Hazy Shade of Winter - Bucky X-reader Pt. 8

WEST CALDWELL, NEW JERSEY – PRESENT DAY

 “We’re waking her?!” Monica shouted, slamming a fist down hard on the edge of Jackson’s sleek glass desk.

He nodded calmly and leaned back in his oversized chair, pressing the tips of his fingers together. “Yes.”

“That’s it? That’s all you can say?!” She planted her hands on her hips and growled, “You’re so damn infuriating professor! What the hell Killian ever saw in you, I’ll never know!”

He scoffed under his breath and turned the chair around to look out of the window behind the desk.

A tiny thud of something hitting the glass failed to register with either of them. “You always seem to forget that I was the one who brought her in, Monica. I was the one who created her-”

“With my drugs! With my technology!” She stomped around the edge of the desk and grabbed the arms of his chair, trapping him in her focus. “If I hadn’t gotten hold of the details of Hydra’s Winter Soldier programme, none of this would have been possible. And don’t you forget that, old man!” 

Jackson shuffled uncomfortably in her sights, his icy demeanour showing small fractures. “Our window of opportunity is opening up, and our backer wants the job done, quickly and efficiently.”

“She’s too volatile, Jackson!”

“And whose fault is that, pray tell?” he hissed.

She opened her mouth to fire back at him, but nothing would come out.

Natasha, Bucky and T’Challa were on the roof of the warehouse, the jet cloaked as the night sky. Nat pressed her finger to her ear, listening in with the tiny mic on the glass, and gave them both the thumbs up.

Jackson relaxed a bit and watched as Rappaccini let go of the chair and moved away. “We have to fulfil our contract, Monica. One more mission and then she goes back into deep freeze for the next couple of years. That should give us enough time to iron out the final creases in her programming.”

She gave an unenthusiastic nod of her head and walked over to the drinks trolley on the opposite side of the office. “One more mission, Matthew,” she said, pouring herself a whiskey. She pointed at him, glass in hand, before knocking the drink back in one gulp. “If he asks for any more extensions to the contract, there’ll be hell to pay.”

That was all Bucky and the team needed to hear, so they hurried off to find a way inside.

“All right,” Jackson said, opening his top drawer to pull out the leather-bound folder, before pushing up out of his chair.

Together, they headed out of the office and onto a metal walkway high above the warehouse’s main floor. They marched down the steps and towards the middle of the building, which held the cryo-chamber that you had been transported back from England in. Clouds of dry ice billowed over the top of it, keeping the temperature of the area much cooler than the rest of the warehouse.

“You,” Monica said as she clicked her fingers towards a subordinate, “Wake her up.”

Without uttering a word, he turned towards the chamber, along with another worker, and stepped forward. They both pulled keys on chains out of their pockets and looked at each other, then, in complete synchronisation, inserted and turned the keys, counter-clockwise.

Jackson and Rappuccini took a couple of steps back, as the glass of the chamber de-frosted before their eyes. The sound of pressure equalising resonated around the vast space, and then the door slowly opened wide. An oxygen mask covered over half of your face, giving you an almost alien-like appearance inside the glass tube. A button was pressed, and a thick metal restraint around your waist was released. You began to fall forward, still in an unconscious state, but the two minions took control of the situation, lowering you carefully into a wheelchair.

Monica headed over to a long stainless steel work bench, and wriggled her fingers in delight. Row upon row of needles loaded with the wonder drug lay in front of her. She counted out a nursery rhyme in her head to pick which one, then smiled the most wicked smile as she lifted the chosen needle up and pressed the plunger lightly, sending a drop flying into the air.

Jackson stepped out of her way, staying silent, but watched as she went to meet you and the 2 men as they sat you in a large black dentist-type chair and hooked you up to an IV drip.

She turned back to face the professor and grinned, “This damn drug, huh? Tranquilizer, addictive…and just great at waking up a sleeping assassin.” With that, she inserted the needle and sent the entire contents racing into your system.

You gasped wildly as you were awakened, and a further 3 men rushed over to grab your arms and legs to fasten them down in the seat restraints. They then pushed you back, and shoved a mouth guard between your teeth.

You snarled at your captors, but as soon as Monica shook the empty syringe in front of you, your mood changed into that of a child, trying desperately to be seen as good so they could get a treat.

One of the men held a controller - like the one Jackson had used in your reconditioning sessions – and, once all restraints were securely fastened, pressed hard on the button, releasing a burning fire into your veins. You screamed and screamed as loud as you could through the mouth guard, your fingers clinging so tightly to the edges of the arms that your knuckles were bright white. When your body fell limp against the chair, the button was released, and the men moved away.

Monica turned her back to you and returned to Jackson. “All yours, hotshot,” she whispered in his ear.

Jackson ignored her and opened his folder, then walked towards you. He looked down at a list of words on the page, and gave a small cough. They were handwritten in blue ink, and they weren’t written in English, but Italian. “Glory,” he began, his voice bold and commanding. “Picket fence.”

Your body began to twitch, intermittently.

“Fibonacci.”

“This way,” Bucky whispered to the others, as he found a way in. He peered through a roof window close by. “Damn it, they’re activating her.”

 “Extremis.”

“Red oak.”

T’Challa, now in his Black Panther guise, crept down the stairs and through the door at floor level, and silently took out an A.I.M. henchman standing with his back to him. Natasha followed suit, leaping up onto a packing crate and jumping – legs first – at another unsuspecting henchman, wrapping her legs around his neck and pulling him straight down, her hands never touching the floor.

“Bolshevik…Reprieve.”

Your head fell backwards, hitting the headrest, as all the enhanced blood running through your veins began to overpower you. It was as if the modified cells were throwing themselves against your skin, desperate to get out.

Jackson began to smirk, but composed himself. “Penny...” He looked up, as a faint thud reached his ears. Monica met his gaze and nodded in your direction, as she made a rolling motion with her hands.

“Bucky…” Nat said as quietly as she could manage.

He looked up, then reached out and grabbed a henchman round the neck with his metal arm, squeezing tightly enough to knock the man out before he could make a noise.

“Saturn…”

“Bucky!” Nat yelled, but there was nothing she could do.

He was sprinting towards the centre of the floor, towards your chair. He could see Jackson’s face, looking up from the folder in his hands and beginning to open his mouth to recite the last word in the sequence. “No!” Bucky screamed, bulldozing every henchman who got in his way.

“Moonbeam.”

Your head straightened up and your eyes sprang open, your body still.

“Welcome home, soldier.”

You glanced up at Jackson and spoke quietly and calmly, “Thank you, sir. What would you like me to do for you?”

T’Challa and Nat had taken out a couple more A.I.M. operatives when they heard Bucky cry out again and saw a man fly backwards through the air, the result of a punch to the gut with a metal arm.

He approached the cryo-area at full speed, just as Monica stepped out of the way. Jackson kicked a device under your seat which released the restraints. Bucky loomed upon you with his metal hand curled into a fist ready to knock him out, but he was halted in his tracks.

Gasps were audible as the dust settled and you stood toe-to-toe with the Winter Soldier, your hand wrapped around his fist, holding him in a vice-like grip.

His eyes were wide as you stared at him, a smirk on your face and your pupils dilated. He gulped. “Uh oh.”