The Handler

"You were my oppressor
And I, I have been programmed to obey
But now, you are my handler
And I, I will execute your demands"-

Muse, The Handler

After the explosion in the lab, Sam felt a gut-wrenching, familiar terror that caused the hairs on the back of his neck to rise. Bright red lights flashed in the steaming lab as an alarm blared.

'Where do I remember this from? Why does this seem so familiar?' Sam thought.

Oh. Oh.

Bucky, Zemo, red lights, sterile metal smell, and being up and personal with danger. He knows what he remembers this from. He remembers this from the prison. From Zemo taking control of Bucky's mind with conditioned words and forcing him to hurt people who he'd never hurt. He shuddered as he remembered the cool metal hand closing around his throat and throwing him as if he were nothing more than a rag doll.

"Buck, you good? Sharon?" Sam tried to call out.

After the stunt Zemo had pulled with him, those grating Russian phrases causing something inside of the super soldier to perk up, he needed to check up on the man.

Sharon stumbled near him, the blast from the RPG still rattling around in their bones.

"Where's Zemo?" He tried again, yelling over the ringing in his own ears. Concern steadily leaked through as he hefted himself up into a semi-standing position. With a quick sweep of the destroyed and burning lab, Bucky was nowhere to be seen. Or Zemo. Damnit.

"Let's move!" Sharon grabbed him by the elbow, pushing both of them out of the destroyed lab before the gas exploded.

'Damn Zemo and his damn plans'. How did that man get a gun?'

"Sam, we need to find Bucky and Zemo now!" The ex-SHIELD agent yelled over the tea kettle-like whining that rang from the lab.

Gunshots pinged around the metal containers around him as he took a deep inhale. "Bu-"

His yell got interrupted by the makeshift lab exploding, sending debris and flame in each and every direction. Bucky please don't be in there, I can't let down Steve again. I can't let you down.

Pulling the gun out of his back pocket and shooting hostiles was familiar and eased his worries about Bucky somewhat. Somewhat. 

The guy is a super assassin that has almost killed me (and Steve) several times, he can handle being roughed up.

"Sam!" Sharon's distressed voice reached his ears, "look!" She continued shooting as a masked figure, (Zemo), his brain whispered, leaped off of the top of the metal containers, and started to dispatch the enemies, much to Sam's surprise. Such a shady guy.

One shot, another shot, bullets whizzing past his head. God, he hasn't missed this.

BANG

A gunshot. "What in the hell?" Sharon quickly made work of shooting a bounty hunter in front of her before kicking the man aside.

BANG

Another one, though this time the bullet's destination was known by the shot woman who fell from a cargo container.

BANG BANG BANG

Three consecutive gunshots startled Sam and Sharon, the both of them making their way to an open container to get cover. 

Once they were undercover in the container, he tentatively asked, "Sharon is that one of your people?"

"Yeah right," she scoffed. "None of my people can hit five marks in under thirty seconds. The only person I know that can do that is..."

Bucky

"What about Zemo?" Sam asked, changing the topic. They could get Bucky later, Zemo, on the other hand, is an escaped mad man.

"It'd sure be nice if you didn't drag all this shit to me, Sam!" The blonde sneered as she checked her handgun.

Pursing his lips, he checked the magazine on his gun and kicked the cargo container door open. An expensive car screeched to a halt in front of the both of them, igniting a fire in Sam's belly.

"What the hell did you think you were doing?!" He snarled, gripping Zemo by the shirt collar.

"I was merely trying to help, Samuel." The villain replied, a dark look in his eye. Zemo's brow furrowed before he asked, "where's James?"

Oh fuck, Bucky.

"He wasn't with you?" Sam spoke around a swollen tongue, stomach-churning.

Sharon interrupted them, her gun cocking. "Guys."

A shadow fell over them overhead, an ominous mechanical whir just teasing the back of his head as a heavily muscled figure flipped over them, sniper rifle in hand.

It was Barnes.

He stood there, looking like a day hasn't changed since they were on the highway when they first "met." His dead eyes swept across the three of their surpassed faces before locking on his.

"Готовы соответствовать," he droned, eyes just over the right side of his shoulder.

"Well, James, obviously you weren't holding up as well as you thought you were huh?" Zemo's amused murmuring caused the hackles on the back of his neck to rise.

"Shut up!" Sam pointed a finger at the man. His eyes went back to Barnes, who was looking like Sam had snapped at him.

"Hey, Buck I'm gonna need you to talk to me in English yeah? What happened man?"

Bucky's hands slowly went and clasped themselves behind his back, his breathing picking up.

"Yes, Sir. Asset Codename 'Buck'?" He graveled in thickly accented English (interesting), before staring at Sam, hopeful to understand what was happening.

The words brought bile to Sam's mouth and he ignored Sharon's comment about 'not having time for this bullshit.'

"No! Not a codename, that's you're name. You're Bucky Barnes. Did you hit your head or something in the explosion?" That seemed likely, that and dealing with being the Winter Soldier all day could definitely jostle something loose in his head.

"Asset: Codename Bucky is fully functional. Minimal damage to the Asset: Codename Bucky's head occurred." After saying that he brought his flesh hand up the back of his head before showing them to Sam. Red, glossy blood shone on Bucky's fingers, enough for Sam to know that it wasn't just a minimal damage wound.

"He really went back to factory settings, huh?" Sharon commented behind him, spurring on a conversation between her and Zemo.

"Damnit Buck," he swore marching forward. "How the hell did this happen to you?"

The taller man shrunk under his words, his eyes shuttered and blank.

"The Asset sustained damage while protecting it's handler," Bucky (The Winter Soldier?) murmured quietly.

The fight drained out of Sam at those soft words and he turned to Sharon and Zemo.

"What the hell do we do now?" Sam asked.

Sharon shrugged, "your guys' problem. I'm heading out."  With that, she started to stroll away.

"Oh, that's how it's gonna be huh?" Sam called out after her, irritation bubbling within him.

She's been through too much already, he scolded himself, she's fine.

"Каковы твои приказы, солдат?" Zemo snapped at Bucky in curt Russian.

The taller man's lips pulled back in what looked to be in annoyance before he snapped back in Russian accented English.

"The Handler desires communication in English!" He snarled, brows furrowed.

Sam felt a laugh bubble in him at the moment, even when he reverted back to his old training and commands, Bucky still bullies Zemo with him. Zemo did not look as impressed.

"Alright, Soldier, get in the fancy man's car and we'll take off. We got leads to follow."

Bucky nodded, going for the back seat before Zemo opened up the passenger door and looked at him expectantly. The decision to go front or back obviously stressed him, but with Sam's encouraging nod he smoothly slid into the front seat.

Sam grumbled as he slid into the back seat, his legs uncomfortably squeezed.

"You aren't gonna move your seat up, are you?"

The pressure on his legs ceased immediately, Bucky's panicked eyes catching his for a moment. "I'm sorry Sir!"

Zemo took stepped on the gas, sending them to the runway without a second thought.

"Buck, it's okay," his heart clenched, "you don't have to call me Sir, you can call me Sam. He's Zemo," he said, nodding at the other.

"Yes, S-Sam," Bucky stuttered.

There is no plan for this.