Chapter 8
The next two months went by quickly, the rhythm of everyday settling in. On one hand, both versions of Steve Rogers worked closely with Howard to refine every detail of Bucky’s rehabilitation, spending long hours monitoring Bucky’s vitals, adjusting experimental parameters, and reprogramming the memory-suppressing machine that held him in stasis, as instructed by Howard. Their thoughts, eventually, blended into a single mantra of “We’ll get him back.”
While the Steves immersed themselves, Peggy and Angie turned their attention to a new frontier—a political revolution in post-war Britain. In the corridors of power in London, the War hero and her quick-witted friend found themselves increasingly involved in a daring attempt to reshape the United Kingdom’s future. With unwavering resolve, Peggy embraced the challenge of running for Prime Minister. She rallied a diverse coalition of independent candidates, convincing those disillusioned by the old guard that a new political force was needed. The result was the birth of the Center Party, a bold initiative aimed at uniting people from every walk of life.
LONDON
August 25th, 1949
In a modest office overlooking a rain-soaked London street, Peggy sat at a desk with a typewriter, crafting a stirring manifesto—a call for unity. Her statement resonated with the promise of a nation reborn. “... because in my experience in the war, I’ve seen people fight, whether they were men, women, black, white, rich or poor—it didn’t matter. And that’s my objective: to have a united nation where everyone is treated equally. So, if you want that, vote for the Center Party.” She paused, re-reading the lines that would soon echo in countless homes across the nation.
“That is great, English!” Angie exclaimed with a bright smile as she read over Peggy’s shoulder, pride shining from Peggy’s eyes. “Thank, darling,” Peggy replied, raising a glass of red wine in a quiet toast to the possibility of change. “Hopefully, this is the start of something great.”
“It’s going to be,” Angie affirmed, clinking her glass gently against Peggy’s. For a brief moment, the two friends allowed themselves to enjoy the moment, even with all of the challenges ahead.
Back in Washington, D.C., Howard stood at the head of a long table. “Can you explain it again?” Steve asked, his voice low and tinged with impatience as he scrutinized the latest readouts.
Howard took a measured breath before replying, “Yes, we have successfully reverse-engineered the machine, and now it’s programmed to revive memories instead of wiping them away.” His words held the promise of healing.
“So it’s going to be that easy?” Grant queried, skepticism laced with hope. “Probably,” Howard replied, “but Bucky will likely need some time to heal from everything HYDRA did to him. And we also need to get rid of the trigger words.”
At that moment, all eyes turned to the cryogenic chamber where Bucky lay in a state of suspended animation. A soft hiss of machinery was the only sound as the chamber’s door slowly slid open, with the super-soldier mumbling “Актив – Машина.”
Grant, his eyes narrowing in concentration, murmured, trying to recollect the significance of these words “Актив. Машина…”. Moments later, Bucky’s eyelids fluttered open, and he stared up at Grant with a searching gaze. “Дрессировщик?” he managed to ask, the word slipping out in halting Russian.
“Солдат,” Grant replied, his tone resolute and tinged with menace as he repeated the single word, “Машина.”
Bucky’s eyes slowly cleared, and he nodded before easing himself out of the chamber and seating himself in front of the machine. Howard moved swiftly, preparing the apparatus. A helmet-like device was carefully fitted over Bucky’s head and connected to the machine’s intricate circuitry. Then, with a deep breath, Howard activated the system.
The room was filled with a low hum and the sound of mechanical whirring. Bucky groaned in pain, while, amid the situation, Bucky’s mind was flooded with voices. In between the stinging pain and the mechanical symphony, he could just barely make out whispered phrases:
“Солдат?”
“Я готов отвечать.”
The messages repeated, a grim dialogue echoing within his mind:
“Sergeant Barnes... the procedure has already started. You are to be the new fist of HYDRA.”
“You ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?”
“Hey, let's hear it for Captain America!”
“I thought you were smaller? What happened to you?”
“This isn’t a back alley, Steve. It’s war! Why are you so keen to fight? There are so many important jobs.”
“The thing is, you don’t have to. I’m with you to the end of the line.”
With a sudden, shuddering jolt, the machine powered down and Bucky collapsed onto the floor. For a long, tense moment, time seemed to freeze as the other three men rushed to his side. Then, opening his eyes again, Bucky’s eyes focused on Steve.
“Steve?” Bucky rasped, the sound barely more than a whisper.
“Hey, Buck,” Steve replied gently, helping him to his feet. “You’re home.”