Butterflies (Bucky Barnes Daughter)

THIRTEEN

Gunshots went off, screams burned his ears. The blood from his nose dripped into his mouth. He couldn't get the metallic taste to leave. It made him sick. Two days he had been strapped to this chair, metal cuffs tied him down. He tried to escape, nothing happened. His metal arm struggled against the cuffs. This had never happened before, his arm could break and snap anything in its path. 

Two days of continuous torture. He had three of his nails yanked off from and  heavy cinder blocks dropped onto his feet. Knives dragged across his bare chest. Blood samples drawn, leaving him exhausted. The pain didn't stop.

His interrogator wasn't good at his job. The man was afraid of him, plain and simple. He had one job, get the information out of the prisoner, and he could barely get a word out of his own mouth. Needless to say, whoever was in charge around here, dealt with him accordingly.

The Soldier didn't understand. His mission was successful, he aquired the target, eliminated the target and left unnoticed. Until he was noticed and then taken. 

Footsteps paced back and forth outside the room, mocking him, a poor attempt of installing fear into him. James threw his head back, trying to stop the blood from running. His nose was broken, the red sticky substance had spilled down his face and onto his bare chest. Cuts, bruises and re-opened scars littered his body. The scratch marks from where metal met skin were visible.

The colour had drained from his face, he looked sick. He looked terrifying. James had been trained for a situation like this, say nothing. No words, no emotions, nothing.

The footsteps grew louder, whoever they belonged to was obviously in a rush. The curtain that blocked the entrance was pulled back, revealing an extremely pissed off man. He looked to be in his early thirties give or take. His long blond hair was pulled back into a slick ponytail at the nape of his neck. James never paid much attention to looks but even he knew this man was cursed with bad genes. 

The blond man marched up to him and back handed him across the face. Spitting in his face he spoke, "Where is it?" James had heard this question a hundred times already. He wasn't going to say anything.

The angry man was getting angrier by the second, his face was a painful shade of red and you could almost see the smoke from his ears. He pulled a knife off a side table. James felt the jagged ends pinching at his throat. He didn't even flinch. "Tell me where the base is located and you can go home, simple as that". He knew he struck a nerve with the Soldier, he knew he didn't have a home. the blond knew exactly who was sitting in front of him.

"Oh no, that's right. You don't have a home. You don't have anything Winter Soldier" he laughed. James tensed at the words. He kept his gaze on the ground. The man pulled away from James and walked around the room.

"You see, Hydra took something from me. Something very valuable to me and I want it back" he flipped the knife in his hand, catching it with the other. "Years ago when I first heard about the Winter Soldier, I was amazed. I wanted you, but I knew I would never have you so I took it upon myself to make you". James' face twisted. He continued.

"I wanted my very own super soldier so I decided to make one. No one wanted to volunteer, i don't see why but that's not the point. I wanted an army. I began trials of artificial life, first without any serum. Ours was still being perfected". 

James struggled in his seat, the man dropped down to his level, a picture in his hand. The old photograph pinched between his thumb and index finger. 

"The first trial here was successful, artificial life had been created. A child was born. Red hair, green eyes. She was perfect". James shot his head up, the man held the picture in front of him. His eyes scanned the picture back and forth. No it couldn't be.