{24}
Against the pulses of resistance thrumming against his chest, he wanted more than anything to feel Avora's tiny svelte body secured into the embrace of his flesh and metallic arms, that precious angelic little girl was starlight that pierced through the darkness he walked through. Her brazenly defiant and innocent spirit deserved freedom, not a cage of submission.
Now, he was on verge of losing her and the sudden emptiness roiled at him with force of a crashing wave. He needed to free her from the viperous coils of Madame HYDRA.
Moving with a fierce and mechanical prowess in his advancing stride towards the laboratory division, the Winter Soldier felt a new upsurge of unrelenting fury mounting within him. Nothing abated in the seconds his Soviet red star insignia became a crimson flash of dread arresting the eyes of HYDRA guards he grappled down with the bone- crushing force of his metallic hand. He was exceedingly aware of the pitiful choked gasps stunned into muted volumes against his ears. There was no time for hesitation. He effectively delivered a brutal crescendo that he was primed to orchestrate.
Echoes of Avora's careening screams drove him onward at a furious pace, he was entering a rampage at full throttle, allowing no levels sentiment to barricade him from succeeding his mission. His tactical boots thumped heavily with intimidating and fervent stride; he unleashed cold savageness on the well-armed sentries who had been ordered to obstruct his path. He tasted the brackish tang of blood crusted over his shapely full lips, fueling his escalating rage.
Using the assuage of predatory grace, he unobtrusively pierced through semi-darkness like a honed knife, penetrating through narrow spaces with relentless speed. Breath grew hot in his throat. He felt separation from the sense of obedience, becoming a loose cannon ignited with a blaze of hellbent defiance."You can't save the little brat, Winter..." Rumlow's abrasive, choking snarl tauntingly chased his engaged paces. "She's a damn goner..."
"Avora!" he roared, feeling the rawness of his breath scraping at his throat.
Presently, the connection of restrained emotion was distant to harbor back, the coldness of his feral instincts mounted in his veins. He welcomed the redolence of stale blood, as he stalked down the final corridor with full momentum tracing his fervent strides. 'Can't fail the mission...'
The rebellious spirit of Brooklyn was a contending wave, crashing against the defective hinges of his tortured mind. Only Avora's untainted innocence attached him to life and he was on the brink of losing her to HYDRA's occultic tortures of blood draining. She was a vassal to a forsaken birthright, the toxic essence of the Red Skull was reborn into her-it was damning to know that she carried the essence of that insane red-faced demon.
Vicious thoughts seemed to pass him as he paced forward remaining undetected by HYDRA sentries as his black tactical attire mixed into the cover of shadows. His choice to engage ahead was fueled by the unshakeable chorus of dread as he listened to Avora's heart-wrenching screams continuing to echo through masses of darkness. Nothing obstructed his genuine sentiment for her, as he took aim with the Kalashnikov rifle he swiped from an unconscious HYDRA guard and made a precise kill shot, the bloodied smear on the wall confirmed instant death in the wake of his passing.
Clenching his metallic hand in restrained fury; the Winter Soldier felt the presence of humanity returning at the brusque moment as his refocused glacial blue eyes chased steadily over flecks of dim light projecting over steel paneled walls. Each one attached to the sealed doors of the extraction chamber. He wouldn't relent as the mission called to him.
A sentry guard was alerted by Rumlow to engage lethal Siberian ghost. As hesitant awareness dragged over his thoughts, he aimed his automatic involtionairy at the imposing figure slashing in the darkness, caught in his line of sight and delivered a muffled warning in guttural Russian. A glint of metallic sheen confirmed that he had injected himself within a dangerous and uncompromising element of obstruction.
"Halt, Soldat...Eto lish' ogranicheno-''
It was a futile reaction of unhinged emotion, and releasing a guttural snarl, his metallic plates contorted in rigid sync coiling over the man's neck, as the Winter Soldier delivered a harsh clench of bruising force, preparing to create a cervical fracture. He wanted to hear the bones disjoin apart. No pulse of mercy obstructed his thoughts. He was programmed to terminate. His icy blue eyes blazed with a deadened glint as he seized the man's wrist, twisting the arm up and drove the knife surgically deep into the HYDRA sentry's unarmed throat, slicing into the exposed artily, as the man suffocated against a gushing eruption; the man coughed up spatters of jetted blood and stumbled to the floor, convulsing out his last breath.
Shadows chased his exacting movements, his unblinking, ghostly blue eyes mirrored the sated darkness, that enveloped over his steps as he paced down the final section of the corridor. Muscles tensed underneath his layers of Kevlar. There was a detection of thermal heat around him. Senses became attuned at the second he reacted to a heavy traction of boots stomping to advance. With a brackish taste of metallic drying on his lips, the Winter Soldier automatically squatted down onto his haunches. His right knee bent outward and the cords of muscles shaping his left thigh grew rigid against restriction of weight he was rooting into with a balletic stance.
For years of withstanding unmerciful discipline of melee and stealth, he was conditioned to isolate core body heat in darkness. He loitered with a measure of lethal tolerance, as the vibrations of his approaching assailant drew nearer to his strike zone.
All senses converged, he calculated the dexterity and agility to deliver a violent slash into flesh, and as the taint hostility grew potent, in one fluid motion of footing, he effortlessly removed a combat knife from the slit in his boot, fisting the hilt into a reserve grip as his chrome fingers curled tautly with instrumental harmony.
The edge of the Gerber Mark ll blade leveled with his tensed shoulder. He clamped the knife into a hammer grip, the striking intensity of his steel-blue irises unwaveringly glinted a reserved dare; reflecting murderous light for his proximate challenger to emerge for their gladiatorial dual. The hunger became almost irresistible to discard, as he controlled his sniper stance, waiting for the right moment to deliver pain to the one who he locked in the crosshairs of his retribution.
Feeling a new surge of predatory impulses eeling through his pulsing veins, the Winter Soldier remained grounded on his solid hunches, hidden in dappled shadows as the glacial depth of his luminous steel-aquamarine irises pierced heatedly underneath draped tresses of snarled chestnut, he was attuned to the elements, listening to nonchalant vibrations of boot steps infringing closer.
His thoughts became seized by the unbridled breach of emotion, a potent feeling that reined up defiance to object commands of resistance. Feeling hard cords of muscle flexing under tactical layers of Kevlar he waited for his target to engage closer for an immediate strike.
In seconds of detecting thermal heat radiating off his approaching opponent, the Soldier felt grappled by the resonance of brutal command, the indulgence of cold satisfaction, brandishing his knife, the blue gists of his eyes piercingly scanned the shadows for the faceless HYDRA sentry. Blood rushed through his veins.
Like a crashing thunderbolt, the Winter Soldier felt the clamorous surges of momentum, the cold insensitivity awash over him in repulsion; nothing would infringe his steeled determination. Tuning out the blaring echoes of the klaxon alarms, he became lost in a murderous stupor—his violent thoughts amply infused with rabid impulses reaching their apex.
Feeling trepidation implode within his core, the Winter Soldier drew out a breath and lunged effortlessly in mid air at the full momentum of breakneck precision; delivering a high caliber of skillful acrobatics and relentless precision of feral speed. Gaining leverage against his opponent, he scissored his legs in unison over the man's armored shoulders; thick muscle under Kevlar clenched at a taut pulse while his back aligned with a slender torso, his unkempt wolfish mane draped unruly as he ruthlessly balanced the bulk of his weight, clamping his thighs efficiently over the seething man's exposed neck in a viselike grip.
Using his unshakeable agility and enhanced the strength of rigid muscle against bone, he swiftly induced compressive pain, with subtle distance, jutted his knees outward and dislodged his opponent's vertebrae with one sickening crack. Before the body slumped into a lifeless heap, he flipped back onto his boots with controlled and reserve ease of footing, wiping his gloved hand futilely over his fevered, sweat dotted brow and askew tresses, while glaring darkly at the corpse shadowed beneath his intimating form.
The Winter Soldier didn't remain idle. Pivoting his boots at a changeable pace, he stalked menacingly down the corridor, only to become welcomed by the distinct a torturous redolence of disinfectant and fresh blood. Suddenly, he felt impeded from stokes of resistance -frozen against the disturbing wake of ailing onset of tumultuous memories that barraged his senses once the cryptically sadistic voice of the stout faced demon chased his rapid heartbeat.
'Sergeant James Barnes...'
In one sharp gasp, Bucky jolted awake to the halo of blinding light edging against blurred sickening darkness as he regained his vision long enough to stare at the cold, metallic gleam of a medical cart, aligned with sterile instruments dabbed with a vermilion coating that became unmistakable to recognize has a recent extraction of blood.
Everything seized up inside. He could feel his pulse starting to elevate as panic mounted in his chest. A blare of strange volumes revealed that he wasn't a captive of a hellish nightmare. He arched his back off the steel, desperately trying to restrain his tears as his voice became dissolved by a seethe of pain. His bruised muscles conveyed flexes reluctance, as he felt breath straining away. He tried to voice out an enraged protest, only hitches of breath condensed in his sore throat. "What-what?" Dread was unfurling at an unstable rate as he tasted blood combining with the bile of his emptied stomach.
He couldn't feel air rolling on his tongue was rawness obstructed a silent whimper of mercy. His Brooklyn defiance was gone, oust by flares of hot pain generating in his neck as electrical pulses chased his erratic heartbeat. He smelt a putrid stench of blood wafting from vials. He could hear the rotating blades of a circular saw nearing his skin. The stench of chloroform hazed in thickness, clogging his senses as he grudgingly inhaled. He couldn't balance his rampant thoughts to focus, a silent numbness claws at his addled mind when his blurring eyes flitted constantly over the medical cart.
Breath was drawing up with heavy pants as his voice became subdued with hitching sobs that rattled through his elevating chest. He felt muscles tensing under the force of gravity that evoked dread. Shadows of men dressed in white coats loomed over him as he fought on the edge of conscious, trying to recall his inner defiance to fight back even when he dismally figured there was hope in this limbo. So many questions flooded through his mind as he intently stared at gobs of blood sloping over his bare chest, and tracing every ridge of his bruised torso.
The extent of pain couldn't measure to the apex of fear as he braved a stare to look at his damaged left arm. The humerus bone had been wrenched out of alignment and bloodied flesh was shredded and hanging loosely as tears slid into disheveled chestnut strands draped over his pinching temples. Panic was reaching a new height. He was immobilized at the sight of a butchered hunk of flesh that was barely latched onto his body, and he recognized that medical tools on the cart were intended for him-he had awoken, only to see the beginning of a hellish operation.
It hurt to catch air, his ribs felt detached and puncturing through bruised muscle, and his vision was dimming against a coating of unshed tears. He felt restrained underneath tight leather straps buckled at his waist, digging into the exposed sculpt of tensed flesh. Wires entangled over his naked chest as sweat collected over the bruised cords of hard swells of muscle coiling against the icy touch of rubber. He was violated with a possessive grip. The pulses of dread raced through his heart, it was agonizing to dismiss. A slow tilt of his head offered him enough precision to stare into the malicious gaze of Doctor Armin Zola.
Blood froze in his veins. He emitted a vicious seethe and glared darkly at the monster inspecting over him at the moment the last remnants of rebellion fueled torrents of his strength."My dear Herr Barnes, it's time to begin phase one of your resurrection..."
Resurrection? His thoughts superfetated dread, His paling aquamarine eyes were locked on the sheen of medical instruments prepared to deliver a wide spread of incessant pain through his body. He was in the heart of Zola's operating droning sounds of hydraulics switched on at Zola's command, activating mechanisms as the table repositioned into a vertical position into a satisfied angle for the procedure.
Lurching his stomach upwards, Bucky felt the constrictive pressure of the restraints pinning him down. Surges of blood rushed violently to his head, temples pounded creating a siege of dizziness that wouldn't abate. He glared intensely at Zola was fierce and murderous pale blue eyes and snarled with heaves of furious breath. He tasted sweat matting over his stiffened lips.
Using his last vestiges of defiance last the demolishing onslaught of intruding pain, he swore back at Zola, before electronic pulses of four leads sealed over his clammy skin. Brain waves and synapses lessened as one of Zola's lab coats' began ramping up the dials.
Charges of violent upsurges energy zapped into his skull, waging an intense lightning storm as his tongue numbed to deliver a voiceless plea. He was entering a silent anesthesia, still conscious; feeling rapid crescendos of his heartbeat."S'just kill me," he slurred pleadingly and choked up the blood congealing over his curled tongue.
In his own sadistic amusement, Zola sneered wickedly, gazing at the last glint of youthful defiance fade in the depth of Bucky's vapid aquamarine eyes. He was preparing to extract out that light."I'm afraid you do not have that luxury, Herr Barnes..."
"G-Go to Hell," Bucky seethed out rageful through barred teeth, his gurgling voice was becoming echoes against the sedative filtering in his pulsing blood, feverish rivets of sweat leaked out his pores, matting his paling skin. He thrashed under the straps, gripping onto vestiges of sanity while Zola seized his shoulder possessively, pinning him down against the sterile table.
Spasmatic concussions of pain throbbed in his elevating chest, heartbeat accelerated as sloshes of acrid bile churned in his knotted stomach. He refused to submit. The components of serum burned into the marrow of his bones; causing an erratic fusion in his pulse. He was radically straining to exhale breathe, gusts of breath lapped and pervaded in his heaving chest. As onslaughts of pain amplified, his thoughts went rampant. Was he really dying? Would he fight against this unimaginable nightmare and return to Steve? Where was the little guy? "Steve's gonna find me no matter how deep ya German pigs make me fall...He'll find me."
Disgusted by Bucky's mustered up defiance, Zola seized tresses of dark chestnut with a chubby fist, yanking his head up to feel the wake of unbearable pain flood through his veins. "You forget, Herr Barnes, that your dear Captain America-Steven Rogers is dead to his failed attempts of victory. Nothing will be uncovered to show his last acts of heroism."
Unblinkingly, Bucky raised his heavy chin looking at glints of light piercing into his depths, tears slide over his hard-bone cheekbones, washing away remnants of filth. His boyishly chiseled visage had endured a brutal change as grief shadowed over him. A trace of utmost failure was reflective inside his obscured steel- blue eyes: and his jaw muscles tightened into a fierce scowl. Bucky didn't want to submit to an inexorable approach of stabbing pain that drove full force into his weakening heart, but it was growing increasingly relentless for him to stow away. "You're lying...S-Steve is out there, he's gonna-"
"Even now you're denying reality, Herr Barnes," Zola tittered hollowly, relishing in his moment of obtained dominance. He had deprived the last thread of hope from his newest victim of flux mercy. The stench of chemicals wafted thickly as he narrowed a soulless gaze at the streaks of unleashed tears rolling down Bucky's youthful and colorless features. "It must be so painful to realize that you belong to HYDRA."
What followed was an onslaught of blurring, heated tears, Bucky felt like his heart had been viciously ripped out of his chest, he arched his back off the table and glared at the collection of instruments selected for use. Those soulless words evoked a painful measure of failure and shattered promises to wage through him. More tears began to swell in his eyes.
Each one dribbled over his sulking lips, clogging up his throat and doused the laborious falter in his breath, despite his reserved emotions. He wasn't ready to embrace the intractable truth of Steve's demise; he couldn't muster up the vestiges of strength to believe in hope, not when everything seemed inexplicably unreachable.
He was fading.
A deafened, hagriding chorus of infighting screams ripped from his throat, his pupils dilated as bile emptied from his churning stomach, dripping over his heaving, bare chest. Bucky blinked out the liquid heat of tears, setting a blurring resolve on the bone cutting tool: a saber saw carving into the stump of bloodied flesh that was a mere resemblance of his left arm.
He was collapsing against the modicum of utter hysteria, paralyzed to force out slurring words, as his heart strained to beat. A glitch of distortion later, he reluctantly watched a metallic sheen of a contorted shape glare into his teary blue eyes, an extension of alloyed plates that welded into a robotic assembly. It was designed for him. A sharp clamp of metal sockets greeted his scarred flesh and fastened onto sawed remnants of bone. A deafening scream erupted out of his depths when he felt the jolting thump of connection of electrical charges merging haphazardly with the synapses of his decaying mind.
Torrents blood in his pulsing veins grew into heated sludge, he tasted acid rolling down his throat, to mute out another deafening scream of his soul's protest, Bucky pressed his tongue behind his upper teeth, feeling the last measure of Brooklyn defiance recede. He was falling into oblivion. Flashes of white-hot agony zapped through his bones in tenfold, as he arched his back off the table, reaching for a light of freedom.
"S-Steve..."
The force Zola's vicious dwarf hand thrust him down, holding him into restraint as new and savage rebirth commence. A jolting spasm and he froze, numb and immobilized to resist the pulsing vibrations of a voltaic seize that pierced into his mind. Bile rose up his throat, as he became aware of the excruciating, blinding surges of pain overtaking his body.
With one teary glance of his blurring vision, Bucky gazed unblinkingly at the horrid sight of chrome-robotic fingers morphing into an unshackled fist. They were mutating him into a HYDRA spawn; a controlled weapon of instrumental and merciless death. He amped screams increased with keening volume until gusts of frantic breaths emptied from his aching lungs: until he felt the consuming presence of rage freeze over his heart.
"No-No!"
It felt like an invisible force had wrenched the knife out of his chest, breathless, he sank inexorably to his knees against the careening shockwaves of unassailed, delirious memories. Screams of klaxon alarms were echoing in the blackness. Moments became suspended. Parting his lips shakily to catch rampant breaths, he needed to overcome each cresting wave of torment-fight for her.
Fashioning his metallic hand into an effective fist, the Winter Soldier listlessly reared his head up, luminous glacial fire shimmered in his unwavering eyes, like a machine being reactivated by a hostile surge; he unerringly straightened back to solid balance in his footing, sneering villainously as his contemptuous gaze veered to the steel doors that had the crimson sigil of Kraken skull and tentacles painted onto the surface.
Leveling his clenched fist to the door, his arm reeled back firmly, preparing to ram all the demolishing ferocity of his enhanced strength and rip the hinges clean off. If he was to become a scythe in the darkness than so be it. He would make them choke on their blood, one way or another. He would shift an extremely deadly weapon to relent against if Avora was harmed.
"I will kill em' all..." he lashed out with a guttural roar, ferally, hammering his knuckles with livid force into the denting steel, holding nothing back. He vowed, they'd all feel his unleashed wrath.
