Chapter Text
"Asset!"
Someone was barking at you again. Your head felt like cotton was filling your brain, pain pounding onto your skull as you began to regain consciousness from the procedure. Trying to sit up, you felt a sharp pain shoot through your body, burning in your back.
"Do you know where you are?" someone asked you.
Unable to respond, you remained silent. You felt the slap coming but were too woozy to flinch away and a rough hand impacted with your face, causing you to look to the ground.
"No, sir." You mumbled, studying the linoleum floor intently. The man who was interrogating you seemed to have no problem with Hydra agents toying with you, but when you tried to meet his eyes, he looked to the floor with shame.
"You are in New York. The Winter Soldier is MIA, and we need you to track him down, bring him back to the facility and finish his job. Take down Captain America.” The man commanded.
"Yes, sir." You replied despondently.
"Do you remember me? Do you remember slitting my housekeeper's throat?" he asked. His questions confused you. Why did he try to stay in your memory?
You looked at the man. The last time you had been wiped hadn't been as thorough, you remembered his name.
"Alexander Pierce." You said.
"Yes, good. I'm going to head to S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters now. You will make sure the Winter Soldier does not fail again. Go change into combat uniform and begin your mission."
"Yes, sir." you replied, pulling yourself up. The pain in your back and arms persisted and as you pulled back the sleeves of your hospital gown to study the back of your forearms, you saw metal glinting back at you, ugly scars crisscrossing on your arms. You could guess they had done the same job on your back.
Too used to your body belonging to others, you looked forward and picked out your weapons for the mission. In the chaos that was currently ruling Washington D.C., it wouldn’t be hard to be a shadow.
***
You knew the Winter Soldier was still on the burning helicarrier, so you crouched down in the bushes linging a street nearby, where you had good sights on the lake. You watched a bug crawl by, scurrying through the underground and found yourself wishing you could disappear into the dirt with him. Even though your memories were foggy, you knew that HYDRA didn’t care for you beyond your function as a weapon.
A flash of silver caught your eye, the Winter Soldier still fighting against Captain America. Your father, you remembered, and it almost made you laugh.
He was nothing more than a donor, and your mother was nothing more than an insane super soldier that had been turned into a vessel in order to give birth to you. After that, she had lost her purpose for HYDRA.
It was your father who had trained you, along with HYDRA agents and Red Room personell, who had only seen you grow up in flashes through both your cryo phases, though you doubted that he saw you as anything else but another agent, another trained killer. Only that you had even less of a life than him.
The girls in the Red Room were scared of you, and rightfully so. You had nothing to lose. You still remembered them. Most of the "useless" parts of your childhood, if you could call it that, had been erased, but your Handlers had made sure to make you remember the especially painful details. Not that there had ever been much happiness in your life.
Even girls that were broken too rejecting you. The woman of some Cartel Boss reading you a Christmas story when you were seven because she felt sorry for you, then watching her getting tortured to death, because of you. A handler breaking your bones and letting them grow back together in a few minutes, just to break them again. Arnim Zola offering you candy and then making you watch as he experimented on some new subject.
The Winter Soldier had had a life before this. You weren't sure if that was better or worse. You had never known anything else, even less than the girls in the Red Room. You had no other skills than those that were designated for killing.
Growing up, you spoke German with Arnim Zola most of the time, who basically raised you. Even though he hadn't exactly been kind, and raped you in the end, he had talked to you, which was more than anyone else had done. Russian or English with most Handlers. You also knew a few other (fictional) languages. Apart from languages, emotional manipulation and killing in every thinkable way, you were taught ballet, like every student of the Red Room.
Sometimes you learned a few skills for some mission and so, a curious skill set had been made over the years. From things as idiotic as knowing how to wax eyebrows expertly, to killing with knives, guns and more.
Suddenly, you saw something falling from the helicarrier, followed by another figure. When the light reflected from the metal arm, you had no doubt who it was. You sprinted to the edge of the water with inhuman speed, and stopped abruptly when you saw the Winter Soldier give the target mouth-to-mouth. He hadn't noticed you yet.
Readying your rifle, you took aim, having no doubt that your aenesthetic dart would hit its mark. The Winter Soldier looked up and started leaving, but you had eyes on the target. You were about to pull the trigger, when he looked in your direction. You saw the hurt, the confusion and the fear in his eyes. The man staring back at you wasn’t the Winter Soldier, he was a stranger. You knew you were supposed to bring him back, but if he wasn’t really him, weren’t you bringing back the wrong person?
You didn't have the heart to use the backup trigger words. You wanted to keep him from leaving, but at the same time you wanted to do something that was right. Even if it was just to spite HYDRA, you let your father go.
You shot yourself in the leg three times before making your way to the base, unable to resist the commands any more. The bullets wouldn’t be enough to cover your failed mission, but they might be enough to cover the fact that you had made your own decision today.
It had been a selfish choice, but maybe he would get you out, maybe you would have a chance at life.
***
Your entire body was aflame. They had taken care of your injuries, of course, they didn't want to lose their most valuable weapon. That didn't stop them from raping and torturing you. After they were done with you, most of them left the room, leaving only enough behind to restrain you, but in your state, you were lying face down on the ground, your blood seeping into the spaces between the cold tiles.
Commands made it through to your brain, registering in your mind but you couldn’t move. Why keep going? The only person that you had felt some obligation to take care of was free.
"Patch her up and put her into cryo." An agent said. Brock Rumlow, for sure, judging from the cruel tone in his voice. "Wipe her before she goes on ice. She let her weakness show again. I don't want that happening."
When you saw the chair, you struggled against the handlers that were currently holding you, but with the anesthesia in your system, you weren't strong enough, power or not. Normally, you wouldn't plead with them, it made no sense, but you were so tired.
"Please let me go. Please just- I promise I won't disappoint you again. I'll kill him, just plea-“ you began. You knew what the chair held for you, the pain that would run through you once you were secured to the metal braces, but it was for nothing.
Rumlow had his sadistic smile on again. "Shush, princess, we don't want someone like you going after him. You let him go once, you'll do it again. But I promise, after we wipe you, you'll be a new person."
They put you down and secured you. Then it began. You screamed and screamed until you didn't know why, and then there was only the pain that was left, but you kept screaming, because that was all there was left to do while pain burned through you.
When it stopped you slumped forward, the last of electrical currents leaving your body. Your throat felt raw from all the screaming and you felt blood drip from your palms, where your nails had pierced the skin.
"Put her into cryo and send her to Siberia, no one will find the asset there."
That was the last thing you heard before everything went black.
***
“Asset.”
The man’s voice was strange, but the command familiar. You’d been awake for a while, but you weren’t ready to open your eyes just yet. You felt the familiar confines of a chair holding your body back, as if you would attack the man.
“Do you know where you are?” the man asked, and at the question, you finally looked at him. Like many HYDRA agents, he seemed unassuming, like a mouse that scurried through their life without much thought, but you knew that the simplest faces often hid the most disgusting secrets.
“My name is Zemo.” The man introduced himself. “You are in the Hydra facility in Siberia. Do you know what that means?"
"Fuck, home sweet home?" you guessed "this is where my mother is in cryo."
"Was. I turned off her life support." Zemo told you with a smirk.
"Do you want me to cry now? I’ve never spoken a fucking word with her." You snarled as you watched him arrange his tools on the table. You knew what was coming, you weren’t an idiot, but the fear of what was to come still ran down your spine.
Pain never became less; it only became easier to bear.
"You’re not here because of your mother. Your father will be arriving soon. By now, he’ll remember you. Imagine how guilty he’ll feel if he sees you tortured to the brink of death." Zemo informed with a nasty smile.
You smiled back. "The Winter Soldier isn´t very remorseful, you do realize that, right?"
"No, but Bucky is." Zemo replied smoothly.
"Who the hell is Bucky?" you asked. But Zemo didn’t reply, instead picking up the items from his sidetable and beginning to work on you.
***
After what felt like an eternity, the man left you alone. You had no energy left. Your head fell onto your chest. Your arms and your face were covered in your own blood, and you could still see several torture instruments lying around. You had to admit, it made for quite a scene.
You heard the quiet footsteps echoing through the empty bunker, indefinitely quieter than Zemo’s heavy steps. This person had been trained to keep their step light.
You kept your eyes trained on the ground, but a shadow of black and silver passed the hallway to your right, bearing you no mind. You probably looked like a corpse anyways.
What surprised you were the sounds of two more people sneaking through the corridors. This place was busy today. First Zemo, then the other person and now these two?
Suddenly, two men came into your view. You recognized them immediately, but kept your face a mask for now. Captain America and the Winter Soldier stood across from you, appalled expressions on their faces, probably at your current state.
"What’s up dad?" you said with a weak smile. It was a farce, an attempt to get out of here, but as Steve Roger’s eyes widened, you knew it was working.
"Is this some kind of joke from Hydra?" Steve asked "Tying up an innocent girl and making her say such things?" he turned to Bucky, as if he wanted to ask him something, before rushing to your side and beginning to get you from the chair.
You looked at your father instead. As soon as he had seen you, he turned pale, like he had just seen a ghost.
"So apparently your name is Bucky. Any clue what mine is?" you asked. You tried to show the pain and exhaustion, in case Hydra was watching, thinking about how many men to send. Zemo was an unfamiliar face, but that didn’t mean that Brock Rumlow wasn’t lurking.
You didn´t want them to know that sending you to the brink of death had worked quite well. If you just had some more time, you could heal up a bit.
Bucky didn’t look at you. Instead he turned to Steve. "This girl is my daughter. She was Hydras most successful project."
His voice held no emotion, but his face betrayed him, and you saw guilt flashing in his eyes as he took you in more and more.
Turning to you, Bucky said “I should have gotten you out earlier.
"No shit. You done golden boy?" you snapped at Steve, who was working on your binds. You couldn’t bear the looks of pity you were getting from him. It was something new and you didn’t like it at all.
They made you feel weak and with Hydra, weakness couldn’t be afforded. When the chair finally opened, you got out and tried to stand up, failing miserably. Your legs gave out under you and if it hadn’t been for Captain America, you would’ve faceplanted.
“Are you okay?” he asked as he stabilized you, taking your weight on his shoulder.
“Yeah, except for my dignity.” You mumbled.
For the third time today, you heard footsteps approaching. "There’s someone coming." Captain America said.
Then, Iron Man, also known as Tony Stark stepped into view. "You were right Capsicle, about the attack in Vienna. Mind telling me who this lovely lady is?"
"I hardly look lovely, being covered in blood and all, but thanks." you replied.
"What’s your name?" Tony asked.
"No idea. In Hydra files I’m called the Asset or Three. I was trying to figure that out with my donor before you came to join our little party." You said.
"So which ones your dad? I’m guessing the Sergeant?" he asked nonchalantly, but he too was disturbed at your revelations.
"Yep." you replied.
Bucky spoke up this time. "You don’t have a name Three, I’m sorry." He looked crestfallen.
"How nice of all of you to join me today." A voice blared through the hall. You looked up and saw Zemo sitting in the control room.
"Fuck off asshole." you yelled. What was he going to do to you? Torture you again? He could try, but there were two Super Soldiers and a soda can in the room.
"Language." Steve muttered, but he seemed to agree with your opinion.
You zoned put when Zemo was talking, going through the possible scenarios and how to get the fuck out of here, when everyone was moving closer to a screen. Steve sat you down on a crate, patting your shoulder awkwardly.
"I’m just a little tired you know, not incapitated." You muttered. You had a bad feeling about this. You wanted to get out, as soon as possible.
When Tony started arguing with Steve, you felt sick to the stomach. You didn’t know what he had just seen, but the Winter Soldier and the Asset both had killed enough for HYDRA. This was personal for him.
You wanted to stop them, but the day had taken a toll on you and you could feel that there was something wrong with your guts. As in, you felt like you could possibly die wrong.
When they began fighting, you wanted to get up and stop them. You stood up, walked a few meters and fell to the ground. Your legs felt softer than pudding, melting under you. Then, something hard hit you over the head and everything went black.
***
When you came to, you saw Tony blasting Bucky’s arm off.
He’s going to kill him, you realized. He was going to kill Bucky for something he probably wanted to kill himself for.
With the last energy you had left, you pulled yourself forward, to where they were fighting. You felt the pain in your stomach coming back, blood seeping from your abdomen and you wanted to vomit, not because you were feeling squeamish, but because of the pain.
Tony was so focused on Bucky that he didn’t see you. Nonetheless, you wouldn’t be able to tackle him. Slowly, you got up and stood in front of Bucky. Tony swayed in your vision as his raised arm sunk back to his side, his face blurred.
You felt blood dribble down from your mouth, hitting the floor with a wet patter.
"Don´’ kid, this isn’t your fight." Tony said, walking towards you.
"It is.” You rasped. “He didn’t choose this. He didn’t want to do it. Your parents were killed, so I could be created. He was forced to. Just please-“ your voice failed you as another stab of pain shook you.
“Don’t. Don’t punish him for it."
You took a step toward Tony. An accidental step, an attempt to steady yourself. "He had nightmares from it. His cell was next to mine, when we weren’t in cryo. Even as the Winter Soldier, he was haunted by what he did. If you want to hurt someone kill Zemo, or me but not him. I never had a life, he did."
"He already lived his life. He’s done enough damage." Tony replied decidedly.
"He didn’t deserve what happened, you didn’t deserve what happened. This whole world is fucked up, and if you won’t let someone who had his life ripped apart get some happiness, then I don’t know why you even bothered joining the Avengers in the first place.” You said, wrapping your words up as eloquently as you could, ignoring the sting in your lungs, the effort it had cost you to speak.
"People like him don’t deserve shit. He killed my mother.” Tony said, but he had talked so much that you had enough time to sway forward and throw yourself on top of him. You didn’t know which part of your brain thought it was smart to bodyslam a fucking suit made of Nitinol, but here you were.
You groaned on the impact and when you fell back onto the floor, you knew something was wrong. The bad feeling about your guts had been justified, because they were almost spilling out of your stomach. You gave up, letting your head fall back onto the floor with an audible thud.
“You’re lucky that’s your daughter, Barnes.” Tony spat. Your vision failed you, and while you wanted to thrash in your blindness, you felt someone lifting you up, and the motion was so soft that it had to be gentle, right?
When the cold winds of Siberia hit you, you dimly noticed that you were outside, the soft hum of an engine informing you of a plane. Flashes of light hit your eyes, and you recognized the man in the black suit, Steve’s concerned face and a glint of silver around you.
The blackness surrounded you again, and you knew you were drifting away, not dying, but not much less either. The only reason you were alive was the serum coursing through your veins, and for once, you felt grateful for it.