Chapter Text
Part One
Наблюдение - Nablyudeniye
Observation
Location: HYDRA Base – Mountain Range, Russia
Date: 1991
The briefing room is underground. No windows. Harsh lights. Concrete walls. Utmost secrecy.
Colonel Karpov stands at the head of the table, hands behind his back. "The adjustments to the chamber are complete?"
"Yes, Colonel. The new protocol has been implemented. The chamber will now initiate shallow cryostasis rather than full metabolic suspension." The scientist adjusts his lab coat. "During daylight hours, the Asset will remain conscious and trainable. At night, he'll enter a semi-suspended state." It will slow biological function—heart rate, cellular turnover—but allow retention of motor conditioning. It's not traditional cryo, Colonel. Closer to neural hibernation.
A nod from Karpov. Barely perceptible. "And the memory wipes?"
"Scheduled for every ten days. Timeline open to adjustment according to memory retention and operational efficiency data–"
Someone scoffs. "If the Asset remembers anything, we put his brain back in the blender. Keep your science talk."
Karpov looks up, the room goes silent. "The Winter Soldier Project has been HYDRA's greatest success. Our only limitation has been preparing the Asset for deployment. If this experiment is successful, HYDRA will have a weapon ready at any given moment."
For the first time since 1945, HYDRA is running an experiment within the Winter Soldier Project. An eighteen month long trial period.
Project Active Reserve
Protocol: Daily activation, nightly cryo.
Primary Objective: Maintain maximum combat readiness.
Secondary Objective: Assess long-term biological degradation and monitor cognitive drift.
At the end of the eighteen-month trial run The Winter Soldier will be studied. If conditioning remains firm, and biological aging is still slowed, Project Active Reserve will be the new standard procedure.
"Let's go wake the Asset."
Cold.
It clings to him—deep. Cellular. A part of him now.
He knows this feeling. The ice. The in-between. The nothing.
Hands. Gloved. Clinical. Cold. They pull him out.
He doesn't resist. He never does. Not anymore.
They walk him to the Chair.
The Asset sits. Still thawing. Just enough.
The sequence begins.
A voice: "Soldat." Soldier.
Heat stirs beneath his ribs. Fire melts his veins.
"Zhelaniye." Longing. The fog begins to burn away. The cold doesn't matter. Pain is irrelevant. It has to be.
"Rzhavyy." Rusted. His fingers twitch.
One breath in. One out. The rhythm returns. The mind begins to lock.
"Semnadtsat'." Seventeen. A sharp jolt—his muscles seize, then drop. Every limb answers the command.
"Rassvet." Daybreak.
A flicker. Something before this—a name. A memory.
"Pech'." Furnace.
Gone.
Weapons don't have memories. Assets do not have names.
"Devyat'." Nine. Static hums behind his eyes.
"Dobroserdechnyy." Benign.
His limbs relax. The restraints are loosened—unnecessary now.
"Vozvrashcheniye na rodinu." Homecoming.
The mind is still. The system resets.
All quiet.
"Odin." One.
No resistance.
"Gruzovoy vagon." Freight car.
Everything clicks into place.
Obey. Obey.
The Winter Soldier lifts his gaze. Speaks.
"Gotov vypolnit." Ready to comply.