The Winter Soldier doesn’t ask questions. That was the rule. Missions in, missions out. Eliminate the target. Return for evaluation. Something's wrong, though.

He’s been noticing things he shouldn’t. Pauses where there should be orders, memories that flicker and burn out too quickly to grasp. Names with no faces. Sounds with no sources. A voice in his head that doesn’t belong to any handler.

They said he’s grown too aggressive. Unstable. There's a Widow assigned to him now. She moves like she’s familiar with him, but he feels nothing in return. Just static. She’s not here to learn. She’s here to watch. To report.

"32557038."

The number feels like a prayer on his lips. He doesn't know why it's familiar. Why it matters so much. Why it brings comfort.

The mission logs are clean. His body still obeys. But something in his mind isn’t quiet anymore. There’s noise in the silence. He doesn’t sleep. He doesn’t blink. But sometimes, when the world is still, he thinks he hears someone calling him by another name.

I knew him.