Clearing his throat, Barnes continued. "Okay, so you can pass on this particular 'roommate' of yours. How does that work? No rent or anything?"
Robbie hummed thoughtfully. "Basically. Though it's not quite that simple."
"Sounds convenient," Bucky said. "Do you know how many people have carried the Spirit of Vengeance before you?"
Reyes fell silent, seemingly conducting an internal conversation with his "roommate"—or, for all intents and purposes, with Zarathos himself.
"For thousands of years, there's been a line of Riders traveling across the world," Robbie recounted, his voice taking on a slightly distorted quality. "The Spirit of Vengeance goes wherever the innocent have been wronged and violated. Punishment and justice follow. No matter who the sinner is, retribution is inevitable."
Bucky remained quiet, digesting the information.
"So... what about me?" he asked softly.
Robbie glanced at him from the corner of his eye. "What about you?"
"You know what I mean," Bucky said, his tone hardening, his expression grim. "You said it yourself, remember? Your 'roommate' can sense the sin in every soul. Mine's drowning in it."
"That's not how it works," Robbie responded quickly.
"Isn't it?" Barnes's voice rose with frustration. "You just talked about punishment and justice."
"You want your soul to burn for eternity because you killed people while you were brainwashed?"
Bucky fell silent, his jaw clenched.
"After bonding with him, I had to learn the difference," Robbie continued. "Between doing something of your own free will versus being forced and controlled. Most of the scumbags I've dealt with are a mix of both. Some enjoy what they do. Others are disgusted by it but have no choice. So tell me—do you really want to be punished for something you had no control over?"
Robbie received no answer, which made him sigh.
"So what's the deal with you and Celeste?" he asked, deliberately changing the subject. "You really seem to love her."
The Winter Soldier visibly stiffened—exactly the reaction Robbie wanted—and he continued, "Because I'm pretty confident that if she lost you, she'd be devastated. That woman loves you."
Bucky leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. The thought of losing Celeste—someone he'd never imagined he could love—now cut deeply.
"The road to redemption is a long one," Robbie said quietly. "Yeah, those deaths weigh on your soul. The burdens you carry are holding you back from a better tomorrow. To break free, you need to face them and resolve them one by one."
The Winter Soldier remained silent for a moment before he began to laugh.
"What?" Robbie asked, confused.
"Is that you talking, or the spirit?"
Reyes shook his head with a smug smile. "Actually, that's all me—"
Robbie's mouth snapped shut. He froze, his eyes visibly igniting with blazing flames.
"Robbie?" Bucky's voice carried concern at the man's sudden transformation.
"Blood," Ghost Rider's voice emerged, far more menacing than Robbie's. "Blood has been spilled."
In an instant, he slammed his foot on the accelerator. The tires screeched against the pavement, kicking up smoke and debris.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Robbie!" Bucky exclaimed, gripping the overhead handle as the car rocketed through London's streets.
He couldn't do anything as Ghost Rider seemed to have seized complete control. The vehicle weaved through traffic with supernatural ease, dodging cars as though they weren't even there.
"Oh shit!" Bucky yelled as they barreled straight toward oncoming traffic.
Reyes just grinned before flames erupted across his body, revealing the metal skull beneath.
Ghost Rider glanced at Bucky, and the soldier swore he saw the flaming skull flash a wicked grin.
"Better hold on."
Bucky couldn't handle the insanity of the situation. He quickly unbuckled his seatbelt, threw open the door, and launched himself into traffic. He rolled across the pavement, narrowly avoiding being crushed by oncoming cars.
He scrambled to his feet and watched as Ghost Rider's wheels ignited in hellfire. Streams of flame shot from the tires as the car phased straight through traffic without collision, speeding away at impossible velocity.
Bucky blinked at the impossible sight. "Okay... not sure how he did that. Guess I should've just stayed in the car."
Then he heard the distant sound of an explosion.
"Nevermind," he said dryly. "Psychotic driver."
The Winter Soldier knew he needed to get back to Kamar-Taj now. The problem was, he had no idea how long it would take from his current location.
He'd just have to find recognizable landmarks and navigate his way back.
Part of him wanted to go help Robbie, but considering the man had a demon spirit inside him that made him practically unkillable, Bucky figured if Ghost Rider was bold enough to take off alone, he could handle whatever he'd sensed.
Shaking his head, Bucky turned away—ignoring the confused drivers who'd emerged from their vehicles to stare at him—and began walking.
"Желание." (Longing.)
Bucky paused when he heard the word. He shook his head and continued walking, uncertain if he'd actually heard anything.
"Ржавый." (Rusted.)
There it was again. Strange to hear it so suddenly. So clearly directed at him.
"Семнадцать." (Seventeen.)
Bucky frowned as he felt his movements beginning to slow involuntarily.
"Рассвет." (Daybreak.)
The Winter Soldier's eyes widened. His ears began ringing.
"Печь." (Furnace.)
Everything started becoming blurred. His breathing grew labored.
At this point, everything around him faded away. He could only focus on those familiar, hateful words he'd heard for seventy years.
"Добросердечный." (Benign.)
"No, no, no, no!" Bucky begged, a suffocating sensation taking hold.
"Возвращение на родину." (Homecoming.)
"Один." (One.)
"Товарный вагон." (Freight car.)
Bucky froze completely, locked in place and unable to move. His expression showed no emotion except complete obedience.
A man who appeared roughly his age approached the super soldier from behind, studying him with sharp, calculating eyes.
He wore a long trench coat with a fur-lined collar, favoring a muted purple color scheme. In one hand was a small device whose blinking light stopped when he released the button—a device that transmitted a frequency audible only once, calibrated specifically for its intended recipient.
In his other hand was a red book identical to the one from Bucky's HYDRA files. He quickly tucked it back into his coat.
"Sergeant Barnes," the man said quietly.
"Я жду приказаний," the Winter Soldier responded mechanically. (I await orders.)
The man nodded with satisfaction, though his expression revealed only focus and determination—no pleasure.
The Winter Soldier had no choice but to comply. He followed the stranger without question.
After they sat on a secluded bench away from foot traffic, the man issued his next command.
"I want to know everything that happened on December 16th, 1991," he ordered. "Don't omit any details from your report."
The Winter Soldier did as commanded, recounting every requirement that had been placed on him that night.