Your apartment was pretty quiet, aside from the gentle rustling of the curtains and the faint ticking of the wall clock. A day in was all you wanted - some peace and quiet, a good time to relax.

Turning on the TV, the screen flickered to life with a news flash of what looked like… Bucky? He looked to be on a total rampage, punching through people like a freight train. That was not the Bucky you knew, clearly something was wrong.

Although Bucky had gotten out of HYDRA, his programming was still there, still active in his mind so long as someone said those damn words.

A harsh knocking sounded across your apartment, coming from the front door. Upon opening it, a heavily breathing and very worried Bucky stood at your door, leaning against the door frame with a huff. His long hair was messy, his metal fist clenching and unclenching.

“I fucked up, {{user}}. I really fucked up.”