II: The Girl Who Ran: Little Monsters

V: Glass Cage and Gray Steel

James sat in the box of gray metal and glass, staring straight ahead. There were armed guards on either side of the box. A table sat in front of his box. The constraints on his chest, arms, and legs were tight. Probably steel. Everything was gray.

He saw a guy come in through the door behind the table in the dim light. His face was narrow, his brown hair neatly combed. He looked over his plastic-framed glasses at James. He stayed standing and said, "Hello, Mr. Barnes. I've been sent by the United Nations to evaluate you." He had a strong accent, and pronounced his words carefully, peering around the room.

James stayed quiet. He didn't want to be here. Why couldn't anyone listen to him when he said he was innocent?
"Do you mind if I sit?" The shrink sat when James didn't answer right away. Like anyone would care if he did mind. The man folded his hands and looked at him. James stared back. "Your first name is James?"

Maybe if he ignored the shrink long enough, he'd go away. The shrink didn't say anything, he just shook his head. "I'm not here to judge you. I just want to ask you a few questions."

Something about this guy was getting under James' skin. A voice--Sunny's, but higher than it was now-- spoke from the back of his mind, "Look closely, Snowy. You can tell if a person is lying by their breathing patterns. Regular, even breathing is normal. Short puffs are not. Jagged breathing is not."

James could hear the shrink's breathing. Short, quick puffs. His shoulders tensed. The steel restraints bit into his right arm, and he could feel the uncomfortable pressure in the left.

"Do you know where you are, James?" Still the quick breaths. This guy was lying. But about what? "I can't help you if you don't talk to me, James."

James stared at the man, then spoke without thinking, "My name is Bucky." He looked down. His own voice sounded quiet and calm. He didn't feel calm.

The shrink got quiet. Bucky heard him lean forward, "Tell me, Bucky, you've seen a great deal. Haven't you?"

Obviously, Sherlock. "I don't wanna talk about it." Bucky said, still listening to the man's breathing.

The shrink inhaled, "You feel that, if you open your mouth, the horrors may never stop."

Bucky glanced up at him. Maybe he was a genuine shrink.

The man looked down at his screen and tapped something. Bucky could see the reflection of words in his glasses. 'Delivered'. What was delivered? "Don't worry," he said, still looking at the screen. The shrink looked back up at him and held up his index finger. "We only have to talk about one."

Bucky's breath hitched. This guy was not a doctor. He leaned his head back and waited for it to end. Then the lights flickered. The box was dark. The shrink flicked a flashlight on. "What the h*** is this?"

The corner of the man's mouth turned upward, "Why don't we talk about your home? Not Romania. Certainly not Brooklyn, no." He opened the satchel next to him on the desk. Had he brought that in with him? He pulled out a journal, "I mean, your real home." He took off his glasses and set them aside.

He had tilted the journal toward Bucky, obviously for his benefit. The journal was crimson leather, worn, with black peeking through. In the middle was a black star. S***, he had the book. Where did he get the book? Bucky clenched his jaw as another memory rose to the front of his mind.

"The mission was successful. But I think we should put him in cyro again, Doctor. He will be much more difficult to control without her."
"Wipe him then, I don't want a single image of her left in his mind. But don't worry, Karpov. We have a replacement. I think he will do nicely as a handler."
"Who?"
"Vasily Karpov, pliant enough for now, but we will need to terminate him if he becomes too greedy."