I Don't Want To Go [A Bucky Barnes Story]

Three: Restless

The air was thick with fog and fresh rain, making the ground impossible to step on. All he could smell was fresh blood and gunpowder as bullets ricocheting through the trees echoed in his ears. As he trekked through the woods, the smell became fouler, and the sound of gunfire only got louder.

Blood stained his uniform, skin, and hair, but he continued walking through the carnage he had seamlessly caused. The bodies on the ground were the trophies of the war going on just beyond the treeline. His legs moved without thought, leading him away from the bodies and back toward civilization and to the nearest bar.

He needed a drink.

Only a few soldiers were around, and he found himself at the end of the bar, signaling the bartender for a drink. Without a word, a glass was slid down to him, and he sucked down the beverage in one gulp, letting the alcohol burn his throat.

"What unit you with?" A deep voice asked him. The man behind the voice sat beside him, getting himself a drink before looking at his neighbor.

"None."

The man was dressed in an American military uniform, Army by the looks of it. No rank, no name was stitched on his clothes, leaving him completely unidentifiable. The only marker was the faded tattoo on his wrist with what looked like a serial number, #07656. His dark skin was scarred, likely from bullet wounds or knives, but they were healed enough to barely be noticeable to the naked eye.

The Americans hadn't been on the Peninsula long enough for those kinds of wounds to be fully healed, especially bullet wounds.

"So what's a fella like you doing in the jungle?" The man asked.

"Hunting."

"Hunting," the man repeated with a dry chuckle. "That's funny."

He turned his head to look at the man sitting beside him.

"I'm hunting, too."

James woke up in a cold sweat. His heart felt like it was going to explode inside his chest as he shot up from the mattress on the floor. He looked to see his metal arm was still fully intact, repeatedly making a fist to convince himself it was really there.

Once satisfied that all his limbs were attached, he grabbed the notebook on the windowsill and scribbled everything he recalled from the nightmare.

Mission: Goyang, Korea, 1951: Eradicate evidence of successful super-soldiers

Unknown African American Unit who showed signs of super-soldier serum

Unit taken prisoner - lone survivor, Subject #07656

Mission: Eliminate SN #07656

Metal arm forcibly removed by SN #07656

First major repair on Left Arm

Mission Failed

As soon as James finished writing the nightmare down in excruciating detail, he tossed the book aside and let out an exhausted sigh.

"I'm so sick of this shit," he mumbled as he buried his face in his hands.