Blinking into the bright lights he slowly became aware of his predicament. He saw himself reflected in the windows. He was tied to a chair in what looked like a high-rise executive office, with floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking the London skyline. It was dark outside and he could see the London-eye spinning in the distance.
The office itself was sleek and modern and lacked personality. All the furniture was black, silver, and shiny it looked like a generic finance bro office. The only features that stood out were a large gilded birdcage in the corner and a huge black marble fireplace.
He could feel bonds around his arms but he was unable to move. He felt paralyzed. He had a mission to complete, something must have gone wrong. He tried flexing his metal arm and was unable to move that either. Now he was really feeling confused. Had he been injured or drugged? Both?
A tall platinum blonde aristocratic young man entered the room and assessed him up and down. “Ah, you’re awake, splendid. We can get started” he said lowering himself smoothly into an office chair in front of the assassin and picking a speck of lint off his slim-cut black suit.
It was his target, the assassin realized with surprise, thinking back to the slim file he had been presented with a few days ago.
Draco Malfoy, 20-something, British hedge fund executive. He was secretive and his record was so sparse it must be a front or a false identity because Draco Malfoy according to all databases did not in fact exist at all.
Hydra’s behavior analysis unit had written a vague profile of the CEO of Malfoy Investments. His manners and accent were indicative of someone born into wealth. Possibly an only child. However, even that snippet of information was impossible to verify because Malfoy lacked any personal government file, no birth record, no passport, and no school records. Nothing.
Malfoy Investments had sprung up out of nowhere five years ago, poaching some of the top graduates from prestigious universities across the globe, it was a small exclusive firm with access to vast amounts of money catering to an incredibly secretive client database, that Hydra had not been able to trace. It occupied the top three floors of the modern building in London’s financial district.
The firm had a philanthropic wing boasting a generous scholarship program, the Burbage United Students Trust, and was a patron of local museums, funding several exhibits. Malfoy himself had recently donated some antique estate jewelry to the British Museum. The philanthropic pursuits could be part of his cover because nobody who is so good at being a ghost gets that way without being a bit of a monster too. His philanthropy could be his way to assuage his guilt. It was exactly what many dictators across the globe did to ensure their nationalist popularity.
Whoever he was, he had managed to piss off someone important and the top brass was sparing no expense to eliminate him. Someone thought it would be in Hydra’s best interest to remove this unknown variable from the European underground.
Their ire had been further aroused because they had since lost three trained assassins in the attempt to eradicate him. Which was why the Winter Soldier had been awakened. Nobody escaped him.
The assassin shook his dark hair out of his face to focus on the man in front of him. He looked annoyed but not scared. An interesting reaction to an attack that spoke volumes. This Malfoy was clearly much more than a simple businessman if he could look the assassin in the eye without showing fear.
“Why are you here?” Malfoy asked coldly fixing his piercing silver eyes onto him.
He stared back defiantly. Whatever he had been given to weaken him would wear off eventually. He would wait it out, he thought to himself, staring stoically back.
He reflected on the last few days as he stared blankly out of the window avoiding Malfoy’s unsettling gaze. He had been planning to set up a sniper roost a few blocks away in order to take Malfoy out from a distance. A technique that he had employed successfully many times in the past because nobody can dodge a bullet they don’t see coming and he was an ace shot. He had not been able to find any vantage point that gave him a clear shot though, which didn’t make any logical sense he now thought looking out of the window and taking note of several high-rise buildings that would have given him the shot. Buildings he was certain that he had scoped out unsuccessfully.
He had also tried to stalk the building entrance to establish Malfoy’s routine only to be surprised two days running when he had not seen him enter or leave via any of the entrances he had set up surveillance around. Yet he had seen Malfoy appear in the building coffee shop to get an espresso and a muffin mid-morning. The same thing had happened the next day. He had concluded that Malfoy must either have an apartment in the office or choose to spend nights there occasionally.
With a time factor being part of his directive he had chosen to strike in the office. Going on his observations he was confident that Malfoy had not left the building and would likely be alone, which was why he had made the decision to make his move at 1 am.
He easily avoided the portly night guard patrolling the lower floors of the building before heading up to the floors occupied by the firm. He had almost turned back twice, distracted by random thoughts of going home to check if he had left the oven on or if he had fed the cat before dismissing the intrusive thoughts since he had neither a home nor a cat.
He remembered crashing through the doors splintering the glossy wood and glass across the marble floor and aiming his guns at the young man and then blackness. Nothing. It was like he had been frozen again, only this time he had his memories and didn’t feel so empty. At least he felt as if he remembered that but as he glanced at the doors, they were pristine not smashed into splinters. He was sure they had been. He looked at the wall expecting to see bullet holes – nothing. Had he imagined it?
“I could make you talk,” Malfoy drawled, sounding bored. “I don’t really have to, however. The others told us they were sent by Hydra so I assume you were too. I am still unsure what Hydra is or even what I have done to warrant such attention but I am sure the boy wonder and his sidekick will figure it out eventually.”
“If Granger was in the country it would have been done already of course and Hydra would be feeling her wrath. She would think it very unsporting and cliché to be using black-clad assassins in the night. Granger would get her panties in quite a twist over the injustice of it all. And she can be delightfully ruthless in her pursuit of justice,” he said with a smirk stroking his chin. “Like an avenging angel, or perhaps a Valkyrie,” he said thoughtfully.
So, he was part of an organization then, the assassin thought perhaps that was why Hydra viewed him as a threat. He tried once again to see if he could move.
“Mmm, while we wait perhaps a small preview of what you will soon be telling them,” Malfoy lent forward grabbing the assassin’s chin and forcing him to look him in the eyes. “Legilimens,” he said in a harsh whisper.
He felt a sharp pain piercing his brain and memories he hadn’t realized he had played out as if on a movie reel. He watched the scenes play out as if it was happening to someone else. Assassination after assassination blurred together and he looked on in horror at what he had done. He was a weapon he had never felt anything about doing his job before but watching them all play out in sequence only punctuated with his freezing and activation left him feeling nauseous and guilty. He wanted to be sick.
Then he was in the room, watching as his metal arm was infused to his shoulder. The scene changed and he was in the same room being tortured, experimented on. He saw himself strapped into a machine his head in a helmet and his eyes forced open with metal claws. Someone in the shadows was speaking Russian.
The memory playback shimmered and he saw himself - falling, through a snow-covered ravine. He was crying out for Steve.
The image faded and morphed again. He was with his friends, he didn’t know who they were but he just knew they were friends, they were joking, playing cards and even fighting side by side. They were fighting against Hydra, destroying their bases, laughing, drinking, and singing in victory. In most of these memories, he was with his friend, who felt like a brother, dressed in a ridiculously tight patriotic American uniform. Steve.
The images shifted again and he saw himself once again on a table in some warehouse strapped into a cruder version of the machine from the previous memory. A German voice spoke from the shadows this time and then a man with a red skull and no nose entered the room filling his vision.
He let out a scream and violently kicked out, knocking himself and Malfoy out of the memory replay and sending both chairs flying back onto the cold floor. He could move again! He flexed his arms and tried to break his bonds but they were unbreakable even with his extra strength.
Malfoy scrambled to his knees feeling nauseous after what he had just witnessed. He wiped down the taste of bile in his mouth and looked at the furious assassin struggling against his bonds. He pulled the assassin’s chair back into an upright position.
“What the fuck did they do to you?” Malfoy asked with more emotion than he had displayed throughout their short interaction.
The assassin tried to headbutt him but Malfoy with his seeker reflex manages to step back out of range. “Do you even know your name? They truly fucked up your brain. It’s worse than an imperio. How long have they been doing that to you? Fuck we really need Granger. You, really, need Granger.” He muttered running his fingers through his hair.
“Don’t worry we can help. You don’t have to go back to them again,” he said sincerely.
He stepped further out of the assassin’s reach and took a long black stick out of his pocket. “Expecto Patronum,” he said in a confident voice and a sleek blue wisplike greyhound leaped into existence. “Tell Potter that this is far worse than a London gang. I have managed to piss off some truly evil people. We need Granger immediately. This is Death Eater level bad.”
Momentarily distracted by the spectral dog, which vanished as quickly as it had appeared, the assassin struggled to his feet. Crouched over with the chair still attached to him he charged at Malfoy but instead found himself crashing into the desk with a loud crack. The glass top of the desk shattered into sharp shards and the black filing cabinets crashed to the floor parchment and ink spilling out. Malfoy was on the other side of the room, a black stick pointed at him.
“Enhanced,” the assassin growled under his breath trying to pick himself off the floor again. Only to be hit by a red bolt.
When he woke up again, he was lying on his back on a black leather sofa looking up at the ceiling. He was paralyzed again, only able to move his head around. His arms were still bound beneath him. He could hear Malfoy pacing nearby.
He lay there staring blankly at the ceiling and trying to recall what he had seen in his memories. He was trying to hold onto them but the more he tried to puzzle them out the more the memories or dreams seemed to slip away. The feelings remained strong though. He remembered that he had friends, family. He remembered feeling the joy of victory and the pain of torture. He was more than the assassin that Hydra had brainwashed him to be. The memories of his missions didn’t have the strong emotional pull to them as the others did. Those memories felt as if they belonged to someone else. They felt clinical and cold. He was more than a weapon. Tears tracked down his cheeks. Who was he? It was a question he could not remember asking himself before. He had been asked and replied as part of his programming “Soldat.” But what was his name? What did those people who were laughing and singing with him call him? What did Steve call him?
“Why would you help me? He asked aloud, his voice raspy from disuse.
Malfoy came to a halt near the sofa and looked straight in the assassin’s eyes. “Why? Because we know how to help you. And because I know what it is like to have my freedom of choice taken away. To see it taken away from those that I love. To be shaped into a monster by madmen. And I know how difficult it is to rebuild a life.”
Green light lit up the room briefly and he heard two more people enter the office.
“Malfoy,” a man called out the sound echoing in the large room.
“About time Potter” Malfoy replied. I was just fixing my office for the second time tonight. “What took you so long?”
“You aren’t the only person in London Malfoy,” a second voice replied gruffly. “We have other cases too you know. The British Museum was broken into tonight and the guard was Avadaed, the minister asked us to be the liaison with muggle law enforcement.”
“As exciting as that is,” Malfoy replied dismissively. “My newest visitor needs your help. Did you get my patronus?”
“Our help? I thought it was another assassin?” the man named Potter asked puzzled. “The Patronus wouldn’t have been able to enter the anti-apparition perimeter set up around the museum tonight. You should have used your mobile if it was urgent.”
“It is another assassin,” Malfoy answered, “but I don’t think this one was a willing assassin. I think he is under whatever the muggle version of the imperio is. Poor bugger has been muggle obliviated and imperioed so much I am surprised he is not a drooling mess. The things they made him do…” Malfoy trailed off feeling a bit sick again.
“And how’d you find that out Malfoy?” asked the gruff-voiced man suspiciously.
“I just wanted to know who he was Weaselbee,” Malfoy said impatiently. “I am the victim here; this is the fourth attempt on my life in two weeks and you have nothing apart from the name Hydra and three dead muggles.
“Did you know that muggles could control people like that? I know muggles can be dangerous with their guns and bombs but I didn’t think they had a way to mess with someone’s brain. They had him strapped to machines torturing him, messing with his brain, freezing him. It’s not right. I think we need to call Granger. She will know what to do.”
“It sounds like brainwashing” Potter said thoughtfully, “mental conditioning. I have seen it in spy movies but I didn’t know it was real.
“Before we call Hermione in, we will have to attempt to question your assassin and try to figure out what to do with him. The others took some kind of poison before we could interrogate them properly. So, let’s be quick about it before I have to fill in more paperwork. Where did you put him?” Potter asked.
Three faces finally peered down at the prone assassin, Malfoy; a tall well-built ginger and a shorter man with black messy hair and glasses.
“Right, he’s awake so let’s sit him up.” The black-haired man said, flicking a stick at the assassin and lifting him into a sitting position.
“Cor! He’s got a metal arm! That’s wicked that is, my dad would love to see that!” the redhead exclaimed enthusiastically poking at the assassin’s arm and bending it at the elbow like a mannequin’s arm. “Much better than Moody’s dodgy wooden leg.”
The assassin raised his eyebrow at the man’s careless handling of him, he was shocked again at how nonchalant these people were. They had no fear of him despite the fact that he was a trained killer. Even after seeing his memories, Malfoy wasn’t scared of him, he seemed to empathize and want to help him? The entire situation was surreal.
“Accio poison,” the black-haired man said pointing a gnarled stick at him. “Accio pills” he tried again before the redhead roughly grabbed his jaw and pried his mouth open and started poking at his teeth with a stick.
When he had finished his thorough examination of his mouth he stepped back with a shrug and Potter proceeded to pat him down removing the assassin’s varied assortment of weapons and tools.
“Look at all those guns and knives!” the redhead said with an incredulous laugh watching his partner pile up the weapon stash. “Someone really wants you dead ferret.” He snarked.
“Yes, yes” I even get the best assassins,” Malfoy smirked back rolling his eyes.
“I am officer Harry Potter and this is my partner Ronald Weasley,” Potter said when he had finished. “Can you tell us your name?” he asked vanishing the pile of weapons away with a wave of his stick.
The assassin blinked at the display of power but remained silent. Staring ahead at the brightening horizon. Who were these people? There had been no hint of any enhanced abilities in Malfoy’s file, he thought to himself.
“It is my job to inform you that you now have two options. You may choose to be interrogated under veritas serum, truth serum, or you could choose to submit your memories as evidence. If you choose to remain silent your accused has a right to have you arrested and a trial will be held. The court will then have the power to make the decision for you. I am sure Malfoy will be providing his memory of tonight as evidence. That and the physical evidence of all the weapons we have confiscated will be held against you.”
“The memory. You can make the memories play back again?” the assassin rasped out.
“Yes, we can obtain the memories,” Potter said looking at the man closely and noticing the tear trails down his cheeks. “Even hidden ones. If what Malfoy has said is true you deserve justice and we know people that are expert mind healers they can help you recover your memories fully,” he reassured the man calmly.
“I agree to the memory recovery,” the assassin said with far more confidence than he felt.
“Do you know your name,” Weasley asked curiously. The assassin shook his head minutely in the negative. “Bloody Hell! That must be so strange.”
The assassin remained silent.
“I will call ahead so that they can have a holding cell readied for tonight, I suppose morning now actually he said glancing at his wristwatch. We can get a specialist to come in later to recover your memories and assess if there is any damage. She is far more qualified and gentler than this git.” He said nodding his head towards Draco.
“Malfoy, I think perhaps you need to relocate as well for a bit until we catch whoever is after you. If they have this technology that can mess with people’s brains like you saw then it is unlikely to be rival bankers that you have pissed off,” Potter said. “I think you should come to the ministry with us, the holding cells aren’t glamorous but it will be a safe place to lie low until we can sort out protective custody later.”
“I am happy to get out of here until you catch them. I am no Gryffindor I am not stupid enough to hang about waiting to see if they send a full robot next time.”
“Perhaps Granger can come babysit me at one of my holiday homes?” he said with a smirk receiving a glare from Weasley and an eye roll from Potter.
“I think Mione is going to have her hands full helping your friend here,” Potter said looking the black-clad assassin up and down. “I will ask Kings to get her a special license so she can reschedule her portkey. You know how strict the ICW is monitoring international Portkeys these days. If she doesn’t get approval, she will have to fly back the muggle way and she won’t be back until tomorrow or the next day.”
“I just need to pack a few things and then we can go,” Malfoy said heading to a room off to the side of his office.
As they were waiting the two Aurors discussed the museum break-in and the missing items that the guard had been killed trying to protect. There was a small garnet skull pin and a large gold pendant with the engraved image of a skull with octopus tentacles on a thick gold necklace.
“That thing looked super creepy, totally gave me flashbacks of what happened in fifth year,” Weasley said rubbing his arms.
“Did it look like this?” The assassin interrupted indicating with his chin the emblem embossed on the left pectoral of his body armor.
“Yeah, just like that,” Potter said openmouthed “but what is it and how are you connected to that when you have been here?”
“It’s the symbol of Hydra. Cut off one head, two more shall take its place.”
“That’s what those other guys said before they offed themselves,” Weasley said.
“Great Hydra is another skull cult,” mumbled Potter taking off his glasses and rubbing tiredly at his eyes.
“What is Hydra?” Malfoy asked striding back into the room.
“This symbol looks like one of the artifacts the thieves took from the museum tonight,” Potter explained pointing at the emblem again.
“Was it a gold pendant with an engraving like that?” Malfoy asked paling.
“Yes,” replied Ron putting their pieces together. “What do you know about the broach and the break-in tonight, Malfoy?” He asked coldly.
“I donated that ugly thing a fortnight ago. Mother found it when she was going through some of her jewelry. It had no magical signature and we didn’t recognize the symbol. She assumed it was a muggle souvenir that my father or one of my equally awful ancestors had collected during a raid. Lucius usually took jewelry he got some kind of sick pleasure displaying his trophies on her.
“We asked Barchoke to take a look at everything she had gone through. He couldn’t identify the coin either but thought it might be a pirate doubloon or perhaps a family crest. He said the historic value was more than the gold it was made of. He advised that a museum would have more use for it and be able to trace its origins so I donated it,” Malfoy replied dismissively stepping closer to the assassin to look at the symbol.
“My mother would never have worn the items had she been in her right mind when father gifted them to her and that pendant was particularly heinous. I sold the other things and gave the money to the trust. The pendant was with a handful of other items, that Barchoke suggested we donate to the museum.
“Well, there is the connection then. Someone clearly wants to kill you because of your link to this artifact,” Weasley said matter-of-factly.
“Obviously,” Malfoy drawled in a fair imitation of Snape. “Ten points to Gryffindor for stating the bleeding obvious.” He said through clenched teeth. “Why would the necklace warrant my murder though? Clearly, they were capable of just stealing it back.”
“Drawing scrutiny and attention in such a public way to Hydra is a slight that would not be forgiven,” the assassin said from his position on the couch.
“Definitely something we are going to have to talk more about then. Perhaps you can help us close two cases. I am going to allow you freedom of movement so you can walk but I warn you if you try to run, we will have to stun you and take you to holding on a stretcher. Attempted escape will then be added to the charges,” Potter said with a dangerous glint in his eye.
“Get on with it Potter. I think tall dark and broody was just a tool for whoever wants me dead. Charging him will be like charging one of his numerous guns. And as you know my mother was imperiod for years. I know how damaging it is to people to not have control over their own minds he cannot be held accountable for his actions any more than my mother can. I will not be pressing charges but we need to find out more about Hydra and why they want me dead over some gaudy trinket. The assassination attempts are really cutting into my social life.”
Both officers took hold of an arm and lifted the assassin to his feet as Malfoy looked on with a smirk. “I know you have to be reminded sometimes because of your upbringing Potter but honestly Weasley are you a wizard or not? you could have just levitated the big gorilla, how do you think I got him onto the couch.” Malfoy said with an incredulous grin as Weasley’s cheeks reddened.
Still holding the assassin upright Potter rolled his eyes and pointed his wand at the assassin. “Finite,” he said clearly followed immediately by “Incarcerous”. Enabling the soldier to walk freely but still have his arms bound behind him. As Weasley and Malfoy continued to argue amongst themselves.
Potter reached for a crystal bowl on the mantlepiece with his free hand.
Just then a male Russian voice sounded in the assassin’s earpiece asking him to report he tried to dislodge the device by violently shaking his head.
“Fellas,” he said in his raspy unused voice, trying to focus on where he was instead of the disembodied voice. “We better leave now. I need this earpiece out of my ear.”
All three turned to look at him in confusion just as the voice in his ear began reading out his trigger words. “Желание, Ржавый, Семнадцать, Рассвет, Печь, Девять, Добросердечный, Возвращение на Родину, Один, Товарный вагон”*
The assassin stilled as if frozen, waiting for instruction. “она моя. найти егo"**” he responded in a detached voice his eyes glossing over. A surge of power ran through his arm and he finally had the strength to break through the invisible bonds confining his arms.
He swung at the two officers sending both of them sprawling across the room, hitting the wall opposite the windows and dropping their pointy sticks.
He lunged for his target who held out a hand to him.
“Fight it. This isn’t you,” Malfoy argued rolling out of his way. “We can help you,” he gasped out struggling as the assassin lifted him off the ground by the throat his cold metal hand tightening. Then he vanished with a loud crack severing his arm at the wrist.
The assassin looked blankly at his metallic stump that was sparking sporadically before focusing his attention back on the two men left behind in the office. He stepped towards them following protocol that no witnesses could be left alive.
Then the same voice spoke through the headpiece telling him to abort the mission and head directly to the extraction point.
Staring blankly ahead he left the office at a run leaving the two gobsmacked aurors behind.
Months later he was lying on the muddy banks of the Potomac River, soaked, bloody, and bruised.
His brain abuzz with fragments of memory, that Steve had dislodged through his refusal to fight him and his insistence that they were friends.
“You know me,” Steve had said. “You have known me your whole life. Your name is James Buchanan Barnes.”
The idiot had even tried to save him despite the fact that he had shot him several times and the helicarrier was crashing to the earth, colliding into the Triskelion. That self-sacrificing stubbornness and his continued assertions that they were friends, had been throwing him off of his mission but it was only when he saw Steve plummeting out of the helicarrier that he had finally felt truly awake.
Watching him fall had triggered a visceral flash of memory of his brief awakening in London when he had remembered his own freefall in the snowy mountains. Calling out for Steve. His friend.
Without hesitation, he had dived in after him and hauled him out of the river.
“James Buchanan Barnes,” he said out loud. “Steve’s friend. Until the end of the line.”
Feeling overwhelmed he looked over at his unconscious friend and was reminded of another blonde man who had reached out his hand in friendship and who had also treated him with empathy. He Draco Malfoy had wanted to save him even though he was an assassin who had been sent to kill him.
Malfoy had offered a solution to help him recover his memories. He needed to find him again to find out if he really could help piece him back together. He needed to be free from Hydra control. He needed to see the mind healer that Malfoy had told him about. He wanted to be Bucky again. He took one last glance at his friend before he trudged into the forest.
*"Longing, Rusted, Seventeen, Daybreak, Furnace, Nine, Benign, Homecoming, One, Freight Car"
** Ready to comply
