…The Winter Soldier woke up.
He was in a dark room, a blinding pain made itself known in his head.
The guards in black that stood in front of him stepped back and let a man in robes come through. The Soldier just looked blankly ahead, trying to ignore the feeling of panic that was buried down deep.
"Longing. Rusted. Seventeen. Dawn. Stove. Nine. Kind-hearted. Homecoming. One. Freight car."
The Soldier tensed.
"Ready to comply." He said in a cold monotone.
The man in robes smiled. "Welcome back, Soldier."
The guards withdrew their guns. The Soldier looked at the leader. "What is my mission?"
The leader straightened. "To eliminate a target. Steven Grant Rogers. Captain America. SHIELD agent."
The soldier felt a strange warmth from the target's name but he couldn't tell why. The scientists in white lab coats on his left started frowning at the monitors. The man in robes looked over at them with a glare.
"Is there a problem?"
One of the lab coats straightened her glasses. "No, I think we're good."
The Soldier pulled a face. He could feel something like exasperated fondness the name. Why?
The Soldier nodded. "Parameters? People to watch?"
The man nodded. "There are four. Clinton Francis Barton- Hawkeye, who is currently on a mission for SHIELD so he won't be a problem. Natalia Aminovna Romanova- Black Widow. Maria Hill- Fury's right hand woman."
The Soldier nodded.
"This assignment is to be completed by next week. Don't disappoint."
---
The Soldier knew a man skilled in combat when he saw one. This man was not one. The Soldier could foretell every move this man made before even he knew he was going to make it. This confused the Soldier. It was as if he'd known this man his whole life but that was impossible.
Rogers grabbed the hand with the knife in it and it slid into the van behind him. The Soldier moved with Rogers, cutting a clean line in the metal of the van.
The Soldier could tell the man was warming up, learning his style of combat, and before he knew it, he was flipped over Rogers's shoulder. The Soldier got back to his feet and looked back at his target.
Rogers straightened up, as if recognising something, the pain evident on his face. "Bucky?"
The voice was barely above a whisper but the soldier still heard. A warmth spread throughout his body at the name. Who was Bucky. Was he important?
"Who the hell is Bucky?"
Rogers's face held pain and confusion. The Soldier hesitated before he raised his gun, and Rogers just stood there, as if he had already accepted his fate of being shot.
An explosion rang out behind him. Natalia had taken her move. The Soldier decided to make himself scarce in the mayhem as the undercover Hydra team came in to deal with the aftermath.
---
The Soldier sat in the chair. Rogers.
Warmth.
Bucky.
More warmth.
He remembered something but he couldn't have. He had no life before Hydra. This didn't make any sense.
He felt his head whip to the side. Chair, room, Pierce, scientists.
‘‘Mission report.’’
Pierce's voice was tight, impatient. The Soldier blinked at him. “Who was that man on the bridge?”
Pierce looked at one of the scientists before looking back at the soldier. “You met him earlier this week, on another assignment.”
The soldier shook his head. “I knew him…”
Pierce darted his eyes over to the scientists. The soldier didn't bother listening to their questions. He had enough of his own. Who was Rogers? Who was Bucky? Why did he know these people?
A scientist put a piece of rubber into his mouth. No matter how many times they wiped him, he always remembered what came next. The machine whirred to life. All the soldier wanted was answers. Who was Steve?!
No!
---
…The Winter Soldier woke up.