Winter Soldier POV

I was sat on the uncomfortable operating table. I kept my gaze foreward, looking at nothing in particular, letting the blurry movements fog my mind as only one face really stood out.

A sharp pain danced it's way onto my cheek as my head snapped to the right. I let the usual numbness take over, the pain almost instantly going away.

"The man on the bridge." I said. I changed my sights to the Boss, who now stood in front of me.

"Who was he?" He began to answer with more than just a name, and I instantly tuned him out.

"I knew him."

Any voice that was trying to get my ears to listen was fighting an uphill battle, because my mind took over my senses, thinking of the few memories I could recall, the few pieces with an unexplainable feeling attached to their aura.

There were people, fuzzy blobs of people, with the corners of their lips curved upwards- something that never happened to me. There was the man on the bridge, but much smaller, and much less muscle.

He seemed too innocent. Almost like he hadn't truly faced the horrors of the world. He hadn't experienced the darkness I call my home.

It was the only way to eacape. The dark. The pain became numb, my thoughts became fog, but the light still seeped through my eyelids every moment. That is, until I let the dark consume me.

The Boss sat, looking at me, his mouth moving, saying that this man was my mission, nothing more. He tried to entice me with the thought of being so close to victory. He told me I was important and special.

If I were special, I thought, then wouldn't I look like the people in my mind? Eyes squeezed shut and teeth on display, an occasional burst of sound escaping their lips?

I longed to feel that emotion. That foreign emotion. The only emotion I had become aquainted with was determination. The only emotion I needed for my missions was determination.

The Boss still sat in front of me, the lecture now over. I decided to be bold. I decided to throw consequences out of the window momentarily.

"But I knew him."

"...Then wipe him..." Were the only words I picked up from the brief conversation in front of me.

I felt the longing turn into defiance as I was slammed backwards, my head now on the headrest.

I won't forget that man.

I won't forget the name he spoke.

Bucky.

Bucky.

Bucky.

A metal mouth guard was placed in between my teeth. The memories of previous wipes came back to my thoughts.

Bucky.

The man.

Bucky.

My chest heaved in horror as the metal panel was slid until it hung over the left side of my face.

The man.

Bucky.

The man.

Electricity buzzed in the room, giving the excruciating pain it's signal to begin.

The...man?

Boots.

No.

Bull.

No.

Buck?

Buck-s?

Bucky?

Bucky!

I screamed and cried through the wipe session, partly out of pain and partly out of achievement of remembering.

That lone label placed on me that day would haunt my dreams until I could figure out...

Who the hell is Bucky?