sacrificeyourfreedom: (Default)
Chris Evans crying, from "Snowpiercer"

                                        "Do you know who you are?"
                                                                                 "I- I- I'm Steve Rogers."

                                                                                                                         "Wipe him."





                     He was a godson. The Captain, their greatest enemy, found frozen in the ice. As Peggy Carter struggled to build her SHIELD, as Howard Stark left his son behind to search for a friend, Hydra took the body of Steve Rogers and grew the Captain in his place. He is their greatest asset, their finest work. No memory of who he was, no knowledge of the peace he had strived for.
                                         "I am a soldier."
                    A half century of violence. Fifty years of killing. The world must fall before the new order and peace can be forged from the ashes. He has killed soldiers, politicians, watched cities burn. The shadowed fist, the quick knife, the spark that seizes the country and burns it down.
                                        "I am Hydra's soldier."
                     SHIELD has grown strong, and inside them, Hydra. Hidden in cryo-storage, their soldier sleeps, waiting for the right moment. They have waited this long. They will wait. Their soldier will wait. And Fury, Hill, the Avengers - they won't see it coming.
                                        "I am Hydra's."
sacrificeyourfreedom: (Default)
The mission had gone balls to the walls wrong ( and he wasn't sure where he'd heard that sentence, it made no sense, but someone had said it to the Asset at some point, and now he was using it ). They'd been sent deep in the Afghan mountains to route out some of the hostiles, and instead, the convoy had been blown out from under them, and the Asset was the only one to walk away with his lungs still work.

The black smoke is still billowing from the wrecks of the convey when he hears another gun go off, and there's a falling black object in the sky above him, smoke coming from- wings?

He grabs two more guns from the bloody body of one of his handlers, and starts climbing hill, watching the spot where the wings hit the ground.
sacrificeyourfreedom: (mask and goggles)
For quadblaster

"Asset."

Guns are spread before him, and knives, all sorts of death dealers and painful instruments. He's got a large knife in his hand, meant for carving up bodies until the features are unrecognisable. There's blood on the handle, but he stills his hands from cleaning as the Director comes into the room and says his name. He leans back, moving from his knees to his heals and then straightening up, until he's standing taller than the Director but still with the body language of being totally beneath.

As a weapon should be.

"Your work is needed. Bring your tools."

"Yes sir."

And he follows, carrying knives in his hands and his waist, guns strapped to his legs and across his back. He walks with a steady gate behind the Director, and the scientists and agents in the hallway ahead of them part like ants squirming as the fire burns. Fearful of the weapon in black, of the death he carries in his fists and the silent unnaturalness of his face. The mask makes him nothing, and the nothingness gives them fear. He would enjoy it, but he is still nothing now. The Asset is nothing. The missions give him everything.

They come to a stop in front of a heavy metal door, and through the glass window the Asset can see chains hanging down from the ceiling, and a man trapped in them, held back in the cold of the room. He looks to the Director, and the Director smiles. "Our latest intake. We were hoping to make him an Asset, like yourself."

"We need you to break him."

"How?"

His voice is hoarse from disuse, and the words come out strange from under the mask, garbled by the metal and plastic. There's no need to send more looks through the dirty glass at the man, no wait to see and judge how best to break the man. It's in the orders, in the role the Director tells him to pick up. This is how he becomes something more than nothing. The Asset ordered into the role of tormentor or relief or confessional or friend. He's played the roles all before. Been the one they use to twist and turn others who will serve Hydra.

The Director's smile is wide like a shark's.

"Teach him lessons. Try not to kill him."

The Asset steps through the door into the cell, and his footsteps ring heavily on the concrete floor.
sacrificeyourfreedom: (pucker up)
[for punnybanner]

[For punnybanner]

He wakes up in the chair, and the smell is.... A hint. There are alpha and beta scents all around him, the smell of his handlers settling in his brain, as the technicians pull the gag from his mouth and lossen the straps from his limbs. The leather is cold, and smells a little like blood. The door swings open, and the smell is beautiful and bright and sweet and he leans forward, seeking it, wanting more of it, wanting the source.

The door closes with a heavy thud, and the smell is nothing more than a sweet, sweet whisper.

"Asset."

He pulls his eyes to the head handler, the leader, master of Hydra. Pierce. Dressed in a suit when all the rest are in the body armour of soldiers or the white coats of lab technicians, and the Asset notices for the first time he has been stripped down to only track pants. He eyes Pierce, while his body leans forward, still chasing the scent.

"Easy there, Captain. You'll get him, don't worry. Just need to brief you on the mission first."

And Pierce's words are soothing and soft and he smiles at the Asset, like there isn't anything wrong with his want at all. He goes still in the chair, slowly relaxing his grip on the sides of the chair. Breath in, breath out. Thoughts turn to the mission, but find nothing. No programmed target. No knowledge of what war needs stopping now. What work there is to do.

Instead, he finds..... Mate?

"Your mission, Captain, is to breed him. We're fighting for the future, but what is a perfect world without a new generation to inherit it? Do you understand, Captain?"

"Yes sir."

"Good man. This way."

The hallway smells of sweet, beautiful omega, and he walks in bare feet behind Pierce, until the scent has grown close and tight on the Asset's skin. Pierce stops them in front of a door locked with three separate key pads. He can't see the numbers that Pierce pushes in, but he doesn't need to. He knows what waits behind the door. He knows what his mission is.

"Here you go, Captain. Your omega."

The room is small and smells of sweet omega in heal, and the door locks behind him but he doesn't hear it for the scent all around him. Omega. Heat. His.
sacrificeyourfreedom: (Default)
for infligere

It had burned. He doesn't remember why, but he remembers the metal crashing and building, the glass falling from the sky, the way the flames had spun in the air. Twisting and falling as the explosions overtook it all. The building next, the fuel on the water dancing in harsh colours as it came down in crashing flames.

He pulled the man from the flames. Dove into the water and fire and pulled him out, left him on the river back with his shield in his arms and the feeling like it was his skull burning now. When he thought of the man's face, barely moving, looking dead if his hair wasn't blowing in the exhale of his lips, his thoughts burned and twisted. He knew the face. He didn't know the face. He hated the face. He loved the man.

He lets the fire burn away as he slips back into the city, hiding in alleys and stealing clothes to pull over his body armour, ducks his head and keeps quiet.

The ashes fall.

He sees his face on televisions and the man's face as well, and other faces. Faces he knows and faces that only make his thoughts turn to the burning feeling again. So he hides from the televisions as well. Ducks his head and keeps it down. Carries three guns in his belt, two more in the pockets of his oversized jacket, and looks away from cops carefully. The shadows grow smaller, the rings around the city tighten until he can feel the fire licking at his skin again.

They're getting closer, searching the city, and maybe it's not for him, maybe it just for all those others who escaped the burning fall of SHIELD and Hydra, but the searches are coming too close to him to be tolerated.

A cop finds him in the alley cleaning his guns.

Another body to the Winter Captain's list.

It's been three weeks since he pulled the man from the river, and while the city scrambles under the ashes, he picks the lock of a car and drives south. Memories of a safe house tickle at his mind, someplace new to lie low, another place to hide from the fires in the ruins of Hydra.

He has a gun in his hand as he picks the lock on the door.
sacrificeyourfreedom: (Default)
Continuation from here

He's been on the farm with Clint for 103 days. He knows because there's a calender on the kitchen wall and he can tick off each day when it passes and Clint doesn't try and copy the switching codes he uses to ensure that each mark is his. The total is right. Three months, twelve days. He answers to "Steve", and he fixes the rotten part of the barn wall, and Clint smiles at him over meals in their little kitchen. Clint never tells him that he ate too much food, or get mad when he comes in to sleep in a ball on the edge of Clint's bed, or order him to do anything. It's options. Always options.

He doesn't know the day that being "Steve" stopped being a mission and just..... Became.

It's 103 days since Clint brought him to the farm, and Steve's sitting on the porch, fitting the last pieces of wood together, making a new target for shooting - the one Clint has for his archery is inappropriate for Steve's guns. There's a soft rumble of an engine, too close and quiet to be a plane, and he looks up over the trees to see the metal shape setting just on the edge of the farmland.

He downs tools, and picks up his gun.

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Winter Captain

May 2016

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