Steve and Bucky-the prized assets of HYDRA

Chapter 13-Run!

The biting Siberian wind howled through the skeletal remains of the abandoned facility, a mournful dirge accompanying Tony Stark's agony. Chained to a rickety metal chair, the cold seeping into his bones, he was a captive audience to the brutal, systematic dismantling of his friends. Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, their eyes vacant, their movements mechanical, stood before him. A hulking handler, his face a mask of cruel indifference, barked commands in guttural Russian.

"Udarnaya!" (Strike!)

Steve's fist, once a symbol of unwavering justice, slammed into Tony's ribs, the force stealing his breath. A strangled cry escaped his lips.

"Udarnaya!"

Bucky followed suit, his metal arm a piston of pain against Tony's bruised flesh. The alternating blows were a sickening rhythm, each impact a fresh wave of agony.

"Udarnaya! Udarnaya!" The handler's voice was relentless, a metronome of torture. He watched them with a detached satisfaction, the once-heroic figures now mere puppets dancing to his tune. Finally, he issued a chilling command. "Beyte i bejte, poka ya ne skazhu!" (Punch and punch until I say!) With a final, dismissive glance at his captive, the handler turned and strode out of the room, the heavy metal door clanging shut behind him, leaving Tony alone with his brainwashed friends and their unending assault.

Panic clawed at Tony's throat, but beneath the terror, a desperate tendril of hope remained. He had to reach them. He had to pull them back from the abyss. "Bucky," he gasped between blows, his voice raw, "Buck... it's Tony. Remember? The Smithsonian? The... the goat?" He knew it was a long shot, a ridiculous attempt to pierce the layers of HYDRA programming. "Steve... he always got mad when you ate his plums."

The blows continued, relentless and unyielding. Tony's head lolled, his vision blurring. He had to try harder. "Bucky," he choked out, focusing on the man whose eyes held a flicker of something beneath the blankness, "Steve... he needs you. You're his... his best friend. Since nineteen-goddamn-seventeen."

Suddenly, Bucky's fist faltered mid-swing. His brow furrowed, a flicker of confusion crossing his vacant eyes. He looked at Steve, a silent question in his gaze.

"Steve," Bucky rasped, his voice thick and unfamiliar even to his own ears, "end of the line."

Steve's mechanical assault stuttered. His eyes, too, flickered with a spark of recognition, a ghost of the man beneath the programming surfacing. He looked at Bucky, then at Tony, a dawning horror creeping into his expression.

Together, their movements clumsy and hesitant, they began to untie Tony's bonds. Their fingers fumbled with the knots, the years of conditioning battling against the resurfacing memories of friendship and loyalty. Finally, the last restraint fell away, and Tony slumped forward, gasping for breath, his body screaming in protest.

Just as he was regaining his footing, the heavy metal door creaked open, and the handler strode back in, a smug look on his face. His eyes widened in fury as he took in the scene – Tony free, Steve and Bucky no longer attacking.

"What is the meaning of this?!" he roared.

Steve and Bucky turned towards Tony, their faces a mixture of dazed confusion and dawning awareness. "Get out now!" Steve grunted, his voice strained, fighting against something unseen. "While you can!"

The handler's hand shot into his pocket, emerging with a small, silver whistle. Seeing it, both Steve and Bucky's faces paled. A shared look of dread passed between them. "Not that goddamn whistle," Bucky muttered, his hands instinctively flying to his ears.

The handler smirked, a look of triumph twisting his features. He raised the whistle to his lips. Tony, his genius brain working at lightning speed, his mouth forming a silent "oh," watched in dawning horror as Steve's face paled further.

"GO!" Steve roared, his voice cracking with the effort of resisting.

Just as the handler blew a sharp, piercing note, both Steve and Bucky screamed, their hands clamped over their ears, their bodies collapsing to their knees. Tony rushed to Steve, his voice choked with panic. "Steve! Don't listen to it! You're Captain America! Capsicle! Stevie! An Avenger! You're okay! Breathe, please! You can fight this! Think... um... breathe! Oh God, Steve, please! Deep breaths! Breathe!" Tears streamed down Tony's face, the raw agony of almost having them back, only to lose them again, tearing him apart. He'd be damned if he left them behind.

A strangled gasp escaped Steve's lips. "Ah... Tony? G... who's Steve? Ah... no... HYDRA... Tony... mission... GO." With a final, desperate surge of will, Steve ripped his hands from his ears and shoved Tony with all the remaining strength he possessed.

Tony stumbled backward, his mind reeling. He swallowed every instinct to stay and fight, every ounce of his bravado replaced by a primal need to survive, to get help. For once, instead of 'going big,' he went home, or at least that's where he would try to get. He turned and ran out of the room. Most of the guards had gone on break; with two subdued super-soldiers at their command, who was going to try anything? The answer, apparently, was Tony.

He heard the long, torturous continuous whistle stop, replaced by three short, sharp blasts. Then, the handler's triumphant voice, "Get him back!" followed by two resounding, chillingly familiar voices: "Yes, Master! HAIL HYDRA!" And then, two light, barely audible thuds of footsteps behind him.

Tony sped up, his legs pumping like pistons. He ran faster and faster, the adrenaline coursing through his veins making it feel like he was flying. He ran and ran until finally, he burst out of the base, but he wasn't safe yet. They were still following him, gaining nearer and nearer while Tony was rapidly approaching a rocky chasm. Halfway down the chasm, a lone, dense tree clung precariously to the rocky surface. Without a second thought for his own safety, Tony jumped. The tree's dense foliage surprisingly concealed him well. The super-soldiers skidded to a halt at the edge of the chasm, peering over. Assuming Tony had jumped to his death, two chillingly familiar voices echoed, "Hail Hydra!" Tony could hear the light, barely audible thuds of their footsteps fading into the distance. "Phew," he was safe. The problem was, Steve and Bucky weren't.