NOTE: MAJOR SPOILERS FOR Captain America: Winter Soldier -particularly the cutscene-, Thor 2, Iron Man 3, and Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. insofar as that connects to the Winter Soldier film.
Do not read on if you are not aware of the outcome of those and don't want to become aware.
Obviously, I own none of those. This is a drabble only, continuation is unlikely.
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"I'll be taking that back now."
The Hydra technician looked up and across the table where the scepter was braced, its glowing end still lighting up one half of the lab partition with blue magic. After running through his options, he made the unfortunate choice of siding with logic.
"You can't be-!"
"But I am. Teleportation is only one of my thousands of talents." The man in green began detaching the scepter. It took him very little time, but the technician had time for at least one more stuttered question.
"But you were—after New York!"
"You know, I thought Earth had a saying. 'Don't believe everything you read in the papers.' Or internet. Maybe you should stop believing in things altogether." The man in green lifted the specter free of its now-clattering-apart metal construct and flashed a smile. "You could start believing in gods."
"Technician, what is the—" His immediate supervisor came around the partition, spotted the man holding the scepter, and scoffed.
"Loki. If you wish to contract with Hydra, you will have to fill out an application," the supervisor said. The technician nodded in agreement.
"A god. Conscripting with a tool." Loki smiled and leveled the scepter at them. "Never mind if that's what I plan to do, but a question, for this tool. What makes you think Hydra is the only one with sleeper agents?"
"Hydra is impenetrable." The supervisor carried a weapon, as most inside the compound did, but the scepter - and more importantly what it did when certain men in green were holding it - was wavering between them. At the slightest movement of either of their hands towards a weapon, the man in green could lean forward and… well, it wouldn't much matter where they wanted to go for lunch, it would be where Loki wanted to go. If they were still alive at lunch. Loki tsked.
"There are far too many holes in Greek mythology. And, incidentally, in Hydra itself. How old do you think I am?"
"Uh—"
"And you feel proud to have brought down S.H.I.E.L.D. in -seventy- years. The estimated lifetime of my brother's paramour, if she doesn't go poking into ether pockets again. It is not hard to rise above a snake on the ground. One day, and one day soon, you will kneel."
"Hail Hydra," the technician said, as a matter of course. The man in green blinked at him, as if waiting for more.
"Is that it? That's what you do?" he asked.
"It—" The technician stammered and his supervisor barked a rebuke. To his surprise, Loki swung the scepter to point at his supervisor's chest, never taking his eyes off the technician. He was considering something.
"Jomungandur's birthday is coming up. I never know what to get him. The Winter Soldier is for me, but. Hm. We'll see. Perhaps you can be of use."
That said, he shimmered and vanished with a trembling of gold, leaving the cage of disconnected metal that used to house his scepter and an invitation to a birthday party with a giant snake on the front.
"At least he left the twins."
Yeah, the technician thought. Because those seem safer.
"Bucky!"
The former Winter Soldier/James Buchanan/who-knows-what-or-who-the-hell-I-am-now lifted the flap of the lean-to tent he had liberated from a Big 5 store several days before. Liberated, because while his outfit was good for many, many things, Hydra didn't trust him with currency. Or inflation. Or bus passes. If he got separated, there would be a pick up or he would die.
So, stealing tents.
The reaction [looking outside the tent] wasn't because the name rang familiar, it was more the context in which it was said. He was the only person around in the below-overpass, riverbank area. He had manually made sure of that when he moved in.
The person approaching looked – well, looked a lot like the Soldier guessed he would look if he had a shower and several nights' actual sleep and raided an Armani store. Or, wait, was Armani the car? Was there a car brand that sounded like that? Which one was suits? It got unclear at times which things he didn't remember, which things he never knew, and what was important right now, in the moment. Before, that had ususally translated to 'is everything working?' [y/n]; 'is the target dead?' [y/n]; 'if n to prior, make target dead' [y].
Point was, the man in Armani looked way too professional to be down here yelling for a dog. It came only as a moderate surprise when he stopped at the side of the tent and looked down at the Soldier evenly. He was holding a long cane - longer, it seemed, than a cane really should be - and leaning on it. He looked excited, like a strong opponent stepping into an arena with a five foot four inch new recruit.
"The great Winter Soldier," the man in Armani said.
"Thought you were looking for Bucky," the Soldier said. He could have said nothing. Silence was a valid option.
But he was getting tired of names being thrown around and then people vanishing without a trace before they explained what they meant by that. Not that he had expected the captain to stay on the riverbed forever, but he could at least have hung out for an hour or so until the Soldier came back with an emergency team to actually rescue him. Which he had. It had been very awkward. It had taken all his self-control not to kill them and hide them in the bushes to avoid the embarrassment. Not killing random people had moved high on the things he Shouldn't Do Anymore list.
"Thor called me 'Filly' whenever he remembered for two years. I called you Bucky just to get the right one." The man in Armani said. That look of excited anticipation hadn't faded.
"I'm not Buck… " The Soldier wasn't sure if he could finish that sentence or how. It would be very comforting to go back into the tent's cavernous interior and zip the man outside (which would probably lead to a fight which would probably end in death, which would at least be familiar.
He settled for telling the man the other major point of progress he'd made: "I think my name starts with J."
"It doesn't matter, mortal, I've worked with blank slates before." The man in Armani stopped putting all of his weight on the cane and smiled. "You see, I've acquired quite a few not-so-blown-up suits of armor over the past year, thanks to a house party, and I am in need of some soldiers."
It wasn't the kind of thing you could say no to.
Or remember why you would.
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Continuation is HIGHLY unlikely. Just wanted to write something in response to Winter Soldier and, well, its cutscene. Sorry, or you're welcome, depending on how/if you enjoyed it. :)