Bucky's Anchor

Chapter 27 - Zemo's Masterstroke

The snow crunched beneath my boots as we made our way through the Siberian wilderness. The cold was biting, cutting through the layers of clothing like icy knives. I glanced over at Steve, his face set with determination, then at Bucky, who was keeping up despite his injuries. His missing arm, the result of the airport battle, was a constant reminder of everything we'd lost and sacrificed to get here.

I couldn't shake the sense of foreboding that hung in the air. We were walking into a HYDRA base, a place that had once been the center of Bucky's torment. Every step felt heavy, each one taking us closer to whatever horror Zemo had planned. I gripped my weapon tighter, feeling my heartbeat echo in the silence around us.

Bucky led the way through the snow-covered landscape. His expression was distant, eyes scanning our surroundings with a mixture of wariness and familiarity. He knew this place, maybe not this exact base, but the layout, the feel—it was part of the nightmare that had been his life for so long. I wished I could reach out and take his hand, to offer some form of comfort, but now was not the time for tenderness. We had to stay focused.

"There it is," Bucky said, his voice low, breaking the silence. Ahead of us loomed the entrance to the HYDRA facility. It was half-buried in the snow, a relic of the Cold War with its steel doors and concrete walls. My stomach twisted at the sight. This place was the embodiment of so much pain and suffering, not just for Bucky, but for countless others.

Steve glanced back at us. "Stay alert," he instructed. "We don't know what we're walking into."

I nodded, steeling myself. We approached the entrance cautiously, and Steve forced the door open. It creaked loudly, the sound echoing through the empty corridors within. A chill ran down my spine, and it wasn't just from the cold.

The inside of the base was as bleak and unwelcoming as the outside. Dim lighting barely illuminated the hallways, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch endlessly. We moved silently, the only sounds being our footsteps and the occasional drip of melting snow seeping through cracks in the ceiling.

Bucky walked beside me, his eyes scanning every corner, every darkened alcove. I could sense his tension, the memories this place stirred within him. "Are you okay?" I whispered, knowing the answer but needing to ask anyway.

He didn't look at me when he answered. "I have to be," he replied simply. His tone was flat, devoid of emotion. It was the voice of a man who had been through hell and was determined to keep moving forward, no matter the cost.

We continued deeper into the facility, following a maze of corridors until we reached a large, reinforced door. Steve stopped, his eyes narrowing as he examined it. "This must be it," he said, gesturing for us to stand back as he forced the door open.

Inside, the room was dark, the air thick with the scent of metal and machinery. My heart pounded as we stepped inside, every nerve in my body on high alert. Then, lights flickered on, revealing the space around us. I gasped, my eyes widening as I took in the sight.

The room was filled with cryogenic chambers, each one housing a body. They were like grotesque trophies, a testament to HYDRA's twisted experiments. My stomach churned at the sight. These were the other Winter Soldiers—victims just like Bucky, frozen in time, their lives stolen from them.

Bucky stared at the chambers, his face a mask of horror and recognition. "They were like me," he muttered, his voice barely audible. "They were supposed to be used... weapons, just like I was."

Steve stepped forward, examining the chambers. "They're dead," he said grimly. "Zemo must have killed them before we got here."

A chill ran down my spine, and I looked around, suddenly feeling like we were being watched. "Why?" I asked, my voice shaky. "Why would he kill them and then lead us here?"

"Because this was never about them," a voice said, echoing through the room.

I spun around, my heart leaping into my throat as I saw Zemo standing in the doorway. He looked calm, almost serene, as he walked into the room, his eyes cold and calculating. Steve moved quickly, grabbing him and shoving him against the wall.

"Why?" Steve demanded, his voice filled with anger. "Why did you do this?"

Zemo looked at Steve, then at Bucky, and finally at me. His gaze was unsettling, like he could see right through us. "To tear you apart," he said simply. "You Avengers... you claim to protect the world, to fight for justice. But look at you now. Fighting each other, destroying the very thing you sought to protect."

I felt a wave of nausea wash over me. "You did all of this just to turn us against each other?" I asked, my voice rising. "To make us fight each other?"

Zemo nodded. "Yes. You killed my family," he said, his voice calm, almost detached. "In Sokovia. My wife, my son... they died because of your actions. And I realized that no matter how powerful you are, you can be destroyed from within."

Steve tightened his grip on Zemo, his face a mask of fury. "You're going to pay for this," he growled.

Zemo's eyes flickered with something like amusement. "I already have," he replied. "You see, Captain, I knew I couldn't destroy you with strength. So I used your own guilt, your secrets, to make you destroy each other."

He turned his gaze to Bucky, his eyes cold. "And you," he said. "You were the perfect weapon. A man who was once a hero, turned into a monster."

Bucky flinched as if he had been struck. I moved closer to him, my heart aching for the pain Zemo's words were causing him. "Don't listen to him," I whispered fiercely. "He's trying to manipulate you."

But Zemo continued, ignoring me. "You killed so many, left a trail of blood that can never be washed away. And now, they hate you for it. Not just Stark... but everyone."

"Enough!" Steve shouted, his voice echoing through the room. He looked at Bucky, then at me, his eyes filled with desperation. "We have to leave. Now."

I nodded, my hands shaking as I tried to process everything. Zemo's words were like poison, seeping into my mind, filling me with doubt and fear. But I knew we couldn't stay here. We had to get out, before Zemo's words tore us apart even further.

As Steve dragged Zemo away, I turned to Bucky, who was staring at the cryogenic chambers, his face pale. "Bucky," I said gently, reaching out to touch his arm. "We need to go."

He looked at me, his eyes haunted. "He's right," he murmured. "I was a monster. I did those things."

I shook my head fiercely. "No," I said firmly. "You were a victim. They used you. And you're fighting back now. You're more than what they made you."

He stared at me, his eyes searching mine for something—reassurance, forgiveness, hope. I didn't know if I could give him what he needed, but I knew one thing. "We can't let him win," I whispered. "We can't let him destroy what's left of us."

He nodded slowly, the resolve returning to his eyes. "You're right," he said, his voice steadier now. "We have to keep fighting."

I helped him turn away from the chambers, from the ghosts of the past that haunted him. We had to move forward, no matter how broken we felt. Because Zemo was right about one thing—the Avengers were shattered. But if there was even a sliver of hope to fix what had been broken, we had to be the ones to take that first step.

As we left the room, the echoes of Zemo's words lingered in the air. The man had orchestrated a masterful plan, a plan that had exploited our deepest fears and insecurities. But as long as we were together, as long as we fought for each other, there was still a chance to find our way back.

Even if that way was shrouded in shadows, it was a path we would walk side by side.