We were made to be courageous
He didn't know where he was, wasn't entirely sure he was alive even, so he didn't think his location was too concerning. He couldn't bring himself to care about his lack of knowledge; it was hard enough trying to string two thoughts together as it was, without worrying about where he was. He was in- what was that place called? - Limbo.
What is your name, son?
That was it, he was in limbo. Neither awake nor asleep, not entirely conscious but just enough to be aware as the scientists cut up his body, and replaced things they didn't like.
Do you know what you are doing here?
No…
He lost the fight with his mind, and drifted away for an interminable length of time, drifting back into consciousness just in time to feel rough fingers pry open his eyelid, and stab something cold and relentless into what lay uncovered.
You're going to help a lot of people, son, didn't you know that?
Let me go!
Don't you want to help people, son?
He screamed and screamed and screamed until his throat was raw and his muscles ached from the thrashing. NO, not his eyes not his-
He drifted away.
'Subject six is responding well to the treatment, sir'.
Flashing lights and bright, loud colours painted on a large floating tent. A boy's face- brother, he's not brother any longer- laughing. The same face, sneering. A memory, something important, something he must know, and something he is. A word, a whisper of a mother's love…
Cl-
'There are no side affects?'
He drifts away.
'None but the usual, sir, and the doctors are well versed in how to handle them now. They learned their lesson the first time and now, now there are no more casualties'.
Blossoming bruises, drunken rages, hiding under the table. Shh brother, be quiet, he cant find us, be quiet be quiet be. Pain, broken bones, death though not his. A car, speeding away. A beautiful woman's face- mother- turned away and cast into shadow. The memory, something important- fight, brother, fight, remember, remember, remember- gone.
'Excellent, progress is being made'.
He drifts away.
'What is your name, son?'
Remember, remember, remember yourself.
'You have no name, son, remember that'.
Remember, remember oh-god-don't-let-them-break-me remember.
'Remember, you belong to us now'.
Please god save me.
A tiny moment of peace, hiding in the rafters. The one called brother is there, the only thing that keeps him sane. The one called brother is holding chocolate. He thinks he likes chocolate. Focus, he is saying, focus brother. Im not there to save you, so you have to remember.
'Subject six is in acute distress! Code red, code red!'
Focus! Fight it! T.H.I.S I.S N.O.T Y.O.U
'Inject the sedative now!'
The memory, piecing itself together. Oh-god-he-remembers, he remembers that word now he has to hold onto it. Its, its-
'Hold him down! HOLD HIM DOWN'.
He drifts away.
Clint Barton.
