Chapter Text
Prologue
Major James Buchanan Barnes, crown prince and the commander of the 127 brigade, woke up to the smell of dirt, mold, and blood. His ears were buzzing nonstop, and he did not dare open his eyes out of fear of throwing up all over himself. The buzzing passed after a few seconds, and that was when he noticed the shooting pain in his left shoulder. At first he thought the pain would go away, but it kept getting worse, to the point that he wanted to scream. His throat was dry, however, and all he managed was a few dry coughs.
He blinked a few times to adjust his eyes to the darkness, but he could not recognize anything. Then he tried to roll over, but the pain was too much. His left shoulder was dislocated; he was sure of that. To make matters worse, it felt like his stomach had been empty for a good few hours, which made the pain all the more unbearable. His blood pressure was low which meant he had lost some blood, but he could not remember how.
He raised his right hand slowly and ran it all over his face and neck. That was when he felt the caked blood on the left side of his head over a bump. Thankfully, the spot was numb.
It took a few attempt and a few grunts, but he finally managed to sit up and rest his back to what felt like a metal bed. Even though he could not see, he ran his hand all over the floor and felt the dry hay beneath his fingertips.
He was in a barn. One that smelled terrible.
There was a window above his head, but there was no moon in the sky that night, and he couldn’t see anything. Bucky was very, very close to having a panic attack, but he knew he was too weak, and he would run the risk of completely passing out, so he just closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths, and tried to remember.
He had been on a mission. He and his men were at the border, trying to secure a bridge. Everything was going according to plan. The enemy was nowhere in sight, and all their tanks and armored vehicles were in place, so he had decided to go back to the tent to report to Colonel Schmidt, and then …
Now he remembered.
Two soldiers had been hiding in his tent. They attacked him the moment he set foot in the tent and shoved him to the ground. Bucky had never seen them before, and he knew immediately that they had been infiltrated. Getting over the initial shock, he fought back, getting one of them off him and kicking the other in the knee. Two more came in then. Bucky stood up to lunge at them, infuriated, but one of them, who had his face covered, acted faster and kicked his shoulder with the back of his riffle. He stumbled backwards but didn’t fall down. He could not remember if he screamed or not, but he remembered lunging at the bastard again.
The last thing Bucky remembered was another hit to the side of his head with that damned riffle, and then everything went black.
And now here he was.
Taken hostage.
To Be Continued …