Part II

Summary: continuation of imagine

Word Count: 1273

Warnings: none

Ten minutes to eliminate the Captain America is more than generous.
He didn’t make a sound, he was trained not to make a sound.
While the van was standing at the little parking lot next to the main street in the city center, he was awaiting, in a shade of a huge skyscraper.
Leaning his back against the cold wall of the building, he once again repeated his plan.

Take your aim… HE’S ONLY A TARGET. Cut him down… THAT PREMONITION THAT I KNEW HIM. Your bullet can’t ricochet….

Finally he heard some voices.
Target wasn’t alone…

“Are you sure it’s here?” Sam asked hesitantly.
“Excuse me? Are you undermining my navigational skills now?” Natasha barked loudly, getting out of their car.
Steve, who at that moment was standing next to the vehicle, was looking around.
“Stop, immediately, both of you” he said in a harsh voice of his. “It’s not a good moment for arguments, do you understand?”
Natasha only rolled her eyes, taking a seat at the hood of the car.
“What’s now, Cap?” she asked coldly. “I’m telling you, Steve. It could be anyone else. Maybe they’re wrong.”
Captain didn’t answer at her words, because he noticed the black van standing at a one of free parking spaces.

In the same time Soldier decided to start an action.
He turn around, stepping out of the shadow and he aimed. But he quickly realized the target was firing his own weapon at him, one bullet has striked him in the chest where his tactic vest absorbed the impact.
In the next moment the target launched himself at the Soldier. He was good, Bucky had to admitted…
He was stronger and faster than target was, but he had to concentrate to block man’s blows and get through his defences. He lost his own weapon early in the exchange. Bucky was finally able to sweep blonde man’s feet out from under him and he went down. He straddled the target, circling his neck with his hands. It will take only moments now…

But the target wasn’t alone.
Bucky felt a strong blow aimed in his neck, so for a short moment he lost his concentration.
Not even taking eyes off the target, with his metal arm he grabbed second person, who was still standing behind them. He easily threw the person aside. With a corner of his eye he noticed it was a redhead woman.

He again focused on the target beneath him. But the target wasn’t done. He managed to get one leg up to Bucky’s throat, to force him down and break the grip that’s depriving him of breath. He almost managed to get away. No one has managed to come so close to escaping the Soldier… But he had him pinned again in a moment…
The target began to strike out with no technique, just blind panic, arms and legs were flailing against him. As he gasped for breath that won’t come, one of the target’s hand reached out and grabbed his face mask, pulling it off.

The target saw his face, and he freezed. The target knows him…

Second strong blow in the neck threw Soldier out of the target, straight at the concrete.
He made a coup forward and quickly got back on his feet.
There was one more person besides the woman. It was a tall black man. A strong man…

The target got up from the ground with help of his comrade. Bucky felt target’s eyes on himself.

Soldier slowly turned his head to face blonde man.
“BUCKY?!” the target whispered quietly.
Soldier for a second was silent, than he narrowed his brows and barked.
“Who the hell is Bucky?”

He didn’t know what the target was talking about. But the familiar feeling of knowing that man came back to Soldier’s head.

Suddenly an apparent peace has been interrupted by shots.
The two men who came at the place with the Soldier, seeing what was going on at the parking lot, decided to step into an action.
They were aiming in the target and his comrades.
Suddenly Soldier heard a female scream. Redhead has been shot in her arm and she fell on the ground, squeaking quietly.

“Get to the fucking van!” one of the mercenaries screamed loudly, giving a sign to the Soldier, while the second was distracting the target.

Bucky ran straight to the car and quickly got in.
After a moment second of the men jump to the van too and he shut the door as he did.
A driver hardly pressed the accelerator and after a while they were on a way back to the private airport.

His handler was standing on the stairs, just out of reach, he held a pistol firmly in both hands. It didn’t matter. The Soldier knew he could kill the man if he wanted to. He had a gun in his boot and three knives, and he wouldn’t even need any of them. He could cross the distance between them and break the man’s neck before he could pull the trigger or say the words. But he didn’t. The handler’s controls was fraying, but they weren’t quite broken yet.
“Soldier, report” his handler ordered.
The Soldier didn’t even do his handler the courtesy of looking at him, keeping his eyes directed to the floor. He was sitting at the narrow brick wall, in the huge devastated, abandoned air shed.
“You failed your mission, Soldier. I need your report.”
That made the Soldier turn to his handler. He knew he did.
“Who am I?” Bucky asked.
“You are the Soldier” the handler replied without hesitation.
“And who was I before that?”
“You were nobody.” the words were spit out, contemptuous. The Soldier clenched his fists. “You ARE nobody.”
“Who was the target?” he asked.
“He was an enemy.”
“I knew him” the Soldier whispered.
“That’s why he had to die. He would have exposed your existence. Your work is so important, we cannot allow that to happen.” the handler was so sure, so confident. The Soldier hated him.
“But I knew him” Bukcy insisted. He sensed his handler’s tense.
He rose to his feet and faced down his handler. The man was almost as tall as he was, but the Soldier knew he can’t be underestimated.
“Солдат. Стоп.”
The Soldier balanced on the balls of his feet. He knew the switch to Russian meant the words were coming.
“Желание.”
One word wasn’t enough for the handler to take his will, but it was enough that for the Soldier to feel the strands of control began to once more wind around him.
He launched himself forward with a snarl, sure of his own ability, but his handler was ready for him. He fired two times and the Soldier felt two darts strike, in throat and leg. He fought to keep moving, but can feel the drugs, the poison, which was overcoming his will. He had his hands around the throat of his handler, but his vision was fading and he fell. The last thing he felt before he lost consciousness entirely was a vicious kick to his ribs.

He woke up in the chair and found the routine has changed. This time, they started with fire, fire that burnt the rebellion from his brain. Fire that left him screaming, that made his limbs tremble. When the fire has burned the last fragment of his old self away, only then they did stop.
His handler approached him, the hated red book which he has held in his hands.
“And now, Soldier,” his handler said coldly, “we will begin again.”

Author: Beast

Summary: continuation of imagine

Word Count: 874

Warnings: none

The
routine is always the same: ice, fire, words, compliance.
They pull the Soldier from the cryo chamber with ice still in his veins and
drag him down throughout dark corridors and through bulk head doors to the
chair. Coming out of cryo, he never remembers much, but he remembers enough to
fear the chair. There aren’t any good times.

He thought heaven can’t help him now.
Nothing lasts forever, but this is gonna take him down somehow.
These memories follow him around, still.
Some snippets of situations he could barely remember caused kind of an anxiety.
He knew however, that he has to be impassive, no matter what will happen.
Steve Rogers.
That single name re-echoed in his head.
It was kinda bothering him, because he had an irresistible feeling, that he
knew that person. Somehow. Sometime.. Somewhere…

Soldier, the soldier, get the soldier,
soldier we have a mission for you, soldier, soldier…
Mission report.
What mission? Which mission? Why are they staring at me?
Mission report.
Captain America.

Ice. Fire. Words. Compliance. More fire.
More words. More ice.
Every time they pull him from the ice, things have changed. Hairstyles. Cars.
Fashion. Language changes. A phrase that would have passed unnoticed becomes
old-fashioned while he sleeps. Who his handlers serve changes as well: from the
Soviet Union to Russia to Hydra.
There are some constants, though.
He has a habit. He sketches between missions, when he’s awaiting at another
assignment. But as soon as sketch is done, he destroys it.
Once he couldn’t force his himself to tear up that sketch, and his handler found
it stuck in a pocket that usually holds ammunition. They broke his fingers
before they put him in the ice that time, and again when they pull him out. The
Soldier’s fingers ache after that, a steady reminder not to get caught again.

The other thing that doesn’t change is
death. Whether his handlers are Soviet, Russian or Hydra, their orders always
involve death. They burn out his memory, but death always follows him.
All those people he killed.
Polish colonel in Warsaw, Danish special agent, Bosnian high rank commander of
Tactical Air Force…
He remembers all of them. ALWAYS.

Where are those happy days? They seem so
hard to find. I really tried to make it out, I wish I understood. How can I
even try to go on?

And now he was assigned once again. His
mission seemed to not be so easy this time, but there was no place for excuses.
Captain America. Steve Rogers. And Soldier has to eliminate the target.

His handler took him to the little room.
It was “his place”.
There was a little window beneath a ceiling, brick walls were dilapidated. A
narrow metal bed with a smouldering mattress on it was standing with bedhead to
the door.
“Rest. You’re going to Washington tomorrow morning” handler said in harsh
voice, without any redundant emotions.
He only nodded.

As soon as doors were closed, Bucky
slowly sat on the mattress, slipping his metal fingers into his long hair. 
“I need to shave”, brunette thought to himself. It was rather a ridiculous
afterthought, he thought second later.
He always wanted to ran from demons of his past, so he tried to think about
some silly things. Sometimes it helped. Sometimes not…

He spent whole night by sitting on the
mattress, with knees tucked up to his chin.

The sun has already long set when they
landed at a private airfield. The two men with them made bribes and threats to
avoid any questions. The Soldier geared up in his tactical suit, the handler
insisted that this job requires the face mask.
Bucky made sure he had all his weapons —guns, knives. He put the mask in place,
and then got into the back of the plain black van that awaited them on the
tarmac.
In the van, time seemed to come to a standstill.

When the van stopped and the handler
threw the door open on a city street he thought he should recognize, he could
noticed the beginnings of light showing in the sky.
“You have ten minutes. They’ll be here in a moment” his handler said.

They were looking for him since several
minutes.
“They said he’s somewhere around here” Natasha growled, once again taking a
look at the navigation and a little red dot on a screen.
Sam let out a slight gasp.
“Maybe S.H.I.E.L.D has wrong informations? Who has reported it?” man asked,
shrugging.
“They have confirmed informations, Sam” Captain’s voice was firm as he spoke.

Steve was preparing to this actions
since very long time period.
The Winter Soldier, the Ghost, was in the city and it might be the only
occasion to find him and take him to the base.
He was responsible for a lot of assassinations in last few decades. S.H.I.E.L.D
really wanted to catch that man. He was the most dangerous person and he needed
to be captured.
Steve’s phone rang suddenly, so he picked up a call.

He was listening for a while and when he
hung off the phone, he threw a gaze to Sam.
“Turn right, Sam. One of the agents has seen their van at the city center.”