LOCATION: BERLIN, GERMANY
CIA HEADQUARTERS - Joint Terrorism Task Force
(HIGH SECURITY BUNKER)
Task Force stopped their prisoner beside the truck he'd been brought in and took away his bag, carrying off his memories, and Bucky wanted to scream, because there was nothing he could do about it. Even if it was just a little, he remembered. He still held on to bits and pieces of the time before HYDRA had gotten their claws into him, and now they were leaving with what little he remembered about the man he had been.
Then, several hands moved him on, guiding him up the tailgate ramp of the truck, stopping Bucky in front of a large glass-like containment cell inside which waited for him something from his darkest past, a shiny, cold, metal chair. A steel restraint was clamped around his right arm, the metal chilling his flesh. Bucky couldn't feel the clamp around his left arm, but he heard it click into place, the heavy lock securing him, holding him still.
He didn't know how long had passed -he couldn't think, couldn't move. The eyes of the guards never left his motionless position; some of them glared at him, others kept watching as if Bucky was some exotic capture. In some ways, the latter would've agreed that he was.
He detected someone walking into the adjoining hallway and telling the guards to get moving. Bucky felt his body stiffen. Then, the door to his cell opened, but Barnes kept his head down. He wasn't going to look up at the bastards, he wasn't going to give in, and there was no way that he would let them have that kind of satisfaction.
Bucky shut his eyes and every fiber in him tightened even more.
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LOCATION: BERLIN, GERMANY
CIA HEADQUARTERS - Joint Terrorism Task Force
(CONTROL ROOM FLOOR)
Steve and Sam were thrown in a separate quiet glass-walled office overlooking the control room. The latter leant on the table, looking at all the people typing away on their computers while live CCTV footage of Bucky was shown on one of the eight screens on the wall. Outside, Magna tensely stood behind Natasha Romanoff and Tony Stark, the three facing the monitors in front of them, each of them recording the containment cell from different angles. An image of Bucky shuffled into the picure, before everyone's eyes- he was, of course, in custody, locked in a pod with his arms tightly fixed down to the chair.
His powerful shoulders were prominent, but the downward angle of one of the cameras obscured his facial expression -granted, the length of his hair didn't make it any easy either. The special sensors indicated that Bucky's heartbeat and blood pressure then begun to increase; his metabolic levels edging up as well. The evaluation was about to start.
Barnes was later joined by the hired psychiatrist who had been sent to interview the prisoner and evaluate his mental well-being. The former appeared in the doorway, his sunken shoulders blocking the soft light from the contiguous hallway. The Winter Soldier remained staring blankly at the wall between two armed guards that stood in front of his pod. Eventually, the unknown man in glasses came in, his steps slow and tentative.
— Hello, Mr. Barnes.- the soft-spoken voice of the man interrupted the silence.— I've been sent by the UN to evaluate you. Do you mind if I sit?- he asked, his English thick with an accent. To this the prisoner made no reply, and the man sat anyway. — Your first name is James?- all Bucky did was lean his head back against his uncomfortable metal chair, trying to block out his current situation.
Inside the small office Steve couldn't hear anything being said; he could stare at the small screen and watch the evaluator sit down at a desk, facing Bucky's pod. Sharon stepped inside the small see-through room, carrying more images, papers and a voucher with her too, handing it to Sam, who looked slightly annoyed.
— The receipt for your gear..- she explained and Sam glanced down, immediately frowning at the words. The blonde's eyes briefly met Magna's from all the way across the glass wall and the latter nodded inconspicuously.
— 'Bird costume'?- Sam read aloud with leering disdain. He cocked a brow and let out a short scoff. — ... Come on.
— I didn't write it.- stepping towards the control buttons that were mounted into the table, Sharon pushed the "Restricted" button, which stopped the muted audio from Bucky's evaluation.
The CCTV footage of Bucky came on on the screen next to Steve's head, and the audio was louder. He gave her a quick look, but turned his attention to Bucky again as the psychologist continued.
— I'm not here to judge you, I just want to ask you a few questions. Do you know where you are, James?- the latter didn't care what the man was there for. All the prisoner wanted was to get it all over with, even if the result was him getting killed. For Bucky, death wasn't the worst outcome. In fact, he'd choose death over the Machine every single time. Barnes opted not to answer the question.
The doctor, however, pressed further -he could clearly tell from the way Barnes held himself, tense and closed, that the former sergeant didn't want to discuss his problems and he didn't want him to talk about them either; still, Dr. Theo Broussard was persistant.
— I can't help you if you don't talk to me, James.- the man commented, shuffling through papers calmly. Bucky inhaled deeply. He needed to get his frustration under control.
He repeated the name over and over. James. James. James. That wasn't who he was anymore. He was Bucky. Back in the forties, he'd died once as James, the sergeant, the friend, the son. This time, if it came to that, he would go out as Bucky... just Bucky. Finally, he spoke.
— My name is Bucky.- was the first thing out of his mouth, his voice coming out croaky because nobody had thought of giving him a glass of water since taking him into custody. Wasn't that against the law? He almost laughed. Everything about him was against the law. The evaluator was quiet for a long time, writing something down.
Steve was slightly affected by his answer, his eyes still wondering on the screen as he thought.
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The blonde sat the rest of the pages down. On top there was a blurry security picture of "James" after the bombing and Steve hesitantly picked the photo up off of the table. He held and studied the photographs of the man who bombed the congress in Vienna, a man who indeed looked just like Bucky. The super soldier sighed to keep from getting worked up again. He glanced at the papers one last time before darting his gaze back up to the screen.
Sharon heard the glass door open and close behind her, and from the perfume she immediately recognised the new person as Magna.
— Why would the Task Force release this photo to begin with?- he suddenly piped up, aiming his question at the two CIA agents.
He dropped the security photo of Bucky supposedly planting the bomb that would later kill the King of Wakanda and injure countless others. It really didn't make sense. Bucky had been able to perform multiple assassinations and never once was caught by photographs. What was different about this time?
Steve turned around, but Magna's eyes stayed trained onto the screen. She was focusing on Bucky's body language, praying he would stay calm throughout the evaluation, as it maybe would save the violent reputation he had going for him.
— Get the word out, involve as many eyes as we can?- Sharon tipped her head and threw an arm out, suggesting the obvious. Next to her, Sam was sulking about his wings being taken from him.
— Right.- Steve agreed, though it wasn't friendly. His face was stern and hard-set again, and Magna knew that wasn't Steve talking. That was Captain America. His voice, almost sarcastic, told her he was onto something. — It's a good way to flush a guy out of hiding. Set off a bomb, get your picture taken. Get seven billion people looking for the Winter Soldier.- the brunette's eyes drifted up to his and they automatically narrowed.
— You're saying someone framed him to find him.- it was a question, but Sharon voiced it like a statement. Her tone didn't necessarily imply she believed Steve's theory, but the blondewasn't discarding it either. Sam brought his eyes up and shook his head, glancing at Magna.
— Steve.. we looked for the guy for two years and found nothing.- he said.
— Because he didn't want to be found.- Magna chimed in, grimacing at the memory. She recalled perfectly how exasperating the search was.
— We didn't bomb the UN. That turns a lot if heads.- Steve insisted, avoiding Magna's gaze, probably because they were narrowed to the point that they could only see her pupils. There wasn't a trace of blue in Steve's irises either, only the shade resembling the gray of the sky in a bad storm.
— Yeah, but that doesn't guarantee that whoever framed him would get him.- Sharon's eyes fell on the evaluator in the screen, her eyes narrow. Sharon seemed to realize something and trained her gaze onto the screen. — ... It guarantees that we would.
Magna turned to face her friend, considering her thought. Her dark eyes fixed on Sharon, and Steve looked back at the screen behind him with a frown.
— Yeah...- he mumbled.
Without a word, Magna exited the room, her conflicted gaze fleetingly meeting Natasha's. The psychiatrist hired to evaluate James was fully on display. His back was to the camera, but it was clear by the way his head moved that he was engaging the prisoner in conversation. On the different screens, the recorded image of Bucky remained almost motionless as the evaluator talked to him.
The lights flickered off around the control room before plunging the entire floor into darkness. Acting on instinct, Magna looked over at Steve, who turned his eyes to Sharon.
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LOCATION: BERLIN, GERMANY
CIA HEADQUARTERS - Joint Terrorism Task Force
(HIGH SECURITY BUNKER)
— Tell me Bucky. You've seen a great deal, haven't you?- he finally asked, after what felt like an hour of silence, making Bucky visibly tense up at the question.
That had to be the stupidest question the latter had ever heard. What was he supposed to say? He'd been spending the past two years trying to move on from his past. He relived it enough in his nightmares, he didn't need to reminisce now.
— I don't wanna talk about it.- there was an edge to Bucky's voice, and the sensors indicated that his heart was pounding and his metabolism had been drenched with adrenaline.
When the evaluator continued, he spoke as if his mouth was full of honey.
— You fear that if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop.- the doctor carried on, and initially Bucky thought the man meant to make it a question that came out as a statement, -then that changed, of course, and he wanted to roll his eyes and chide that for someone who wasn't there to judge him, that sounded awfully judgemental.
He held his tongue.
The strange doctor got distracted again, this time by something on his tablet and Bucky didn't know why he was so scared -he couldn't do anything immediate from that cage anyway
— Don't worry.- the man said. There was an ominous, almost arrogant tone to his voice that set Bucky's nerves on end. — We only have to talk about one.- one horror, he meant. He tapped the tablet a couple times before looking back to him. Something was definitely wrong, but Bucky didn't get a chance to ponder that statement.
The power suddenly dropped, the room plunging into darkness for a moment before the backup generators started, the dimness of the cell punctuated by flashing red lights as the system tried to reboot. The doors to the containment room slammed shut, locking out the soldiers and guards stationed outside.
— What the hell is this?- he growled, turning his gaze to the man in the suit. His muscles started aching as he yearned to retreat.
He could see the guy, now that the glare from the light was gone. The only illumination was dull, flashing emergency lightning. The Doc didn't look like an obvious threat, in fact, he looked like an ordinary guy. Neatly combed brown hair, glassed perched on the bridge of his nose, expensive-looking suit... Bucky could have passed him in the street and not glanced at him once
— Why don't we discuss your home?- the man asked in return. In the darkness that soft-spoken voice sounded much more menacing. What did this guy know of his home?
Weird Doctor reached into his briefcase, pulled out something and held it up for him to see.
— Not Romania. Certainly not Brooklyn, no.- the man only smirked and kept showing him the object. It was a notebook that looked worn out at the edges, not unlike the ones Bucky used to record his memories, only this one was red, with the macabre star on the front. Bucky didn't recognise the book, but the Soldier did. — I mean your real home.- he finished grimly. This guy didn't want to talk to Bucky. He wanted the Winter Soldier.
The latter woke and writhed beneath Bucky's skin, bringing him with a flood of fear, adrenaline and a deep, cold memory of painful familiarity. The chair, and The Machine. The book. They all went together, and together they brought agony.
Bucky wanted to believe that it had been enough time, that the words wouldn't do anything to him anymore. But his bones were aching to escape. The man took off his glasses, proudly displaying the red notebook with it's gaudy, black star on the front. Then, the impostor stood up, flipping to a certain page and stepped forward. The word the doctor pronounced tore into the latter's mind, opening a door to the inside of his thoughts.
Longing.
— No...- Bucky muttered, shaking his head and struggling on his metallic restrains. He tried to breathe through the throbbing feeling that appeared in his mind.
No.
The words weren't going to work anymore. He kept telling himself that, even as he felt the pinprick in the back of his head. It was just a word. It meant nothing to him now.
The door was opened, and another word stepped through it.
Rusted .
Something touched his skull. It wasn't physical. Granted, he was locked up and no one could touch him, but he could still feel a strange pressure almost a drumming on his head. Each time the throbbing sensation washed over him the pain grew stronger. At first he tought he had gone into shock, but worse was the knowledge that he was about to vomit.
He opened his eyes and struggled against his bindings. He was having difficulty breathing through his nose. He took big gulps of air through his mouth, and tried to ignore the rancid taste. Bucky felt his lips tremble with fear.
— Stop...- he heard himself plea, tossing his head back harshly and squeezing his eyes shut. trying to block out the words. He couldn't, though.
As the doctor recited everything good that was in his mind started to fade and Bucky could feel the currents in his brain start to take over again. Images raced through his mind, each memory sniffed out like dying candles.
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Seventeen.
He could feel everything was slipping away, as both his hands clenched to fists. How could he still not fight this?
— Stop.- he said again, this time louder, much harsher, and his face contorted as a fierce anger built up in him. However, the man didn't stop. The words didn't stop.
The doctor needed a flashlight to see the journal page, which had been pre-marked, and a tiny spotlight over the source of all Bucky's pain. He walked around the latter's pod as he said the next word, and the sting spread to the entire back of Bucky's head.
Daybreak.
Even as the word tried to wake the Soldier, Bucky reached out and tried to get there first, to rouse HYDRA's weapon into self-defence. He grabbed hold, taking some of the aggression, some of the raw strength, into himself. The prisoner's lips let out a scream that echoed the scream of his muscles as he strained against the metal restraints.
Bucky, gripping the bindings in his hands, tried to break free while the man took another step in front of him. His metal wrist managed to break free from the restrain and broke his other arm from the hold.
Bucky poured everything he had into moving his arm. He heard metal screech in complaint as it gave way to his strength, and the prisoner ripped his heavy arm out of its hold. Ignoring the incredible pain as he moved away from what his body wanted to do, he forced himself to move. Bucky knew he had to get out.
The clamps over his other arm and his legs were easily removed, and he could barely hear over the pounding in his ears as the man said Furnace. Bucky roared with rage. The man who was the cause of his current bout of pain was just ouside the pod, that book in his hands, a feverish light in his eyes.
The words were spreading, working their way deeper inside of him, trying to reach the place where the Soldier lay dormant. The pain enveloped his entire brain, sending electrical pulses down his spine and into his extremities.
Bucky stumbled to the front of the fish bowl, grabbing hold of the bar that was there to keep him inside. He then used it as leverage, sending his metal fist into the thick glass. The man jumped back, but when the glass didnt' shatter, he spoke another word.
Nine.
He felt the pain in the center of his back, but he ignored it, continuing to hit the glass over and over and over.
He had to get out, had to get out, had to get out .
Again and again he smashed his fist into the glass. It was only glass. Sooner or later it would have to give way.
He was stronger than glass.
He was... He was...
Benign .
A numbness started to settle into his mind, like the cold of cryo-freeze. There were only three words left, and he could feel as his brain started to fog over.
A crack appeared in the glass, giving him something else to focus on. He poured every ounce of concentration into punching it, into breaking through the transparent barrier. It became the only thing in the world.
Homecoming .
His legs no longer felt like his, they were numb and foreign. He continued anyway, but he no longer knew why he was hitting the glass. It seemed important, though. He was in a cage, and he had to get out. Get out and kill the man with the book before... before...
He didn't know. It didn't matter. He didn't need to know. All he needed was an order to obey, and this was it.
Get out.
Kill.
Rest.
One punch caused the shrink to step back, another got him worried.
One.
Soon the glass began to buckle, he felt it weaken beneath his strikes. He lashed out again, and again, and again, until the wall finally gave way, wrenched off its hinges under the force of his sustained attack. He tumbled out of the pod, landing on the floor to his knees and preparing to attack. As he stepped through, he heard the final words.
Freight car.
The man stepped back and Bucky stopped dead on his tracks, as if following an unspoken instruction. The noise receded and for a moment it was quiet, no one made a noise. Through the silence, the evaluator bent down in front of him while his eyes were tightened shut for the moment. Bucky slowly lifted his head up, looking ahead.
His face held no emotion, eyes cold and distant. The Soldier stayed in his crouched position, eyes and ears open as he performed a tactical threat analysis; there was only one person present- the man who had spoken the words. The one who now commanded him. He raised himself to a stainding position and patiently awaited his new orders.
— Soldier?- the man asked. The Winter Soldier blinked, and exhaled heavily.
— Ready to comply.- he responded as uncertainty and caution disappeared from his handler's face.
𝔸/ℕ: The original plan was to dedicate one of my "Ellipsis" chapters to the Winter Soldier's activation scene but it made more sense to split two different moments happening pretty much at the same time within the same chapter. It felt more real and, believe me, it was hella tense to write it.
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♡ 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕜 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘!If you like this story, don't hesitate to vote & leave a comment, feedback helps me a lot!