The German Museum of Technology and Science stood on an island in the middle of the Isar, a mighty complex of old architecture and modern structures. Two bridges connected the island with the rest of the city and created a pathway for the hundreds of tourists that enjoyed the warmth of this sunny day.
Disguised with baseball caps and leather jackets, Steve, Bucky, and Sam crossed the street that led to the island in the middle of the river. Sam really hoped no one would recognize them, aware that a baseball cap really wasn't that great for disguise, but Steve insisted he'd had a fair share of missions like this that all went well. Sam just nodded, taking another gulp of his water bottle. Surely, Steve knew what he was doing. He had, after all, been an SSR and a SHIELD agent and if he opted for baseball cap and denim jacket, well, he probably had his reasons. There was one thing the pararescue couldn't shake, however.
"Are you really sure we should take Rebecca with us, man? I mean, if we catch her. We might be the only ones who can help, yeah. But I doubt she wants to come with us. No offense", he sent a quick look over to Bucky, "but Barnes ran after DC. Although, if he'd seen Romanoff, I bet he would've stayed."
Of course, that had been a joke, but Steve frowned. Bad timing.
"Natasha is on a different page than us, so leave her. And yes, Sam, we'll take Rebecca with us. She's his sister, we can't just let her run around like a homeless person."
Sam nodded, sensing that Steve didn't want to discuss anything right now. He didn't like it, this anger that brewed within the blond, but he doubted he'd behave differently after a betrayal like this one. If it was a betrayal. Yes, Sam's mind had been hazed by pain and numbed by alcohol, but he didn't believe Natasha would've left them in her apartment while taking care of business that would somehow oppose Steve's plan.
Maybe Steve was just in pain, maybe he was just exhausted, Sam thought. They all were, the Remnant had tired them out mentally and physically. We shouldn't be here, Sam realized when a shiver of discomfort ran over his back and predicted doom. Damn Steve and his reckless ass.
Mr. Lomawu smiled. Right now, his eyes were completely focused on the screen on the other side of this locked conference room that belonged to the Museum of Technology and Science. The screen relayed everything that happened the basement below. Well. Everything that his asset, the Remnant pointed the hidden camera in the collar of her suit at.
Lawrence didn't dare to tear his gaze from the dark room that was in focus now, with all the obstacles on the ground, old museum inventory, and the apparatus with Zola's new body in there. Nothing was happening at this moment, but he knew the Captain and the Soldier were in the room already, past the guards just like Lawrence had expected.
His agents on the roof had noticed the trio first. Rogers and Barnes were accompanied by Wilson, but Lomawu knew that wouldn't pose a problem. Rogers was the easiest to take down, even with the Wakandan advancements to his suit. In fact, the suit would be the main cause as to why he was easy to take down - Hydra's agents would not waste his abilities by making him enter the basement with them. They listened to Lomawu's orders and Lawrence knew Steve Rogers was a strategist. He'd position the Falcon in the air or on the roof. Also, there was a chance the winged man was not too fond of meeting Zola or the Remnant again, given the nerve-rattling meet and greet they'd had a day ago.
But the Remnant hadn't moved then, she'd stayed in the conference room with her handler. She had chosen to wait, revealing one of her many precious attributes, her astonishing patience that Lomawu considered admirable and scary at the same time.
The calm behavior paired with the cunning instinct that led her every movement at precisely the right moment was just one more thing that pointed at the term "assassin". But unlike other handlers would have in their single-dimensional thinking, Mr. Lomawu had not interfered. He had heard Zola marvel about this asset's potential and during the last weeks, the Wakandan had not once regretted reactivating her from her cryostasis.
Even the lead scientist had warned him about the orders he was supposed to give to her. Never underestimate her. She will follow your orders, but she will find her own way. Don't mess it up while she's at it. Considering the degree of seriousness he faced, Lomawu guessed that other handlers hadn't been that considerate and, in turn, paid with their lives.
He had to admit, he was rather impressed with what she had accomplished so far. While his own thought had circled around Wakanda and the CIA at the same time, she'd performed perfectly in front of the Avengers on the run and the local police, and therefore, drawn all the attention away from his persona. Wakanda and the CIA had no clue what he was really doing. Henderson had bothered him, she and her smart assistant were figuring his game out. But Henderson had been cleared off the playing board and Neesa was taken care of too.
This Hydra asset was special, Lomawu was sure. She'd left him and he could only admire the smoothness of her movements. He had placed his success into her hands and so far, she had exceeded his expectations. Because whatever orders he gave, Lawrence understood that right then, the execution depended on her own mind. It was scrambled, yes, and conditioned to obey, but in the end, it was still filled with innumerable mechanized movement patterns and intuitional knowledge about people and terrain. She knew exactly what to do. The team of scientists had worked overtime to get her ready and prep her for maximum performance. She just needed a goal. And for now, the biggest goal was retrieving the Winter Soldier. Arnim Zola's biggest masterpiece. Also, the Asset was Lomawu's personal guarantee for a top spot in Hydra's upper positions, right underneath Zola's wings, where he belonged.
The whole game had started when Rogers and Barnes entered the foyer of the museum. The Remnant was there, out of sight for the two men. The Soldier was wary, his eyes flitted around the room, but his focus was mainly on the area behind the foyer's windows. When both men had purchased their tickets, like the upstanding citizens they were, they walked over into the exhibition. Old planes and ships greeted them, but the real treasure waited in the basement.
Of course, Lomawu knew about his enemies' intentions. The Winter Soldier and the Remnant were family.
The Captain was the unwavering, uncompromising best friend who had most likely sworn an oath to protect his loved ones. The situation was easy to read, but the characters in it were forced to make the hardest decisions.
Some men, Lomawu thought bitterly, broke under that burden, but some would only see the pain of others and carry more than they could without breaking. Lomawu looked into the mirror and sighed. Steve Rogers would carry it, without doubt, so that was exactly what he could count on. It meant that Rogers would try to steal the Remnant. And that was the reason Maximoff and Lang were one of the many aces Lomawu had not pulled out of his sleeve yet. They had sat in prison for Steve Rogers before, but would they do it again? Would they for yet another killer? Would they for a helpless case? Would the city walls once again scream 'Fascista' in red at the faces of these ex-Avengers?
Steve still thought the Remnant was like his beloved Bucky, but boy, he was wrong.
Proof of that was already established three minutes later when the two men returned to the foyer. The desk lady had been called out by a colleague and therefore, the foyer was empty, providing the perfect opportunity to sneak past the 'staff-only' sign at the staircase and into the basement. The Remnant had disappeared, but the surveillance camera captured the Soldier's face perfectly. Only he had noticed the tiny detail that had changed in the room during their short absence. It had only been a subtle variation, but his eyes spotted the little Russian toffee in the front desk's candy bowl. He stiffened and his eyes shot upwards, searching in the right place at the wrong time. Of course, the Remnant was gone already, but the little, seemingly insignificant gesture had provided a lingering feeling of uncertainty.
She is here, the lips of the brunet spelled out.
Let's hurry, replied the blond.
And the two soldiers didn't waste any time. As expected, they dealt with the two guards behind the basement door quickly, gaining access to a hallway with one room that only staff provided with the right key cards could enter. The Soldier pulled both guards with him while the Captain wanted to take care of the lock with one of those ridiculous pans he carried around in his backpack. It was another advantage Lomawu had found with joy: the absence of the Captain's shield. Not that he was helpless without it, but it did cause a lot of damage and this way, Hydra's victory sped up significantly.
Rogers had slammed his pan into the lock, but it didn't give in yet. However, the little light turned green all of the sudden and the door clicked open. Both men held their breaths for a second, but nothing happened.
"It's gotta be a trap", the hoarse voice of the brunet sounded wary through the speakers Lomawu listened to.
Carefully, they passed the door. The guards on the inside reacted as fast as they could, but they didn't pose a lasting obstacle against the super soldiers. Both Hydra agents sank to the ground, their blood invisible in the darkness of the basement room. Lomawu smiled. Everything as predicted. As long as all his agents followed their orders, he would be fine. Even with the overwhelming physicality of both war veterans, Lomawu still had the upper hand. They could punch and kick all they wanted, as long as he held their minds caged in fear and uncertainty, victory was his. The Remnant was in position.
The first thing Steve saw when entering the basement room had been fists and feet that came at him, but when they were down, his eyes flung to the other side of the room. A machine stood in the darkness, emitting a soft white light. All he could hear was his own heartbeat, Bucky's breath, and the humming of that machine.
Steve's fingers grazed the wall until he found the light switch. Suddenly, Bucky grabbed his arm.
"Wait. The electric set-up could be tied to the machine. I don't want to mess this up."
The brunet pulled out a flashlight, "this should work."
The two men walked through the room that clearly resembled the ambient from that one horror film Sam had made Steve watch after losing a bet against his winged friend who was just outside, in the sky.
He couldn't remember the name of the production, but the spider webs, the old desks and museum objects certainly screamed horror film. Or had it been a tv show? He shrugged, telling himself to focus on the task. He couldn't afford to make a mistake today.
One big pillar stood in the center of the room, holding up the ceiling that was additionally stabilized by various beams. In general, Steve was surprised the ceiling was up so high. He could stand on the tip of his toes and still not touch the cold stones above him.
Bucky pointed at something on the other side. The light fell on some kind of chair that was covered by a blanket. The terrified expression on the brunet's face made Steve realize which instrument of torture he was looking at.
"Is this...?"
"Yeah. Let's just get to Zola. Let's finish the war."
Steve nodded. He knew the feeling. He knew the war was still raging, maybe less so with soldiers shooting at each other, bombs dropping from planes or bureaus full of people attempting to decipher enemies' codes. But all the more with the thoughts in his head, where all his fears remained, just like the old mechanisms he'd learned on and off the battlefield, to train every day to maintain shape for an unexpected attack, to subconsciously deny himself deep sleep because enemies could still attack every minute. Even his dreams, the menacingly realistic ones, with booming noises crashing through his skull and lights striking him out of nowhere. The war had never been over.
"I'm with you, Buck."
The men patted each others' shoulders. All of this they had survived until now. Until this moment, in which they could finish off Zola, the root of the misery Hydra had brought to so many places, to so many hearts. Together, the two soldiers would free the world from its fate as collateral damage to the Red Skull's legacy. The war had started without them, but it would end through them.
Steve and Bucky walked past old desks and dirty piles of fabric. The shiny glow the machine emitted increased the closer the men came. A Stark Industries- tag praised the construction of the steel and glass container right next to the red Hydra sign sprayed onto the outward cover. It looked like a big rectangle aquarium with abnormal amounts of wiring and tubing. The single glass wall was the one on top and it was covered by a half-transparent foil on the glass. The silhouette of a body was discernible, but a message that had been scratched into the foil caught the men's direct attention.
"Complete transferral at 1630."
"That's in thirty minutes", Bucky mumbled and pulled his handgun out. The booming shot creaked over the glass surface. It didn't break.
"Great. Bulletproof."
A featherlight hue of air strafed Steve's neck. He was sure it must've come from the door. Suddenly, Bucky's flashlight hit the ground. Steve jumped to turn around, but strong hands fixated his shoulders. She's here. A knee crashed against his groin. Steve toppled. Pain spread through his body. He groaned involuntarily. Not now. Get up again.
The enemy used his hesitation to land a hefty kick in the back of his knees. He couldn't hold himself. Steve stumbled forward. Not again. All the pain of the last days came back in one wave. His hands clung to the machine before him. Stabilize yourself. You've fought off worse. Another kick in the lower back. A rough cry erupted out of his throat, he was helpless. The other person grabbed his neck tightly. The fingers were cold and strong. Steve tried to free his head, but it was useless. This time, she'd kill him. She had his neck. Suddenly, Steve's mind blanked. He went back to last night, to those moments of helplessness. When he realized she wanted to kill him. Panic overcame him. Steve was panting, his eyes wide open. His throat hurt even more than yesterday. Her hands tightened and it made him choke. No air! There's- no air! His body went limp. Suddenly, she shoved him forward with all force like a sack of potatoes. The hard steel of the machine and the cracks in some of his fingers were the last things Steve felt before black overtook his sight.
Steve was down. That wasn't good. That it had happened faster than Bucky could look proved this was serious. Steve was the strongest man Bucky knew. The blond was stronger than an ox. Even as a sick skin-and-bones stick-person, Steve had overcome death a couple of times. He'd fought labs full of Nazi troops and an elevator full of STRIKE unit hunks, and he'd fought Bucky, twice, and Tony the traitor, and now he was out on the floor.
Bucky frowned.
It had taken Becca only a few seconds to accomplish that. The last time Bucky had seen her fight, she hadn't been that strong. Sure, she was clever and quick, but to take down Steve like he was a paper waiting to be folded? They must've put her through an immense training phase. Or they were testing new combat stuff. He wasn't sure, though, if they'd do that with her. She was valuable, she was the only Winter Soldier- second who'd survived the first three missions with him.
Rebecca moved fast. Bucky wasn't quite sure what to do. Of course, he knew he had to fight Rebecca, but could he hurt his sister?How had Steve broken his arm on that helicarrier over DC? How long had it taken him to forgive himself? He needed a way out before this situation could turn into a matter of life-and-death. For her. Because Hydra wouldn't dare to kill their precious Winter Soldier, Bucky was sure they wouldn't risk losing him. Maybe that was the only comfort Hydra granted him.
But it was still dark. Bucky knew he'd have to get the light back on. Because the darkness was not his comfort zone, even if he could operate in it perfectly. The Remnant was superior in the dark.
So Bucky quickly grabbed the flashlight and turned around. He knew where they'd come from. The light switch was right next to the door. Would he hit the switch if he threw the flashlight? Probably not. In a matter of seconds, Bucky started to move towards the wall next to him. He slid along it, finally reaching the chair of despair. For once, it gave him cover. Good. He stopped to listen into the dark. It was quiet. Bucky could only make out his own heartbeat and that worried him. Usually, his enemies were loud, walking with heavy steps, but this time, he faced someone who moved with the sound of a shadow - none. The perfect predator. Not if he could make her remember, if he could pull her out. One drop of water was enough to make the entire surface break, he knew how easy it was. He just hoped he would survive her irritation should he succeed.
Recalling his first walk through the room, he calculated how many steps it would take to get to the switch. Ten at most. After another second of thick silence, he started to run.
At the third step, something collided with him. The sudden weight smashed Bucky into the dusty floor. He landed on his back. All his air was gone. His lungs screamed and Bucky gasped desperately. Like a fish out of water.
A hand went for his face. Bucky slapped it away and threw a punch at the darkness. His fingers hit only air but at least he knew she was somewhere close. So he kicked. And hit a shin. A low groan came from his side and Bucky took in a deep breath.
He recovered fast, making it possible to jump up and run for the light switch.
When all the lamps turned on, Bucky looked around. She was gone. The room seemed empty. She was a master in hiding, the soldier knew that, but she wouldn't hide forever. Bucky was about to move when suddenly, he noticed the tip of a shoe standing over the side of a beam in the ceiling. She was up there. Good to know.
So Bucky ran towards Steve. His only option was Steve. If the blond woke up, he'd need Bucky to defend him. Also, Bucky couldn't feel any of his weapons in the sheaths of his suit anymore. She'd taken them all, the knives and the guns. So thank God for Steve's clear-mindedness. She hadn't taken his backpack that held all the pans.
Bucky prayed that this new Teflon-technology was as good as the company had promised on the package. As durable. Well, shit. They all lied nowadays. He still had his arm. But he didn't know if he really wanted to use it to hurt his twin sister. Maybe he'd have to. But he still hated the idea.
Bucky bent down to open the backpack and was lucky to reach a panhandle because, in the same moment, she attacked. Bucky swung the handle around, making the whole backpack follow. The pans rattled as they clanked together. Becca's cheek and head were bleeding from this one hit.
Bucky scanned his surroundings. There wasn't much else to use. He'd stick to his pan then. While the Remnant charged at him, moving fast to tire him out, Sam's voice rang through the comms.
"Steve, the guards are all down. What do you want me to do now?" Bucky couldn't answer Sam. The Remnant held one of his knives and went for his ribs. He, in turn, targeted her feet while trying to defend his torso.
Sam sounded more irritated now as if sensing that something was wrong.
"Steve? Come in! Steve?"
Bucky managed to stick his leg between hers and pull it to the side harshly. She lost balance and Bucky used the pan.
"Steve, are you there? Do you copy?"
"Steve's down. Whatever you do, Sam", Bucky was a little out of breath, "don't come in here, okay?"
"Are you alright, man? You sound..."
Sam faded when the Remnant attacked again, more fierce than before. Bucky dogged her, but the knife's sharp blade cut into the flesh of his other arm. The brunet cried out and hit Rebecca's back with the pan, eliciting a howl. She pulled it away, out of his hands and Bucky stood before her with nothing. I can do this. I will win. This time, I will win. I am stronger than Hydra.
Bucky was ready to go into the fist fight. He knew her weaknesses. Her arms. Her legs were stronger than his own. Her footwork was ridiculously coordinated. He needed to do some damage to it or he'd be in trouble. Shit. Her advantage was that she didn't need to think about how to hit him. She followed her instincts, used raw force, they'd put her through her prepping, drowned her inhibitions.
Bucky watched her eyes. They were cold and focused. Whenever they met his', a little shiver ran over his body. Not a trace of sadness or joy was visible in the blue. The only thing in them was pure determination and aggressiveness. Like I taught her. He searched for a hunch of panic, of the numbing realization of not being in control.
Suddenly, Bucky stumbled a step back. Her eyes changed. Her whole face changed. Every inch of skin that was visible on her, even her hand, it changed. When Bucky looked into her face again he gasped. That's me. She is... me.
Bucky closed his eyes.
Don't let her get into your head, he told himself. This is everything I told Steve she did. Psychological warfare. This is just a trick. It's that weapon they made for her, SecondSkin™. Don't let yourself fall for the illusion, Bucky.
But when he opened his eyes again, he couldn't help but muster the person he was looking at right now. The clean-shaved face, the insecure eyes, the mouth, it was everything he had looked like when he was under Hydra. Strangely, the person before him looked like a healthier version than the one he'd seen in the rear-view mirror earlier today. This person looked... good. Orderly. Healthy. Strong and confident. Handsome, even, with that jawline and those bright eyes.
He shuddered when the Remnant began to speak. His own deep, clear voice chased shivers down his back. Every little hair on his body stood up. He prayed he could end this.
"Sergeant. The only person you're fighting is yourself."
Bucky shook his head like he wanted to fight a nightmare off. This was downright creepy.
He grabbed a chair next to him and threw it at his imitator, who just caught it easily with his metal hand. It was bizarre how it actually made an accurate sound when metal met wood.
"Why do you keep fighting, soldier? Haven't you realized that the world doesn't want you?"
"Steve wants me. Natasha wants me. That's enough."
"They won't survive this. Even if, where would you go? This is the only place where you're welcome."
"This is the only place I don't want to be."
"But you do belong here. You belong to Hydra." Flashbacks started to hit Bucky, attacked him, pressed the air out of his lungs until he gasped and coughed for air. Baghdad, Madrid, Canberra, Ljubljana. A strong hand held him, stabilized him, rubbed his back. A woman in a green dress, a man in a rocking chair, a prince in his nightgown, a - a newborn in the hospital, in its mother's arms. He watched his own fingers on a different person touch his body and he jerked back, his eyes watering from the memories that pressed back into his consciousness. You belong to Hydra. You wake, execute and forget, Soldat.
"I belong to myself."
The other Bucky shook his head. He smiled a lopsided smile that could've looked nice everywhere else. In a strange way, Bucky hoped that one day, he could look like that again.
"Hydra saved you. They made you. They fed you. Without them, you'd be dead. Like most other people your age. We're just here to pick up what is Hydra's."
"I am my own. I belong to myself, no one else!"
"Oh, but you belong to your family. We are family. And family sticks together, we never let go." Bucky was surprised there was so much emotion behind these words. He wondered if she really knew that they were family, if she understood what it meant. If she knew who she was to him or if they'd just given this information to her as mission intel.
Whether this was part of the illusion, part of the imitation, it sounded too real to be true. Bucky had learned that some dark facility in Siberia; the things feeling most true to his mind were the fake ones until he couldn't tell anything apart anymore. Hundreds of memories. Feelings. Pictures. People. Blood. Death. Bodies. Confusion threatened to slip back into Bucky's mind. Nonetheless, there was only one thing he could reply with. Even if it felt like he was just talking to a mirror, as if he was trying to convince himself of whatever was on his mind. It's an illusion and this is my sister.
"That's why I'll get you out of here."
Bucky had thought his next movements through very carefully. From the corner of his eye, he had spotted an old carpet that was covered by a thick layer of dust. Perfect.
He grabbed it with his right arm and swung it through the air. The dust flew everywhere. The Remnant started to cough, to get away from the stuffy dryness of the air.
Bucky used his little advantage and kicked the Remnant against the next wall. His body pressed into hers, well his own basically, but he made sure she couldn't get away.
Of course, she resisted and tried to get off the wall, but no, Bucky had her cornered and he wouldn't let go. He twisted her right wrist so she was forced to release her weapon. Bucky grabbed the knife before it could fall. The blade was a little red, his own blood had turned sticky on it. He grabbed her other wrist, the solid metal wrist, in his own, and fixated it on the height of his thigh. His knee pressed her against the wall. She couldn't escape him.
Next, he put the blade to her throat.
"One wrong move and the knife is in your throat", he warned. Something unexpected happened right then. Instead of answering, Becca used her pointer finger to tap a rhythm into Bucky's skin. At first, he didn't realize, but his brain determined it to be Morse. It deciphered the code right away.
"You wouldn't hurt me."
The second Bucky smiled about the familiarity in their communication, his imitator's face - his own face- turned back into a woman's. Into a softer version of his own, he realized. Even their skin tone was almost the same. But he hated this expression on her face. This expression of dominance. Like she still had the upper hand, even though she was squished between him and the wall with no chance of getting away. He hated that she wasn't afraid of him at all, even when he held a knife to her throat. Just then, a memory tugged on his mind and he realized they'd stood in this exact position various times before, in training, during missions, whenever something had triggered his memory. She wasn't afraid because this proximity was normal. Bucky tried to keep his expression straight and menacing.
"Why not?"
"Because if you did, your Steve would die." Her blue eyes wandered to a figure behind Bucky.
Bucky followed her gaze and froze.
A tall man in a uniform stood over Steve and held a gun to his temple. Bucky recognized the man, they had met in Wakanda. He was the head of their secret intelligence apparatus. Mr. Lomawu. An ally.
"Hello, Sergeant. Good to see you again."
All of the sudden, Bucky felt an overwhelming weakness overcome him like someone pressed him to his knees. His body didn't hold him anymore, no matter how hard he clung to the Remnant right in front of him. No! What was going on? What did they do?
Bucky frantically searched his body for hidden drugs, for any sign of an administered sedative, but nothing. When he sent a look to Steve and that Wakandan traitor, he realized Mr. Lomawu was holding something familiar in his hand. A little blue music player. And only then Bucky noticed the melody that was coursing through the room. A piano played a soft line of chords, accompanied by a lonely violin and a harp that gave the melody the nostalgic touch of a lullaby. In his head, the music sounded like honey, sweet and thick and Bucky could feel a stickiness invading his memories and thoughts. Thinking became so much harder in an instant, almost ... impossible. His thoughts began to echo, fading into a black hole. He whined.
Why? What is going... was going on? Come... on, B...Bucky, fight it. You...you can st...st...still win... you...y...
"See, soldier? Just like your friend down here, you cannot get rid of us. But for you, that's because this", he pointed at the chair and Bucky just nodded slowly, but wasn't sure if he could really comprehend any of the words the man had just said, "this is what you are. Your fate. Your destiny. You're our Winter Soldier."
The man waited, watching the brunet fall apart from the inside out. Bucky only heard Winter Soldier echo through his head over and over. He couldn't move. He just wished for the man to stop. But the voice started to speak again.
"Behold, your summer has passed. May the world see your true face again."
With a nod, the man ordered the Remnant to carry, or rather, drag the brunet, who still tried to fight the lure of the soft tunes that absorbed his mind, towards the wiping chair. She looked at him. Conditioning was the cause of his mental state at this moment. The melody affected him greatly, she'd seen the Soldier like this before. Many more things could affect him to a certain degree, but this was one of their handlers' favorites for him. Because it worked faster than a number of the other methods, she guessed. Because all force left him, the melody turned this unpredictable assassin into a harmless puppet.
The Remnant fixated his wrists and shins and stepped away from the chair. She then walked over to fulfill her next order: chaining up target: Captain America to the big pillar in the middle of the room. The cuffs clicked and she nodded, earning a "well done, soldier" from her handler.
Mr. Lomawu turned the music off to call in the two scientists he'd brought with him. They carried all that was necessary for this very quick and very unprotocol-like wiping.
One of them quickly inserted a sterile cannula into the main vein in the Asset's forearm, the other pulled out a special repair kit to fix anything out of order in the metal arm. They must've had forgotten or overlooked the earpiece still sitting in Bucky's ear, because all of a sudden, Sam's voice called through it and ripped Barnes from his confusion.
The soldier lashed out immediately, panic directing his every limb. He felt the chair, he knew what was happening. The metal arm swung and a loud crack sounded through the room when it connected with the scientist's head. The skinny man slumped together. Blood spilled on the ground. But the Asset wasn't done yet, he wasn't free yet, he needed to get out, get away and he needed to right now.
The Remnant sped over in an instant. She held the thrashing man's legs down and growled at him as menacingly as she could. He just stared at her. Then, with his metal hand, Bucky slapped her face as hard as possible. Crushed the side that was already bleeding. The force slammed her to the side, but she held on with an iron grip. Panic, fear, and anger mixed into a lunatic's potion and Bucky hit her cheek again and again. The furious soldier didn't see any people anymore, it was all a blur, he just knew he would destroy what was in his way. He was breathing in hard gasps. Another hit to bloody flesh wound that had been a cheek once. He could already see the Remnant's cheekbone behind the raw, peeling flesh. Blood pooled in his lap. Soaked his pants.
Still, the Remnant held on. Her grip was like steel and Bucky felt something sharp ripping into his legs. He didn't care. The burning didn't stop him from trying to escape. An elbow hit his nose like a hammer and Bucky heard a crunch. He gasped, hesitated. A second too long, because the second scientist pressed a needle into the Asset's bulging veins with all his might.
Finally, the wide-eyed brunet in the chair calmed down, thanks to the overwhelming rush of a dozen sedatives. The Asset's eyes fluttered and everyone in the room tried to get their breaths back under control.
This incident had cost them one scientist and precious time.
Mr. Lomawu stepped forward, pleased to see the Asset subdued. He had hoped for a quicker, less chaotic situation, but a glance at his watch told him that they were still operating in their timeframe. Excellent.
"Sergeant", he started. "Why do you struggle? You will arise stronger, without fear and with a purpose. Are you really considering to let the world haunt you any further?"
Bucky was weak, but he felt like his thoughts were coming back to him. And even if all he had left was a whisper, he felt he needed to say these words. Just for the sake of having said them. He wished Steve could hear him.
"I'm more than that puppet behind the mask. It took them twenty years to get me there the first time, do you really think you can do this in half an hour now? Erase the past three years?"
Bucky forced a grin that was supposed to help sell his bluff. He knew he failed when Lomawu's smile didn't cease from the man's dark lips. He suddenly felt tiny in this cold chair that would fry his brain in a few moments. He prayed he could stall the wiping, though. Not so much for his own good, but at least until Steve woke up. Little Steve, who carried the hope of the whole team, of the entirety of America's secret agencies on his shoulders. And they didn't even know it yet.
"The world only sees the mask and the guns. The explosions and the corpses in your wake. It's time to return to the truth, soldier. Your mission-", Lomawu already had his finger on the buttons and the scientist held the regulatory mouthpiece before Bucky's tear-stained face, but the brunet interrupted him, desperation flooding his body. One thought, one question.
"Why did Hydra take her?", he whispered, motioning over to the Remnant.
"They? Oh Sergeant, don't you remember? That was you alone."
Steve woke up and he was scared. Not because of the pain that ignited certain spots of his body as if they were on fire. Not even because of the firm steel cuffs that wrapped around his wrists in a grip too tight for a person with healthy physical abilities. Not the blood that stained the thick layer of dust around his feet, blood that hopefully wasn't his own. No. Steve usually thought himself a pretty bold guy, without much fear, he'd overcome his fears a lot of times by now, but right now, Steve was scared.
It wasn't something, it was the absence of something, or rather, someone, that put him into this state. He'd woken up without Bucky next to him. And in a basement Zola was in, the mastermind behind all Hydra cruelty, a missing person could mean a lot, but only bad things.
Steve's cautious eyes told him details about the moments that had passed while he was gone, before the world had turned black in his eyes. Besides the not unsuspicious amount of blood on the floor, he noticed a dent in one of these walls, a broken flashlight somewhere on his right and wood in splinters and sharp remains. Even a knife lay on the ground, but too far away for Steve to grab. The blonde could also spot the machine he'd tried to destroy earlier, but it still looked exactly the same as before, which somehow caused new hope to bloom in the Captain's chest. Maybe they still had a chance. Maybe Zola hadn't succeeded.
He smiled, recalling knowledge that Hydra might not have won. As he'd mentioned, a transfer of consciousness was something that - despite its rarity - the old soldier had witnessed before (and that he had added to his growing list of things that made him wonder what humans were not capable of). To his surprise, it had worked, but only with the help of his mighty friend from the vast lands of space, the only man (thankfully), who could wield lightning. He prayed Hydra hadn't corrupted Thor.
Quiet whispers from the other side of the room reached Steve's ear. He could not make out anything except a determined "Go again". A shiver crept up Steve's spine because he had not expected to hear that voice right here, in this basement. Mr. Lomawu. Why was he here? Had Bucky's suspicion been true, the one that he'd mentioned back in the car? That the Wakandan was Hydra? But how?
The questions circling in the Captain's head were quickly put to an end when someone started to scream. Loud whirring echoed through the room and something muffled the sound, but after a second Steve was very sure. The screams sounded raw and husky, worn out, but the agony behind the screams, he'd heard it before, one damn time. Steve's stomach revolted and nausea occupied every thought of the blonde's mind. Bucky. What were they doing to him? He wanted to scream himself, but his throat remained silent. Steve was out of words. So he just listened and prayed the same prayer over and over again. Please, let them stop. Let it all stop.
The screams were relentless. Steve was sure he would not get them out of his head for weeks. They'd haunt him in his dreams, they'd press him to his knees and make him wake up covered in sweat. Steve knew that. He'd heard his best friend scream once before.
Back then, the brunet had been falling, out of Steve's grasp and into the unknown. Steve was not sure if there was a difference, really, between back then and now. He just prayed that this time, he could stop this horror somehow.
A thought occurred to him. A quick look through the room told him that indeed, just like he'd hoped so desperately, his other friend, Sam, was still somewhere else, maybe awaiting a command.
"Sam?" Steve didn't hear a direct reply, so he repeated the call.
"Sam, do you copy? Can you hear me? Sam?"
A door opened, Steve could hear that much through the screams. He wasn't sure how long he'd be able to endure them without doing anything. It pained him greatly to witness this loss. He couldn't quite bring himself to send a look towards that chair that his friend had pointed out to him when they entered this room. Back then, it had caused images to rise to his mind, but he'd pushed them away. Now, those exact images reappeared, only they were tangible.
It was all real, and Bucky was half naked, sticky with sweat and dried blood and in a reclined position. His arms and legs were as fixated as his head and Steve swore he'd trash this machine the first second he'd get the chance to.
He forced his eyes off his friend, against the will of his heart that urged him to take part of this suffering onto his own shoulders, to bear it together with his best friend. But a person entered the room, a female, the Remnant, Bucky's twin, and she dragged in a man with a lifeless body and a little, taunting dart sticking out of his right thigh. Sam.
Steve hit his head against the pillar he was tied to. Dammit, he cursed inwardly. He had led all his friends into the lion's den and hadn't even seen the lioness roaring at him. Because of him, Bucky who had trusted him deepest was again turned into a helpless, dangling puppet to Steve's enemy, the one Steve had thought dead long ago. And because of him, the other friend, Sam, was lying in the dust, with broken wings and chained up hands. He, as well, had put his faith into Steve, had believed in his promises and would now pay for that. Steve closed his eyes. Maybe those screams that made him want to rip his ears off and his eyes out were his payment. The torture he deserved.
Suddenly, legs appeared in his line of vision.
"Awake to see all the fun, hm", the man in the uniform, the traitor, Lomawu said. The Remnant remained quiet in the background. Steve guessed she had no orders right now.
"You're a traitor", Steve replied, using what power he had left. The power of truth. "You abandoned your king and your nation. T'Challa will be on your heels forever."
The man seemed to dislike that notion. His face pulled into a snarl.
"Wrong. Wakanda abandoned me. This is their fault, turning away their own people. They should not ask why the outcasts are repaying the favor now. T'Challa is only as good as everyone else. He's not worthy of the Panther's mantle, yet he took it without hesitation. Who is left out there without the fault of straying from their destiny?"
Steve didn't care for the poetic rambling, but he could sense the pain in the man's eyes. Lomawu had been hurt, he had been left and now, those emotions had turned into an avalanche that would bury the whole valley at the foot of the mountain.
"Hydra will never return to what it was", Steve stated. Zola would not come out of this machine as another person, but Lomawu didn't know that yet. Steve did.
"No, the past cannot return to us no matter how badly our hearts ache for it", Lomawu nodded. Bucky was still screaming, but the noises of his throat had turned hoarse by now. It raised the hairs on Steve's arms even higher.
"But the future, oh, what a lovely garden full of opportunities", Lomawu smiled. "Hydra will rise again, Captain Rogers." He sent a look to his watch. "In only a few minutes, Dr. Zola will awaken."
Bucky's screams had subsided now, an eerie silence hung in the air after Mr. Lomawu's last words. Steve was bold enough to break it.
"He won't. You'd need a bolt of lightning for him to rise. And here you are, standing in a basement."
"I do admire your wit, Captain. But you have not been as perceptive as usual. Besides Dr. Zola's wishes, I have chosen this museum for its exhibition. Did you know that this is the only place in Germany that can create artificial lightning? We are standing right underneath the high voltage demonstration. 1.2 Million Volts will be more than sufficient to do the job."
Steve's heart sunk to the ground right then. Every advantage he'd believed to have in his hands had vanished in the blink of an eye.
Suddenly, another pair of legs entered his sight. They were clad in a highly durable pair of combat pants. On top of these legs sat the torso and the head of his best friend.
"Bucky!", Steve cried out in one uncontrollable wave of bursting desperation.
But Bucky just stood there, eyes fixed on the tall Wakandan man, his posture that of a tense soldier. As if he hadn't even heard the voice of the man in chains.
"Ready to comply", the brunet stated with in an emotionless voice, never losing his focus or his posture.
"Good", the Lomawu said and gave a nod towards the Remnant, who stuffed a gag into the protesting blond's mouth.
"Sergeant. Protect Dr. Zola at all costs. The world's safety is in his hands. Eliminate any opposition. You're going to bring the world closer to peace, soldier. But first, give him a good view on Project Awakening."
The soldier nodded, with that cold expression on his face that started a deep seething hate inside of Steve but turned towards the Remnant first. She held a mask in her hands, the same one covering her face, and he took it, still not doing what Steve was hoping for so foolishly; that he would just use his metal arm to punch Lomawu and Rebecca unconscious and get Steve and Sam out of here.
Instead, the Asset approached Steve and with a rather tight grip and harsh shove, pushed him up onto his feet. Steve almost stumbled, his legs rather prickly after his static position, but the assassin beside him didn't seem to care. He stood, tense and body pointing at the machine. Steve tried to wriggle this gag out of his mouth, but it didn't move much. When it did, due to all the Captain's efforts, he turned his head towards his friend.
"Bucky?"
For that, he received a hard slap in the face, one laced with metal, one that wasn't enough to shut him up. Never if it's the truth I gotta say.
"Bucky, listen. I'm with you t-", another slap and a thick, bloody lip for the blonde.
The metal hand shoved the gag back into his mouth and those clear blue eyes spoke of warnings and violence. This was the most murderous glare Steve had seen. He could've cried right then, but his mind wouldn't let him alone in that moment. It still tried to generate just any idea that would lead to escape and freedom.
But all Steve felt, standing there in the brooding coldness of the Winter Soldier's grip that had meant death to so many men before, was this unending guilt. He knew it was his fault Bucky had screamed so desperately. He knew it was his fault that Lomawu had won and that Zola would arise.
A little beep ripped him from his thoughts. Right then, one of the cables in the room lit up with a white kind of fire, an electric impulse that moved from the ceiling towards the machine standing to their left. Steve didn't know what to do, but he something had to be done, so he just threw himself to the side.
The Soldier was as strong as an ox himself but hadn't expected the sudden, strong pull. For a second, his grip loosened, but he kneed the blond troublemaker in the genitals, earned a deep groan and re-established his firm grip on the captive.
The air smelled like burnt plastic and rubber now, but suddenly, the dazzling white light was gone and another beep sounded in a repeating pattern and decreasing intervals.
Steve helplessly watched Lomawu go and open the glass door of this machine that silently bore the mark of a friend. Stark Industries.
A woman stepped out of the tube, much to Steve's surprise, and took in her surroundings. When her gaze fell upon Steve, his skin tingled suspiciously and he felt a shiver invading his entire back.
"Steven Grant Rogers", she said with a melodic voice, but Steve could only look at her eyes. He saw so much more in them than merely their brown irises. In a very unexplainable way, he felt like staring right into another person's soul. Into a - an old man's old soul, both burdened and lifted by the corpses of a million people. It didn't matter that Zola was wrapped into this new body, with dark skin and a kind face, Steve recognized the presence of that small man with his round glasses, the man he'd met around eighty years ago.
"What a surprise to meet you again. I see you took good care of my yet greatest achievement, Captain. How is Natalia doing?"
Steve only grumbled, rather grateful for his gag that prevented him from saying anything.
"Your steadfastness is admirable, Captain. Dr. Erskine was an intelligent man. Maybe choosing you saved all of Hydra. He and that British officer thought you a good man", she paused, stepping one step closer to put her hands on the Captain's wide shoulders, which disgusted him, "but we both know you're as broken as it gets."
He shook Zola off with a deep glare. She smiled and turned towards Mr. Lomawu.
"Well done, my friend. I suspect Miss Maximoff and Mr. Lang are still awaiting us along with my CIA task force?"
"Yes. Neesa Dhawan needed to get some peace after her friend and superior Janet Henderson was shot in the office yesterday. All fingers still point at the Black Widow for committing the murder, no one suspects the Remnant to have a hand in this. She still is a mere shadow in the wide dark of the night."
"I am glad we could prevent her from spilling all this intel she gathered about us like you had assumed. I can access Neesa's mind. She and her friend Janet had it all figured out. London, Cologne, Munich, even Miami. But they still hadn't dared to connect those dots. What about Mr. Whittaker?"
"Colin is not on our side anymore, apparently the loss of his sister has hit him deeper than we assumed. He will, however, still cooperate with me as his friend."
"Hydra is grateful for your sacrifices, Lawrence."
"Thank you, Dr. Zola. I expect Neesa to be honored and given full responsibility for the task force unit. As she will step into Mrs. Henderson's shoes, the unit is yours. The world expects Hydra to be dead. It will never suspect us to return with such a boldness as to take over their intelligence agencies."
The woman with the dark hair nodded and signaled for the Asset to put the blond soldier back down to where he had sat before. Back into the dust of a basement where the world didn't hide any treasures. Until now.
"Our last conversation was ended quite abruptly, but I'm sure we'll have plenty of time later", the woman said to the Captain, who didn't comply with the pressure applied to his body. In a split second, he decided to go all or nothing. He kicked the Winter Soldier's legs away and jumped back up, dodging a punch, but delivering a hard kick to Zola's chest. The female figure stumbled backward. A body rushed between them. The next moment, a metal hand pressed into Steve's throat. Also, Steve's feet were dangling inches above the ground. Never had someone lifted him up with such ease as the Asset did now.
"You are lucky, Captain", Zola said, giving a signal for Bucky to let Steve down. "Your precious blood saves you, but you need to understand that even you are not able to save everyone. We will come back for you, don't worry. Until then, I need you to stay still."
Steve shook his head, no. Even if the world wouldn't believe him if he released all these secrets about Zola, he'd tell them again and again. They would believe. They had to. Captain America didn't lie. And he never gave up. Not when it was his fault that this happened. He swore to himself that he would make it up.
"Well, it seems you just need the right motivation, Captain. Just know that your friends are in my hand."
The woman sent a nod towards the Remnant, who stood behind Steve's back. Suddenly, a shot rang through the air and the boom made Steve feel dizzy. He noticed the four figures leaving the room. Only one thought jumped to his mind.
Sam!
Steve couldn't turn around much or wriggle free, but enough to catch the blood on Sam's chest. The bullet had ripped a hole into the Falcon's shoulder and blood oozed over the straps of his exosuit. The whole front of his shirt was soaked after a few minutes. For a moment, Steve couldn't tell if his friend was conscious or even alive. The blonde struggled with his gag for a few minutes, but eventually, it gave way.
"Sam?", he croaked and received a groan that was more or less encouraging, given the situation. Crap. Well. At least, Sam was alive. But Steve knew very well how bullet wounds worked: the bullet would go in, tear through flesh and tendons and exit on the other side, ripping an even bigger hole there. Steve prayed the bullet was still stuck in Sam's shoulder. Without any emergency kit, Sam would be best off with the bullet locked in the flesh, where it would block the blood flow.
Rogers did a couple of calculations, but he came back to the same estimation every time: he guessed that, considered the amount of blood on the floor and on the gray shirt Sam wore, the injured man would still have about half an hour before bleeding out. If there was no exit wound. And only if Steve could not find a way to get out of these damn chains. His shoulders slumped. This was never supposed to happen. Bucky and him, they had been so close to finally being unchained.
He turned his body around, sitting on his knees. Sadly, there weren't that many options. The first idea to cross Steve's mind was one involving a lot of luck and energy. Just pull these damn chains out of the wall. How deep can they be anchored in that pillar?
Upon investigation, Steve discovered that no, the chains weren't even anchored in the stone of the pillar, but merely wound around it. He was basically tied to himself. Sure, he could pull forward and break the pillar with it. But breaking the ceiling and hurting all the people standing in the museum right above him was a risk Steve couldn't take. Innocent people. The blonde scratched that option off his list without hesitation.
Instead, he started looking around for tools. All he could find was his broken flashlight and Bucky's knife, but the latter was too far away to snatch and definitely not sterile. Steve really didn't want to do more damage to Sam's body. But he couldn't just wait for his friend to die or Zola to get back. Helplessness crashed over Steve like a storm captivating a fisher boat on the open sea, throwing him around until nausea made him taste his bile in his mouth. When he sought shelter in the darkness behind his eyelids, his mind bombarded him with bolts of blazing lightning, each enough to scorch his heart. What if Zola planned on turning Sam into another asset, like Bucky? What if all they needed was Steve's blood? And now they had it, he was sitting in their trap. Helpless. Zola had mentioned Wanda and Scott. He knew about them. What if Zola contacted them, to come and save Steve? Would they understand what was going on? What if they fell for it? What if Zola would use them? Could they stop Zola if they wanted to? What if Steve himself would return to experimentation in the labs of scientists? Would Tony come and save him?Tony was so vulnerable. What if...?
Steve was so occupied with the dark shredding his mind that he didn't notice how his friend croaked the blond's name.
"Steve..."
His head whipped around. Sam? Was he okay? Was he...?
"Steve..."
"Yeah, Sam. Are you alright? Just hold on, okay, just-"
"Steve, I'm sorry."
"Nah, buddy, it's fine. Whatever it is, you can tell me when we're out of this. I just need to, um, find a way and-"
Steve rambled on until Sam cried out.
"Steve! Listen, man. I'm sorry, but you gotta let me tell you why I want to apologize! This is not how it works, okay? I know this isn't a film, but I'm the one potentially dying and you have to listen to me or you'll regret it until you're old and wrinkly."
Steve wasn't sure how Sam did it, but he felt the darkness fade the more his friend spoke.
"Wrinkly? I've crossed the 90 already, pal. I think I'm too old for wrinkles now", Steve watched Sam grin weakly, "But please, pour your heart out."
Sam smiled weakly.
"I'm sorry, Cap. I disobeyed your orders. I trust you and support you as a team member. But I'm also your friend and friends don't give each other orders. They give advice."
"What did you do?"
"I called Tasha."