Pre War Bucky Barnes One Shots

Training or Torture?

Yet again a picture comes to mind, this time of him holding someone in a similar fashion. He even hears voices this time.

"Bucky no! Please please don't! I swear I won't do it again!" A pathetic voice begs.

"I swear to god if you come after him ever again I will break your arm." He hisses in the boys ear.

What? Was that him? When did that happen? Did he even have a voice? He hardly used it if he did.

Frustrated again, he turns his attention back to the task at hand.

It's satisfying for the soldier really. He could hold this man here forever with the differences in their strengths. He could do whatever he wants to him. Get all the pay back in the world that he has wanted to with these guys for so long. He doesn't care if they're his handlers, he wants revenge for the way they treat him and why shouldn't he get it?

The mechanics of his cybernetic arm click and whir menacingly as he brings it up slowly and presses it against the trainers throat and lifts him up off the ground. He hears him whimper and it is like music to his ears.

All it would take is a tiny clench of the metal plates in his hand and he could crush this mans trachea. He knows what this limb can do. He has complete control over it too. He can kill this man. He will kill this man. He doesn't know him. He knows he won't remember him. So it won't affect him.

As the soldier slowly, in an almost teasing manor, tightens his grip on around the flesh of his new trainers neck he hears him raspily gasp for breath as he starts to cut off his wind pipe and feels him begin to claw at his metal hand.

Just as he is about to clamp down completely, the door to the training room flies open.

"Soldier no!" A firm voice shouts.

His head shoots up so that he is looking into the beady  eyes of his so called doctor.

The doctor freezes on the spot. Seemingly paralysed with fear under the winter soldiers intense, terrifying gaze.

"Put him down." He says as calmly as he can and walks towards the asset.

The soldier tenses up and grits his teeth. Why should he listen to this man?

"Soldier." The man growls in a warning voice.

He could do it if he really wanted to. He's stronger than all of these men. But deep down he knows that the satisfaction is not worth the pain he will endure because of it. And besides, they will just bring in another, even harder trainer.

"Leave, soldier." The doctor says in the same tone.

What is he a dog?

But the soldier obeys anyway... Kind of.

He drops the man from the height he was holding him at, shoves his stumbling for. forward before he even has time to regain himself and then kicks him so that he goes flying into the wall in front of them and falls to the floor in a crumpled heap.

Woops, didn't really mean to kick him that hard.

Doesn't matter. He strides over to his doctor, not even bothering to look at his victim, just hearing him moan in pain. The doctor nods at him in acknowledgement before leading him down a maze of dark hallways.

He doesn't know where he is going, just that he has to follow. The doctor talks to him, asks him a few questions but he doesn't reply, isn't really listening or processing in the first place. He never talks to any of these men except for his main handler and even then conversations, if that is what you would even call them are few and far between.

After a while they come to a familiar door and oh no, he knows exactly where he is now and he most definitely doesn't want to be here. But there's no point in running. Again, the punishment is not worth it. You get to understand these things over time.

So he sets his jaw and steps inside past the doctor who is holding open the door and is greeted by that thing. That terrible machine from his nightmares.

A bunch of other men in lab coats run around urgently setting up and he watches them scared. Dread creeping up on him for what is to come.

Suddenly he is shoved forward and pushed down into the metal chair.

"Sit." His doctor says.

He sits there rigid, shaking even at how tense and frightened he is.

Not again.

"Relax soldier, you should be used to this by now." The doctor says with a twisted smile.

This is not something you get used to. He thinks.

Before he knows it he is being tied down and is braces himself as he watches in terror as the head clamp spin around above him to come and rest on his face. Just before the unbearable shocks start he has one last thought.

Surely this isn't right. Why am I here? Who even am I?

------

The men in the lab coats come back for him after a while. Once his chest has stopped heaving. Once his body has stopped trembling. Once the pain has turned to numbness.

His doctor's business is done here, he will already be prepping the next stage.

Instead now two more strangers pull him up off the chair and drag him out of the room and down the corridor to the cryo chamber.

The soldier tries to keep up with their too fast pace, staggering behind them. But his legs feel like jelly. His head is heavy, his eyelids droop, he feels unable to control his limbs or his mind.

He doesn't remember anything once again. Can't form regular thoughts with his scrambled brain. Feels too ill to fight back. All he can remember to do is comply with these men's orders. So he let's them haul him away and into his little box and greets the freezing cold ice in an almost relieved way.

It's sad to think that he is happy to have such a thing be done to him. But it's only because finally he gets a break.