Chapter 28

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The stench of metal.

The crackle of electricity.

The burning embers of fire.

A crash in a lone night.

His mind is a fog.

Empty.

Clueless.

But the secrets he held grew deeper than ever.

"Do you think it best to send him out in a state like this?"

The men were speaking Russian quietly around him. Tone hushed and almost fearful.

"Our only chance leaves tonight. We can no longer wait."

His leader approaches him having put down a red book with a star on it.

He eyed the book in distaste. He always hated seeing it. But never complained about the commands it gave him.

How could he?

"General Karpov, the other subject?" A man ran up to him, frantic and breaths uneven.

Karpov doesn't bat an eye. "She is not ready. Her training is not yet complete. Until we can find a way to control her, we will send the Winter Soldier after our targets."

He doesn't remember what happens next.

Only a loud crash and fire as it licked at the hood of a car.

His mission?

Retrieve the briefcase.

Leave no survivors.

No witnesses.

It's the cold unbearable icy feeling of realization that shakes him awake.

James Buchanan Barnes shot up from his bed, his chest heaving heavily as the pieces of memories began to attack him all at once.

He stumbles, steps shuttering towards the mirror in his dingy old apartment. An animalistic groan slips out of his lips, the ringing of his ears grows much too painful.

With shaky hands, he gripped onto every surface he could find, practically resting his weight upon anything that was unfortunate enough to bear it.

The small counter table fell down, his book flipping open, revealing messy scribbles and messy dates.

All frantic moments he had scrambled to write down.

Bucky falls to his knees, eyes rolling back as flashes of memories flew through sheltered lids.

He grabs the book and reaches for a pen.

It takes him great effort to write it all down, his signature coming out crazed and unhinged.

December 16th, 1991.

Fire. Car crash. Briefcase. No survivors.

Sharp needle-like jabs erupted outwards his skull.

He flinches, throwing the book aside, one hand clawing at his chest, at the metal arm that impaled half of his form.

Standing, he stumbles towards the mirror on the wall, surprised to see the reflection glaring back at him. His black hair hung in sweaty strands across his face, eyes almost crazed.

Bucky tries to remember, he tries to navigate through the swarming memories.

To feel, what he had lost.

In the very crevice of his brain, he could hear a woman's voice. The woman was telling him not to kill them.

Not to kill her husband.

A sharp growl escapes him. His head pounded and his ears rang.

Break out of the training.

Break out of the training!

Without warning, the metal hand punches the mirror in one swift move, leaving the glass shattering everywhere.

Bucky exhales, gasping, body shaking, spine rattling. He raises his head to meet the lone glass, the only one that stubbornly refused to fall.

The eyes that greet him are filled with confusion.

Confusion and agony between who he was.

Bucky or the Winter Soldier?

He frowned, black hair curtaining over his face as his gaze finally widens upon piecing back the memories of that night.

No.

It's a broken plea. An imploration, for it, not to be true.

But it was.

How could he have done that?

To her?

To him?

He turned away. No longer able to see his reflection as his back hits the wall, slowly slumping downwards.

Loneliness and heartbreak squeezed at his heart.

There was no one to turn to.

No one who would take him in.

His fingers run through his hair in erratic patterns, breathing stilling.

No--there was one person.

One person who knew exactly what he felt.

Who had told him, she would be there for him, no matter what.

He just had to allow her to look for him.

But could he do that?

Could he look at her the same way after knowing the truth?

Bucky shakes his head, bloodshot eyes glistening with pain as he opens his mouth to speak, the words merely lost thoughts.

Fiery regret burned him cold.

"Temnaya Ved'ma..."

Dark Witch...



~~@ @ @~~

A/N

Here we are guys, CIVIL WAR.

Get ready cause I'm not.

What did you think about the opening for Part 2?

*Cringes and hides away*

Ouffff, this is realllyyy going to bite me back in the ass, I swear.

Can I get a vote and a comment for some support?

TELL ME YOU'RE THEORIES.

Good luck, my loveliessss



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