Iron Man's teammates, Black Widow and presumably 'Wilson' soon land on the banks of the river, their eyes skating over him uneasily before inevitably being drawn to the destruction overhead. The Asset tenses at their arrival, their 'Hostile' status causing alarm bells to ring throughout his programming.
Waiting for my handler, he reminds himself over and over again, trying to settle back into himself. I am waiting for my handler.
Iron Man's companions murmur a few words to each other, and the Asset overhears Iron Man transmitting a location to someone, before he finally finally catches sight of his handler, the familiar white and blues of his uniform easing some of the tension in his chest.
His handler sweeps his eyes over the scene as he approaches and pauses briefly next to Iron Man, leaning his head down to murmur a few words to him. It isn't any of the Asset's business what his handler does, but his ears are sensitive enough to pick up on their conversation anyways.
"Pierce is dead," Handler-Rogers tells Stark quietly, and the Asset fights to keep a rock-solid grip on his expression as the death of Hydra's leader washes over him. His heart twists uncomfortably in his chest and his hands tighten behind his back, his handler's last orders repeating through his mind like a mantra as he tries not to panic.
I followed orders, he reminds himself, trying not to tie Pierce's death back to his own mission failure. I followed orders. I am obedient to my handlers. I followed orders.
Still, he knows that it doesn't really matter if he had been trying to follow orders or not. Hydra or his handler will be completely justified if they want to punish him for his actions during his most recent mission. Pierce is dead and the Helicarriers falling from the sky and—
His handler steps up to him and he focuses on him desperately, his programming churning unhappily in his brain. "Well done Asset," his handler says, and the words wash through his system like a balm. It's only through sheer willpower that he manages to keep from staggering backwards in relief at his handler's praise.
He'd done well. That's good. He'd done good, he'd done good.
Satisfied with his handler's approval, his programming sits back only slightly, hissing anxiously now at the number of Hostiles still at play and his eyes flicker minutely as he scans the area, assessing the threat level. The Hostiles aren't doing anything right now but if they do should he engage them? Normally he would, but his handler had said to go with Iron Man…
His handler glances behind as well and turns back, his face determined. "Threat designation change," he says, and the Asset's programming latches greedily onto the familiar rhetoric. "Avengers, Avenger allies and SHIELD agents, no longer a threat." Handler-Rogers' chin raises and the Asset can feel his programming practically clicking into place at his words. "Effective immediately, all Hydra agents are no longer allies, report sighting to your superior."
"Confirmed," he replies firmly, the pieces of his mental world map finally shifting and fitting into an acceptable picture. He can do this. His handler is priority now, he can follow his orders. Appeased, his programming finally settles down as he mentally starts shuffling his threat priorities, zoning out properly for the first time since completing his mission, barely paying attention as his handler continues to converse with the other Avengers.
It isn't until the sounds of some sort of airplane engine fills the air that he refocuses, his eyes drawn to his handler as they wait for the small ship to land nearby. He scans the craft quietly, noting its quinjet design, consistent with the SHIELD files that he'd read… his brows furl, he's not sure when, actually. At some point, he'd received a debriefing on SHIELD, but the exact date had probably been wiped from his memory long ago, leaving only the relevant information behind.
"Asset, to me," his handler orders as the ramp to the quinjet lowers, and he follows him onboard silently, his movements stiff and by-the-book as he tries to adjust to his new situation. He's never completed a mission quite like this one before and it's hard to know what to expect.
His handler points out a seat for him to use and settles down next to him as the rest of the Avengers climb on board. Handler-Rogers sits back tiredly, his eyes closing as he leans his head back and the ship's engines ignite and vibrate under them. Behind his mask, the Asset swallows nervously and scans the ship in a quick sweep before focusing back on his handler. Anxiety twists in his stomach and he tries to push it down as the other Avengers murmur quietly to themselves and he works on being the Best Asset Possible right now.
He's not exactly sure what is happening or what to expect next, but, he has his handler, and his handler will take care of everything. He just… has to follow orders and everything will be fine.
oOo
He's not exactly sure where they're going, but that's not really a new feeling for him, and it doesn't take long either way. It's less than an hour, by his estimations, before the jet starts losing altitude and lands smoothly on a wide landing pad.
His handler's eyes open as they land and at a gesture, the Asset follows him out of the ship, the rest of the Avengers not far behind as they cross the landing pad and file into what seems to be a large living room and dining area. The Asset has only vague recollections of a kitchen associated with ex-handler Pierce, and all he can say is, this one is definitely bigger.
A man with messy brown hair and glasses approaches them and the Asset tenses briefly before he identifies him as Doctor Bruce Banner, AKA, the Hulk, an Avenger and therefore not a Hostile.
Doctor Banner's eyes flicker over them and he stands with his shoulders slightly hunched, as though trying to make himself look smaller. "I, uh, saw what you guys did, on the news," he says, after a moment.
Coming in behind him, Iron Man's armour disengages and folds away with a hiss revealing Tony Stark as he steps out, his brown eyes and gait again strangely familiar, and the Asset can only wonder if he had received multiple debriefings on this man before for some reason. Stark sweeps past him and heads towards the kitchen's fridge, pulling out several plastic water bottles. The Asset swallows, his throat taking the chance to announce its sudden dryness as Stark and Banner begin passing out the bottles.
He swallows again and watches as his handler receives one, trying to calculate when his next feeding time will be. He'd received his morning one, so he probably won't get anything until evening…
His handler cracks open the water, draining half of it while the Asset tries not to look longingly at the drops of condensation collecting around the outside. He swallows instinctively before his handler turns to him and his chest constricts in a split-second spike of fear, worried that his staring had overstepped some kind of boundary somewhere.
"Drink," is all his handler says, holding out the water, and the Asset is already reaching for it, his hand almost moving by itself, before he remembers that his mask is still on and in the way. He reaches up with one hand to unclasp it and hand it over to his handler, his brain almost completely focused on the water at hand.
His handler says something about heading to med-bay as he swallows down what's left in the bottle, and it isn't until he's finished that he has the presence of mind to worry that he may not have been supposed to finish the whole thing.
His handler doesn't seem to mind though, simply taking the empty bottle from his hand and setting it aside before motioning him towards an elevator, the mask still clasped tightly in his hand. The other Avengers move to follow along, and as they pile into the elevator the Asset finds himself shifting to stand at attention behind his handler's left shoulder.
The world seems to tilts as he moves, refracting so it feels like he's hovering outside himself, watching as he stands on his handler's left side. For one stark moment he's so abruptly sure he's done this before that he almost feels dizzy.
A heartbeat later and the world snaps back into place and the Asset is left blinking, trying not to let on how disorientated he had gotten. Maintenance is required, he thinks tiredly, clenching his hands behind his back. It's been too long since he's last been wiped and he's starting to malfunction.
He suppresses a shiver at the thought and steps out after his handler as they reach their destination. He is not looking forward to maintenance.
Med-bay in the Avengers Tower is strikingly different from the Vault. Instead of washed out, yellowing tile and buzzing fluorescent lights, he is greeted with a rather spacious room. Curtains hang from the ceiling, separating the beds made up with white linen lining the walls and the overall effect leaves the room much brighter and airier than he'd been expecting.
His handler leads him to a bed near the back of the room and the hanging curtain cuts them off partially from the other Avengers as the team settles and allow Doctor Banner to examine them. For his part, Handler-Roger waves him towards the bed and the Asset complies cautiously, the softness of the mattress feeling foreign against his legs.
His handler sets his mask down onto the bedside cabinet before clasping his hands behind his back and standing stiffly in front of him. "Mission Report," he orders, and the Asset relaxes at the familiar post-mission debriefing protocols.
He feels his mind glazing over slightly as he settles into the routine and responds. "Agent Rumlow came to deploy the Asset in defense of the Helicarriers," he reports dutifully. "The Asset waited on the Helicarrier until the arrival of the Avenger designated Iron Man. Contradictory orders to stand down received and followed. Helicarriers destroyed."
The med-bay is silent around him and he tries not to swallow nervously. He had followed orders, but he had also defied orders, and that is generally unacceptable. He risks a glance at his handler and his eyes are closed, the tight expression on his face sending waves of uncertainty through his gut.
Handler-Rogers opens his eyes again, his face almost blank as he continues with the debriefing and the Asset isn't sure if that's a good sign or not. "Damage Report."
"No damage to report," he replies, glad at least, that with this he can report good news. His handler scans him as if assessing him himself before his eyes flicker upwards for a second. The Asset breathes in and tries to settle into himself, wishing that he could zone out a little better right now. It's easier to comply and avoid punishment when he doesn't have to think so much.
His handler looks back down at him and he can't keep himself from meeting his gaze. "Prepare for changes in protocol," Handler-Rogers orders and the Asset nods.
"Confirmed," he replies, his programming shifting and waking up in his brain.
Handler-Rogers nods back, his shoulders straight and stiff as he stands at attention. "Avengers Tower now considered home base of operation," he informs him and the Asset blinks slowly as he mentally replaces the Vault with the Avengers Tower as his primary headquarters. He presses his hand down onto the mattress under him and he doesn't think he will mind switching bases. This one seems to be much more comfortable, even if his cell probably won't be outfitted quite so lavishly as this.
Handler-Rogers raises his chin as he continues with further protocols and the Asset focuses back on him. "Cryofreeze and wiping protocols, suspended indefinitely," he says bluntly, and the Asset just barely manages to keep his surprise from being written all over his face.
Suspended… indefinitely? He doesn't… He doesn't… know… how to deal with that. He needs those protocols, doesn't he? In order to be a good asset, he needs to be wiped or else he malfunctions and fails his missions and if he can't be a good asset for his handler then—
Confusion wells up in his chest and his hand tightens on the mattress as he stares at his handler, trying to understand. Maybe… maybe this is a test, or maybe his next mission needs him not to be wiped, maybe wiping will be dangerous for that mission so that's why—
His handler shifts slightly, and the Asset focuses on him his mind spinning. "Current mission," Handler-Rogers begins and his heart leaps at the words. "Live in Avengers Tower."
His eyebrow twitches down before he can stop it and he pulls back into himself abruptly, desperately trying to sort through what he's just been told. The mission doesn't make any sense, but it isn't up to him to question the missions he receives. His handler knows best, so of course any mission he receives from him is important, he just… doesn't understand this one right now.
I don't know how to complete this mission, he realises slightly panicked as he frantically shuffles through his Hydra training. He's never had to complete a mission like this before, he doesn't know how to succeed. He doesn't know what succeeding even looks like. And he wants to succeed. His handler has given him this mission and he's the best handler he's ever had. It isn't fair to him to fail all the time, and the Asset doesn't want to fail. He doesn't, he just… doesn't know what to do with this mission.
I can still try, he thinks determinedly, his eyes hardening as he resolves to do his utmost to follow ever direction his handler gives him, regardless of what malfunctions might crop up now that his wiping protocols have been suspended. His handler is good, and the Asset can be good too.
His handler is speaking again, and he latches on, filing away his words with as much concentration as he would for any other missions. He will not fail this.
"Several people currently live in Avengers Tower," Handler-Rogers informs him before giving him a quick run-down of each of the Avengers. "Civilians and SHIELD agents also sometimes enter the tower," he warns. "Security protocols should prevent any intruders from entering, so unknown occupants should not be attacked unless they are known intruders."
"Confirmed," the Asset replies, feeling a little relieved at the knowledge that his handler is willing to give him further instruction for this new mission. In all honesty, he probably shouldn't have worried, his handler has already proved that he is far more attentive and considerate than most of his other handlers.
"This tower is equipped with an advanced computer assistant named JARVIS," his handler continues, glancing briefly at the ceiling. "JARIVS, can you introduce yourself?"
The Asset feels his heart practically stop and his eyes dart up to the ceiling as a disembodied voice speaks up. "Hello Sergeant Barnes," it says as the Asset works on calming his pulse and a small part of his brain sputters in confusion at the term 'Sergeant Barnes'. "As Captain Rogers explained, I monitor this tower and its occupants," 'JARVIS' continues. "And assist and protect them when needed."
The Asset keeps his face pointed towards the ceiling as he turns over the computer's words. He's glad at least that he has some warning that he will be monitored. He will have to be careful to follow all his protocols while in the tower.
(Sergeant Barnes?)
His handler shifts and the Asset drops his attention back down onto him. "If you require assistance with something," he begins. "Ask JARIVS and he will help you." The Asset nods at the order, wondering briefly if JARVIS is intended to help him with his new mission.
His handler scans him for a second, the look in his eyes tugging at something in the Asset's brain. Before he can figure out what it is, his handler begins talking again. "JARVIS is designed to monitor the occupants of the tower," he says, and the Asset tenses internally. "However, he cannot reveal anything personal about anyone unless given explicit permission or if someone is considered to be in danger."
Confusion swirls around in the Asset's chest because he's not quite sure why his handler feels the need to mention that, but, it's probably important for his mission somehow, so he makes an effort to remember it. His attention is quickly stolen though, by a sound at the foot of the bed. He flicks his eyes subtly to the left and finds Stark standing there with something he eventually recognises to be ration bars of some kind clutched in his hand.
"You want one?" He asks, offering them up to his handler. Handler-Rogers blinks slowly at him before turning and taking one. (The Asset is beginning to wonder if he has some sort of protective programming that he isn't aware of because the sight of his handler accepting food triggers… something in him that he can't quite identify but he thinks it's good.)
"Bucky can't eat solid food right now," his handler tells Stark lowly, and something hard flickers briefly over the engineer's face, but the Asset is too busy mulling over the word 'Bucky' to really pay attention. In the background, his handler sets out his dietary needs (and the Asset wonders if the Avengers will have some part to play later in his maintenance… but mostly he focuses on the word Bucky— it feels… something about it feels…)
"When did you last eat?" His handler's voice cuts into his thoughts and the Asset scrambles to reply.
"The Asset received his morning ration," he says, mentally scolding himself for getting distracted. If he doesn't have any wiping protocols left to keep him in working order, he's going to have to be extra vigilant if he wants to be a good asset.
His handler asks for the JARVIS computer to scan him and the Asset freezes deathly still as it does so, intent on complying perfectly. If he does everything he's asked by his handler, as carefully as he can, then maybe he will be able to succeed at his mission, even without his regular maintenance.
"The Sergeant has no immediate medical needs," JARVIS reports after the scan, and the Asset allows himself to start breathing a little deeper again. "However, I believe his prosthetic arm could stand for a few adjustments."
Something sour settles in the pit of his stomach and he fights to keep from tensing. He hates when his arm needs to be maintained. Phantom pain sparks through his shoulder as a reminder and he breathes in carefully. He is fine, maintenance is unavoidable, he will just have to comply and bear it as usual.
"Thank you, JARVIS," his handler says, before turning back towards Stark. He sways suddenly as he moves and the Asset's heart leaps into his throat as his handler seems to pitch forward. Before he can do anything (get up? Should he get up? Catch his handler? He shouldn't let him fall—), Stark darts forward, bracing his hand against Handler-Rogers shoulder.
"Woah, Cap," his says, the concern in his eyes mirroring the Asset's own emotional state. "When's the last time you slept?"
His handler blinks heavily a few times as the Asset stares tensely at him (he should—what should he do? There's something—). "Slept this morning," he protests weakly, the look of exhaustion on his face not doing much for his argument.
"Only for like, half an hour." The Asset jerks his eyes over as the other flyer, Wilson, appears at Stark's shoulder and gives his handler an assessing look. "You need to cash-in man," he says firmly as Handler-Rogers stands up fully. "You've even still got your earpieces in." His handler seems to blink in surprise at that before he brings his hand up to his ears and pulls a comm unit out of each.
"Go get changed," Wilson says gently, stepping to the side. "Take a nap. You'll feel better afterwards." His handler nods numbly, almost automatically, his eyes hooded as he moves to step past him.
All at once, the Asset panics, his heartbeat skyrocketing as he realises that he's going to be left alone in this place, with these people, without his handler, while he doesn't even know where his cell is— and he doesn't know what he's supposed to do— he doesn't understand the mission yet—
His handler stops abruptly, his eyes a little clearer as he turns back towards him, and the Asset can't keep himself from meeting his eyes for a brief moment. He doesn't want to be left here— he doesn't want— but he needs to be a good asset— he needs—
His handler steps back and the Asset can feel his pulse start to slow in response. He can only hope as he relaxes that he hasn't failed any portion of his mission yet and/or that his handler hasn't noticed his moment of weakness.
His handler runs a hand through his hair and stares in front of himself for a moment, seemingly following some sort of internal debate, before his raises his head and looks back towards him. "Asset, to me," he orders quietly, and the Asset gets up immediately, relief flooding through him at the order.
He can do this, he can handle the protocol changes and the new mission and the new allies, and he can be a good asset, he can do well because he has his handler and as long as he follows his handler, then everything will be fine, and he will follow his handler anywhere.
(To the end of— To the end of the—)
oOo
His handler leads him down the hall towards the elevator and he can't help but marvel at this new base of operations. It hardly seems like a base at all—at least, not one like the Vault.
Even the floors are different, he thinks, brushing his feet against the fabric lining the floor. Carpet, a small part of his brain whispers and he can't remember where he learned that word.
As he enters the elevator behind his handler (he stands on his left again because it seems right), he also notes the lack of agents around. Back at the Vault, the place had been constantly swimming with agents training or going about their business, but here, there is almost nobody else but the other Avengers. Of course, it could simply be that the Tower is just bigger than the Vault, but it feels… sort of nice… not to be constantly surrounded by faceless agents all the time.
The elevator dings open and his handler leads him down a short hallway to a closed door. "This is my room," he says, with a gesture. "You can stay here for now."
He… the Asset tries not to tense in surprise. He… he will be staying… with his handler? He fights to keep a straight face as confusion swirls around inside him, part of him wishing that he'd been given back his mask to help hide his face. That had been left back in the med-bay though and he can't ask for it now.
He stares at his handler's door. He'd been expecting to be brought to a cell, like usual, he isn't supposed to— his handlers are separate from him, (better, his mind reminds him) and he doesn't deserve— he isn't supposed to—
He follows his handler inside anyways, because he thinks that refusing would be worse. So far, his handler has yet to punish him and he doesn't want to give him any reason to change that.
He sweeps the area with his eyes as they head down a small hallway that splits off into what looks to be a kitchen and continues on towards a living room. In the living room a couch sits facing a TV and a bank of windows, and there are two doors leading out of the room, one on the left and one on the right.
"You can go anywhere in these rooms freely," his handler tells him as they enter, leading him past the couch towards the door on the right. "And you can use anything in them without permission." He opens the door to reveal a white tiled bathroom and the Asset blinks in surprise at the liberal orders, he isn't often afforded this much freedom. "If you don't know how to use something, ask me or JARVIS," his handler continues.
"Confirmed," he replies, filing away the information to examine later. There's got to be something about these orders that he isn't comprehending, they're not like standard instructions at all.
Maybe they're a test, he wonders nervously. Something to assess whether or not I will step out of bounds. He scans his handler uneasily as they head back towards the middle of the living room. His handler has never given him reason to believe that he would do such a thing, but still… it's probably better to be safe rather than sorry right now.
"I'll give you a tour of the rest of the tower later," his handler is saying. "For now, you can…" His eyes dart up to sweep over him and he trails off for a second. "Wait here," he says finally, and the Asset falls obediently into parade-rest as Handler-Rogers heads over to the door on the left.
It's a bedroom, the Asset realises as he waits for his handler's return. Anxiety swims in his stomach at the sight of the open door as he's reminded once again that these are his handler's quarters. He really shouldn't be here.
His handler returns with a bundle of clothes and sets them on the couch beside him. "I'm going to take a nap," he says decisively. "You…" His eyes flicker over him again and he presses his lips together in a way that sends tendrils of worry squirming through the Asset's gut. Has he done something wrong? He thought that he had complied—
"Sleep here if you need to," his handler continues undeterred, motioning to the couch. "If you require a shower, JARVIS can show you how to operate the one in the bathroom." He pats the pile of clothes. "Change into these clothes and leave your uniform and weapons in a pile over there." He points towards a corner between the TV and the wall.
Surprise and relief at the simple orders sweeps through him and he scans the room once with his eyes before nodding at his handler. "Confirmed," he says firmly, despite the strangeness of his orders.
His handler's face tightens inexplicably at his response and he turns away, heading back towards his room before the Asset can try to figure out what he'd done wrong. He waits tensely for a moment and he can hear his handler standing still for quite a while before finally moving to close the door (only half-way for some reason, is he intending to monitor him?) and eventually settling into bed.
The Asset relaxes slightly at the sound of rustling sheets and he looks around himself, his eyes scanning the pile of clothes that he'd been provided. These are my handler's clothes, an uneasy part of his mind supplies. He's… probably not supposed to… But, his handler had given him these clothes. He had ordered him to wear them.
The Asset's steps are almost jerky as he moves stiffly towards the pile, his movements robotic as he bends down to separate the clothes into their various functions for proper assessment. The clothes are far too light and soft to be effective on any sort of mission, and he rubs the smooth fabric of the pants slowly between his fingers as he examines them. Besides colour (black and grey), the clothes could not be any further from what he would normally be given for a mission.
Of course, this isn't a normal mission, he thinks quietly as he starts unstrapping the various holsters on his uniform for his guns and knives. He's forced to pause after a second though, indecision muddling his brain as he goes to set his multitude of weapons on the floor by the TV.
Normally, in such a foreign situation, he would prefer to keep at least one or two knives, or maybe a gun, on his person, as a safety precaution. But his handler had said that JARVIS is tasked with securing the tower… and he'd been ordered to set his weapons aside.
He stills, half crouched as he stares down at his weapons. He wants to keep one, just in case, especially since his handler is right next door, and he can still feel the strange incessant need to protect bubbling up underneath his programming. But… he'd been ordered to put down his weapons. He's not… he can't disobey orders.
(He'd been following orders in the Hellicarrier, he had.)
He stands up abruptly, his mouth set in a grim line as he leaves his weapons behind and jerkily starts undoing the straps of his shirt. He will leave his arsenal for now, he will most likely be able to reach them quickly enough anyways, should a threat appear.
His shirt and pants get set aside by the TV as well as he dons his new clothes (he switches out his socks but keeps his boots on, since his handler hadn't given him any and he isn't prepared to go barefoot.) That done, he's left with the dilemma of what to do while he waits. Normally, in his cell, there isn't much else to do besides wait… but here… His eyes flicker around the room and he resists the urge to perform a perimeter check. These are his handler's rooms, it would be inappropriate to search them.
Not to mention that JARVIS will be able to report him to his handler should he deviate from his directive. So, that leaves him with two options, although he's still unsure what to do with those ones.
Sleep here if you need to, his handler had said, and the Asset eyes the couch in front of him. It's padded like the bed in med-bay and he imagines that it will probably be more… comfortable than the cot he's used to… But he isn't sure what to do with the order. He doesn't exactly need to sleep right now, he'd slept fairly recently, and he doesn't want to risk sleeping now and cancelling out his three hours for the rest of the day.
That leaves showering, but his handler had been ambiguous about that as well. If you require a shower, he'd said, and the Asset isn't exactly sure what counts as required here. He still has time left between his Hydra mandated showers, so technically he doesn't need a shower until then.
He swallows uneasily and flicks his eyes over to the bathroom door as he thinks. This…this is probably a test, he realises suddenly, his shoulders stiffening. Something to see whether I will overindulge if given the chance.
He is letting me stay in his quarters, he reminds himself sternly. He probably wants to make sure I will behave. In that case… He draws himself and stands at attention beside the couch. He will prove to his handler that he can be trusted. His eyes flicker to the half-open door and he relaxes as he settles in to wait.
He is good at waiting.
AN: In the previous story, Steve had been trying his best to give Bucky orders that he could understand, but now we can see that even those were confusing.
By the way, if you haven't read the other story, feel free to ask me which chapters of this story correspond to the other one if you feel like you're missing something.
