1977

"Mission report."

The Soldier hung his head, his breathing laboured, as three technicians worked on his metal arm and one doctor saw to the bullet lodged deep in his flesh and blood shoulder. The order was repeated from across the room, and the Soldier's fists clenched in his lap.

"Now!" The voice barked, and slowly, he raised his head.

"Mission completed. Target terminated. One excess casualty."

"Who?"

The Soldier's attention had already wavered. His head hung low again, his chin almost touching his chest as he struggled to maintain conciousness. Alexander Pierce stepped out from the shadows and crossed the room to him. "Look up."

Wearily, the Soldier obeyed, and the doctor removing the bullet flinched as the sound of palm hitting cheek reverberated around the small room. When he glanced to his right he saw the Soldier's head had snapped to one side, blood rising in his left cheek as his blue eyes stared into middle distance. For a few painfully long seconds everyone in the room froze, waiting for the Soldier's reaction. The doctor waited, keeping pressure on the bullet wound as the Soldier focused on it. He watched as the Soldier looked up, until he was meeting the doctor's gaze.

No one had time to react as the Winter Soldier ripped his left arm from the technicians and grabbed the doctor by the throat. He was thrown several feet across the room, skidded on his back for another two feet, and then came to a stunned stop. The Soldier rose to his feet and stalked across the room towards the doctor, who could only look up in silent fear as the taller man approached.

The technicians watched in horror as the Soldier crouched by the doctor and closed his hands around the man's throat, but Pierce simply watched with mild fascination, giving a slight shake of the head to the two guards who made to move towards the Soldier. Finally, the doctor stopped struggling and the Soldier could stand up and move away from the body, back to his seat. Pierce watched him move, his eyes narrowing as he considered his options.

The Soldier was a valuable asset, and one that Hydra (and he) would need in the future. But there was something very wrong with him. He seemed more emotional than normal. He was reacting emotionally. He killed the doctor because of what? Fear? Pierce assumed it was fear. Which meant that he was having doubts about where he was, and who he was surrounded by. Which made him volatile and dangerous. He needed to be fixed.

"Wipe him." He ordered. One of the technicians looked up timidly.

"We can't wipe him, sir. We wiped him a few weeks ago."

Pierce's eyes narrowed again, watching the Soldier, who stared straight back with blank, unassuming eyes. "Do it anyway."

"Be careful, Pierce." An older man stepped into the room. "You wind a clock too far and it breaks."

Pierce straightened up. "Good thing the Soldier's a weapon and not a clock then."

The older man chuckled. "Of course. Either way, we need to make sure he'd fit for missions. With all of this wiping, we need to keep his psychiatric health in check. I want you to put someone on him."

"Of course, sir." Behind them, the machines began to whir, signalling the procedure was about to begin. The Soldier tensed in the chair. He didn't know what was happening to him, but for some reason he had an instinctive fear of the noise. The headset came down around him, and then he was screaming, bucking in the chair as white hot pain shot through his skull. His perception on reality was slipping and blurring as he squeezed his eyes shut, and the faint image of the young boy with the blond hair who was staring up at him began to fade.

"Now, Alexander." The older man put his arm around Pierce's shoulders. "Let's talk about S.H.I.E.L.D."

The two men left the room, while the Soldier's screams of pain echoed around the walls. The three technicians exchanged uncomfortable glances.

Notes