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Who: James "Winter Soldier" Barnes & Steve "Captain America" Rogers
When: Months after initial capture
What: AU - Both Steve and Bucky fell from the train. Both were captured and forced into service of HYDRA as their weapons to shape the world.
Warnings: Maybe violence?
The pain was momentarily numbed, though it would return along with his orientation of his surroundings now that the days experimentations were over. For the first time, he was stable enough to be moved from being trapped and monitored in the medical wing (he assumed it had a name though didn't know it) and shifted to the cells where only a guard was required to keep watch over numerous subjects in their small cages side-by-side. The room was kept colder than normal to prevent them from moving around much or thinking too hard about escaping.
His head was fuzzy and his vision wavered as he was settled down in the middle of his new cell. There were whispers (always were), but his head was too drained of anything to grasp onto any one detail. This was a test apparently. Perhaps to see if he could survive the rigors of the illusion of freedom in a small cold cage left to his own devices. They left, clicking the door shut with too much noise that he twitched where he lay.
At first he lay on his right side just drinking in the air, orienting himself on one aspect of his surroundings before adding another. He allowed his ears to focus next, the sounds of moaning prisoners, the mutter of a disgruntled cold guard making rounds, the shuffle of cold experiments trying to find that one warm place that didn't exist. His sense of touch was next, feeling the rough cement under his arm, and the cold wash of sensation from the left side of his body where heavy bandages covered some recent modification to where his arm should be. At last, he allowed his eyes to pick out things, but it was the current weakest of his senses, fallible and blurry as he dragged himself across the floor.
He didn't know where he was going, didn't know he was being watched keenly for what direction he chose to go when there were four options for him. One had no other prisoner, the other three did. He pulled himself towards the right, and though he didn't know it, towards where they were all very excited that he would go. To him. He nestled against the bars in the corner, breathing hard from the excursion but slowly curling up. There was a source of familiarity nearby. He chose to be close to it.
When: Months after initial capture
What: AU - Both Steve and Bucky fell from the train. Both were captured and forced into service of HYDRA as their weapons to shape the world.
Warnings: Maybe violence?
The pain was momentarily numbed, though it would return along with his orientation of his surroundings now that the days experimentations were over. For the first time, he was stable enough to be moved from being trapped and monitored in the medical wing (he assumed it had a name though didn't know it) and shifted to the cells where only a guard was required to keep watch over numerous subjects in their small cages side-by-side. The room was kept colder than normal to prevent them from moving around much or thinking too hard about escaping.
His head was fuzzy and his vision wavered as he was settled down in the middle of his new cell. There were whispers (always were), but his head was too drained of anything to grasp onto any one detail. This was a test apparently. Perhaps to see if he could survive the rigors of the illusion of freedom in a small cold cage left to his own devices. They left, clicking the door shut with too much noise that he twitched where he lay.
At first he lay on his right side just drinking in the air, orienting himself on one aspect of his surroundings before adding another. He allowed his ears to focus next, the sounds of moaning prisoners, the mutter of a disgruntled cold guard making rounds, the shuffle of cold experiments trying to find that one warm place that didn't exist. His sense of touch was next, feeling the rough cement under his arm, and the cold wash of sensation from the left side of his body where heavy bandages covered some recent modification to where his arm should be. At last, he allowed his eyes to pick out things, but it was the current weakest of his senses, fallible and blurry as he dragged himself across the floor.
He didn't know where he was going, didn't know he was being watched keenly for what direction he chose to go when there were four options for him. One had no other prisoner, the other three did. He pulled himself towards the right, and though he didn't know it, towards where they were all very excited that he would go. To him. He nestled against the bars in the corner, breathing hard from the excursion but slowly curling up. There was a source of familiarity nearby. He chose to be close to it.
no subject
He slipped off amid the shadows to draw closer to the rotating men. He slit their throats or knifed them quietly, not allowing them to make a sound. Only the last caught the smell of blood before he arrived, but there was still no alarm as he gutted the man and left the body in the bushes before moving to the rendezvous point to meet his Commander.
The Soldier emerged from the shadows of the guard house and prowled up to his Commander, his eyes darting down the other weapon for signs of injury. Once it was clear that they were both running on optimum, he bowed his head slightly to show respect of command and willingness to be sent off to wherever was necessary.
A foreign warmth twisted in his guts when he was close to the Commander, and he had no knowledge of it happening before. It had, but those sensations had been wiped away. Each time they met, he experienced a warm acceptance of his situation because he wasn't alone. Instead, his gloved flesh fingers reached out and brushed against the Commander's hand before caressing the side of the blooded shield.
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He couldn't look at this man, this Soldier, and believe that the mission had a chance of being anything but a complete success now that they were together.
He shifted his body against the other man's almost curious touch, acknowledging and accepting it. "Good work." He didn't have to ask if he'd been spotted or seen. No alarms had gone up. The mansion across the grounds remained silent. Their presence must, therefore, remain undetected.
"I'll go into the building and sweep it for targets. I'll try to barricade any other ways out on what sides I can. That way, any who get away will be funneled out straight to you. Think you can manage that, Soldier?"
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"I am told me work is always good," he replied simply. Unless he failed, but he didn't remember those times, just the agony that came on the heels of it. "You are as effective as you were debriefed to me of being." It was the highest compliment that he could pay.
He inclined his head to the side to acknowledge the plan and slipped his sniper rifle from his shoulder and pulled a silencer from his fatigue pocket, screwing it into place with deft hands. "The mission objects will be completed without fail," he said simply before he stepped aside to find a high point on top of the guard station. He paused before climbing and looked back at his Commander. "When all targets are eliminated, we could watch the stars together, yes?"
no subject
"We could. We're even a little ahead of schedule. We'll probably have some time before we're due to be extracted." It was a pleasant night, though he did not normally think in such a fashion. The weather or the clearness of the air should only concern him as far as its effect on tactical matters. Yet he was very rarely permitted out of the facility, even for missions - he was too valuable to waste on "trivial" matters or goals. If they fulfilled their mission as ordered, surely some time together would not be punished.
"But. Only after all our targets are eliminated." His tone was stern, but only a little, and there was a smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth and lit his eyes. Without thinking of anything beyond that it felt right to do, he reached out to brush a stray strand of hair out of the other weapon's eyes. Without thinking of anything beyond that it felt right to say, he murmured just loud enough for the Soldier to hear: "Be careful."
He shouldn't have needed to say that. By rights, this wasn't even that dangerous a mission, especially now that they had secured the area outside the house itself. But, well...he knew better than almost anyone, just how well the tables could suddenly turn. All too often, he had been the thing that turned the tables.
But that said, he found that he had it in himself to turn away and set off towards the house at a swift, silent run. The front door was locked. He simply broke it, and slipped inside like a wraith.
Three minutes later, targets would start pouring out the open front door.
no subject
His eyes flicked to the smile that the other weapon wore, studying the brief expression; it made the other weapon's blue eyes come alive. The very fact stopped him from ascending to the roof, and he leaned into the fingers caressing through his hair. His mouth suddenly felt dry; why was that?
"You're in the direct line of fire more than I am," he reminded. It was his own way of insisting the other weapon was careful as well, but then he was climbing to a good vantage point and setting up his sniper rifle. He had no concern for the blond, aware that together the mission was incapable of failing unless one or both of them malfunctioned.
He settled in, resting another munitions clip next to his elbow as he stared down the scope and scanned. The first target to scramble from the building died on the doorstep, spattering the one man following with brains and blood. The second died quickly and with a shocked look. Then his gaze swept the yard, finding multiple targets and taking each one out with good sniping. He paused only long enough to refill his clip, but his eyes were still looking down the scope.
When the panic swelled and men tried to go back inside when the wall became entirely inaccessible because he could see them every time they went close, he eased the pressure to get them back inside. Let them realize the impossibility of their situation. Two weapons designed for this just picking them off one-by-one. He only received return fire once, but it was only because the flash of his bullet from the end of the silencer. The shooter didn't stand a chance when he turned his attention on them.
It was a killing ground, bodies laying in blood and not a sound. When the trickle of men came to an end, he held his position all the same. Softly, more to himself but it sounded down his communication unit all the same, he hummed a tune. It was just a bunch of notes that had no base in his skull, but he still hummed it all the same.
no subject
When all was said and done, the house was no less a ruin than the yard - furniture broken, blood on the walls, bodies laying where they'd died with wide, terrified eyes. The last thing they'd seen had been the masked, unstoppable weapon coming at them at a run.
But at last, after what might have been moments or hours - it didn't matter - all was quiet, but for the drip of blood, the whisper of wind, and the house settling. It was quiet enough that he could hear the Soldier humming through his earpiece. A tune that meant nothing to him, but caught in his head easily all the same. In the back of his head, there was even the echo and the whisper of words - gonna save the American way...
He didn't emerge immediately. He did a full, methodical sweep of the house once more, top to bottom. He checked every room and possible crawl-space, no matter how small. But it was all, ultimately, to no purpose.
Their mission had been accomplished. Given what a spectacular team they'd proven to be, perhaps it had even been accomplished sufficiently within their designated schedule that the two weapons could sit and watch the stars for a time, while they waited to be extracted.
It was this thought that finally prompted him to speak aloud to his companion, through the earpiece. "Commander here. The house has been cleared. How do things look out there, Soldier?"
no subject
Yet, his tune continued, and he couldn't place it nor did he stop it once it had begun. He didn't think that he had ever made that kind of noise before, deep in his throat with a soft rhythm that made him tap the toe of his boot lightly on the roof where he was laying. He wasn't ordered to be quiet, which was perhaps the most surprising of all.
He glanced slightly towards the stars above but more to tell how much time had passed than because he wanted to watch them alone. He had no interest in that, and his patience for the word of his Commander was everlasting. "There is only dead to greet you on the grounds, Commander. All is quiet. Orders?"
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By rights, perhaps they should stay to check every corpse for proof of death. But, truth be told, that almost certainly wouldn't be an efficient use of their time. A full secondary sweep would definitely take them well beyond their rendezvous time with their handlers, who would most certainly not be pleased to find them still here at the scene of the massacre when it got closer to sunrise.
"Clean up your position and meet me outside, on the south side of the wall." Particularly, no shell casings be left here at the scene. The actual bullets were, fortunately, chosen specifically to match the types known to be most commonly used by the terrorists, but the less evidence of their presence they could leave behind, the better. With any luck, this would look like nothing more than a deal gone catastrophically wrong. "Well done, Soldier."
That said and done, he slung his shield back into place on his back, unblocked the house's back door, clambered over the south wall, and let himself down onto the other side. There he would wait in the shadows for the other weapon to join him.
no subject
He slipped down and prowled across the yard, making a single walk through of the dead to make certain that no one was faking until he had left. There was nothing, only death, blood and stillness, as was to be expected from facing off against two weapons with the faces of men.
The Soldier moved towards the south side, skirting the building rather than going through it. He took a running jump and caught the edge of the wall before slipping over quietly to settle into the shadows for a moment, his eyes scanning for hostile movements. Then he was up and swaggering from the shadows, and his gloved flesh fingers rose and tugged off the half mask that he always wore on missions and turned his bare face towards the shadows.
"Commander," he acknowledged, aware the other weapon was hidden. Slowly, his eyes flicked up towards the stars above, cold, distant and set in a blackness. Just like them.
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But his senses confirmed to him that here was not a threat far quicker than they ordinarily might - even his handlers knew to give plenty of warning and announcement on approach during and after a mission. So even as the Soldier was removing his half-mask, he stepped out under the open sky with him, stretching languidly.
"Soldier." He offered his companion an easy smile, slinging an arm around his shoulders in something like a sideways embrace. "Care to walk with me?" Their rendezvous point was in a little valley between the trees - should be plenty of space to settle in and watch the stars there.
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Yet, despite his general rigidness, his flesh arm curled easily around the other weapon's waist in the same companionable way. He even purposefully bumped the side of his hip against the blond's as he accepted the offer of walking silently, his eyes still turned up towards the stars.
"It was a well-planned and well-executed mission with you," he said, the closest to a compliment in return. He wasn't allowed to compliment, since men were expected to follow him and let him work. The other weapon was different; they were as close to each other as could be. "I would be inclined to serve on a mission with you again."
As they walked, he lost some of the tension in his body and smoothed his gait with each step, and he swayed with an easy manner of not having a care in the world. He didn't really. "When we are together, I experience a sensation of warmth that is entirely unexplainable."
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But he had, hadn't he? He certainly couldn't remember ever meeting him before.
"So do I. But...even if it's unexplainable," And he accepted the fact that it was without question. "It's...good. I enjoy it. And it seems to help us both. Maybe we will serve together on a mission again."
He barely felt the exertion of picking their way through the trees and towards the sloping valley. He moved a little like a man in a dream, in fact, although he hadn't dreamed for a very long time, didn't even remember that it was something normal or something people did.
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Instead, he walked arm-in-arm with another weapon, releasing his grip only long enough to pass some terrain and then he was back at the blond's side. His half mask was gripped in his fingers, but his attention alternated between the weapon he walked with or the cold twinkle of stars above which he had only deigned to notice before when he needed to determine his time or location.
"Perhaps if they are pleased with our mission, we will be given another operation to complete together," he agreed, perhaps more warmly than he ever had before. The problem was he craved another mission as he sometimes craved to be fed when his stomach was tightening or making angry sounds. "We won't remember," he suddenly added.
He was wiped clean between missions. There was no distractions. There was only the mission and the next and the next until the world had become the ultimate order out of the ashes of chaos. Would he remember that either?
He stopped just shy of the rendezvous point, ten feet to be exact and swung his body around to face the other weapon. His eyes studied the taller weapon, thicker of chest and broader of shoulders. "When order comes, I want to know I am there with you."
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"I want to be there with you, too. But...why won't we remember?"
He didn't have as much of a sense as the other man of how much they'd lost, how much was taken from them, continuously and most especially in the chair. He knew that it was used as a punishment, he knew that he would do nearly anything not to wind up locked in place there even if it seemed to come at the whim of their handlers. He knew that he was always somehow...less, afterwards.
But he didn't understand why, because how could you miss something that you didn't know had been taken from you? Especially during moments like these, there was the sense that he had all he needed.
He tilted his head to regard the other weapon with no small amount of concern - that was a dangerous thing to feel, and show that he felt, but there was no one around but the two of them to see. "Are you all right?"
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"I don't... know," he said softly, confused and agitated. He pressed his forehead against the blond's chest as if feeling the rise and fall motions of the man's chest would settle down what he knew and what he didn't. "I don't remember anything, but every time I wake, I am told what I must do. I'm told that my actions will bring about a future. Yet, I never know what the future is the next time I wake."
His fingers tightened and he inhaled sharply at the question, and it was the kind of question from a handler that would bring the heat and the shock. From the other weapon, it almost felt... genuine. He still forced himself to slowly loosen his grip and nod his head. "I am running at optimal."
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It was a genuine question. His intent was clumsy from lack of use, but sincere, startlingly so. "The mission is over," he murmured, just loud enough for him to hear. "You don't need to be running at optimal. Not right now. That's okay."
He didn't have the right to say that, not really. Now that the mission was over, he didn't have the right to make decisions for either of them, to even have enough of an opinion to decide. Yet he did, in that moment when it was only them, and it felt...right.
"Does anyone really know what the future is?" Their targets certainly couldn't have predicted their fates this night.
gonna be slow the next 2 weeks with x-mas & all
So why didn't he feel empty when around this weapon? Why was it a simple choice to step in and be soothed with a noise like that?
"I have to always be running on optimal," he murmured softly. He took the first unreasonable step closer and pressed his face into the other weapon's neck, almost surprising himself at how warm and comforting it was. "All personnel associating with weapons of our caliber must report any signs of strain or malfunction. Even... us."
His metal arm around its way around the other weapon's waist, and he still he refused to move those last ten feet to the rendezvous point. It was as if the ten feet would mean that this moment of potential malfunction would pass beyond notice.
"I am told it will get better. I'm told there will be freedom for all when we are finished, and that is a gift our work goes towards," he said softly. The future was not something that he ever concerned himself with. He was a entity of the present.
Fair enough!
He had the sense that his superiors would disagree, but...they weren't here, and he was. Under any other circumstances, he would be expected to make a judgment call in a way the Soldier would not. He was consistently told that he was better at "pretending" to be human, and was sometimes called upon to do just that.
"I am told the same. It's...good, isn't it? To be a part of that." Even if they were not free, they could ensure the freedom of others. Sacrificing the needs of the few for the betterment of the many. It wasn't as though they were even allowed to have needs that their handlers did not control, after all, so what did it matter?
Nothing about this man seemed wrong to him, beyond the distress he was feeling. Introducing further distress into the equation simply didn't seem...right. It wasn't efficient, and he didn't want to do that. He found that he just wanted to...hold the other, a little while longer, and soothe him until that tension was gone from his muscles. There was nothing he could do to improve or change their situation, but perhaps he could make it easier to bear.
He even hummed the same tune they had both recalled over the comms unit.
<3
However, he was too 'robotic' to be able to hide his malfunctions well. It was part of his design but also seemed to make him 'less' than the Commander. He was coldly efficient with assassinations, especially the ones that were made to look like accidents or leave no trace. His robotic black and white perception made him well versed in doing what he was supposed to with the least amount of supervision. He also was heartless towards those that were unfortunate enough to work alongside with him.
Except the Commander. The Commander was his exception, though he would never know it.
"I am a weapon, and I go where a weapon is most needed. My part in the future is to remove obstacles, but I will probably not be part of it once my job is done. I will be put to cold again. Perhaps I will not be woken again," he said, shaking his head a little. His arms instead tightened on the Commander.
The humming softened him, and he nestled against the Commander's chest, soothed and letting the strange malfunctioning mood seep from his bones. He took in a deep breath and released it very slowly.
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And so they would be picked up exactly where they were expected to be picked up. The mission was reported as a colossal success as they were transported back to headquarters for debriefing and, inevitably, for storage.
He knew it was coming as well as the Soldier did. But he wouldn't take his arms from around the other weapon for as long as he was permitted to hold him. As long as it kept them both quiet, he would be allowed.
There would be other missions in the meantime - some they undertook separately, some together, while other assassins and agents of rival organizations whispered of them like children of mosnters under the bed.
Until, at long last, they would finally be allowed out once more to ensure the completion of HYDRA's ambitions...