EPILOGUE—INTO THE ICE
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HE WAS IN agony, but it didn't bother him as much as it used to. He could just barely remember, in the depths of his mind, what happened last time. The serums, the metal clamp that squeezed and electrocuted his brain, just bits and pieces that tore his body and mind apart. 

It was all back, the memories blinking in and out of his brain in a matter of moments. But then there was something else. Beyond the torture and the decades used as a weapon for evil, there was someone else.

He couldn't remember the name, nor the reason she was pushed to the front of his memories. But she was there nonetheless, her pink lips smiling at him gently, her dark brown eyes open wide as she peered down at him. Her mouth opened, and when she spoke, a hundred different things came out at once:

"Hey there, Buck."

"It's about time you woke up, you sleep like a dog."

"Don't you want to talk about it?"

"You're...something."

"Thank you for being...you."

He couldn't remember when she'd said those things, and he didn't know whether or not his brain was telling the truth. Too many years had gone by when he couldn't trust his own mind, having been played with too many times. He slipped into the same trap as he turned his head, discomfort wriggling its way through his body. 

Without meaning to, his eyes opened and surveyed the scene around him. Or maybe it was the light being shined directly into his eyes. 

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Mr. Barnes," a gruff voice interrupted his thoughts. A thick accent made his words hard to understand, but he was so disoriented that he couldn't recognize it. "We were beginning to wonder if our assets had injected you with too much of the serum." A hand roughly clapped his shoulder, jolting him to reality. "Of course, they told us you were more tolerant than the others."

The words swam around in his head, confusion bubbling up to the surface. As usual, he didn't process what was being told to him, he just let it be said and float around his consciousness. 

The light turned off and left him momentarily blind from the sudden loss of light, but he slowly adjusted to the more natural lighting coming from a window somewhere behind him, the pale sunlight casting a shadow over the left side of his body. From what he could tell, he was laying on a table that one might find in a morgue, the walls gray and unfeeling. 

He felt heavier than usual, like he was weighed down by an invisible force. Then again, that wasn't unfamiliar for him. Besides, he would rather be confused like this than know the horrors of what he'd done. That was always the worst part. 

"Now, you just lay back and rest, you've got a visitor waiting to see you." The man—clad in a white lab coat and thick-rimmed glasses that magnified his eyes to an alarmingly large size—smiled at him kindly, but the gesture lost its niceties when he arranged his...tools on the smaller table beside him. Included in the pile was a miniature saw, like the one used to cut bone. 

He was beginning to think he really was in a morgue. But then...was he dead?

"No, you're very much alive, my dear boy," he said, the rough voice contrasting with the kind words. "I'm sorry our surroundings are so grim for the time being. But I requested that my works be moved to a more settling location. We'll see if the boss deems it necessary." Wiping his hands on his lab coat, he nodded. "Alright, you ready? Good."

The doctor walked to the door that was directly in front of him and pried it open, squealing on its metal hinges. "He's ready, sir."

He was ignored for a few moments, during which the figure of a man and woman filled his vision. 

"Mission report?"

He knew those words.

"The White Wolf was collected successfully, sir. Little complications were seen, although he did seem to have a girlfriend with a fiery attitude." The woman cocked her head in his direction, noting his presence, but refusing to meet his eyes. "The serum was administered with little difficulty, and the asset was brought in immediately, sir."

The man standing opposite her nodded. "And the CIA?"

Her satisfied smirk was evident in her voice. "Too late."

The unidentified man clicked his tongue in mock pity. "What a shame." Then he turned to the doctor and nodded briskly. "How long has he been awake?"

"Just a few minutes, sir," the doctor answered, his tone switching from warm gentleness to the cold air of following orders in a matter of moments. "It's better to start treatment sooner rather than later. More malleable when they're still coming out of it."

The shadows danced on the walls as the man in power nodded. "You know best, Doc." He rested a hand on the woman's shoulder and stared intently into her eyes as he ordered, "Keep him subdued, Soldier. We can't have him getting out of control like he's known to do."

She nodded swiftly and turned to face him, lying helpless on the table. "Don't worry, sir, I specialize in keeping my men in order." She waved the two men away and entered the room, muttering, "I'll be done in ten minutes," to the doctor. After the door was closed, she stopped moving and smiled at him, flashing white teeth in his direction. 

"Hey there, Soldier." Her voice was lacking any kindness and was full of scorn. He closed his eyes in an attempt to be rid of it, but of course, it did nothing. She stalked forward, her face coming into view.

Something about the long dark hair and dangerous eyes sparked a memory in him, but he was unable to dig further into his brain's archives. He opened his mouth to speak, but she shook her head. 

"Don't speak, it'll only get you in trouble," she spoke with a nonchalant shrug as she reached for a syringe on the doctor's table, pulling a small bottle of a clear, seemingly harmless liquid from her jacket pocket. When she noticed him staring at it, she smirked. "I know. Seems a lot less scary than that orange stuff we used to get you here." Shrugging, she began to fill the syringe at an agonizingly slow pace. "But sometimes it's the ones that look safe that will actually kill you."

She held the syringe up to the light, the needle shining in the sunlight from the window. Squeezing the handle a bit, the stranger watched as a bit of the substance leaked from the tip and ran down the outside of the needle. Then she set it down on the table and flashed another full smile. "Oh, I'm getting too excited. We've got a lot to catch up on, don't we?"

He couldn't move. It was like he was being held there, but when he looked down there was nothing restraining him. 

"You don't remember me, do you? That's a shame." She made a tutting noise with her tongue. "We used to train together, back in our old place of employment." Then she held out her left hand as it to shake his. "I didn't forget that you're a lefty, Soldier."

But he wasn't. Not anymore, he was sure of it. He could specifically remember losing his left arm twice. Even so, the woman—he still couldn't remember her name, though it was itching the back of his brain—cocked a pitying eyebrow. "You can shake my hand. Go on, look at your new gift."

No. It couldn't be. Not another curse. But it was, of course. He was able to tilt his head away from this strange woman and catch the glint of the light of a black metal appendage that looked suspiciously like an arm. He strained his eyes to follow it up, up, up and saw it disappear under the sleeve of a white t-shirt he was wearing. It was true. They'd given him another cursed metal arm. 

"Isn't it...ravishing?" She sighed, dropping her hand back to her waist. "Much better than your old one, if you ask me."

He couldn't speak. His tongue was dead weight against the bottom of his mouth. 

She rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips. "Fine. It looks like it's going to take some time before we break you in. If you don't have anything to say, then I guess we'll have to get started with the treatment." 

Reaching down to pick up the syringe again, she moved it to the crook of his right elbow, sliding the needle into his skin. He didn't even flinch from the pinch that he felt. He was too far gone. As she pushed the substance into his bloodstream, it was cold and he felt it spread around every inch of his body, soon finding its way up to his brain. Everything was getting foggier. 

The woman leaned over his face to look closely at him. Pouting, she said, "You really don't remember me?" She almost looked disappointed. "Damn. I thought Asset 53 had made a bigger impression on you, Soldier."

He wanted to scream as the cold swept over his brain, freezing it and making it feel as though it was shutting down. His eyes began to flutter closed, and she spoke once more. 

"You're going to like it here, my friend. And don't worry. You'll meet your maker soon enough."

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what did you think? asset 53 is important, so remember her!

p.s. sorry this is late, the family dinner lasted forever and i was finally able to start writing at around midnight. 

published on: january 5, 2018