DISENTHRALL | james b. barnes

[ 31 ]

If Sam didn't know better, he would think the Asset was giving him a side eye for doubting his abilities. Right, Sam didn't really need to coddle him or the Weapon, unless it came to things like food, clothing and shelter. And sleeping. He decided to ignore the last one because how horrible must've been to not be able to sleep unless you were ordered to?

How terrible was it that John Walker, the dick who had triggered Bucky in the first place by throwing him into a pole filled with live wires, talked about him like he was still nothing more than an asset? As if his life meant nothing?

Sam ignored it all.

He needed to focus on his two friends-turned-weapons.

They exited the vehicle, pulling themselves out with ease. Sam winced when he noticed the broken bones in Lucy's hand– it was brutal, purple and swollen. Bucky looked alright, minus the bruises mottling his face and the way he seemed to limp.

Sam pulled open the trunk, grabbing the shield still covered in blood and a survival bag. He couldn't help the regret in his gut. He also knew Bucky wasn't happy with him, even after Sam tried to explain his thinking behind the shield. He exhaled, tucking the shield under his arm.

He turned his head to the safehouse– an apartment complex connected to other apartments. The Asset was waiting at the door, patient with the Weapon remaining by Sam's side. He gave her a nod, before turning to the Asset. They traveled up the stairs as the Asset broke the doorknob.

Well, Sam thought to himself, it was better than kicking the door down.

They entered the building, the Asset walking past the light switch. The Weapon followed suit, dutifully behind Sam with a protective stance. It was quiet, silent except for Sam's footsteps. He winced to himself– he couldn't be as silent as the Asset or the Weapon.

They passed a living room that Sam only saw for a split second before the Asset stilled. He turned, gazing at Sam with hidden confusion.

The Weapon stepped forward.

"The Weapon requests that the mission handler remains in the living room." The Weapon looked at the Asset, before quickly letting her eyes dart away.

Sam blinked, looking between them with confusion. The Asset's eyes narrowed on the Weapon, tension rising in his shoulders. The Weapon's shoulders dropped, attempting to make herself smaller. The Asset looked pleased if the Asset could even be pleased.

"The Asset requests the Weapon remain with the mission handler for maximum safety." The Asset stated.

"Oh, yeah man." Sam nodded his head.

The Asset gave him a weird look, before turning on his heel and traveling down the hall. The Weapon waited patiently for Sam to turn around. Sam grimaced as he followed the Weapon into the living room. What he saw made him pause, confused.

There were two very large dog beds in the center of the room. A coffee table and couches were pushed against the wall. Sam blinked when he recognized two old and dusty rubik's cubes nestled in each bed. Wait a second. His eyes darted to the Weapon.

The Weapon had lowered herself to the floor, fingers brushing against the dog bed.

"I don't–" The Weapon–no, it was Lucy, thank God, "I don't remember this. I. . .I didn't remember this."

She sounded horrified, uncertain.

Her eyes lifted to Sam.

Sam pursed his lips.

"One of our commanders– the only one who wasn't a Rumlow– his name was Volya. He would uh– he would compare us to dogs." Lucy swallowed hard. "We were here on a surveillance mission. They were testing out new STRIKE team members, and every time they did that they uh, always made them stay overnight with us– to see if they would survive."