Prolouge
Proceed to the departure point. Mission report. Proceed to the departure point. Mission report. Proceed to ...
Impossible. Risk to the secrecy of operation too high.
Proceed to...
The Winter Soldier was standing over the wounded man. He knew him. He didn't know how was that even possible, but he knew he hadn't seen him first time.
The man wasn't breathing. The Soldier rolled him on side to let the water flow out of his airways. The man coughed once and then second time. And started to breathe. He even tried to open his eyes and sit up. The Soldier crouched beside him and pressed his good metal hand to his shoulder, clutching his other arm with dislocated elbow to his chest. When the man finally calmed down the Soldier let go of his shoulder and took the first aid kit out of man's left thigh pocket. He didn't exactly know why he was so sure where to look for it. He unzipped the pouch and emptied it of all contents. He didn't have time to be neat, neither the man bleeding from gut wound. He found the hemostatic, some gauze and bandages. He patched the man up as best as he could with only one functional arm, which is made of metal and doesn't have physical sensation.
'B...Bucky?' murmured the wounded man, looking through half shut eyes.
Steel eyes of the Soldier met man's sky blue ones. With no expression the Soldier responded, 'Bucky is long dead.'
Then Steve Rogers lost consciousness.
***
The Soldier didn't wander off too far. He looked at the sun and determined that there was about eleven more hours of daylight. He needed to lay low, to sit out until nightfall.
Dressed like this, in leather combat jacket displaying his left metal arm, combat pants with holsters and knife sheath, tactical knee pads and heavy duty combat boots he would be drawing a lot of attention. And that wasn't a viable option.
He hid himself in bushes, little more than half of a mile from the place where he had left that strangely familiar man. He was careful not to leave any tracks, avoiding soft and muddy terrain. He found this distance far enough to minimize the risk of being found by emergency services. But he needed to examine his injuries. He was in pain, obviously, but his training do not let him to be bothered by any pain enough to ignore mission safety measures.
After making sure there was no way to be spotted, the Soldier sat on his heels and took off his jacket.
The Soldier began his self-examination from his right elbow. Despite the pain the dislocation wasn't anything he couldn't fix himself. He laid his his hand palm up, his wrist in a strange angle and placed his foot on it. Then he pulled his upper body up, like he would try standing up and kept pulling until he felt the bone felt into socket. He let himself to moan quietly out of relief, the noise barely audible even for him. He tried carefully move his fixed elbow. It was still hurting, but it was almost fully functional. He started methodically checking every inch of his body, beginning with his head. Few small cuts on the face, not inconvenient. Bruise on the jaw, not inconvenient. Two broken ribs, small inconvenience, but nothing life-threatening. But his stomach was hard and painful to touch. He was probably bleeding internally after being pinned down by heavy metal beam. Major inconvenience and serious life threatening condition. Considering current blood flow he had about seven hours before he would lose consciousness of hypovolemic shock. Which is not even close to enough. He didn't let the panic took over his mind. He needed to stay as calm as possible, keeping his heart rate and blood pressure as low as possible. He laid down, very slowly and carefully. He slowed his breathing down, shortly after he felt his heart rate dropping to impossible to imagine for a living being twenty beats per minute. He stared impassively at the fragments of blue clean sky above him.
And the Soldier started to feel bored. He knew the feeling, just couldn't tell from where. He couldn't recall any other situation when he felt bored. The asset could not be bored. The weapon could not be bored.
Proceed to the departure point. Mission report. Proceed to the departure point. Mission report. Proceed to ...
He overcame the urge to take the comms out of his ear. It worked only one-way: it allowed his handler to give him orders, but the Soldier couldn't respond. He knew the punishment for such disobedience. He touched the right part of his chest, where was the most recent brand they gave him. He still could feel the burning pain of the branding iron on his already scarred skin.
After few minutes or hours, the Soldier couldn't tell, the pain of massive internal injuries settled in. He swallowed a scream when the first wave of pain hit him with force of speeding train. He curled in himself, biting inside of his cheek. He was shocked when he felt something wet and hot travelling down his face and then something salty on his lips. The Soldier touched his cheek with his flesh hand. His fingers came out wet with tears.
***
Alexander Pierce massaged his aching chest and grunted of pain. That bastard Nick Fury had to be dead. Yet he was alive and kicking, not even thinking about dying.
Fortunately, his ribs was intact, it was just a bruising. But pretty damn painful one.
How was that even possible? Mission report filed by the Winter Soldier said that Fury got three rounds in the chest from Soviet sniper rifle using 7.62mm bullets. He should have been dead within minutes.
The asset will payfor that. A high price in blood, screams and tears.
'Where, in the fuck, is he?' yelled Pierce.
'Sir, I think it is not a best time to ...' One of Hydra techs rubbed the back of his neck in uncertainty.'There are a lot of federal agent looking for survivors from the helicarriers. He can wait it out hidden somewhere. He will return when he'll find it safe.'
'Shut the fuck up! He has failed his mission! Not once, not twice, but three times! He has to be punished for that!'
'Sir,' interrupted woman's voice with strong Russian accent. ' I feel obliged to say that Zimniy Soldat is still in our proprietary. I will not let you damage him more it is necessary.'
'I am his handler and I can do with him whatever the fuck I wish.'
'I disagree with you, sir.' The woman sat in front of Pierce, intentionally exposing gun on her hip. ' You may be his handler, yet I am his owner. It is my job to keep him fully operational. And, I repeat, I will not let you hurt him because of your wounded pride. He deserved t'o be punished, I have to agree with you on that, but he should and will be punished for his mistakes committed during operation, not because you were shot by someone who should be dead. It was more your fault than his.'
'My fault?! You ...'
'Please, watch your language, Mr Pierce. I, as Hydra's officer of high rank, will not tolerate insubordination of any kind among people under my command. You included.'
Pierce inhaled, counted to six and exhaled.
'With all due respect, Miss Karpov,' he said, trying not to be overly submissive. 'I am not under your command. You are here to make sure that the Soldier will comply and I am here to give him orders.'
'Sir, you don't understand. I am here to make sure the Winter Soldier and you will comply with Hydra's higher targets. My job includes punishing the Soldier for disobedience and mistakes, as well as preventing damaging the asset more than it's absolutely necessary for keeping him obedient and not posing a threat to continued secrecy of his operations.'
Pierce opened his mouth to tell that cheeky little bitch what he thinks of her, but thankfully one of the techs interrupted him, before he managed to get himself into more troubles.
'Ma'am and sir, we managed to track his location! He's currently... Oh, shit! We've lost the signal!'
'His last known location?' Karpov leaned over technician's station, presenting in their full glory her incredible boobs.
'About half mile from the bank of the Potomac.'
'The signal, were it moving?' asked Pierce, trying not to look at Karpov's decollete.
'Can't say, sir, too much interference.'
'Interference? From what?' inquired Karpov, straightening up and casually playing with buttons of her black shirt.
'There're some large-scale search going on, ma'am.'
'Do we know who they are looking for?' Karpov looked at Pierce.
'Hopefully not the asset.' Pierce shrugged and sat back on the chair.
Pierce wasn't sure if the youngest female technician spoke to herself or answered Karpov's question.
'Did she just say something?' Pierce demanded. 'If it's something important speak the fuck louder. If not shut the fuck up and get back to work.'
'They're looking for Captain America,' repeated the technician, pointing on the computer screen. 'He was on one of the helicarriers and now he's missing.'
'That explains why he remains in place.' Karpov looked at Pierce with a little of triumph in her eyes. 'He's there, in hiding, probably injured and unable to fight, to defend himself.'
'All right then.' Pierce put his hands up, palms front, in surrender. 'He's not defected. But what, in the hell, we do now? We have wounded asset in the field. And there's huge search-party rolling around him. What do we do?'
'I would wait for him here.' Karpov got comfortable in her chair, crossing her legs in ankles. 'His programmed to get back to the departure point.'
'You put too much trust in him. Miss Karpov.'
'I do put trust in my father's training, Mr Pierce.'
'Your father has been a defector, hasn't he?'
'Indeed he has been. But his betrayal to Hydra does not belittle his multiple successes in the Winter Soldier's training and programming.'
Karpov's continued calmness was really pissing Pierce off. He swallowed a moan when massaging his bruised chest.
'If your ribs are bothering you so much, maybe you should be examined by a doctor.' Karpov proved her extraordinary perception. 'There are few of physicians waiting for the Soldier. I'm sure they can take a look at you. To ensure that is nothing life threatening.'
'I appreciate your concern, but I think I'm all right.' Pierce stretched on the chair. 'Just a little bit tired. Do you mind if I nod off for a while?'
Karpov didn't say anything, but nodded her head in approval.
'Wake me up only if he's returned or dead,' said Pierce to the techs, leaving the control room.
In his office he took of his suit jacket and tie and lowered himself on the couch. The sleep came at the moment his head touched a pillow.
When female technician woke him up, his Rolex wristwatch said that almost ten hours passed. He was supposed to nod off, not give himself more sleep than any night last six months.
'Sir, I apologize,' said the tech with awkwardness,' but you have ordered to wake you up when he's returned.'
Pierce pressed his eyeballs with his fists, trying to recover from too long sleep in uncomfortable position.
'Has he?'
'Not yet, sir. He's about two minutes from here.'
'Then he's not here right now?'
'Colonel Karpov has sent a team to pick him up. Because he's stopped moving about fifteen minutes ago. Our cameras nearby can't spot him, but we suspect that colonel Karpov's speculations about the asset's injuriesmay not be unsubstantiated.'
'Thanks...' Pierce cut himself out, focusing his eyes no the name tag in front of the tech's SHIELD uniform.' ... Miss A. Bennett. I'll be there in no time.'
Pierce sat up, ran his hands through his hair, messing his hairstyle even more.
Karpov was sitting on the edge of her sit, impatiently tapping her foot. She had changed. She was wearing grey hoodie, dark jeans and leather ankle boots. Her light brown hair were braided. She was talking through headset, presumably with recovery team.
'Is he conscious? ... Good. That means he won't die within next few minutes. ... Oh. Hurry up. Karpov out.' She put down her headset and gave him a long, hard stare. ' Did you have a good sleep, Mr Pierce?'
'Yes, thank you. What's with him?'
'Barely conscious, probably hypovolemic shock. But he's alive and compliant, as I said.
Pierce raised both his hands in surrender and inclined his head.
'I apologize for my doubts.'
'Apology accepted.'
Then Karpov's team arrived and their conversation was cut short.
The Winter Soldier was barely standing, not to mention walking. Two team members had to drag him, holding his arms over their shoulders. He wasn't wearing his jacket nor knee pads anymore. Instead he had black hoodie and gloves. His gaze was perfectly neutral and unfocused. He was even paler then before. When guards sat him on one of the chairs he let out pained grunt, curling in himself, pressing both arms into his stomach.
'Mission report,' said Pierce, barely restraining himself from punching him in his aching stomach.
'Mission failed ... Helicarriers destroyed ... Target survived ...' the Soldier managed to say between wet, pained coughs.
'How!? How your target could survive!?' Pierce rushed to the Soldier, grabbed him by his hair and yanked his head. 'How is that even possible!?'
'Enough, Pierce! Karpov harshly cut herself in. ' Status?' ske asked in Russian.
'Tyazhelyye travmy ... vozmozhnoye vnutrenneye krovotecheniye ... meditsinskaya pomo... ' The Soldier stopped and groaned of pain.
'Get the medicals ready' Karpov ordered the tech named Bennett. 'Tell them to prep to possible surgery.'
Bennett nodded and began speaking hurriedly through headset.
Few minutes later a bunch of people in white scrubs rushed in to the control room. One of them inserted the IV into the Soldier's right forearm, ignoring his weak struggles. Then he stepped aside and let the other one inject full syringe into the IV. The Soldier's eyelids fluttered then slammed shut, his body completely limp.
'Get him to trauma-scan!' shouted the oldest man in white lab coat.
Four of male nurses moved the Soldier onto the stretcher and pushed it out of the control room. The rest of the medical staff followed.
'We have a couple of hours before we get any update on his condition,' said Karpov, making herself comfortable in the armchair. 'I thought you may want to go home, Mr Pierce'
'I have no home. Not anymore. They know I'm Hydra. They ptobably set up a perimeter around my house and every other real estate that belong to me and they're waiting for me to be stupid enough to show up there so they can bust me.'
'I don't remember living another life,' said Karpov.
Pierce looked at her, surprised by such a confession from person like Karpov. He still didn't know her first name nor age.
'Ma'am! Sir!' spoke one of the techs. He sounded alarmed. 'We have a problem!'
'What kind on problem?' There was a lot of irritation in Pierce's voice.
'Our source in police department just tipped us off. They're coming here now.'