Undisclosed Location
"Take a deep breath. Calm your mind."
He snarled, the only thing he could do. No one would be calm if he got out of here! Not that he was making progress with how heavy his bindings were. Even this… metal thing they'd attached to his arm didn't help….
He didn't have an arm… Bucky felt sick when his head was suddenly thrust up to a projector by cold hands.
"You know what is best. What is best is you comply."
Bucky could hear the machine clicking between slides automatically. They forced his eyes to take in the projected images, the same ones they'd been showing him for who knows how long. Bucky just kept his mental focus on the clicking instead of the images they were trying to get him to watch.
"Compliance will be rewarded."
'..8…' He chanted his military ID to each click to keep him distracted. It seemed to work when he'd been locked up originally… and it was no different now. Even if now… there wasn't an end in sight. He wasn't even sure this wasn't Hell.
Bucky fell off the steam engine… he couldn't have lived… and everything was so hazy… was it drugs… or instead had he gone to Hell? Had he done something deserving of being turned away at the gates?
His face stung as a rough slap registered through the clicking. The burly man grabbed his face, squeezing tightly as he shook him.
"You are happy to comply."
They slap must have gotten his adrenaline going over the drugs because he felt a rush of energy clear his head.
"Try it on someone else, ya Hydra-Nazi bastard," Bucky spat proudly, and spit at the red headed doctor. He was James Buchanon Barnes of the Howling Commandos! He followed Steve Rogers into hell itself, and he refused to be anything less for Steve right now. Even if he was dead. Even death wouldn't take who he was, Lucifer or Hydra or Nazi's, they could all try!
Someone clocked him on the head, tossing him back into the fogginess.
"Restart the program, run it from the top!"
'Good luck,' He thought cockily.
"That is enough Dr. Faustt," A heavily accented voice added to the mix, and it turned Bucky's gut. He knew that voice all too well. His left hand started burning, glancing down, he knew it wasn't. It wasn't there. It was a fake pain.. instead of his hand he only saw the silver digits Arnim Zola had someone attached to his shoulder. Like some sort of Frankenstein.
"Arnim, I don't like to be interrupted…"
"You are clearly failing, as predicted."
"No one can resist my mental stipulations. It has been beneficial for Hydra ten times over!"
"Your week is up and I have limited time."
Right. That's what they'd said when he'd properly woken up. He remembered vaguely through the panic he'd felt then. Bucky felt sick all over again, remembering the freight car… the wild fear. The terror... his stomach rolled. He only remembered patches of being dragged from the ravine below the freezing mountains, of Zola operating on him.
God have Mercy… he was something out of a science fiction flick, or one of Howard Stark's raving ideas.
He had to get outta here.
Bucky had to escape somehow.
Except Steve thought he was dead… there was no rescue coming. He'd thought that before, though… dare he hope to see his unit barrel through the door, guns blazing? He'd pay Dugan to hear him hollaring right now.
"Sergeant Barnes and I have history," The villain had rounded on him while he was lost in his own horror. Maybe this was just Hell. Then it wouldn't be real at least. "Don't we?" He glared at Zola as he chuckled close to Bucky's face.
"History or not the command…" Faustt started.
"Hydra will have their ironic weapon against America."
Bucky sneered defiantly again. They thought they were taunting him but they didn't realize they were only helping Bucky's cause! No force on Earth… no force in Heaven or Hell could ever make him hurt Steve. So they could try all the torture and brainwashing they'd like! It didn't go before, it wasn't going to now.
"I have been preparing for such a resistance. You were quite stubborn back in Kreisberg. Shall we see what it takes to break you Sergeant?"
Nothing he cooked up was going to change that no one could make Bucky Barnes into a turncoat. He'd die first. Gladly.
"You first, roach," He snapped, yanking suddenly with impossible strength. The newly acquired metal appendage broke through the heavy chains wrapped around it.
Seeing his chance he threw the sluggish metal thing out to catch Zola's throat. The 'hand' closed too slowly around the air in front of the Hydra doctor. There was a shout in Swedish and then Bucky felt the sear of a needle plunging into his neck.
Fuck! It only took a few seconds for him to fall half slumped over the chair to the ground, one arm still tied to the chair. Bucky tried desperately to stay awake but the world was swiftly growing dim. He could only just see Zola crouch as best he could to look at him. Bucky tried to pick himself up off the ground but he couldn't get his body to respond.
"Ready ze chair," Zola hummed. "We shall see just how far your will goes, Sergeant Barnes."
Bucky tried to say something, but it didn't make it passed a gurgle in his chest as he succumbed to the darkness