Trauma-Coaster

The stark hum of machinery vibrated through the walls of the HYDRA facility. A steady drone of electricity filled the sterile air. The room, frozen in silence, held nothing but the sound of his labored breathing. Arthur D. Barnes was encased in the familiar, unforgiving ice, his massive form laying motionless in the cold cryostasis chamber. 

Arthur had been here before—many times. Frozen. Dormant. As much as his mind fought against it, there was a haunting sense of déjà vu every time they brought him back, every time they unthawed his body from the icy tomb. 

But unlike the previous times, this time he felt... different. The tug of something elusive stirred in his chest—a quiet pull, a whisper that reminded him that he had once been more than a weapon. More than just a tool for HYDRA’s agenda.

His mind was foggy, as if someone had wiped away the years, but the one thing he couldn’t forget was the mission—his reason for existing. Eliminate Stark. His mission was clear, concise. HYDRA had made sure of it. They’d made sure that no matter how deeply his humanity had been buried, it would always resurface as a weapon. The trigger was there, buried in his mind, just waiting to be activated.

The cold seeped into his bones as he struggled against the stasis. His muscles screamed, stiff and uncooperative as he began to move, fighting the ice that encased him. With a deep exhale, he pushed himself upright, his body groaning under the pressure.

A hiss of gas filled the chamber as the ice cracked and shattered around him. His eyes blinked against the sharp light that flooded the room. His heightened senses—thanks to the serum HYDRA had injected into him years ago—picked up every small detail: the hum of machinery, the beep of a monitor, the cold that still clung to his skin.

His helmet was placed on the ground beside him. As Arthur stood, towering over the room, the weight of his suit felt oddly familiar, as though it had been molded to his body. His heart pounded as the memories began to surface, fragments of a life he had lived long ago—before the serum, before HYDRA had claimed him as their own.

I was human before this, he thought, though the memories were unclear, murky. I had a life. A family. A brother.

His head snapped up at the sound of footsteps outside the chamber. He was not alone.

"Activate Death. Mission parameters confirmed. Target: Stark. Eliminate," a voice crackled through the loudspeakers. It was the same voice from every mission briefing before. HYDRA’s directive, cold and precise.

He turned his head to the door, and his body stiffened as the heavy sound of boots echoed. Soldiers were coming. Soldiers meant orders. And orders meant he had no choice.

But as the door slid open and a familiar figure stepped inside, everything inside of him froze. His breath caught in his throat. His mind screamed in confusion, but there was only one voice that could silence all the others.

"Bucky...?"

James Buchanan Barnes—the Winter Soldier—stood in the doorway, his eyes wide with disbelief, but they quickly narrowed as he took in the sight of his brother, a giant of a man now standing in front of him, encased in cold armor. The years between them seemed to collapse in an instant, and for the briefest moment, it seemed like time stood still.

Arthur’s hands trembled as he tried to process what he was seeing. Bucky. The last time he had seen his younger brother, Bucky was just a kid—wild-eyed and full of hope. But now… now he was here, standing before him, grown, with a hardness to his eyes that Arthur could never forget.

"Arthur…?" Bucky whispered, his voice breaking the thick silence. He took a cautious step forward, his fingers twitching, unsure of whether to approach or to run. 

Arthur’s mouth went dry. This wasn’t right. Bucky couldn’t be here. Not like this. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Arthur rasped, his voice hoarse from being trapped in ice for so long. His words came out uneven, the tension in his chest building as his mind tried to reconcile the man standing in front of him with the memories of a childhood long gone. 

"You shouldn’t have come," Arthur repeated, taking a step back as the flood of emotions washed over him—guilt, confusion, anger. His head felt like it was splitting in two as the old commands surged to the forefront of his mind. Complete the mission. Kill Stark. You are Death. You are nothing more than a weapon.

Bucky, however, didn’t flinch. His eyes softened, the hardness melting away as he stepped forward. "I’m not leaving you, Arti. I’m not going to let them control you anymore," he said, his voice low but determined.

Arthur’s heart thundered in his chest, and for a split second, the years of conditioning—the endless training, the serum, the unyielding control—felt like they were unraveling. The fog in his mind shifted slightly, and for the briefest moment, he remembered. He remembered who he was, who they were.

But then the cold reality hit. HYDRA had spent decades forging him into something else, something he didn’t fully understand anymore. He wasn’t sure where the man ended and the monster began.

"I’m not who you think I am anymore," Arthur muttered, looking away. "I’m The Reaper. I’m their soldier. I’m—"

"No," Bucky interrupted, his voice unwavering. "You’re Arthur, my brother. You’re not HYDRA’s monster, and you never were. I’ll help you. You don’t have to do this, Arti. You don’t have to be their tool."

The room seemed to close in on him. The pressure in his chest felt like it was suffocating him. His instincts screamed at him to obey the mission. His hands twitched, fingers longing to grasp the weapons on his belt, but the memories of his brother—his real brother—kept him rooted.

Bucky’s hand reached out, his palm open in a silent plea for connection. "Come with me, Arti. I can help you remember who you are. I’m not going to leave you behind."

Arthur wanted to believe him. But the memories of everything that had been done to him—the tests, the torture, the endless hours of combat training, the cold, clinical nature of HYDRA—it clouded everything. He couldn’t just turn it off. He couldn’t just forget what he had become.

The sound of a click in his ear, sharp and clear, brought him back to reality. His chest tightened as a voice echoed through the comms. 

"Death. Complete the mission. Stark. Eliminate."

The words hit him like a bolt of lightning, and the world around him shifted into a blur. His mind snapped into focus. The trigger had been pulled.

He turned to Bucky, his eyes cold as the deadly instinct that had been instilled in him surged forward. His body moved on its own, a machine fueled by years of blood-soaked training.

"Arthur!" Bucky shouted, his voice breaking through the chaos in Arthur’s mind. "Don’t let them control you!"

But it was too late. The serum coursed through his veins, the command taking hold. He advanced, each step heavy with the weight of years spent as a weapon. His muscles, honed and enhanced by the serum, moved with lethal precision. His eyes locked onto Bucky’s, but all he could feel was the compulsion to carry out the mission.

But something deep inside him—something that Bucky had awakened—fought back.

The tension in the room crackled, the storm of emotions raging inside Arthur as he tried to break free from HYDRA’s grip.

"I... I don’t want to hurt you," Arthur murmured, the words a painful confession as he stood frozen in place.

Bucky’s voice softened. "You won’t. You don’t have to."

Arthur’s body shook, the fight between his humanity and HYDRA’s conditioning a war he wasn’t sure he could win.

---

To be continued…