Chapter Text
James I
It stood in the cryostasis room. Unfrozen yet not reacting to anything at all. Its attention suddenly switched to Handler-Rumlow as it heard a snap of fingers. Focus. Handler-Rumlow made his way up to it. There was an exchange of information regarding the upcoming mission between Handler-Rumlow and the Asset.
“You will go to the hospital of Saint Joseph, locate a patient, and kill that patient and whoever stands in the way. Understood, soldier?” Handler-Rumlow asked as he showed the Asset a picture of the target. Easy.
Locate target. Terminate target and possible threats. Report back for further orders.
Handler-Rumlow got even closer to the Asset and attached the leash harness to it. It could feel how Handler-Rumlow fastened the straps around its shoulders. That cold touch felt so familiar, yet it hated it. Why? The Asset didn’t hate nor like. When Handler-Rumlow finished tightening the harness, he left the room and the Asset followed obediently behind.
“Status report,” Handler-Rumlow requested firmly. Why? Its status didn’t matter. No matter what its status was, Handler-Rumlow would still force order it to go on missions.
Its consciousness dove deep into the depths of its memory. Glimpses of the chair, punishments, missions, kills- then… a small light. That glimpse of hope amidst the coldness of its existence. It saw two men. Was it one of them? No. They smiled and laughed together. It wasn’t allowed to do that, was it? Stop. Everything switched back to the missions. Blood on its hand. A knife against its target’s throat. It didn’t want to kill. STOP!
It heard distant shouts. From where? Loud. Obnoxious. They were so loud, taunting even. Those shouts, yells. It all mixed together. Yells of its targets. It could remember them so well. The sound of targets begging for their lives as if that would make a difference. Pleads for mercy. It didn’t have mercy. The yells of its handlers. Handlers. Handler. Handler-Rumlow.
Suddenly, it felt a pang of pain in its cheek. Its head jerked to the side after something hit it. Someone. Handler-Rumlow had taught it a lesson. The pain lingered on its face almost naturally. It felt weak, useless. Then, it snapped out of that weak state and looked at Handler-Rumlow.
“Status Report,” Handler-Rumlow said harshly. His hands gripped the harness with force before letting go as he pushed the Asset back a little.
“Asset status: optimal,” it answered almost automatically as it felt the display of violence coming from Handler-Rumlow.
The Asset could feel Handler-Rumlow’s gaze looking down at it in disappointment. Its head lowered like a sad dog’s. It looked so pathetic. It didn’t want to disappoint. It was working for good, yet it could just not do what they wanted of him it.
Out of nowhere, it felt a tug. Handler-Rumlow’s hand was placed on its harness as he forced him harshly to move forward. Its body mindlessly moved as Handler-Rumlow instructed. Then, it was abruptly stopped by another pull. Its eyes looked at a grey-coloured jet. It was stepped in behind Handler-Rumlow. Like a bodyguard. Like a dog.
Handler-Rumlow entered the jet before the Asset, and then it followed behind obediently. The jet’s doors closed after they entered. Handler-Rumlow sat on one of the jet’s chairs while the Asset stood there unmoving. Its gaze was focused on the space in front of it.
“Bucky.”
A voice spoke softly, and it said one thing: Bucky? Name: unidentified. That voice. It was so weird. There was a sense of familiarity as that voice echoed in its head.
“Bucky.”
The voice insisted. Why? Who the hell was Bucky? Was Bucky its target? The Asset didn’t have enough data to identify that target's name.
Target: unidentified patient. Not Bucky.
“Buck! Bucky!”
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His eyes snapped open. With a wide eyes expression, he looked to his right to see warm, comforting eyes looking at him. A gentle hand lied on his shoulders. Calm, soft eyes laid upon him.
Sam.
“You good, Buck? You seemed really out of it,” that voice. God, did he love that voice.
“M’ fine,” he responded quickly. His voice tried to hide what had just happened. He didn’t want to worry Sam. Sam already had important things to deal with. He couldn’t just add more to the list of things that Sam had to worry about. It would be selfish to bother him like that.
Once again, that caring look focused on him. “If you say so… are you sure, though? That place will probably bring bad memories,” Sam said with a face of worry.
Bucky just responded with a simple, curt nod. Then, he realised how extremely rude that was towards Sam. “I can do it,” he said.
Then, he smirked at Sam with a teasing look. “Are you sure that you can do it?” he asked in a joking manner. “I mean, it’s a pretty tough mission and you don’t really seem ready for it, punk,” he said with a sarcastic smile. Then, Sam grinned at him with his usual, bright smile.
That beautiful smile.
Sam then replied with a smug face, “I’m sure that I can do it. But what about you, Mr. 40’s Man?” Sam broke out into a hysterical laugh and patted Bucky on the shoulder. Then, Bucky gave in to a couple of chuckles.
“I’m sure that I can. You know, back in my times-“ he said jokingly before breaking into laughter with Sam. It was so comforting to be like this with Sam. Sammy. It was fun, and comforting. He only ever had that feeling of warmth with Steve, and well… Steve was now gone. But Sam was still here. He’d do anything for Sam. They could just chill for a while.
After a while though, Sam’s face turned to a completely serious one. “But like, for real. Are you sure that you’re up for this?” he asked carefully.
“M’ sure,” Bucky replied.
And so, they anxiously waited for the mission to start…