LEGACY: a bucky barnes story

Chapter 10 - Asset

The left side of my face lay plastered on cold cement. One bulb dangled from the ceiling, providing meager lighting. The air smelled bitter and I made out rows of lock boxes lining the surrounding walls.

Bank boxes?

Wherever this is, wherever I am, I need to get the fuck out.

The attempt to lift my head brought a painful reminder of the latest blow at the base of my skull. I'll get checked for a concussion if I ever get out of here...

I gingerly pushed myself up with my hands and knees before adjusting to sit with my legs crossed. My eyelids strained to blink my sight into clarity.

In the distance, I heard machines whirring, then a sudden crash and guns being drawn. Evidently, I'm not the only prisoner here. I heard voices soft and frantic; I closed my eyes to try to make out what they were saying.

"Rogers, Romanoff, and now they've got someone else helping them? I wanted them, all of them, in our custody an hour ago. Go! Get out of my sight, I want to see the Asset."

I breathed a gratified sigh of relief. By not divulging details to Pierce, he'd certainly be even more eager to get them in his custody. I had hoped my refusal would aid their survival and potential getaway, if Hydra ever found them.

"Sir—he's unstable. Erratic."

A pause.

"Mission report."

Another pause.

"Mission report, now," the voice repeats with greater agitation. Sounds pissy, I'm certain that's Pierce.

A loud slap sounds off. That sound I've heard all too recently ring out from my own face causes my whole body to shudder.

"The man on the bridge. Who was he?" a new voice speaks.

"You met him earlier this week on another assignment," the voice I assume to be Pierce responds.

The softest reply came, "I knew him."

"Your work has been a gift to mankind. You shaped the century. And I need you to do it one more time. Society is at a tipping point between order and chaos. And tomorrow morning, we're gonna give it a push. But, if you don't do your part, Soldier, I can't do mine. And Hydra can't give the world the freedom it deserves."

Soldier, that must be the Winter Soldier... he's here. This pitiful voice in need of a hug—that's the Winter Soldier?

The quiet voice murmured again. "But I knew him."

"Prep him," Pierce ordered.

"He's been out of cryofreeze too long," came a nervous reply.

"Then wipe him and start over."

Wipe? Hold on—

I heard more shuffling and an array of whirring sounds. But the sound that followed was deafening. The most pained, bloodcurdling cry I have ever heard erupted. It caused my stomach to knot, furthered by the discernment that this man—this Winter Soldier—acted outside his own accord. The fist of Hydra was not there by choice.

I clamped my hands over my ears to drown out the screams and my jarring deductions. Though not entirely claustrophobic, I found myself the only contents of the peculiar, confining lockup. Sealed in by metal bars, it comically reminded me of the jail cells in early TV and film.

What was not funny was the figure I finally noticed staring at me from the other side of the bars. My success at muffling the nearby cries overextended—I hadn't noticed they stopped altogether.

"Who are you?"

The figure did not speak. Someone spoke to—or rather, at—the figure in a foreign language. Immediately, the figure came into the light and tore the metal cage open. I squinted at his towering frame. This time, he did not wear his mask nor his goggles. I recognized him by his characteristic shags of brown hair hanging in his field of vision, clammily clinging to his face. His sweat glistened under the meager light. It took everything in me to not get distracted by his lack of a shirt—still capable of losing focus via muscular stature in my disheveled state, apparently.

I hardly registered my recollection of him before he prowled toward me and yanked a handful of my hair, dragging me by the fistful. I squirmed and struggled as he pulled with no remorse.

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck is going on?" I screamed, but it did not faze the man. Clusters of hair strands ripped from my follicles. My mind mused over how many of them might bleed.

Wouldn't surprise me, this hurts like a son of a bitch.

The agony ends when he throws me by my hair against a cage wall larger than my previous cell. He shuts us inside with a heavy-handed slam. Alexander Pierce's disgusting voice comes from outside the cell.

"Agent Coulson, I am a patient man, but my patience runs thin with you. Our asset here, the Winter Soldier, is here to speed up the process, so to speak."

My eyes widen. But without hesitation, the Winter Soldier lifts me by my armpits and throws me against the opposite wall. As I faceplant onto the concrete, he grabs my arm and twists it back before using its twisted state to rotate me into the air. I land flat on my back, any air I might have had obliterated from my lungs. I coughed wearily as the Winter Soldier went in for his next attack. Before he could, Pierce's voice rang out again.

"It doesn't have to go like this, you understand? I don't have to have the Asset beat the shit out of you, but you're forcing my hand here, JJ. What do you say, let's stop this agony, huh?" Pierce coaxed as he leaned near my face.

"You don't get to call me JJ," I twisted my head to face him and heatedly spat the blood dripping from my nose.

"Goddammit! Okay, you know what? Fine! You can rot here in this fucking cell. Soldier, leave her. We've got better things to do." Pierce angrily wipes my blood from his face and storms off, prompting the Winter Soldier to trail behind.

I let my body relax into the pain, consciousness fading in and out. Before completely blacking out, the cell door creaks open and a voice speaks softly.

"Jennifer?"