(Beta'd by the wonderful Tumblr user superwholockian-since-1832)

He doesn't have a name, doesn't need one. The HYDRA agents call him "the asset" behind his back, and they don't call him anything to his face. The intelligence community has a code name for him; they call him "R", after the red letter that is etched into his metal shoulder. That's the closest thing he has to a name; the name that's never spoken aloud, only whispered in tones of fear and awe. When the Mission requires an alias, he goes by "Jean", which almost amuses him for some unrecallable reason.

There's a lot that he can't recall - a lot of memories of past Missions that have been scrambled and scratched by cryofreeze and electric shocks. Sometimes he even thinks he might have memories from before the Missions, before HYDRA, but thinking about that brings strange emotions to the surface that he can't name, so he doesn't. He prefers to let them remain under layers and layers of ice.

R doesn't mind the cryofreeze, though. When they put him on ice, it's the only way he can escape the jangling discord inside his head between Missions. Sometimes, when they still need him, they put him in a cell and let him sleep instead of freezing him.

He hates that, hates how the jagged shards of memory inside his head grow stronger in sleep, the flashes of blonde hair and red fabric, and falling, always falling. They melt away the instant he wakes up, but the feeling of familiarity and loss doesn't. He hates that, too. R doesn't feel; the only emotion he needs is the driving force that keeps him on a Mission, and the brief rush of satisfaction when it's successfully completed. There is no room for feelings inside him, only for cold, so he shoves them down and tries not to sleep, wary of his own subconscious, wary of his dreams.

That's the nice thing about being frozen. You don't dream in cryofreeze.

It never lasts though. This time, when they thaw him out, they find that the motor in his bionic arm has stopped running, a result of sloppy maintenance. The first thing R is aware of is the burning, icy pain where the cold metal bites into his flesh. He screams like he's being tortured (and certainly HYDRA knows what that sounds like) and almost strangles an orderly with his good arm before they sedate him.

After that, as he sits in the chair, restraints around his human arm and a group of mechanics around the other one, they give him a Mission and a Target, and that's enough to finally wrench his mind out of the blurry cold of cryofreeze. The man talks on and on about the Target, who is apparently the leader of a prominent revolutionary group, but R doesn't listen. Instead, he focuses on the photograph he's been given, etching the blonde curls and marble skin into his mind. He is given a name as well, something that begins with an "E", a name that tugs at the very edges of his consciousness, but he quickly forgets it. The Target is not a person, only a living-breathing-melting destination for a bullet. In this way, they are alike. R is not a person either, only a living-breathing-freezing asset, only a weapon.

With this in mind, he rises. Soon the Target will be dead, and soon the only thing he can feel will be the icy silence of cryofreeze.