(You) The Soldier is crouched, sniper rifle at hand. (You) The Soldier aims carefully, patiently. Breathing steady. Watching. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting...
There.
It only takes one clean shot for the tire to blow out, for the car to go careening over a cliff. Target status: Uncertain. (You) The Soldier gets up and walks to the edge of the cliff. Looks down.
There is a woman, red hair. Pulling the target out of the car, breathing erratically. Caught in the crash, it seems. Likely Identification: Bodyguard.
She is not the target.
(You) The Soldier aims carefully. Patience is key, and (you) The Soldier can make this shot. The woman looks up, her eyes widen.
You were hanging on to dear life on the edge of the train, keenly aware of the sharp rocks and valley below you. The train's walls had been blasted open, and you'd been blasted through them, and now you were—
"Bucky!"
Steve was there, and you might have been happier to see him if you weren't so sharply terrified of falling. But Steve was coming towards you, so maybe you stood a chance at not falling and dying a horrible death.
"Hang on!" Steve called out desperately. "Grab my hand!"
But the bar you were holding onto was slipping, and you weren't sure how long it would last. But this was Steve, and you'd gotten out of tough scrapes before since this whole unit had formed. Youreached out for Steve's hand, and he—
The bar you'd been holding onto broke. And you fell. You screamed and screamed as the train grew smaller and the rocks below grew bigger. And then there was pain. And then there was darkness.
You think you woke up at several points, but the pain was bright, and you quickly passed out again. But you couldn't have woken up, could you? This was death. There's no way you could have survived that fall.
"See? I told you," you said as Steve walked over to your section of the bar. "They're all idiots." You lifted his glass and took a drink as Steve sat down next to you.
"How about you?" Steve asked, settling down. "You ready to follow 'Captain America' into the jaws of death?"
"Hell no," you said emphatically. "That little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight..." You looked straight into Steve's eyes. "I'm following him." You looked away after you caught the bemused expression on Steve's face, taking another sip of your drink. Then you leaned in towards Steve. "But you're keeping the outfit, right?"
You kinda hoped he would.
"You know what?" Steve asked as you took a glance towards that ridiculous USO poster that you knew was on the wall. "It's kinda growing on me."
Steve and you both stand up as a drop-dead gorgeous dame in a red dress walks in. "Captain," she said in a smooth English accent.
"Agent Carter," Steve acknowledged. The dame walked over to them, standing in front of Steve.
"Ma'am," you said, also acknowledging her.
"Howard has some equipment for you to try," Carter informed Steve. "Tomorrow morning?"
"Sounds good," Steve replied. Your eyes flicker from the dame to Steve and back. Carter turned to look into the other room. Dugan, Jones, and a couple of the other guys are sitting and enjoying a few rounds.
"I see your top squad is prepping for duty," Carter told Steve primly.
"You don`t like music?" you asked.
"I do, actually," Carter replied, never taking her eyes off of Steve. "I might even, when this is all over, go dancing."
"Then what are we waiting for?" you asked, your mouth briefly slipping into the grin you were certain once came easier than this.
"The right partner," Carter said, still gazing intensely at Steve. "0800, Captain."
"Yes, ma'am. I`ll be there," Steve said as the agent walked away. Your eyes followed her as she walked out.
"I`m invisible," you said as he turned to look at Steve. And then, because you couldn't help but tease— "I'm turning into you. It's like a horrible dream."
"Don't take it so hard," Steve said, patting you on the shoulder. "Maybe she's got a friend."
There was a noise in the background, the sound of rustling paper, but you ignored it. You keep your mind focused on one thing and one thing only. "Sergeant... 32557038..." It's your lifeline now, just focus on that and ignore the pain, ignore the dank room and the uncomfortable bed you're strapped to and everything they'd been doing....
"Bucky? Oh my god," says a voice in the distance. You feel movement, but you keep still, keep staring ahead, keep that thought in your head. 32557038... Rank and serial number. Rank and serial number. Rank and... And the straps were off of you. You look up at your rescuer.
"Is that... is that..." you fumble for the words, letting go of your lifeline in the hopes this wasn't some sort of hallucination.
But why would you hallucinate Steve? Especially this strange, buffer version of him?
"It's me," the maybe-not hallucination said. "It's Steve."
"Steve," you say the name like a prayer, your lips curling into a smile.
"Come on," Steve says urgently.
"It's Steve," you say in wonder as Steve helps you out of the bed. Standing is hard, you realize as you sway.
Steve places his hand briefly on your face. "I thought you were dead," Steve says looking you up and down.
You returns the looks. "I thought you were smaller," you say uncertainly. Still not sure if your mind is playing tricks on you.
There's a sound from outside, and Steve whips his head towards it. He takes one last look, then helps you walk. And it is helping, because you have your arm slinged over Steve's suddenly very broad shoulders.
"What happened to you?" you can't help but ask.
"I joined the Army," Steve said matter-of-factly. Smartass. You disengages from Steve, walking on your own now. Or staggering, really, but it was under your own power.
"Did it hurt?" you asked urgently. This radical change, it can't have been painless.
"A little," Steve confirmed. Probably more than a little, you'd imagine, but that's Steve for you.
"Is it permanent?" you inquired.
"So far," Steve said flippantly. You just hope it stays that way.
"I can do this all day," you heard coming from the alley by the theater. There was a thud, the sound of someone smashing into a trashcan (a sound you were all too familiar with). A man stood over a slight figure, and you grabbed the man's arm.
"Hey!" you said sternly, pulling the man away. "Pick on somebody your own size."
The man threw a punch at you, but you managed to dodge it and sock the man in the jaw. The man doubled over, and you gave him a swift kick in the rear for good measure to send him off. The man ran off, and you turned to walk over to the little guy... to Steve... as your childhood friend climbed up from the garbage.
"Sometimes, I think you like getting punched," you told Steve, exasperated.
"I had him on the ropes," Steve muttered, brushing himself off. You leans down to pick up something Steve dropped.
"How many times is this?" you asked as you unfolds the paper. Sure enough, it's another failed attempt by Steve to enlist. 4F, the paper proclaims. Registrant not acceptable for military service. Then you notices something else. "Oh, you're from Paramus now? You know it's illegal to lie on your enlistment form? And seriously, Jersey?"
Steve looks like he's about to respond... then he notices your uniform. "You get your orders?"
You tilted your head. "The 107th. Sergeant James Barnes, shipping out for England first thing tomorrow." You weren't exactly thrilled with it, but you couldn't change it, either.
Steve huffs, looks down. "I should be going."
You looked at Steve, not saying anything for a moment. Then you grinned, putting your arm around Steve. "Come on, man. It's my last night. Better get you cleaned up."
"Why, where are we going?" Steve asked.
You jerks the newspaper you'd been holding towards Steve, handing it to him. "The future."
Bombs burst overhead, on the ground. Fires everywhere, explosions rocking. You jumped into the trench, holding your gun close to you. You looked over to the other soldier in your company. Timothy Dugan, sometimes called Dum-Dum, a redhead with an impressive mustache and a bowler on his head.
"There's gotta be at least five mortar companies out there!" Dugan shouted.
"Ring up B company!" you shouted back. "Tell 'em we need cover!"
"That might be tough!" came the rejoinder from Gabe Jones, another man in your company sitting nearby.
"Bucky, behind you!" Dugan called out, and you turned around, shooting at the enemy.
"Here they come!" you cried, repositioning yourself.
From the corner of his eyes, you saw Dugan holding his bowler. It seems like it'd been shot off. "I hate these guys," Dugan mutters as he puts the bowler back on his head.
There's no time for comment. The company continued firing, shooting down oncoming soldiers. You peered through your scope as you aimed for another shot, and— the man disintegrated in a flash of blue. You pause.
Several more blue shots came out of— somewhere, firing on several of the other soldiers. They all disintegrated.
There's a momentary silence in the area your company is at. You heared someone cheer. "What the hell was that?" someone else demanded, more in tune with your thoughts. You, Jones, and Dugan climbed out of the trench, taking several steps forward.
More blue shots fire out, hitting the hills ahead of them. You sees—
"That looks.... new," Dugan said in a bemused tone of voice as the three stared at the overly large tank in front of them. It rolled towards them. The turret pivoted, the barrel of its canon aimed at... us.
"Duck!" you cries out desperately, throwing yourself back towards the trench.
There is a blast, and your world goes bright... and then black.
(You) The Soldier walked down the streets, gun in hand. People are running. They are not the mission. Irrelevant. Listening... looking... There is a voice. A grenade is casually rolled over to the sound. There is an explosion, but she is not—
The redhead attacks from behind, getting the jump on (You) The Soldier. She kicks the gun away from the hands, twisting in midair onto the shoulders. She has a thin wire— garrote wire— and is trying to choke— (You) The Soldier struggles, backing into a car before managing to get a grip on the woman and fling her off of the shoulders. She launches across the street, landing in another car and sliding down. (You) The Soldier grabs the gun, but she has something in her hands, and she flings it—
The metal arm has been compromised; the little disc the woman had overloading it with electricity. More than it was designed to handle. (You) The Soldier pulls it off, looks up. A fist is formed, the arm rotated roughly. It is functional enough for now. Repairs can happen later. (You) The Soldier moves.
(You) The Soldier manages to shoot the woman as she's running, yelling at the civilians to get out of the way. Right in the shoulder. (You) The Soldier jumps onto another car, leveling the gun to get rid of the threat—
A man is running towards (You) The Soldier, an unusual turn of events. The gun is moved aside, the metal arm preparing to knock the man away. But fist meets shield; a red, white, and blue shield with a star at its center. White, unlike the one on (You) The Soldier's arm. (You) The Soldier kicks the man away, shooting at him and then rolling off the car as the man is distracted. More shots, but somehow the man is avoiding them. He leaps over the car and kicks the gun out of (You) The Soldier's hand.
(You) The Soldier pulls out a pistol, firing a few rounds at the man. Deflected by the shield, but this is not entirely a surprise. The man attacks, the pistol is knocked out of (You) The Soldier's hand. (You) The Soldier exchanges blows with the man, flips him with his own shield. Manages to take the shield and use it against him.
The man charges, and (You) The Soldier launches the shield into a nearby van, barely missing the man. A knife is pulled out, and more blows are exchanged. The man is good at evading the knife. (You) The Soldier is kicked in the gut, knocked into a truck. The knife is dropped in surprise. The man charges again, more blows are exchanged. (You) The Soldier manages to get a brief chokehold on the man, then throws him roughly aside. (You) The Soldier jumps onto a car, then where the man had been tossed, meaning to finish him with the metal arm. But the man moves, leaving behind cracked asphalt.
More blows, another knife comes out. Tries to stab the man, but gets another vehicle instead. It is the van from earlier, and the man flips (You) The Soldier over and goes for his shield. More blows, the man stops one from the metal arm with that shield. He flips over (You) The Soldier, ripping off the face mask in the process.
(You) The Soldier stands up again, looks towards the man. But the man drops his fighting stance, gapes at (You) The Soldier.
"Bucky?" the man asks, his voice filled with some emotion (You) The Soldier couldn't define. Not fear. Unusual.
"Who the hell is Bucky?" (You) The Soldier aims another pistol at the man, but is attacked from behind by a man with metal wings. (You) The Soldier is knocked to the ground. (You) The Soldier stands up, aims the gun at the man again. There is something coming, (You) The Soldier moves—
It's a grenade. The redheaded woman has (You) The Soldier's grenade launcher.
It's time to leave. Regroup. (You) The Soldier runs away.
(You) The Soldier sitting in the bank vault, wires exposed in the metal arm as scientists in white jackets and masks on their faces work to repair the damage that's been done. But it's not the scientists (You) The Soldier focused on. (You) The Soldier staring ahead, eyes on the wall but the mind is a million miles away. There are memories flickering through the mind, half-remembered, jumbled. (You) The Soldier doesn't know what to make of them. You remember— you remember—
(You) The Soldier's face contorts in anger, and the arm lashes out at one of the scientists working on it. The man flies several feet away. Men in black train their guns on the Sodlier, but (You) The Soldier remains seated for now. But (You) The Soldier is angry.
(You) The Soldier is angry.
Dimly, (You) The Soldier aware of voices speaking after a while.
("Sir? He's... he's unstable. Erratic...")
An entourage walks in, an older man leading the way. Blond. Alexander Pierce, the name filters into your awareness. He is the one who is in charge. Hydra's leader.
("Mission report.")
(You) The Soldier doesn't answer. This man is not important right now. (You) The Soldier chasing a thought, chasing it, chasing it...
("Mission report, now.")
There's something that should be remembered. Something—
Alexander Pierce backhands you. It's a heavy-hitting move, though (You) The Soldier has had worse. Just had worse. But it gets your attention. Mission report...?
"That man on the bridge," (You) The Soldier says, your voice hesitant. (He was tall, blond, and (You) The Soldier had been fighting him until he said a name, in that disbelieving voice. Bucky? Who the hell is Bucky?) "Who was he?"
It takes Pierce a moment to respond. "You met him earlier this week on another assignment."
(You) The Soldier takes a moment to process those words, images of the man on the bridge turning in your mind. "I knew him," you say, and it's a truth you can feel in his bones even if you can't say how.
Pierce sits down in front of you. "Your work has been a gift to mankind," he says to (You) The Soldier. "You shaped the century, and I need you to do it one more time. Society is at a tipping point between order and chaos. Tomorrow morning we're going to give it a push. But if you don't do your part, I can't do mine, and Hydra can't give the world the freedom it deserves."
(You) The Soldier's face twists as some foreign feeling slices through your belly. "But I knew him." A plaintive statement. It means nothing to these men.
You knew him. Bucky! And the sensation of falling, falling...
(Pierce stands up, turns away. "Prep him."
A scientist speaks up hesitantly. "He's been out of cryo freeze too long."
"Then wipe him, start over.")
(You) The Soldier is being pushed back into the chair, and you allow yourself to be pushed. A mouth guard is being placed into your mouth. (You) The Soldier obediently bites down on it. Clamps go down on your arms, and some part of you knows what's coming even as the whirring of a device around you sounds. Your breathing is quickening as you try not to panic. (Of course you're panicked.) And you're screaming through the mouth guard, through the pain, through the haze of electricity as it hammers at your brain.
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Mission: Odessa. Target Eliminated.
Date: 2016-07-10 02:45 am (UTC)There.
It only takes one clean shot for the tire to blow out, for the car to go careening over a cliff. Target status: Uncertain. (You) The Soldier gets up and walks to the edge of the cliff. Looks down.
There is a woman, red hair. Pulling the target out of the car, breathing erratically. Caught in the crash, it seems. Likely Identification: Bodyguard.
She is not the target.
(You) The Soldier aims carefully. Patience is key, and (you) The Soldier can make this shot. The woman looks up, her eyes widen.
The shot goes right through her, hits the target.
Target Status: Deceased. Bodyguard Status: Injured, bleeding.
She is not the target. There is no need for further engagement, and she can't get up. (You) The Soldier turns away to report.
Dying to See You
Date: 2016-07-10 03:17 am (UTC)"Bucky!"
Steve was there, and you might have been happier to see him if you weren't so sharply terrified of falling. But Steve was coming towards you, so maybe you stood a chance at not falling and dying a horrible death.
"Hang on!" Steve called out desperately. "Grab my hand!"
But the bar you were holding onto was slipping, and you weren't sure how long it would last. But this was Steve, and you'd gotten out of tough scrapes before since this whole unit had formed. Youreached out for Steve's hand, and he—
The bar you'd been holding onto broke. And you fell. You screamed and screamed as the train grew smaller and the rocks below grew bigger. And then there was pain. And then there was darkness.
You think you woke up at several points, but the pain was bright, and you quickly passed out again. But you couldn't have woken up, could you? This was death. There's no way you could have survived that fall.
Maybe you were in hell.
They're all idiots (cw alcohol)
Date: 2016-07-10 03:19 am (UTC)"How about you?" Steve asked, settling down. "You ready to follow 'Captain America' into the jaws of death?"
"Hell no," you said emphatically. "That little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight..." You looked straight into Steve's eyes. "I'm following him." You looked away after you caught the bemused expression on Steve's face, taking another sip of your drink. Then you leaned in towards Steve. "But you're keeping the outfit, right?"
You kinda hoped he would.
"You know what?" Steve asked as you took a glance towards that ridiculous USO poster that you knew was on the wall. "It's kinda growing on me."
Steve and you both stand up as a drop-dead gorgeous dame in a red dress walks in. "Captain," she said in a smooth English accent.
"Agent Carter," Steve acknowledged. The dame walked over to them, standing in front of Steve.
"Ma'am," you said, also acknowledging her.
"Howard has some equipment for you to try," Carter informed Steve. "Tomorrow morning?"
"Sounds good," Steve replied. Your eyes flicker from the dame to Steve and back. Carter turned to look into the other room. Dugan, Jones, and a couple of the other guys are sitting and enjoying a few rounds.
"I see your top squad is prepping for duty," Carter told Steve primly.
"You don`t like music?" you asked.
"I do, actually," Carter replied, never taking her eyes off of Steve. "I might even, when this is all over, go dancing."
"Then what are we waiting for?" you asked, your mouth briefly slipping into the grin you were certain once came easier than this.
"The right partner," Carter said, still gazing intensely at Steve. "0800, Captain."
"Yes, ma'am. I`ll be there," Steve said as the agent walked away. Your eyes followed her as she walked out.
"I`m invisible," you said as he turned to look at Steve. And then, because you couldn't help but tease— "I'm turning into you. It's like a horrible dream."
"Don't take it so hard," Steve said, patting you on the shoulder. "Maybe she's got a friend."
Smartass.
When did Steve Rogers get hot and buff?
Date: 2016-07-10 03:40 am (UTC)"Bucky? Oh my god," says a voice in the distance. You feel movement, but you keep still, keep staring ahead, keep that thought in your head. 32557038... Rank and serial number. Rank and serial number. Rank and... And the straps were off of you. You look up at your rescuer.
"Is that... is that..." you fumble for the words, letting go of your lifeline in the hopes this wasn't some sort of hallucination.
But why would you hallucinate Steve? Especially this strange, buffer version of him?
"It's me," the maybe-not hallucination said. "It's Steve."
"Steve," you say the name like a prayer, your lips curling into a smile.
"Come on," Steve says urgently.
"It's Steve," you say in wonder as Steve helps you out of the bed. Standing is hard, you realize as you sway.
Steve places his hand briefly on your face. "I thought you were dead," Steve says looking you up and down.
You returns the looks. "I thought you were smaller," you say uncertainly. Still not sure if your mind is playing tricks on you.
There's a sound from outside, and Steve whips his head towards it. He takes one last look, then helps you walk. And it is helping, because you have your arm slinged over Steve's suddenly very broad shoulders.
"What happened to you?" you can't help but ask.
"I joined the Army," Steve said matter-of-factly. Smartass. You disengages from Steve, walking on your own now. Or staggering, really, but it was under your own power.
"Did it hurt?" you asked urgently. This radical change, it can't have been painless.
"A little," Steve confirmed. Probably more than a little, you'd imagine, but that's Steve for you.
"Is it permanent?" you inquired.
"So far," Steve said flippantly. You just hope it stays that way.
"Where are we going?" "The future."
Date: 2016-07-10 03:44 am (UTC)"Hey!" you said sternly, pulling the man away. "Pick on somebody your own size."
The man threw a punch at you, but you managed to dodge it and sock the man in the jaw. The man doubled over, and you gave him a swift kick in the rear for good measure to send him off. The man ran off, and you turned to walk over to the little guy... to Steve... as your childhood friend climbed up from the garbage.
"Sometimes, I think you like getting punched," you told Steve, exasperated.
"I had him on the ropes," Steve muttered, brushing himself off. You leans down to pick up something Steve dropped.
"How many times is this?" you asked as you unfolds the paper. Sure enough, it's another failed attempt by Steve to enlist. 4F, the paper proclaims. Registrant not acceptable for military service. Then you notices something else. "Oh, you're from Paramus now? You know it's illegal to lie on your enlistment form? And seriously, Jersey?"
Steve looks like he's about to respond... then he notices your uniform. "You get your orders?"
You tilted your head. "The 107th. Sergeant James Barnes, shipping out for England first thing tomorrow." You weren't exactly thrilled with it, but you couldn't change it, either.
Steve huffs, looks down. "I should be going."
You looked at Steve, not saying anything for a moment. Then you grinned, putting your arm around Steve. "Come on, man. It's my last night. Better get you cleaned up."
"Why, where are we going?" Steve asked.
You jerks the newspaper you'd been holding towards Steve, handing it to him. "The future."
World Exposition of Tomorrow, 1943.
The perils of war
Date: 2016-07-10 03:49 am (UTC)"There's gotta be at least five mortar companies out there!" Dugan shouted.
"Ring up B company!" you shouted back. "Tell 'em we need cover!"
"That might be tough!" came the rejoinder from Gabe Jones, another man in your company sitting nearby.
"Bucky, behind you!" Dugan called out, and you turned around, shooting at the enemy.
"Here they come!" you cried, repositioning yourself.
From the corner of his eyes, you saw Dugan holding his bowler. It seems like it'd been shot off. "I hate these guys," Dugan mutters as he puts the bowler back on his head.
There's no time for comment. The company continued firing, shooting down oncoming soldiers. You peered through your scope as you aimed for another shot, and— the man disintegrated in a flash of blue. You pause.
Several more blue shots came out of— somewhere, firing on several of the other soldiers. They all disintegrated.
There's a momentary silence in the area your company is at. You heared someone cheer. "What the hell was that?" someone else demanded, more in tune with your thoughts. You, Jones, and Dugan climbed out of the trench, taking several steps forward.
More blue shots fire out, hitting the hills ahead of them. You sees—
"That looks.... new," Dugan said in a bemused tone of voice as the three stared at the overly large tank in front of them. It rolled towards them. The turret pivoted, the barrel of its canon aimed at... us.
"Duck!" you cries out desperately, throwing yourself back towards the trench.
There is a blast, and your world goes bright... and then black.
Who the Hell is Bucky?
Date: 2016-07-10 03:51 am (UTC)The redhead attacks from behind, getting the jump on (You) The Soldier. She kicks the gun away from the hands, twisting in midair onto the shoulders. She has a thin wire— garrote wire— and is trying to choke— (You) The Soldier struggles, backing into a car before managing to get a grip on the woman and fling her off of the shoulders. She launches across the street, landing in another car and sliding down. (You) The Soldier grabs the gun, but she has something in her hands, and she flings it—
The metal arm has been compromised; the little disc the woman had overloading it with electricity. More than it was designed to handle. (You) The Soldier pulls it off, looks up. A fist is formed, the arm rotated roughly. It is functional enough for now. Repairs can happen later. (You) The Soldier moves.
(You) The Soldier manages to shoot the woman as she's running, yelling at the civilians to get out of the way. Right in the shoulder. (You) The Soldier jumps onto another car, leveling the gun to get rid of the threat—
A man is running towards (You) The Soldier, an unusual turn of events. The gun is moved aside, the metal arm preparing to knock the man away. But fist meets shield; a red, white, and blue shield with a star at its center. White, unlike the one on (You) The Soldier's arm. (You) The Soldier kicks the man away, shooting at him and then rolling off the car as the man is distracted. More shots, but somehow the man is avoiding them. He leaps over the car and kicks the gun out of (You) The Soldier's hand.
(You) The Soldier pulls out a pistol, firing a few rounds at the man. Deflected by the shield, but this is not entirely a surprise. The man attacks, the pistol is knocked out of (You) The Soldier's hand. (You) The Soldier exchanges blows with the man, flips him with his own shield. Manages to take the shield and use it against him.
The man charges, and (You) The Soldier launches the shield into a nearby van, barely missing the man. A knife is pulled out, and more blows are exchanged. The man is good at evading the knife. (You) The Soldier is kicked in the gut, knocked into a truck. The knife is dropped in surprise. The man charges again, more blows are exchanged. (You) The Soldier manages to get a brief chokehold on the man, then throws him roughly aside. (You) The Soldier jumps onto a car, then where the man had been tossed, meaning to finish him with the metal arm. But the man moves, leaving behind cracked asphalt.
More blows, another knife comes out. Tries to stab the man, but gets another vehicle instead. It is the van from earlier, and the man flips (You) The Soldier over and goes for his shield. More blows, the man stops one from the metal arm with that shield. He flips over (You) The Soldier, ripping off the face mask in the process.
(You) The Soldier stands up again, looks towards the man. But the man drops his fighting stance, gapes at (You) The Soldier.
"Bucky?" the man asks, his voice filled with some emotion (You) The Soldier couldn't define. Not fear. Unusual.
"Who the hell is Bucky?" (You) The Soldier aims another pistol at the man, but is attacked from behind by a man with metal wings. (You) The Soldier is knocked to the ground. (You) The Soldier stands up, aims the gun at the man again. There is something coming, (You) The Soldier moves—
It's a grenade. The redheaded woman has (You) The Soldier's grenade launcher.
It's time to leave. Regroup. (You) The Soldier runs away.
That Man on the Bridge
Date: 2016-07-10 03:55 am (UTC)(You) The Soldier's face contorts in anger, and the arm lashes out at one of the scientists working on it. The man flies several feet away. Men in black train their guns on the Sodlier, but (You) The Soldier remains seated for now. But (You) The Soldier is angry.
(You) The Soldier is angry.
Dimly, (You) The Soldier aware of voices speaking after a while.
("Sir? He's... he's unstable. Erratic...")
An entourage walks in, an older man leading the way. Blond. Alexander Pierce, the name filters into your awareness. He is the one who is in charge. Hydra's leader.
("Mission report.")
(You) The Soldier doesn't answer. This man is not important right now. (You) The Soldier chasing a thought, chasing it, chasing it...
("Mission report, now.")
There's something that should be remembered. Something—
Alexander Pierce backhands you. It's a heavy-hitting move, though (You) The Soldier has had worse. Just had worse. But it gets your attention. Mission report...?
"That man on the bridge," (You) The Soldier says, your voice hesitant. (He was tall, blond, and (You) The Soldier had been fighting him until he said a name, in that disbelieving voice. Bucky? Who the hell is Bucky?) "Who was he?"
It takes Pierce a moment to respond. "You met him earlier this week on another assignment."
(You) The Soldier takes a moment to process those words, images of the man on the bridge turning in your mind. "I knew him," you say, and it's a truth you can feel in his bones even if you can't say how.
Pierce sits down in front of you. "Your work has been a gift to mankind," he says to (You) The Soldier. "You shaped the century, and I need you to do it one more time. Society is at a tipping point between order and chaos. Tomorrow morning we're going to give it a push. But if you don't do your part, I can't do mine, and Hydra can't give the world the freedom it deserves."
(You) The Soldier's face twists as some foreign feeling slices through your belly. "But I knew him." A plaintive statement. It means nothing to these men.
You knew him. Bucky! And the sensation of falling, falling...
(Pierce stands up, turns away. "Prep him."
A scientist speaks up hesitantly. "He's been out of cryo freeze too long."
"Then wipe him, start over.")
(You) The Soldier is being pushed back into the chair, and you allow yourself to be pushed. A mouth guard is being placed into your mouth. (You) The Soldier obediently bites down on it. Clamps go down on your arms, and some part of you knows what's coming even as the whirring of a device around you sounds. Your breathing is quickening as you try not to panic. (Of course you're panicked.) And you're screaming through the mouth guard, through the pain, through the haze of electricity as it hammers at your brain.
Y̵̦̘̻̰͌̅̈͊̅̋́o̧̟̺̩̟ͣͩ̎̄̄̿u̺͔̽͜ͅ ̈́̐̌̉r͖̠͈̤̣̱ͮͣ̃̃͑e̛̟̭̫͑̄ͅm̪̭ͪ͛ͬ͛ë́͐̔̍m̦͈͚̯͍̲̱̋ḇ̰̝̼ͮ̔͑̍̊͌ͪeͧ̒ͯ͝r̳͎͚͕͗ͬ̈͂̽ͨ—̲͈̞͙̘̝̭ͬ̒ͦ́̉̓ ̗̰̜͎ͥͥT̥̣̰̼͓̺̓͌h͕͇͎͕́ͤͬͫ͐̕a̟̗̜͕̲̞̯̾̊͌͡t̠͑͝ ̱̝̬̭ͭͬ̉ͯ͜ͅm̺͉̹̻̱̊a͇ͤ̃̿ͫn̺̘̣͇ͨ ͔͓͉̘̭̈ͨ̈́ͪͩ͐̿ǫ̳̻ͪ͗́̍ͫͅn̼̍̄̓̒ͪ̊ ͇̖̝̩͕̼̲̃̈̆̊ẗ̷̥̱̪̭̙ͩͨ͐́͒h̠e̻͇̻̫̾ͩ̎̒ͅ ̣ͬ̓̾͡b͍̟̙̱̞͈r̳̟͆̊ī͉̻ͤͩ͜ḋͫ̓ͧͪ̿̈́͜g͙͊͌e̤̝ͣ
̝͇̲͈̭͕
͍̫̯̲̞̬͚Y̰̱̙̹͔̭͌ͥͮ̉ͬͩͥ́ͅo̟̳̩̹͉͊̉͆ͭ̕ų̗̰͉ͪͭ͆ͦ̅̋̓ ̙͎̱͖̱̙͐͝r̤͎͇͎ͮ̅̆̓e̫̥͠ͅm̰ͪ͛̑̂̌
̦̗̲̝͔ͭ̈́ͅë̮́̌ͮm͔̖̄̈́̕
̗̟̝̲͞b̪͇̱͒̇͌̉̒̃e͓̳͙͌͆̂ͧ̒̋
͚̠̟̦̙͖͓͒ͭ̔r͇̞.̨̫̳͆̿̒͊ ͖̺̥̄ͩ͊͊͡
͈̳͈͇̣̲̘̇ͫ͆͗̾̈́̐.̧̠ͦͯ͐̌ͣ
͇̐͊̀.̠͓̽ͬ̔̓̋̈̚ͅ
Nothing.