The Rogue was consistently defiant of any maintenance after Fox repaired it's arm. It refused to accept fuel, and thrashed at any attempts to check for further damage. After the third attempt to treat a wound on it's side ended with Rogue attempting to kick it in the head, it allowed the detained asset to sit in silence. Come morning, it would have to force some sort of refueling, else risk the asset's condition deteriorating further, but for now, it wasn't necessary. Fox stirred the coals of the fire, and added a handful of the wood gathered off to the side to keep it burning. Every so often, the Rogue would writhe and wriggle in it's bonds for a few seconds before giving up again. After the fifth time checking the bonds for damage, Fox left Rogue to it. Perhaps it would tire itself out beyond defiance and make the next day easier.
As the sun started to sink out of sight and the darkness slowly crept in, the rustlings of animals nearby increased with nocturnal beasts rising and scuffling along and the last of the daywalkers scurrying for home. When a canine howled in the distance, Fox lifted it's gaze and scans the trees on instinct. When it came again, it hadn't gotten any closer, and though It relaxed some, It orders the Rogue into the makeshift den that it had created during it's hiding. Rogue didn't protest as much as It was expecting, and once settled Fox does a quick but thorough loop around the fixture, to be sure there are no surprises. There aren't.
Fox sat by the fire again, still waiting and ready to run at a moments notice, but as close to rest as it ever came during missions. The howls continued for a while, then stopped. Half an hour later, they returned, and closer. Fox tensed in the slightest and mentally checks its supply of weaponry.
"They won't come too much closer," the Rogue called from behind it. There was a faint echo to it from being surrounded by rock. "That's what I was taking care of before our fight. They won't get within a half mile."
Fox listened to another group howl before answering with "Acknowledged." When the howls returned again, even closer, It tilted it's head and howled back. The sound had a gravelly edge to it, like a growl under the noise, a threat under words, a knife under a pillow. It lasted exactly 12.4 seconds and cut off in a mockery of a yip. The woods around the camp went absolutely silent, and when sound returned it was more subdued. The next howl is more than three miles away and faded. Satisfied, Fox shifts out some of the ready tension and settles for the night.
Fox woke the Rogue at sunrise after extinguishing the fire. There was little to be done about the camp itself- if need be, it would report it to the handlers and they would deem if it was worth sending a clean-up team to remove all traces it had existed. The Rogue grumbled in a very accurate imitation of displeasure, and reported a need for fuel- "I ain't doin' shit unless I eat."- so Fox partitioned the two fish that had been hung near the now-dead fire and allowed the rogue enough leeway in the cord holding it's flesh arm to feed itself. As soon as breakfast was done, it was running all last minute necessities- clearing marks of it's personal presence, disposing of trash discreetly- and then hauling the rogue along by a grip on the disabled mechanized arm. There was enough light to navigate the traps, now, and no concern of triggering one in the dark, unable to counter or defend.
"So they gave you my file to track me down. Do they have files for all your targets?" The Rogue asked, as if they were companions on a friendly walk.
"Information limited. I am given what is necessary for mission completion." When Rogue made no move to follow it past a tripwire for one of the spiked branches, it yanked them along by the cord and continued without releasing its grip.
"Do they tell you why you're hunting the people they tell you to hunt?" It continued, amusement flickering in it's eyes. It wasn't concerned by being disabled, or forcibly led. For reasons it couldn't fully explain, that made it wary.
"No. Unneeded information, too much clutter to complete the mission efficiently. Information includes patterns, training, appearance, scent sample and kill/capture orders."
"So what, you're gonna pull me down the mountainside and camp out? Head back to Hydra with me in tow and let them shove you back in an icebox?" The last few words were almost spat at Fox's back in disgust.
"No." The Rogue jerked behind her ever so slightly. "Mission is not completed until secondary objective is captured or killed."
The Rogue was quiet for a few steps, then spoke again. "Who's the secondary objective?"
"Classified," Fox dropped in deadpan. Sharing mission objectives with targets was strictly prohibited.
Rogue dug it's feet into the topsoil, and the two of them nearly tumbled over from the change of momentum. Before Fox could snap orders, the Rogue said a single word, and abruptly every muscle in it's body stopped responding. It straightened and stood at attention, facing the Rogue and completely unable to move. The Rogue gave a sort of half-smile-smirk. "All Triggers are listed in the asset files. Do you know how many Hydra Cells I've taken down in the last week? Do you know how many files I've burned?" It took a couple steps closer, stopping only a foot away. "Who is the Secondary Objective?"
Fox tried to lock it's jaw- this was not a handler, not a superior, and sharing this information was not authorized- but the muscles moved anyways. "Secondary Objective, Steven Grant Rogers, codename Captain America, Capture Orders with minimal damage."
Rogue stared at It blankly for a moment, as if having trouble processing the information that it never should have gotten, then it's face twisted in rage. It pulled at the cord binding it again, and after only a second it snapped loudly. Fox noted the frayed ends faintly- that must have been the goal with all the struggling and writhing the night before- and only for a second before a shower of splinters burst from the side of a tree.
The Rogue's hand was bleeding, but it paid no attention to the damage, simply glaring at everything around it and snarling in Russian. Two minutes, twelve seconds later, it snapped at Fox. "Capture orders? They wanted to make him like us? Like you?" It snarled in Russian some more, then continued, "You don't even have the faintest idea what they do, do you? You don't have any idea what they did to you!"
"They created me, and they made me efficient, the same as you, even if our uses are separate," Fox managed to force out. It's programming was reacting to misuse, correcting the error. Good.
Rogue gave a mechanical, empty smile. "You really don't know." It turned away, running it's flesh hand through it's hair, and Fox used the distraction to test it's muscles. It's hands fisted easily, but trying to move it's arms past an inch sent a wave of errors through it's head. Rogue turned back around. "You never got to see your file, did you? No, they wouldn't have left that where you could get to it. But I've seen it. Seventeen Asset programs, and you and I are the only ones that didn't get scrapped. They kept those files very safe, wouldn't want anyone to know what they were doing to all the poor bastards they snatched right off the streets." It gave a sort of dry, humorless laugh, and Fox tested it's arms again- slightly more motion. "Did you know you were born in Albany, New York?"
Fox stopped trying to move. The simple statement rang in it's head, but not like the triggers did. The triggers rang like hollow sounds, like wind blowing over a rotted, hollow log. This rang harshly. The Rogue smirked when they made eye contact. "Did you know you had siblings? That some of their kids' kids are in school now?" The ringing got louder, with a side of a harsh, electric buzz. It wanted to shy away from the sound- when the buzz came, so did pain, so did punishment, reprogramming- but it couldn't retreat from it's own thoughts. "Did you know you wanted to be a soldier, back in the twenties? Did you know that your parents signed you away to a rehabilitation program, because they wanted you to act like a girl instead of getting into fights?"
Stop, It ordered, but the ringing just got louder until it almost couldn't hear the words the Rogue was saying.
"Do you know your name?"
Name. My name...
"Your name is Alice Donnover."
The ringing exploded into a crescendo, even as it jerked back, away from the Rogue, stumbling into a tree and clamping it's hands to the sides of it's head, as it to block out the sound, and them it wasn't just ringing and buzzing and the expectation of pain, but words- Words it knew it had spoken before. Words it had thought.
My Name is Alice Donnover, I was born and raised in Albany, New York, I have two sisters one elder one younger, and an elder brother, and I was kidnapped for use in some government program. I might never see my parents again. I'll never see Fallon, I'll never see Marcus, I'll never see Nora. I'm on my own. They're taking my mind away. They can't take my name. My name is Alice. My name, Is Alice. My name is Alice my name is Alice my name is Alice my name is Alice
It didn't know it was screaming. It didn't know it was thrashing so hard the Rogue was trying to pin it down and failing. It didn't know that it eventually cut off mid-scream and slumped to the ground. All it knew was that the ringing and the words had stopped, and now it had a blissful silence.