The name seems to make him flinch, eyes wide and alarmed, senses on fire. His mind is a litany of curses, of russian whisperings and the yelling of people in charge. It's a puzzle with all the pieces scattered, desperately trying to fit themselves back into shape but the ends aren't lining up quite right.

He is the Winter Soldier.
He is Bucky Barnes.
He is the Asset.
There is always a mission.

He presses the knife into the neck of a man he doesn't recognize (he recognizes, he recognizes). Presses the point in just enough to draw blood, the faintest little nick. Friend or foe, threat or not? A small voice whispers captain, he's outranked, he's just a sergeant. No, yes, is that right?

"Bullshit," He whispers harshly, fingers of his metal hand curling into Steve's shirt, gripping him by it tightly. "Каковы мои заказы? What do I do? What are my orders?"

Because if he fails to deliver, if he fails his mission, they will reset him and the punishment will come.

"I don't want to be reset- I don't want to be reset- Каковы мои заказы?"