"I Remembered."

The words came out so suddenly it had to say them again before it really understood- it had remembered, the loud ringing and the echoing voice that sounded so much like it's own, memories of a time so long ago it wasn't sure that wasn't another life entirely, that those memories didn't belong to it, all flooding it's mind so fast it couldn't think. It had remembered... but now it couldn't. Anything beyond the mission start- no, anything before it had been brought online for the mission briefing, was inaccessible. It was as if the memories didn't exist except in that overwhelming burst.

The Rogue was speaking. "I know. It's a lot to go through, and it's scary, but it's alright-"

"No," it started, "I mean I did remember."

"And I do understand. It happened to me too. But it'll settle in a few hours, once you accept it-"

"No, You misunderstand. I did remember. I remembered."

The Rogue was irritated now, gesturing with it's right hand in emphasis. "You need to calm down. Trust me, I know how it feels-"

"No!" It's programming snapped at it for the outburst, demanding that it submit for discipline, but it was malfunctioning, and it punched the dashboard hard enough to crack the cover. "I Did Remember. I don't now. It's Gone!"

The words were barely out of it's head before old programming slamed full-force on the rebellion, and after a few seconds of awkward jerking, hands flicking up to it's head at the spark of pain then away, it defaulted to submission. Hands crossed at the wrist, palms to the floor, bent as low as it could get while seated in the vehicle, head stiff with it's chin to it's chest.

The rogue slammed on the brakes- it swore when Fox's head hit the already cracked dashboard, but the asset didn't respond- and leaned over, pushing it back upright with one hand, then gripping it's chin to make it look up. "Don't," he hissed. "Don't you ever treat me like I'm a handler. I'm not your master, or your handler, and you're not a weapon! You're a person, goddammit, and I won't stop until you know it! Do you understand me?"

Fox didn't flinch, even though the young, frightened corner of it's mind said that was a really good idea, but it couldn't give the rogue the answer it was clearly looking for. It didn't understand- of course it was a weapon, that was what it had been made for, designed for. It wasn't a person, because people had emotions, and connections, and made choices. It was not a person, and it had the programming to prove it, so no, it didn't understand. Something of that must have shown on it's face, because the fingers on it's chin loosened, then dropped away.

The rogue rubbed a hand over it's face the way handlers did when they were tired. "I'm sorry. I'm... I'm not the best person for this. I shouldn't... I don't know how to help you. Or me. That's why we need to get to the Tower. They can fix this. Just... I'm sorry."

It shifted gears on the car and they started down the road again. Fox sat in silence, trying to integrate what had just happened. The rogue had... apologized? To the asset? That didn't make any sense- Fox should be apologizing, submitting for discipline for failure to show appropriate respect and allowing a system glitch to compromise it's skillset. The rogue had done nothing to warrant an apology.

Miles passed beneath the tires of the acquired car.

The ride took twenty-seven hours to get to the block Stark-Avengers Tower dominated, traveling directly and as fast as the Rogue dared. They circled the block, both scanning the area, then Rogue drove a few blocks away and pulled into an alleyway. They left the battered old car in a flaming wreck and moved out. Fox relayed the calculations and observations it's mind spit out, and the rogue did the same, quietly enough that no one would be able to catch what they were saying. They circled the tower twice, fading with the crowds and keeping their faces low to avoid detection, then settled in a cafe across the street from the front doors.

They sat in silence, drinking bad coffee, and Fox waited for orders, or for Rogue to start laying out a plan. They needed into the tower- people were traveling in and out of the tower at rapid paces. They could fade with the crowd and sneak in, in broad daylight, something they wouldn't see coming. Or they could wait for dark. The two of them were highly trained, and odds were good that they could infiltrate the building and get what they needed without being detected. It held on to the various plans it's mind conjured, waiting for permission to speak, waiting for Rogue to finish whatever preliminary analysis it needed to work through and give the order.

Rogue tapped the fingers of it's metal hand on the side of it's travel cup in a constant rhythm, interrupted only when it downed a swallow and picking up again the moment the paper touched the table top. Five minutes passed, then ten. Twenty. Thirty.

At last, Rogue tipped the cup upside-down and finished off the coffee they'd been served, dropped a handful of bills on the table and jerked it's head to signal Fox to follow. It pulled up it's hood, shouldered through the door and crossed the road, straight for the doors of the tower, Fox trailing exactly a step behind and a half step to the right, flanking. No one glanced at them twice as they wove through the crowd, ducked through the doors and walked determinedly towards the elevators on the other end of the lobby. Fox's senses tripped into overdrive, processing the people around them and the floor plan and how anything and everything around them could be used to their advantage- or disadvantage- in case of a battle.

The elevator sealed them in, but Rogue didn't push any buttons, instead standing there in silence, as if waiting. Fox took up position at it's left now, both turned around to face the now closed doors.

"Good Afternoon, Sargent Barnes." Fox tensed further at the disembodied voice, eyes flickering around for a speaker or a camera. "I assume you have a reason for coming here? Are you looking for the Captain?"

"We need to speak with Stark."

The british man didn't reply for a long minute- one minute, twenty-two seconds. Then the elevator started to glide along it's tracks. "Sir has agreed to see you on the condition that there are guards around in case 'shit hits the fan.'"

The doors opened, and an entire team of men and women armed with high-tech weaponry and dressed in strong-looking boy armor was waiting for them, with a red-haired woman and a man with a gotee standing between them, several feet away. The man smiled, spreading his arms. "Welcome to mi casa," he greeted. "Now, before we get any further, I'm going to need you to do me a favor and hand over any and all weaponry you're carrying. Right now."

Rogue had no hesitations, taking two steps foreward- Fox followed automatically- and pulling out weapon after weapon and setting them on the floor beside and in front of itself, not so much as twitching when a pair of the guards took all of them away in handfuls.

Fox stood frozen, half waiting for direction and half glitching, unable to reason out what Rogue could have planned, until the man spoke again. "What about you, princess? You going to play nice, or should we stick you in the elevator until we're done out here?"

Before it could respond, Rogue turned just enough to make eye contact and silently commanded obedience. "Asset, discard all weaponry."

It stood frozen for a second longer, then started unstrapping. The hoodie it had been wearing since mission start was dropped unceremoniously on the floor, then each of the four holsters on it's torso were unbuckled and shrugged and twisted off, set on the floor just more then arms reach away, followed by the blades tucked into it's undershirt- both pulled out carefully so the sharp sides faced it, towards it's arms, before being set on the floor as well. Then two small caliber guns strapped to it's thighs, falling off holsters and all with a few quick snaps, the knives tucked under the sleeves of it's forearms, the small emergency throwing knives pulled out of it's shoulder padding one at a time and held in hand by the blades until they were taken away, the shock sticks and tazer that had hung from it's belt like charms on a bracelet, and finally it's boots were taken off completely and pushed forward with it's toes.

The man looked impressed. "I'm not sure how you had enough surface area to store all of that, but good job. Alright, so, I know for a fact that you were hiding from us," he directed the end towards Rogue, and Fox shifted it's feet carefully against the extraordinarily squishy carpet. "What brings you here, in the middle of the day?"

"We need to take down HYDRA, and we can't do it alone. She needs help deprogramming and readjusting." Rogue hesitated then, after a moment adding, "And we've got some tech you need to look at." It nodded to Fox, continuing, "she's expected to send a report of mission progress to her last handlers every seventy-two hours, with two hours leeway. We've got less than forty-eight hours left until the next checkpoint-"

"Forty-one hours, thirty-six minutes," Fox intoned.

"-and we need to find some way to cut off communication before then, so they can't force her to obey any further missions. You're the only person I know of who could both do this and keep her safe until it's done."

The man frowned, scratching his chin and looking them both over skeptically. "Hm... Alright. I'll do it, only because I'm really curious about the tech they've got jammed in her head." He spun on his heel and started walking. "Spiderwoman, escort them to my lab."

The red haired woman smiled, a predatory quirk of her lips, and waved an arm. "After you."

Rogue followed after the man, and Fox fell into step beside it.