Chapter 5 – The Soldier

The Soldier awoke as he always did, in agony. His frozen limbs burned as blood and feeling returned to them. He was biting down on a mouth guard, jaw clenched, screaming into it as the apparatus on his face shot a bolt of electricity through his left eye. He tasted blood, rubber, ozone. His mind was a howling emptiness. And then, there was a voice.

"Longing. Rusted. Seventeen. Daybreak. Furnace. Nine. Benign. Homecoming. One. Freight car."

He breathed deep, heaving gasps as his heart rate slowed back to normal. He remembered what he was.

"Welcome back, Soldier."

They removed the apparatus from his face and he took in his surroundings – featureless concrete walls. He was strapped into a high-backed chair. Black-clad guards watched him, hands on stun batons in case he broke free. What country was this? What year? There was no sign.

The man who had spoken stepped closer to him. Blond. Tall. Wire-rimmed spectacles and an understated suit. The Soldier felt a moment of disorientation. He remembered the man being younger – much younger. He had gray in his hair now that he hadn't had the last time, his kindly, sad eyes framed by a network of fine wrinkles.

How many years...?

"I still don't see why this is necessary, Pierce."

The Soldier cut his eyes to the side quickly, looking from under his hair. The speaker was a younger man, voice accented. Eastern European. Latverian? No, Sokovian. Good physical condition. Silvery hair swept to the side and a two-day growth of stubble. A girl slouched beside him – small, almost frail-looking, with a long fall of dark hair obscuring her face.

"Why not simply send us?" The young man asked Pierce with a smirk. "Fury would never see it coming. Could it be that you don't trust us?"

"I appreciate your master's consideration," Pierce replied. "I have no intention of wasting her generosity on this. Fury is a friend. I'd rather handle this personally."

Pierce turned back to face the Soldier. Behind him, where he couldn't see, the girl shook her hair back and made a grimace of distaste. The Soldier had a sudden flash of memory – a pale face coming out of darkness, the smell of wet stone, someone standing beside him, just out of sight. He shoved it away. Memory was pain, and confusion. He was purpose.

Techs were removing his restraints warily, flinching backward as he flexed his hands. His right hand was still flesh and bone – his left was steel. For a moment that seemed wrong. The moment faded.

"Soldier," Pierce said. "Good to see you again."

Pierce spoke in English, but the Soldier replied in Russian.

"Mission, Sir?"

Pierce gestured and a guard handed him a dossier labeled "Fury, Nicholas J."

The Winter Soldier felt as close as he ever did to happiness.

Hi everyone - he has arrived! My boy, the Winter Soldier. There will be other chapters from his POV coming. It is Veterans' Day weekend here in the U.S. If you are a veteran in crisis, please call the Veteran Crisis Line - 1-800-273-8255 (press 1). Or text 838255. As always, I welcome your feedback.