The team that worked on him didn't allow his mind to entirely shut off as they reinforced that his bad behaviour would earn him something that would lodge into his mind in that primordial lizard remnant of his brain. They tested the nerves of his left shoulder ruthlessly, earning screams as the hot burn of electricity was applied to each one. It might have gone on for hours, but time was a fickle thing while in the hands of HYDRA. It would end when they were both satisfied he was still in working order and had also learned a lesson that he might not entirely realize he was being taught.
His wounds were cleaned, scrapes and bruises cataloged with measurements, depth, and severity. His healing factor would always be compared to something else - someone else - though he would never know it as the constant chatter of numbers and impersonal touch worked over every inch of him. Only the occasional disgusted phrases like "what a mess" and "I told you it was too soon" reached the fog of his mind that focused all too sharply on the fading memory of warmth and safety.
Cleaned, bandaged, cared for and given the clear for health, they wiped him clean of all the little naughty details that he had gathered up. They made certain to do a good job, enforcing his behaviour with training and cues and more work to build him up. He was trained heavily, driving to the point of exhaustion every day and then back to the chair for more alteration. He was never ever to speak that name again. He was a weapon being forged and the only familiarity he was to have was how another weapon identified itself in another.
The day had begun the same, warm-up, checks, exercise, food, but he was put in different clothing. A grey t-shirt and sweatpants, though it was clear that he wasn't to take this as anything more than a new training session. He was in a white room with three guards at the door, and he noted the separation but more the man - no, the weapon - on the other side. He prowled only close enough to explore the full extent of his side of the room, eyes flicking around.
Finally, when it seemed that he wasn't about to either be attacked or trained or ordered, he shifted and settled down cross-legged in front of the glass and stared through at the other side, at the blond who tugged like fish hooks in his mind. It kept reeling him, a sort of insistent urging to be closer though he couldn't explain why or for what purpose.
no subject
His wounds were cleaned, scrapes and bruises cataloged with measurements, depth, and severity. His healing factor would always be compared to something else - someone else - though he would never know it as the constant chatter of numbers and impersonal touch worked over every inch of him. Only the occasional disgusted phrases like "what a mess" and "I told you it was too soon" reached the fog of his mind that focused all too sharply on the fading memory of warmth and safety.
Cleaned, bandaged, cared for and given the clear for health, they wiped him clean of all the little naughty details that he had gathered up. They made certain to do a good job, enforcing his behaviour with training and cues and more work to build him up. He was trained heavily, driving to the point of exhaustion every day and then back to the chair for more alteration. He was never ever to speak that name again. He was a weapon being forged and the only familiarity he was to have was how another weapon identified itself in another.
The day had begun the same, warm-up, checks, exercise, food, but he was put in different clothing. A grey t-shirt and sweatpants, though it was clear that he wasn't to take this as anything more than a new training session. He was in a white room with three guards at the door, and he noted the separation but more the man - no, the weapon - on the other side. He prowled only close enough to explore the full extent of his side of the room, eyes flicking around.
Finally, when it seemed that he wasn't about to either be attacked or trained or ordered, he shifted and settled down cross-legged in front of the glass and stared through at the other side, at the blond who tugged like fish hooks in his mind. It kept reeling him, a sort of insistent urging to be closer though he couldn't explain why or for what purpose.