Post by Deleted on Nov 25, 2013 17:07:39 GMT
Name: James Buchanan Barnes Alias: The Winter Soldier Age: 94 Occupation: Assassin Member Group: None Powers & Abilities: Mechanical Arm (enhanced strength). Minor strength/healing/speed boost. Playby: Sebastian Stan |
THE BEFORE James Barnes was a boy of very little ambition, and even less foresight. He knew life was too unpredictable for that. Hell, in just ten years, he'd been uprooted from Indiana before he could really walk, his mom had died, and then The War happened and took his dad with it. He was arguably luckier than some. His dad come back from the war, as much as any man can come back. Bucky tried to help with the house as much as he could, help ease his Dad back into the normal things, tried to help. For a while it worked. Then the old fool drove off and never came back. It was an accident, they said. Point was, by the time Bucky found himself in a crowded New York orphanage, he was great at rolling with the punches. He didn't spend much time in the orphanage, let alone school. The place wasn't terrible, but the streets were far more entertaining. It was amazing what people would give a kid with a bit of dirt on his face and a charming smile. Hey, if he overdid the act a bit, a little limp here, a tiny sad sniffle there, who was to blame him. He was working with what the world gave him. Plus ducking the cops and the thugs that made questionable claims of territory on the city streets was just damn exhilarating. That was how he met Steve Rogers. Steve, tiny, stupid Steve, had picked a fight with two boys he had no hope of beating. Sure they were assholes, Bucky knew it and he sure as hell didn't like them, but Bucky also usually knew to avoid them. Damn if it wasn't slightly inspiring (and eternally hilarious) to see the punk trying his hardest. With no other reason than that, Bucky was jumping into the fight before he even had made the decision to. He often thought about where his life would have gone if he hadn't met the skinny little idiot that day. Best case scenario he'd work in factories the rest of his life, worst, and more likely, well... they were always hiring on the wrong side of the law. But he did meet the punk, and from that moment on, they were stuck together. All the way into adulthood, Bucky found himself pulling Steve's ass out of the fire. Be it one of his regularly scheduled alley fights, a typically hard hitting cold or asthma attack, and even when Steve was too sick to hold down a job for a week or two. They'd pool their resources and figure out how to make things work. They were more than friends, they were the family that they chose. Then came the war. THE WAR Some of his Dad's old army buddies had made it a habit to occasionally check in on Bucky. Occasionally they'd take him and Steve out to the army base for a weekend, let them do fake drills with shaky adolescent arms. Bucky would spend all day out at the range if they would let him. They were good people, and Bucky could never really figure out how to repay them for that. Recently they had stepped back, letting him be his own man, but there was always an unspoken open invitation whenever they needed it. December 8th, 1941, Bucky went to them and signed up then and there. Steve wasn't so lucky. Just one look at the kid and they'd already dipped the 4F stamp in the ink. Even though Bucky pretended to be all sorts of angry about that, he was relieved. Steve wouldn't last a minute out there. Steve, predictably, wasn't that easily dissuaded. The secret happiness at Steve's 4F status became less of a secret, and then progressed into outright shouting matches. Thankfully, by the time he had to ship out, Steve was still stuck at home. The only thing Bucky had to worry about was making sure Steve didn't try to stow away on the train. War was ...war. Hell. High Water. Loud sounds and trenches. Thankfully he was still good at rolling with the punches. He got used to war, and then he got good at it. Of course then the game changed. Crazy looking weapons, insane tanks, guns that made men melt on the spot. The 107th got captured and taken to Azzano. The whole thing was a blur to him after that. He vaguely remembers mouthing off at one of the guards, then getting hauled away to a small, round bespectacled man who made everything hurt. He was experimenting on him, Bucky had to guess. No one could ever really pin down what had been done to him, even afterwards, not that he wasn't debriefed out the nose about it. Then came Steve freaking Rogers. Everything fell into step after that. The Howling Commandos were formed, they kicked Nazi ass, all was right as it could be when you're killing people for a living. Bucky became their sniper and scout. First one to shoot, last one to leave. He was good. Better even, than before his time in Azzano. The train op was far from his first mistake, but it was the most fatal. He'd probably do it all over again. Chasing Hydra's pet scientist. The hope of asking him some questions, of blocking in Hydra once and for all. Then, well, Steve was in trouble, what was he supposed to do. Bucky fought and then he lost. He was pushed out the side of the open train, dangling over a ravine so deep that the bottom wasn't entirely discernible. Just a distant stream and an eternity of snow. For a brief moment Bucky had hope, Steve's hand was in reach. Then again Bucky had always overestimated his chances of survival. He fell. THE WINTER If the files were to be believed, the Russians were trawling the train wreckage, hoping to scavenge some Hydra technology when they found him. They weren't surprised to find a body. They were surprised it wasn't entirely dead. With the war ending and another, newer kind of war looming ahead of them. Russia needed all the advantages it can get. They revive the man, intent on figuring out what the secret of his survival was. Instead, they get three dead scientists, and an angry, scared blank slate of a highly skilled soldier. He doesn't know who he is, doesn't know where, why, how... but he knows how to kill. The Russians could work with that. One arm wasn't salvageable, they didn't mind. They replaced it with a technology they'd been hesitant on using. For good reason. Everyone up until this nameless soldier hadn't been able to stand the pain of the process and died of shock. Thankfully, whatever saved him from the cold, spared him from this unfortunate side effect as well. Between Project X and the Red Room, they had the facilities in place to imprint whatever they wanted him to be. They kept it simple. He was made into an assassin, cold, calculating. Obvious when they wanted him to be. Silent when they didn't. He was sent on mission after mission. All successful, all within acceptable collateral parameters. All perfect. Except one thing. They didn't notice it at first, but the brainwashing process lacked stability. The longer between reprogramming, the more he deteriorated in unpredictable ways. Erratic behavior, going off task, memory problems. They only figured out something was truly wrong when he suddenly grew a conscience. He didn't complete a mission because a child was in the way. Worse yet, he yelled at his superiors. In English. It was an easy decision after that to keep him on ice after missions. Reprogramming when he wakes up, just to be sure. Some retained memory made the soldier hide his slip ups. Not that it helped. It just made him angrier and angrier. He didn't even know who he was angry at. Just everything and everyone. As long as the mission was completed, his caretakers didn't seem to notice or more likely they didn't care. They did take precautions though, during longer missions they paired him up with other agents. To keep an eye and haul him back if the worst should occur. There were times when the Soldier almost formed connections with them. One more than others, Natalia, but he wasn't allowed to remember that one. The two of them grew together during their missions and training sessions. The desperation of the situation binding them and eventually turning physical. He had an affection for her that he was surprised he was capable of. That enough was an indication that they had to keep it secret. They weren't stupid. They knew this would never be sanctioned, but it was theirs. They held onto it as long as they could and enjoyed it while it lasted. The times he was with her were the only times in sixty years he even felt slightly human. You can't keep secrets in spy organizations for very long though. His caretakers eventually figured it out. They considered it a catastrophic break in programming and he was put on ice for longer and longer lengths of time, more intensely cleaned out when they did wake him up. They dealt with Natalia in different ways. As the years progressed, he was woken less and less. The Soviet Union fell, the red room was in shambles. Project X all but gone. He was forgotten. For decades he was a number on a dusty ledger. Lot 42, warehouse 6A. Hidden behind other forgotten weaponry and boxes of bulk army equipment. He didn't even dream... not that he could remember. 95 years lived. 72 years since Pearl Harbor. 69 years after a train ride in the mountains. Something woke him up. |
Emiry | 25 | MST | RPG-D