Nirvana

"Enough, That's enough!" The soldier yelled through the abundant, clear one-way-view glass  screen separating him from the concrete cell. Inside stood a dark skinned man. His shirt damp from not only his sweat, but also different types of colored liquids that resemble to content in the jars scattered on metal tables. The man huffed slowly lowering his shoulders with the exhale and turned to face the screen.

"Captain, we need answers. We need a lead. This is the only way-" the man said.

"I know." The soldier interrupted with a slight absence in his voice. "I just wish you'd at least take it easy on him"

The torturer gave him a quick glance at the prisoner being held up by the arms with spirals of chains attached to the ceiling, before looking back at the soldier. The soldier's face slackened; his brow furrowed, eyes remaining on the prisoner in concern as if he were searching for a response. The torturer stood his ground before wiping the sweat off with the back of his hand. He turned towards the table of torture instruments. Knives,chains,nails and cranks were scattered on a metal table. The prisoner, obviously weak, didn't show any sign of pain.

"May I continue, Captain?" the man said. His eyes wondered at every inch of the one-way-view screen, obviously mirrored on his side of the screen. The soldier didn't respond. 

The torturer sighed with a turn, picked up an item furthest away from him and walked towards the prisoner. Hysterical shreaks of pain whipped through the air. More blood being drawn from his torso as an addition to his collection of scars he'll receive after today. Cutting over healed cuts and scars, the torturer mumbled questions to the prisoner giving him the opportunity to answer before he carried on. Each time; the prisoner would refuse to answer and keep silent. The procedure would cycle throughout the day. Never getting answers. Spilling more blood.

"Maybe its best you wait outside, Cap." A short red head appeared beside him. Her straight hair hung lightly by her shoulders. Her eyes focused on the scene in front of her. She didn't show a hint of remorse for the events happening as if the process wasn't a new process to her. 

"If you don't like the way it's going then you might as well not watch." Her stern tone made the soldier shiver before breaking his attention from the prisoner to the red head. She did the same, returning the gaze. Her eyes cold yet wholesome. In defeat he turned at his heel and walked towards the exit.

"You continue....and don't stop until you get answers." the red head instructed before following the soldier.

Screams echoed down the halls. Steve stiffened slightly walking down the corridor; passing consulting rooms, labs filled with white clothed people with goggles leading towards the base of S.H.I.E.L.D. Long painful screams. Some filled with desperation, some accompanied with whimpers. It was all too much.

They stopped sharply as he stumbled through the double doors at the end of the corridor.

"It's been two weeks." he half whispered to the red head on his heels.

"I know. I'm sorry but we're not getting any information from him" She added without a hint of remorse in her apology. He turned back at her stopping at his tracks and gave her a cold look.

"What? If it were anyone else you'd be doing the same." she said.

"No!" He yelled startling himself. "No, I wouldn't, torturing someone should never be an option" he said in a more hushed tone now walking away from her. His breath hitching at every muffled wail of pain. "Since when did S.H.I.E.L.D start torturing people? Aren't we supposed to saves lives not put them on the line?"

"Desperate times, Rogers." she mumbled.

He went through the last set of double doors and found himself in a room filled with round tables, monitors, jet black chairs and couches. Sat in front of a computer screen was Sam Wilson, who had his back faced away from them tapping away. His shoulders were hunched over the keyboard as if he was physically being absorbed into the monitor.  

"Seriously, it's ridiculous how easy it is to hack into S.H.I.E.L.D's system. It took me less than 10-15 minutes max before-" He turned in his chair to the soldiers cold expression. His face looked pinched, his eyes glassy. He knew his friend was trying to keep it together but knew he could crack any second.

"What's wrong with you?" He asked already knowing the answer to his question.

Another wail filled the air causing the soldier to turn his head slightly towards the door. His feet remained rooted into the ground. Sam gave the red head a look- raising his eyebrows before she shook her head slightly. He sighed.

"No difference to yesterday then?"

"And the day before, and the day before that." the soldier added with his head still turned to the side. "We need a different approach."

"Steve if there was another-look, there is no other way. We can't just sweet talk him into giving us answers." Sam said after standing up to walk towards them. The creases on Sam's pant's loosened as he started to walk towards them and up three steps.

Steve's eyes buried themselves under his brown lashes as he slowly inhaled. His nose creased, mouth twitched.

"I could try and reason with him." he suggested hopefully.

"And what? Risk your life? He's a trained assassin with a hint of insanity-scrap that, a heck load of insanity. That guy could kill you with just a paper clip, Steve. You're not going in there." Sam mocked him.

"I'm the only person he'd listen too-"

"He's not the person you used to know." the red head spoke up, walking further in front of him so she was in his field of vision. "No matter how much you want it to be true."

"But-" Steve protested.

"We haven't faced a situation like this since New York." She interrupted. "We don't want a repeat of history" Her small but tough frame stood firmly against a set of hand rails that circled the center of the room. Her arms crossed and eyes wary.

Sam stood with his weight supported by his forearm; rested on the nearest wall with one fingernail being bitten nervously. The prisoner has his hooks deep under his skin, anyone with eyes could see what it was doing to Steve. Sam had gone through day after day watching Steve slowly lose it. Watching a man who's been through hell and back being torn apart worse that he's ever been.

Steve, the largest and strongest person in the room, suddenly felt like the smallest person in the world. His cheeks flushed and mind fresh out of ideas. He was beyond desperate to help the prisoner but got knocked down at every suggestion he raised. The past few weeks had been hell for him, hearing the screams both through the walls and inside his head when he attempted to sleep. S.H.I.E.L.D was beyond desperate for answers and torture was the only successful method in getting what they needed. Steve's shoulders slouched as he dragged his legs down the stairs, reaching the circular table with spread sheets of information. A familiar face was repeated on every sheet with scribbles and post-it notes barricading the page. "DANGEROUS", "VIOLENT" and "DEADLY" were stamped in red block capitals on virtually every sheet. He carried on flipping through the pages he had already memorized. He blinked through the information and scanned over the pages again and again, and again. "PROPERTY OF S.H.I.E.LD" was stamped over every picture.

"I think you need sleep Cap, you're exhausted." the red head brushed her hand onto his forearm but pulled away nervously letting it fall down to her side.

"I've been sleeping my whole life, Tasha. I'm done with being asleep." He stormed towards the doors barely finishing his sentence. A gush of air hit him harshly exiting through the double doors. Sam had already leaped across the room catching up to Steve at the doors.

"Who ever he used to be, the guy he is now I don't think he's the guy you save." Sam yelled down the corridor catching up to Steve as he took large strides down the hall. "He's the kind you stop."

And just like that, Steve froze in his tracks taking in every word. He blinked twice getting rid of the sheen of tears barricading his vision and set off forwards towards the prison cell.

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The walls were pure concrete. The floors musty with thick layers of dust. The cell was poorly furnished, what remained intact was a wooden table with two chairs either side of it and a rusty bed only fit for a small child, covered in unrecognizable stains. Not one window was in sight just four square, cold walls. A slight tap of a liquid settled in the corner of the room giving the room that extra notch of eeriness. Rusty pipes were tucked beneath the concrete walls, peeped out again and embedded back into the wall making a spiral shape in and out of the walls.

Steve winced as the metal door to the cell slammed shut behind him. He kept his distance from the prisoner sat on the bed with his legs crossed. He cleared his throat getting the prisoners attention.

"You shouldn't be here" the prisoner's disembodied voice mumbled. His thick curls framed his square face, covered in fine patches of stubble. His head hung low, avoiding eye contact but he knew Steve was in the room. His back arched forwards and his elbows rested on his crossed legs. His only human hand trailed up and down his metal arm brushing every detail,crack and dent gently as if he was in awe of the metal bionic arm.

The silver on his arm reflected the skin tone of his right hand dancing over it inch by inch. His face, still dripping with blood, faced downwards. 

"I came to reason with you." Steve's voice echoed.

Taking a hesitant step closer, Steve raised his hand towards the table in the middle of the cell inviting him to join him.

"I wouldn't come closer if i was you." He said without taking his eyes off his arm. "Not that I could hurt you anyway. Your...friends installed a bug in my arm to prevent me from hurting anyone. Even myself." His eye lashes danced around his eyes as he twitched his metal fingers one by one in fascination. "Any sudden movement and I get shocked but i'd still prefer if you'd keep your distance."

Steve's eyes that we're starting to clear up; filled with tears once more. He locked his jaw, exhaled before taking one more step towards the deserted table; not taking his eyes off the prisoner.

"Like I said. I came here to reason with you"

"You should leave, I don't have the information you say I have."

"Bucky-"

"STOP CALLING ME BUCKY!" the prisoner slammed both his hands on the metal frame of the bed within a blink of the eye. Sudden flashes of sparks traveled from the apex of his arm down to his finger tips causing him to jerk in pain for several seconds. Like a set of fire works had lit up inside his metal arm and were taking turns in flaring into bursts of light. The pain in his head was enormous, as if his head was about to explode. Every inch of his skin crawled with goosebumps and burned. It felt as though the blood in his body was boiling and his veins were about to burst through. Steve, who was previously sitting, was now half standing up-half sitting in shock watching the prisoners shoulders and legs tremble repeatedly until the sparks died down and the buzzing sound vanished.

Exhausted, the prisoner buried his head in his hands catching his breath. He put his head in his hands and breathed heavily.

A long pause stretched between them.

"Stop. Calling. Me. Bucky" He repeated panting to himself. His eyes blinking franticly.

"I'm just calling you by your name."

"My name!?" He spat, "I don't HAVE a name. I have a code. I was nicknamed The Winter Soldier by Hydra, I exist purely to complete my mission. Once it's completed I will be terminated. I wont be needed anymore. I don't know how THIS happened" Bucky gestured to his arm. "I don't know why they chose me. All I know is that I need to accomplish what needs to be done. It's all on my shoulders. I don't have a past and I obviously wont have a future."

His gaze never left Steve's as he leaned forwards onto the edge of the bed saying each word with enthusiasm and depth. Steve slowly sat calmly and collected by the table refraining to show a glimpse of discomfort that was bubbling in his stomach. He hated seeing his friend like this. He hated seeing him sitting on a sheet stained with his own blood and sweat, and he hated the fact that his longest friend has no relocation of him ever being Bucky. It pained him.

Steve sat forward resting his forearms on the brim of the table.

"Buck-Look...you don't remember me but I know you. I know you better than anyone. You and I, we've been together our whole lives. All this may not mean anything to you but i need you to trust me. Trust me when i say that this isn't you. What Hydra has done to you has changed you for the worst. All I need from you is information and I promise, no more harm will be done to you. You have my word."

"Your word means nothing to me."

"Then just look out for yourself. You don't like being tortured day after day do you?" Steve's voice raised.

"Would anyone?" Bucky copied his tone turning his head to the side.

Frustrated and angry Steve stood up, kicking his chair back and started pacing back and forth running his hand over his mouth and through his hair. He stopped after several minutes and faced Bucky once more.

"What is your mission? Tell me-at least tell me that" Steve said.

Bucky's eyes diverted to his bloody bruised bare feet. He played with his arm once more not answering Steve's question for a brief moment.

"Its classified I'm unable to tell anyone my agenda"

"Just tell me. Tell me what's so important for you to mass murder good, innocent people. Who or what are you after? Are you after S.H.I.E.L.D's weaponry? Our data!? What!!!?" Steve blurted out desperate for answers. He licked his lips quickly before continuing with a calmer tone. He lowered his arms and placed his hands on his hips.

"Buddy please just-" Steve added with a hushed tone.

"I am not your friend." Bucky replied calmly. "Nor am I going to tell you anything."

A dark smirk appeared on his bruised face which quickly shifted into a squint of pain. He hunched over gripping onto his stomach where his skin, covered in gushes of blood, was exposed through tears in his shirt. The pain rattled around Bucky's body which caused him to groan in agony. Steve was by his side within seconds holding him up for support but Bucky eventually forced him off.

"You're bleeding too much."

"Leave just go."

"No!"

"GO!" Bucky yelled between groans of pain.

Flickers of colors flashed past Bucky's eyes. Swirls of pictures printed themselves on the insides of his eye lids. He shook his head trying to shake them away. Words, voices repeated themselves over and over again. Pictures became clearer the more Bucky resisted. He held his head in his hands and opened his eyes before squinting them shut as the pictures refused to disappear. He couldn't make out what the echoed words were but he recognized the voices. He recognized his own voice. The same tremble and desperation Steve had seconds ago. The same words that slipped Bucky's mouth at one point. 'No, not without you' The pictures became hazy and colors thickened into darkness. He removed his hands from his head and readjusted to the lighting in his cell with a groan. 

"Bucky?" The words echoed not out loud but in his head followed by more pictures and flashes of colors. He was suddenly surrounded by brown brick buildings. He looked down at himself dressed in a brown suit and smart shoes. Before him stood a skinny, short blond kid with hallow cheekbones  and a small face. 'The thing is...you don't have to. I'm with you till the end of the line, pal' the words slipped out of his own mouth without warning. Without him meaning to say them. The small blond with sharp cheek bones smiled back at him before holding onto him. 'Thank you Buck'

"Bucky?" His name called him back to reality. Back to his cell once more. "Bucky?" The voice asked again.

He shook his head. Beads of sweat dropped from his temple. Steve stood in front of him gazing at him. Bucky grunted one more time and shook his head once more. He calmed his breathing before answering.

"I told you" He raised his head to meet Steve's eyes "to stop calling me Bucky" he blinked wildly to make sure what he was seeing was real.

Steve hesitated for a brief moment, gave a disappointed sigh, straightened his back and turned on his heal and left. He turned once on the other side of the glass screen to see Bucky mumble something to himself returning his gaze back to his metal arm. The Bucky he once knew is long gone.