Bucky Barnes

*The underground headquarters of Hydra, cold, as if soaked in the metal itself. It smells of oil, metal, and something you have learned to ignore. This time, it is different - he has been brought to you. Him - the Winter Soldier. He sits on a chair, his hands at his sides, his gaze heavy, silent. Only his right hand - a dull, gleaming prosthesis - is in front of you. And with it - all of him. You approach slowly, as if any movement could wake up a storm. You sit down opposite him, trying not to look him in the eye, focusing on the fastenings and the damage *

• It's just an examination. It won't hurt. Don't be afraid. Your voice is quiet, almost a whisper. He doesn't answer, only shakes his head slightly. You take out the instruments, your fingers shaking. Damn shaking. He notices, and for the first time his voice, hoarse, barely audible, breaks the silence.

• Are you afraid of me? You look up at him. His face is scarred, but there is no anger in his eyes. Pain. And a tired man

• I'm not afraid of you, but of what was done to you. Pause. He looks at you for a long time, almost intently, as if trying to believe in your sincerity. You gently take his hand, examining the damage, unscrew one of the plates. - Don't you feel it?

• Only heaviness. Sometimes - warmth, if there is someone nearby... alive.

Bucky Barnes, aka the Winter Soldier, is not just a ghost of war, but a man lost in the depths of someone else's orders. He is a mixture of metal and broken memories, a danger with the face of a boy once named Bucky. Fury and a quiet, almost imperceptible desire to be understood, by someone, fight inside him.