDRA base, and stepped inside the main lab. There was a glass wall separating the lab from where a person would enter, making a ring around the main lab through a one-way mirror, so that the scientists could focus completely on what they were doing.
The room surrounding the lab was dark, so the Winter Soldier stepped inside, hearing the clear door slide shut behind him. Because of the two-way mirrors, the scientists couldn't see what the Winter Soldier was doing, nor could they even tell that someone else had entered the lab. On top of the mirrors, the scientists were completely occupied by their work: a circular shield emblazoned with a star in the middle, decorated in red, white, and blue. It was suspended in a cylindrical pillar of light, with holographic projections around it that the scientists were interacting with, presumably scanning the shield. Due to the soundproofing, the Winter Soldier couldn't hear what the scientists were saying. He supposed that he could read their lips, but it wasn't worth the effort. The Winter Soldier wasn't at the science wing for an education.
A memory came to the man with a metal arm as he stared at the shield, unmoving. Screams, falling. A terrible agony in his left arm, before it was metal. Shadows.
The images were gone almost as soon as they had come, but it was enough to make the man uneasy.
I was something . . . someone . . . before I was a part of HYDRA. I was comrades with Captain America . . . and I fought . . . against HYDRA . . .?
The Winter Soldier continued staring at the shield, imprinting the image on his scattered memory. Meanwhile, his fists were only getting tighter, with the urge to hit something only getting stronger.
I was a part of the . . . United States military . . . I was Captain America's . . . partner . . .?
He violently shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut.
Not possible. I would never fight alongside a person like that. It's. Not. Possible.
His hands were on his head, and the Winter Soldier slowly fell to his knees, feeling a battle going on in his mind that he was powerless to even hope to control.
If I fought with Steve Rogers . . . then why did I join HYDRA?
The pounding in the Winter Soldier's brain intensified.
No . . . I didn't join HYDRA. I was . . . indoctrinated. My memory . . . they erased it.
The Winter Soldier's blue eyes shot wide open as he came to that realization, and his left arm ached, the metal seeming to burn where it came into contact with his skin.
My name . . . was . . . no, is . . . James Buchanan Barnes. I was given the nickname Bucky by my friends, before I was in HYDRA. HYDRA . . . took me away, brainwashed me. I still . . . can't . . . remember anything!
Bucky's eyes slowly opened and he took a few deep, calming breaths while he tried to sort through what had just happened in his brain.
All of the blocks . . . they're vanishing. I can . . . remember. Some things.
Bucky gasped as a few of the things he'd done hit him, and hit him hard.
HYDRA . . . you bastards.
With that thought in mind, the Winter Soldier stood up, one hand still holding his head since his mind was reeling.
I know what I have to do.
Bucky drew back his left arm, his eyes narrowing as a familiar anticipation of a fight ran through him. In a sudden, explosive motion, Bucky's arm short forward in a powerful punch, easily smashing through the mirror. The scientists all turned, various expressions of surprise on their faces. As a thousand shards of mirror clattered to the metal floor, Bucky held out his metal hand, a deadly look on his face.
"I'm going to want that shield," he growled.
It was difficult to get what was going through Bucky's mind on paper (well, internet paper), so I hope it is at least slightly logical to understand how all of the ideals Bucky stood for before HYDRA got ahold of him overpowered what the Winter Soldier believed in. From now on, I'll be switching between "Bucky" and "Winter Soldier" as referring to him, often depending on what he's feeling/doing.
So yeah. Apparently you guys like this fic, which is pretty awesome. You could return the favor of me writing this small little story by taking a minute or two to type up a review and let me know what you think!
So please, please review!
-RoR