You were his wife in the 40's through thick and thin, sickness and health, richer or poorer, and through all of the twists of life. Even 70 years later you continued to love him, and stay by his side.
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"Hello, Mr. Barnes. I have been sent by the United Nations to evaluate you. Do you mind if I sit?" The ever cunning Zemo began, his game all laid out. Ready to be played.
Helmut Zemo was a simple man who merely wanted to see an Empire fall. He had to be crafty to get it done, and use all of the pawns he had at his disposal. Without superpowers like the heroes he was faced against he had to use his greatest power, his mind. The one strength he had as an asset.
See, he couldn't very well charge in, and make a scene. He couldn't go toe to toe against the Avengers, no... That'd be futile, and he was intelligent enough to accept his shortcomings. So, he had to be tactful about this so not to waste his ambition. His vengeance, and hate had to be put to good use.
"Your first name is James? I'm not here to judge you." He cajoled, taking a seat across from Bucky while he remained confined in his containment cell.
"I just want to ask you a few questions. Do you know where you are, James?"
Zemo had skillfully pretended to be a Psychiatrist to obtain this moment. His crowning moment, he thought, where the cards would start to fall. Where the foundation which was already crumbling would finally sink.
To everyone at the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre he was a humble Psychiatrist, Theo Broussard. But, beneath his calm, patient exterior Zemo was indeed a worthy assailant, one who could duel against the heroes in order to achieve his goal.
"I can't help you if you don't talk to me, James."
"My name is Bucky. Only my wife calls me James."
"Ah, yes. Rebecca, correct?" Zemo responded, glancing up at the security camera. "And, she's here now too under arrest? Tell me... Bucky. Did you force her to help you try to escape?"
"No," Bucky snapped back. "I told her to stay."
"So, she helped you on her own?"
"Yes."
Bucky's bionic arm was fixed down by the steel cuffs, and the cage made of plexiglass, and iron was a familiar object to him.
"Tell me, Bucky. You've seen a great deal, haven't you?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
Zemo's gaze fixated on his laptops screen, and he couldn't help but feel a smirk tugging on his lips when he was notified of his package having been sent to the power plant. Soon everything would be doused in darkness, and that pleased the mastermind very much.
"You feel that if you open your mouth the horrors might never stop," Zemo enticed, unlocking his briefcase, his secret weapon within. "Don't worry, we only have to talk about one."
Zemo didn't need guns, or a shield, or an iron suit. He didn't need to be enhanced, or be an Agent. His muscle power, the trick up his scheming sleeve, was a simple red notebook.
And, just like that according to his plan the power went out.
The massive electrical surge that some lackey at the power plant just opened plunging all of Berlin in pitch black.
As easy as blowing out a candle, he now had Barnes all to himself without the threat of eyes, and ears.
All Zemo needed was a small amount of time for the chaos to reign down. His chaos. The utter pandemonium that he would create.
The flash of red emergency lights flickered around him, and in the crimson effulgence, Zemo's eyes seemed darker, more consumed by a raging storm that went on inside of him.
"What the hell?" Bucky asked, the flares of the red lights coruscating.
Zemo slipped off his glasses, and unmasked not only his true intentions, but also his one weapon.
"Why don't we discuss your home? Not Romania. Certainly not Brooklyn, no. I mean your real home..." Zemo probed, and with one look of the crimson notebook Bucky exhaled. Fear welling up inside of him.
This scene felt familiar to him. The containment cell, the notebook, the trigger words. And, last time he was forced to hurt the one he loved most.
"Zhelaniye... Rzhavyy... Semnadtsat..."
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Bucky grit his teeth together, his bionic arm trembling, fighting to break free.
"Rassvet... Pech'... Devyat..."
"Stop!" Bucky screamed out in agony, his restraints no match for his arm which now had a life of it's own.
"Dobroserdechnyy... Vozvrashcheniye... Na Rodinu... Odin... Gruzovoy Vagon..." Zemo concluded, and by now Bucky had broken free from the containment cell. The red lights glinting in his soulless eyes.
"Soldat?"
Like a puppet under the influence of strings Bucky was forced to comply.
"Ya Gotov Otvechat."
Zemo smiled, proud of his trap, and he could already feel the turmoil begin.
