It was cold. The soldier didn't like the cold. There was blood, his blood. Why did all of this seem so familiar to him? He couldn't remember, he wanted to remember, but it hurt to try. He wasn't allowed to remember, they didn't want him to, so he wouldn't. That was one of the rules, he couldn't remember. Another rule? Report back in time.
Soldier was trying, but he was cold, he could barely feel his legs or hands. The handlers would be mad at him for being this weak, he’s supposed to report back.
Why hadn't he pulled the knife out of his leg yet? Something about blood loss, but it didn't seem to be helping, there was a trail of blood in the snow behind him.
His metal hand was clamped over a whole in his side, a full through- and through bullet wound. There was also blood leaking from his ears, Soldier couldn't quite remember what caused that, but it happened somehow.
Walking straight wasn't easy. His leg was close to giving out, the flesh slicing slightly more with each step. His head pounding and making his vision swim consistently. Soldier was a long way from the randevu point, if he wasn’t there in time… whatever came after wouldn't be good.
It was cold
How long had he been out here? Hours? A day? There was no telling, Alaska stops having days and nights at some point. Even if Soldier was stuck in an open field with no trees, there was no sun to go by.
He was tired, his arms and legs ached. All energy felt like it was vacuumed up. What's a vacuum? It was cold, he was tired. Hypothermia. The word bounced around in his head. It wasn't a good thing, his body was shutting down. Enhanced body or not, he was shutting down.
Ironically, as soon as he realized his inevitable fate, his legs crumpled from beneath him. The soldier's face collided with the snow, sending a….cold? Burning? Both?
A shock of cold and burning feeling straight to his brain, leaving him shivering and gasping. There was no making it back in time. To be fair, the handlers wouldn’t leave Soldier to die, they had said he was ‘too valuable’. They’d let him suffer, feel like he was dying, because it was ’fun’.
Soldier’s whole body felt like it was becoming ice, it was different from the chamber. It was so cold that he couldn’t get enough air, the air was freezing, burning his throat and lungs every time he sucked in a breath. How can one be so cold but yet on fire at the same time?
Whatever got him first, the blood loss or the cold, any more time out here and it was over. That was the only thought in his head. He pushed himself up, snow tumbling off his hair. The knife was pushed deeper into his leg from the fall, the soldier could swear he could feel it touch a bone.
Blood covered the entirety of his metal hand, seeping into the crevices between each plate. He couldn’t get his legs back under him, he couldn't move. Now he was done, over with. He would die before the handlers arrived, but that was okay, that would mean this nightmare was over.
In the blink of an eye, Soldier’s face was back in the snow. He had been put in cryo so many times, yet this felt much worse. Probably because he was conscious of the biting cold. The soldier closed his eyes.
Of course, Hydra wasn't done with him. Soldier woke up once again, in a cell. He was significantly warmer, but he still shivered. He looked down to see that he was still in the leather jacket he had been wearing, and there was an IV in his arm. Soldier didn't appreciate that, but he had learned not to mess with anything Hydra did to him.
But he was safe.
Funny that he thought being trapped here and tortured was safer than death. Whatever or whoever he used to be, was gone now. He was the asset, the soldier, the Winter Soldier. And somewhere in his fucked up mind, he thought Hydra was safe.