The first mission goes poorly.
The Asset was ordered to hunt down and kill three deserters from the cause.
What cause?
The Asset waits for the answer from the Vagues.
What is his cause?
They don't like him asking questions. Back to the cold.
—-
The Asset searches for the voice. A vast empty space that he doesn't remember being there. A space in his head and his heart.
Something's usually there.
Something that guides him.
Something he trusts.
The back of his neck throbs, and he shudders to a halt.
"Asset, Mission Briefing at 0600."
"Confirmed."
—-
Time is no longer relative. Or important. Or kept.
There is the mission. And there is the cold.
—-
He comes back from a mission. A doctor waits to examine him. A doctor with small round glasses and a grin that makes his stomach churn.
He glares at the doctor. The doctor doesn't like that. They butterfly the skin on his back and mess with his spine.
—
"It's too bad, you know." The doctor says smugly as they stitch the Asset back up.
The Asset blinks, looking down into the mirror that reflects the face looming above him.
"You know it was one of us who set the fire?"
The Asset blinks. Fire? What fire.
"The fire that destroyed all your records. All significant knowledge of your heroic exploits. No one knows what you did for your country. Not that you did much. You'll do much more for us."
The Asset blinks.
—-
He's kept on a strict schedule.
Food. Sleep. Physical Training. Cryo. Mission. Erase. Repeat.
—
The Asset is tired from a mission. He wasn't allowed to sleep and it's been 83 hours.
His brain is sluggish and he feels his hand move of its own accord. It reaches to brush hair off of his forehead. A motion the Asset can tell he's done a million times.
But the Asset has forgotten that he doesn't have hair. It has been removed. Buzzed the Vagues called it.
The motion catches the eyes of one of his handlers. The handler narrows his eyes.
The Asset drops his hand and goes blank, hoping it will be forgotten. A minor mistake. A minor muscle spasm.
No such luck.
They break each of his fingers. Leaving the Asset to stand out in the snow storm in only a pair of underwear.
He's instructed that he is not allowed to move an inch. Doing so would result in a punishment more severe.
The Asset complies.
His skin is hard and cracked and blackening when they drag him inside.
They don't warm the Asset up. Directly to cryo.
—
A handler that is not like the others appears.
The Asset is shy of that one. Never looking it in the eyes and ducking his head when it appears.
His handlers laugh at him. They ask if he would like to crush her.
He doesn't understand.
How does one have a crush on something? He will not harm it. He does not harm any of his handlers. Not anymore. Not for many years.
The Asset asks the small space in his head why he feels nervous around this Handler.
The empty space stays silent.
—-
The Her Handler is here for a reason. She puts him through physical tests.
Her Handler is from a Room of Red. That room wants a punching bag.
He is volunteered.
—
Small Her Handlers attack him daily. They spring from many places. Behind chairs, under tables, beneath beds, out of cabinets. Slicing at him with knives and their scratchy nails.
The Asset is on guard constantly. The Asset heals quickly and is useful to the mini Her Handlers. He fights with them. Trains them. Improves their technique. They learn well and gain speed and confidence. They ask him why he always blocks their blows with his left arm. He doesn't have an answer.
Months of this. On guard at all times. Until one day he is allowed to eat in the same space as them. The Asset has earned a place among their ranks as a trainer and is allowed more contact.
When the Handlers are not around, they instruct him on how to braid hair. He teaches them how to use their size to fight men more than twice their size. The Asset remembers someone teaching him that at one point.
He doesn't remember when.
They teach him different languages. The Asset already knew English, German, Irish, and Russian. Now he knows Italian, Spanish, Chinese, Korean, Nigerian, and Arabic. One of them asks him to write his name. His hands move of their own accord. Drawing his own face. He doesn't know why. He writes 'Asset' underneath it. They stare at it and then ask him to teach them. He complies. He shows them how to create shadows. How to capture light. How to mimic facial expressions. He is glad his handlers from base are away on a mission. The Asset is not allowed to draw. The Asset didn't know he knew how to draw. He stores this information for later.
The mini Her Handler's do not tell about his insubordination. The mini Her Handler's ask for drawings of their own faces. He doesn't not understand the purpose for this mission. But they are his mini Her Handlers and he follows orders.
The Asset notices that once he's handed over a drawing, it disappears from sight for good. But he knows it is kept.
The Asset notices that when the big Her Handlers are not looking, the small Her Handlers pat him on the head. The Asset does not mind.
—
One of the big Her Handlers finds her way into his room one of the nights. She orders him to do something he doesn't understand. He fails to comply.
She gets angry at him.
He's punished severely the next day in front of all the mini spiders.
One of them asks why.
That spider is not given an answer. She is also not seen again.
The Asset is tasked with digging a hole 6 feet deep, 3 feet tall, 3 feet wide.
—-
He makes the mistake of calling one of the smaller one's a Her Handler. The mini Her Handler giggles.
He is punished.
That particular Her Handler is not seen again by the Asset.
The Asset is tasked with digging a new hole.
—
He is informed by the big Her Handlers to call them nothing. But one of the 'nothings' speaks to him when she is clinging to his neck in a fight. "Spiders." She whispers. "We're spiders."
He likes this name better than 'nothings'.
—
The Asset does not use their name in front of his Handlers.
Late at night, he hears the rattling of handcuffs. Sometimes the sounds of crying.
The Asset does not like to hear the spiders crying.
—
The Asset is barred from entering the room with all the mirrors.
—
The Asset watches as the little spiders grow into medium spiders.
The Asset has developed a language of communicating with them. Blinks of eyes and twitches of fingers.
The medium spiders cause more damage than the mini spiders. One manages to jab her finger in his eye. He can't see out of it for almost a day. He is proud of her.
—
Some of the medium spiders disappear for weeks on end. They come back battered and bruised and he helps stitch them up or trains them on new weapons that have been developed in their absence.
—
He finds things in his room. A metal pointy object* that rattles something in his brain. A round metal thing with a face and number stamped on it. A ribbon. A paper with a picture of a location and writing scrawled on the back.
The paper stays hidden in his room. The metal circle is kept in his shoe. The pointy metal object he ties to his belt with the ribbon. He keeps it hidden against his hip.
He knows he should not be hiding things. It is against protocol.
But these are gifts from his spiders. He ignores protocol.
The Asset doesn't know why. Or how. He only knows that the empty space doesn't feel quite so empty.
—
A new batch of even minier spiders are brought.
The Asset is tasked with starting their fight training.
He goes still when one of them starts to leak out of her eyes. He carries the mini spider to a big Her Handler and tells her that the 'nothing' is not ready, that she needs more time before being trained.
The mini spider disappears.
The Asset is tasked with digging a new hole.
—
The Asset is recalled for a mission.
The Asset sits in a plane for a very long time. He's given a two wheeled vehicle that he has muscle memory of driving.
He's told a time and a location. He is present and waiting when the car goes by.
When it passes by, he follows, shooting a tire out and causing it to crash.
He drags a man from the driver's seat and flexes his hands around the man's throat.
"Steve?"
The empty space inside of his head and heart goes rigid.
The man has a hard time breathing. The Asset's hands wrapped tightly.
"Steve? Oh—" The Asset feels his programming glitch and he squeezes tighter, cutting the man's oxygen off.
The man grabs his wrist. The Asset expects him to try to claw his way out of his grasp. The man doesn't. Just staring at him with sad eyes, his hands resting on both of the Asset's wrists. The Asset loosens his grip ever so slightly.
The man gasps and then speaks. "You're alive. I can't believe you're alive!" The man is ignoring the fact that his own lips are turning blue from lack of oxygen. "What happened to you? Steve? Steve, what have they done to you?"
He's frozen. His programming does not give him any commands. The back of his neck throbs like he's being stabbed. He stares at this man's face. It's like the drawing lessons. A face from memory.
The man's voice turns to grief, "Steve, pal, you're okay, come with me, I'll help you! I dunno what you've been through but I can help. I'm working with Peggy, she'll wanna know—"
The Asset steps away from the man. He falls to his knees and rasps for breath, but doesn't let his eyes leave the Asset's. "You're okay. You're okay. Come with me, we'll help. We can help."
The Asset lurches away from the man, running. He hears shouting, "Come back! Steve!" There's a pause and the Asset is almost out of hearing range when he hears the man shout one more thing. "I'll find you! We will find you!"
The empty space inside him shudders.
—-
He runs to his handlers who are waiting not more than a mile away.
—
"Mission failure."
"WHY." His Handler is furious with him. He has no answer.
He watches as another team member returns to the site and finishes the job. As they drive to the nearby marina, to set up the scene, his Handler interrogates him.
"What did the man say to you?"
The Asset's throat constricts. "Meaning Unclear."
"Repeat his words."
"Programming Malfunction."
The Handler curses, slapping the back of the Asset's head and snarling at the other Handler.
"I told them. I told them that Howard Stark would be too close of a mission. Made the dumb robot glitch."
The empty space inside him groans.
"It's been 46 years. How can he remember? He doesn't. It's a fluke."
Then. For the first time in almost 17 years, the voice speaks, grief and anguish washing over the Asset as the voice watches through his eyes.
Howard? The Asset feels grief overwhelm the empty space. Filling it up and pouring out through the Asset.
"What the hell?" One of the Handler's shouts. The target and his wife are at the Asset's feet in the back of the large armored van.
"What? What is it?" The other Handler asks.
"He's crying. He's FUCKING CRYING."
The Handler grabs his face and yanks it up roughly. The three consecutive slaps feel like nothing.
"Still think he doesn't remember?" The other Handler asks.
"We have to report this immediately."
They chain his arms and his legs together. They don't use him to dispose of the targets. The Asset waits in the van. The voice is still upset at him.
He wishes it would stop crying.
He wishes he would stop crying.
He gets neither wish.
—
He's back in cryo.
—
He's on the surgeon's table again.
—
He's back in cryo.
—
He's out of cryo and they take molds of his ears.
The voice is quiet most of the time. It speaks only when it has the strength. Which is not very often.
Small devices fit into his ears perfectly. They make everything sound tinny and mechanical. He hates it.
He takes them out.
They don't like that.
They lay him on the operating table and nail him down to it. Large two-foot long nails that they insert into his arms, legs, lower torso, calves, and forearms. He remembers this particular punishment from when the voice was still in charge.
Moving is agony and the voice seems angry.
—
He asks about the Red Room when he's removed from cryo the next time.
The Vagues inform him that that particular assignment is finished.
He finds that his paper with the picture is missing. The pointy metal thing and ribbon are gone from his gear as well.
Only the metal circle remains because they didn't notice it at the bottom of his boot.
He makes a large cut in his torso. He grits his teeth as he slides the circle under the skin and muscle. He holds the wound closed until it seals up on its own.
The voice seems a bit stronger after that.
—-
He's being prepped for another mission.
They sit him down and strap his neck to keep his head in place.
"Keep your eyes open." A Vague says.
He obeys.
The voice makes a choking sound as explosive pain stabs through his eyes. His vision fades and he's being set in his cell.
He feels his eyes leaking.
He wipes at them and the voice is shaking with anger.
The Asset doesn't respond. The slow blink of his eyes against the damage makes it difficult to think.
—
The Asset is not used to relying on just his sense of smell.
But he does fine.
—-
They blind him before each mission. After a while he feels the blood and tears draining down his face. He doesn't wipe them away anymore. Just lets them fall.
—
He encounters a familiar scent a few missions later.
He doesn't know the medium spider in front of him. But he can smell the scent of another spider on her. The one who patted his head the most often.
These spiders must be friends.
He threatens her. But leaves her alive.
He is not given food for the next two months. The Asset is placed into cryo starving.
—
He encounters no more spiders.
The voice gets stronger the longer he's out of cryo.
His mind and the voice fight constantly. Vying for control.
It makes the Asset very on edge.
—
The blinding is his least favorite part. The Asset can accept the punishments he deserves—
We don't deserve these punishments
The voice likes to interrupt him now.
But the Asset likes to be able to see. He studies his surroundings, getting the big and little picture, surveying everywhere to ensure he's well prepared for the mission.
The voice is annoyed at him constantly.
The voice grows more agitating by the day. The voice gets him in trouble with the Vagues and the Handlers.
He wishes he had never wished for it to come back.
—-
He's put on a plane again.
He's instructed on his new base. His new Handler. A blonde man who offers him things he knows the Asset can't accept.
The voice really hates him.
—
A new Vague enters the rotation.
On his first day, the man stops in his tracks at seeing the Asset "You're shitting me."
"I told you it was true."
"Holy crap. I didn't believe you."
"Yep."
"I can't believe that's Cap—"
The other Vague slaps a hand over the other's mouth. "We're not allowed to say either name."
The voice growls. But then stops. The voice doesn't know what the names are either.
The Asset feels a big smug at that.
—
"He looks great for being 70."
"Think I should try his treatment? Sleep like a lazy dog in the ice for most of it?"
The Asset does not comprehend this information.
The voice rails against the space it's confined to.
—
After one mission goes so poorly, the voice had confused him and caused him to mistake one of his team for his target, his new Handler gets suspicious.
The Handler tries to catch him off guard. Asking him questions that the Asset does not comprehend. To see if the Asset will respond according to programming.
One question makes the voice go feral, screaming and shouting and clawing at the space, begging the Asset to do something. Anything. But the Asset says nothing. Feeling like a sheet of paper being ripped in two.
—-
The Vagues and the Handlers are in a tizzy about the Arctic and something being found.
He's put in cryo for a long time. He doesn't know why. He's been behaving so well.
Even the voice has gone quiet after it had caused the Asset to make a mistake and get the Asset's tongue burnt with hot coal after hot coal.
—-
They take him out of cryo, and the Vagues and the Handlers have smiles that the voice quietly labels as 'smug bastards' before falling silent.
"He didn't even look for you." One says with a laugh.
The Asset doesn't respond. Unsure of what they're referring to.
The Handler smiles. "Guess we don't have to worry about him knocking on our doors. He's only 4 hours away and has no idea. Too busy fighting aliens."
Even the voice is lost.
—
"He's here in D.C." One of the Vagues whispers when they think the Asset is still unconscious. "Working for Shield."
"Pierce said to keep him in cryo until he's needed."
There's no answer and the voice sighs.
—
He's handed a weapon he's never used before. He flips a van, sensing a heartbeat as it fades further underground. He asks for confirmation to follow the target.
"No." The command comes, sharp and insistent. "No, Asset return."
He complies.
—-
The Handlers brief him over and over. They've never given him the same instructions so many times. He listens as the voice huffs in annoyance and the Asset has to agree, he's a good Asset. He won't mess this up.
He is surprised as they let him keep his vision for this mission.
He's handed a long range rifle.
—
He's on the roof. He sees his target stand. He pulls the trigger. Once. Twice. A third time.
He watches the man fall. He leaves. Just as instructed.
—
"Mission Report."
"Target hit three times. All in critical locations. No issues in extraction."
"Well done Asset. You've taken down a huge barrier for our cause."
The Asset blinks.
—
He hears arguing outside his cryo chamber. The Asset listens, unable to do anything else.
"We have to use him."
"Are you kidding? Do you not remember Stark?"
"First of all, that was 23 years ago, and he's going to be blind and have the ear-ins. He's our only option. With Barnes on the loose, we can't afford for Project Insight to be halted. We have to move forward and hell this one has a better version of the serum. He'll beat Barnes to a pulp—" he pauses and something about the next words he speaks has the voice angry and confused. "Maybe we can get him as an Asset too. Then we'd have two super soldiers on our docket. Pierce would be crowing. Either way, we don't stand a chance against Barnes without him."
The voice seems very upset. He can tell the voice doesn't exactly know why. Just a general sense of dread and frustration.
—
The cloth over his eyes blocks out most of the light. But it doesn't impede him. His sense of smell, hearing (even through the ear-ins) lead him where he needs to go. His boots crunch the roof of the car as he lands on it. Target # 3 is successfully dispatched into oncoming traffic. The Asset is thrown from the roof as the car brakes, and he lets his combat gear take most of the damage as he rolls on the asphalt.
The car tries to ram into him. He stops it.
Then he's fighting, he and his team of 5 have their hands full with the three targets. One seems to be able to fly. That's a new one for the Asset.
He follows the scent of someone he knows.
He manages to shoot her in the shoulder, but as he gets closer his programming rattles.
The spider. Not a spider he knew at the Red Room. The mission spider. The one he threatened. He pauses only a moment before he crouches, feeling the air shift. Then he feels legs and limbs and something tight against his throat.
This is no medium spider. This is a now full-fledge spider.
The Asset fights, using his knowledge of their fight moves to attack. He manages to throw her from his shoulders.
He moves towards her again, going to punch when something metal gets in the way of his fist. He recoils, the pain from his snapping knuckles making him growl.
The Asset breathes heavily, tamping the pain down.
A scent.
A new scent.
No.
An old scent.
A very old scent.
"I know you," he says in Russian. Knowing the spider's main language.
A voice, tinny and distorted speaks. "What?"
"Yeah you know me." The spider says, her breathing heavy. "We've met before. You host me."
The Asset already knows this. "I let you live." He states clearly. She's one of the lucky ones.
"That's one way of putting it."
The Asset is confused. There is no other way of putting it.
"I know you."
"Yeah we've established that."
Even here. Even 23 years later he finds he can't speak their name to anyone else, "Not you, little one." He says instead., shifting to the man whose scent he knows. "You."
They speak and the man is asking him a question. "I know your scent." He feels a buzz at his neck and he raises the gun, aiming it at the man.
—
The Asset tries not to enjoy the fight. He's been instructed not to toy with his targets or elongate a fight. But this is neither. The man is almost as fast as the Asset, and he is clever. Using something metal that ricochets the Asset's bullets, and keeps him from using his fist like a jackhammer.
—
The Asset hears a sound that rings in his head like a gong. Metal hitting pavement.
He reaches down and the man is yelling at him but he ignores it. Picking up the weapon and holding it up just in time to hear bullets ping off it.
The Asset throws the weapon with all his might. A muscle memory. Just like the motor cycle.
The weapon returns to him and he slips it onto his arm.
The voice wakes.
Ours. Ours. Ours. It's ours. It's OURS.
The voice is confused and angry but the one thought keeps repeating. The Asset feels his neck throb.
The Asset holds the weapon, his free arm stuttering over what feels like a sharp edge.
The man is yelling again and he begins to fight the Asset again. The Asset is surprised by the man's stamina. Most targets are dead by now. But this one is elusive.
He feels himself fall into a rhythm. The man falls into it with him and they fight. But the Asset finds himself more curious if this man is also inside his head, as he seems to predict the Asset's moves.
A loud sound like metallic wings has the Asset raising his head to try to sense how close it is. The Asset feels his cloth get yanked. Bright light stabs at his damaged eyes.
He looks back to where he can smell the man. The man must have received an injury becuase his heart is beating wildly.
"Why does your heart beat so?"
"Steve?"
The voice rails against that name. Howard used that name. Shrieking in his ears set's his brain aflame. Pain searing through it.
"I know you."
"Yes, you do, You know me. I'm Bucky."
"Bucky?"
As soon as he says that word, the shrieking is back. Head numbing and a clear call that he must return to his Handlers.
He drops the weapon and he runs.
—
Thankfully he's not punished for not completing his mission. The targets had been apprehended.
—
He's woken from sleep.
His Handler is there with a new mission.
"But since he's already seen your face, let's make it a bit more recognizable. Nothing like psychological warfare."
The Asset is instructed to sit. He is given a haircut. His face is shaved. Something cold is run through his hair by one of the Vagues who keeps glancing at a picture for reference.
The Asset is unaware of any mission ever beginning like this before.
His eyes are reblinded. "Just in case." One of the Vagues says.
—
He fights the man again. He's supposed to kill the man. He does try his best.
The man is fighting him. Shooting and stabbing and they fight more viciously than he thought another target could fight. He hears the man shouting for something to happen.
Then the world sets fire. The voice sounds alarmed. The Asset feels concerned as his footing slides.
He's once again fighting the man and manages to knock him off the edge.
But muscle memory works faster than his brain. He grabs at the man's wrist. Unwilling to let him fall.
Except the man still does. The pressure and gravitational pull ripping the man's arm from his body.
The Asset stares at the arm for one millisecond too long. A beam creaks and the Asset tries to dodge it, but it slams into the back of his head. He's falling. Another familiar feeling. He slams against metal and glass and a sputter in his brain makes the world go black for a second.
He blinks back into consciousness to the sounds of screams. He tilts his head to the sound and is suprised to find how much he dislikes the noise.
He needs it to stop.
The voice wants it to stop.
The Asset moves. Feeling dizzy on his feet. But he doesn't stop. He pushes and shoves and pulls at the man who is breathing heavily and heartbeat majorly elevated.
Once the man stops screaming the Asset does something that surprises even the voice. He touches the man's face. Trying to memorize it. Wanting to draw it later if he ver gets the chance.
Although this mission failure will result in major punishment. That he knows. That he was informed of.
The Asset's mind is now pounding. Huge aching throbs that make his vision go white and black and sharp. He shakes his head, trying to clear it while trying to remain on his feet.
Loud noises cause him to flinch and the name 'Steve', is being shouted and he notices for the first time that it doesn't sound tinny. He looks down at one of his ear-ins. Crunched on the glass. He steps on it. Pulling the other out quickly.
He will be punished for this as well.
He doesn't focus on that. Just the sounds that come clear into his ears for the first time in 23 years.
The man is still talking but the Asset tries to maintain balance. The carrier lilting.
The man is touching him, yanking him, He tries to pull away, but his mind is so disoriented that he feels uncoordinated.
"Steve. You're coming with me. We're jumping."
The man is about to force his statement when the Asset finds himself in free fall. He adjusts his arms and legs mid air to control his decent. He lands in the water. Sinking down low before bobbing up.
His mind is a mix of the voice, a throbbing pain, and the remnants of the missi—
The mission.
The Asset looks around. Unable to spot the man. He dives.
He finds the body sinking.
He drags it on shore. Checks for breathing. Waits for instructions to kill.
None come.
He feels the man's face once more.
He runs.
—
The Asset hides at the appropriate meet up point.
He waits.
And waits.
But no one comes.
Not the team.
Not his Handler.
No one.
—
The voice is in shambles. Sluggish and disoriented along with his brain and the rest of his thoughts.
The Asset discovers that source of the pain. A small metal piece of shrapnel stuck at the base of his skull.
He yanks it out.
—-
Unsure of what other commands to follow. The Asset decides to follow his mission.
—
The man is carted to a building with lots of people around all the time.
The Asset lurks outside in an area with lots of trees and flowers that people walk about and through.
The Asset sees something on a bench. Clearly left for just a moment by its owner.
But the Asset deems it necessary for the completion of his mission. So he takes it. The utensil and paper feeling more like an old habit than a new possession.
—
He slips into the man's room. Careful not to wake the spider.
His vision is halfway back. So he relies on his fingers again. Tracing the features quickly and using that as reference for his hands to move of their own accord.
Something changes and his hackles go up. He's out of the window and runnig from the hospital in seconds flat.
—-
He returns just once more. A quick reference. He moves quieter, traces the face softer, and is about to leave when the colors of something by the man's bed catch his eyes. Even with his vision not 100% the shape and colors are visible and it yanks at something.
And he feels his hand trace the rim.
Ours
The voice says confidently, if still a bit slow and sluggish.
For some reason, he agrees with the voice.
He takes it.
—-