therightagent | (no subject)

(no subject)

Various HYDRA personnel in charge of the Winter Projects have considered different ways of handling the Assets. They have been wiped of their memories time and time again, sent out separately, together, removed from list of active assets and rewritten in. The two of them together are more dangerous, more likely to see cracks in their programming, but they are also better, deadlier together. It proves much more effective to assign them their missions together and use the bond even HYDRA can't erase against them. If one steps out of line, tries to become something more than a tool, the other will be made to suffer.

They're waiting. Much of her work is waiting - waiting for the perfect time, the perfect target. She can spend hours perfectly still, looking at the world through the end of a scope. They've fulfilled their orders and are waiting to be told what they're supposed to do next. The Soldier's gaze keeps slipping towards him (the Captain, they call him, which she understands to mean he is her superior even when nothing else about their missions indicates as such), holding hard against a jittery, confused need to check him over, assure herself that all the blood he's spilled belongs to others, not him, to lecture him about going into fights on his own.

It's an anomaly, a malfunction. Her fingers tap against her leg, a nervous habit that is not characteristic of someone who could barely recognize the emotion. Malfunctions should be reported. But in between confused thoughts when she thinks she almost remembers patching him up after fights (which doesn't make sense, they are trained to stay as intact as possible but HYDRA handles their injuries), she feels the sharp memory of pain and doesn't say anything.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

His existence was a constant stream of missions. Time and time again he was sent out to do the work no one else wanted to do--that no one else could do because they didn't have the skill set he had. He was an unstoppable force, most of the time, following orders to the letter without any hesitation.

Unless the other asset was involved.

While they worked better together, were a much deadlier pair when working as a team, the Captain tended to take more risks, act out of usual protocol when he was with her. There was an underlying need to protect and no matter how many times they wiped him and tried again, that need came back.

Resting, back against a wall with his gun across his lap, his eyes were closed as he tried to make his thoughts go blank. It was hard to, though, when he could feel the other glancing at him and there was also the pain. Not all the blood covering his clothes was from his kills, a gunshot wound to the side slowly seeping and soaking the military blacks he wore.

All apart of the job though.

Eyes opening, he glances over at her as her fingers tap, an eyebrow slowly lifting.

She orders her fingers to stop moving. They don't. It gets worse instead, more erratic (I'm starting to think you like getting beat up in alleys), to the point where she thinks she might have to physically stop them with the metal arm.

He's bleeding. She's finally spotted where it's coming from, knows there's definitely more now than there was minutes ago. Injuries don't matter to them unless they will get in the way of following orders, and there are no orders to follow. But it matters to her.

A moment after her fingers finally still, she pulls off her jacket and quickly strips the pockets. It's a hell of a lot cleaner than his clothes are right now, so she figures it'll work all right to staunch the blood flow. She wipes a knife against her pants to clear it off a little before looking at him. "Stay still."

It doesn't occur to her to warn him she's planning to cut away the cloth around the gunshot wound. They don't receive warnings.

Her movements don't startle him, the Captain more at ease around her than he is even his handlers. He does track them though, watching every little thing she does, taking note of it all, and putting together what it is she's up to.

A slight nod is the only response she gets as he stays put though the gun is shifted off his lap to rest on the floor instead.

Still within reach but it would give her room to work.

Edited 2014-10-17 03:00 (UTC)

Cutting his shirt away is easy. She can't do much about cleaning things off or even figuring out if there's an exit wound to go with the entrance one, but after a few minutes she's ready to press her jacket against his side, hoping it'll be enough for now.

"Is this it?"

"Yes."

He has some bruises and scratches in other places but nothing comparable to the gunshot; nothing that's a real worry to him. His eyes don't leave her, studying her as she works, curious about why.

Why would she disobey orders?

"...Are you hurt?"

For that matter, why would he?

"No."

She frowns down at what she's doing, like she's displeased with something, even if she's not quite sure what. There's no shame in injuries when they're in the service of their mission. Her fingers start to twitch again.

The Captain's eyes narrow a bit in a way that says he doesn't believe her, lifting a hand to catch her wrist.

"Are you lying?" Because there's something about this that feels almost familiar; the stubbornness that is. It's something he's experienced before with her.

..But when?

"No."

They don't lie. Not to their handlers, not to each other. There's no reason to lie to someone who's authorized to know who you are and what you do.

Except.

Except.

She's malfunctioning. She wants to protect him, but there's no enemies to protect him from. And her whole hand is shaking now, like a broken input, but it's not the metal one.

The answer is an acceptable one; her pulse didn't jump to indicate a lie. He let's go of her wrist slowly after he notices the shake though, a worried look hidden in his gaze as he watches her hand then slowly looks to her face again. If she was malfunctioning they needed to report it but he couldn't bring himself to voice that; to want to tell anyone.

Because it...it was a normal reaction wasn't it? That's what his mind was telling him.

"...It's alright," he murmured, his hand resting on her shoulder now and giving a tentative squeeze. "It's alright."

She stiffens at the touch (it's not, they're acting out of their parameters, this is not acceptable), but at the same time, it feels... right. Comforting. Familiar.

"You're lying," she responds blankly, waiting for him to explain himself.

Shaking his head, the Captain starts to say something then pauses, stuck on the words he's trying to get out. He frowns a bit, glancing down as his hand tightens on her shoulder.

"...We'll be okay.." he murmured, expression changing into something a bit softer as his gaze turns searching when he meets the other's gaze. "...Together. We'll be okay together."

"'Til the end of the line," she answers automatically, and then startles, like she's not sure where those words came from or why she spoke them.

But they're familiar, too. Like she's spoken them before.

It triggers a memory, a brief glimpse of one at least, and the Captain flinches but doesn't release her shoulder.

"...Always has been that way," he murmured as if in awe, head tilting slightly. Even before this--whatever this was because he was starting to feel like HYDRA wasn't his beginning--they had been together..hadn't they?

They've worked before. She knows HYDRA has paired them up in previous missions, even if the details are wiped away. There is no before HYDRA for them to have been together in.

(For a second, she looks at him and sees... something else overlaid over him, something... smaller. Weaker, more fragile, but still carrying the same determination and strength.)

"I'm malfunctioning."

"...Status report?" he asked out of habit but this time there was a hint of worry in his eyes as he looked at her.

(He'd always worried. She was always getting herself into trouble and it scared him.)

"What systems are malfunctioning?"

Her hand is shaking again.

"I'm not..." She knows the words, they're right there, but suddenly they don't feel right. This is how she works, she malfunctions and is fixed, she is not, she is not a system -

Her hand clenches into a fist, her fingernails digging hard enough into her palms to draw blood, like a tiny shot of punishment for exceeding her parameters.

The captain is immediately reaching for her hand with both of his, frowning sharply as he gently tries to pry her hand open.

"Stop."

(You're going to hurt yourself if you keep this up, Bucky.)

She tries to tell her hand to follow his order, but it stays locked in place. The little stinging bite of the cuts is barely anything to her, but it brings to mind the kind of pain they use programming them, teaching them what is acceptable and what is not.

"I need to be - " She thinks of going willingly to the chair, sitting down and letting them wipe out all the thoughts in her head with the pain. " - reset."

Reset.

The word makes anger bubble inside him and his frown becomes more angry as he shakes his head sharply.

"No."

But why was he saying no? He knew what was expected of them. He knew that when something happened and they malfunctioned, it had to be done and never before had he protested.

This time though...this time he didn't want either of them to be reset.

Pain is not, should not be a problem. And it has been drilled into her that her memories are not her own, they are not hers to keep. But still, some deep, terrified part of her doesn't want to go.

"It's protocol."

"Screw protocol."

(The rules are just an outline. Even I know you have to bend them sometimes.)

His expression is one of determination now, the blank slate gone for the moment as he stares at her, thumb stroking over her clenched fist.

"Relax."

He was going to be in so much trouble but the part of him usually buried so deep was refusing to back down.

She flinches sharply, like she expects to be punished for the sentiment then and there. "We can't." Screw protocol or relax; either would be true.

He wants to say We can, the words are right there but his programming is fighting it. His programming demands that he stay on task; demands that he sticks to protocol.

But god does he not want to.

"...You're hurt now."

Her fingers dig in harder before she finally manages to relax her hand, looking blankly down at the nail marks. "It's not dangerous."

"Still needs to be taken care of."

But moving too much wasn't really on his agenda at the moment, at least not until his side was feeling better. So instead of moving to grab his pack, he managed to grab his sleeve and pull it over his hand some, pressing it against her hand.

Before she's even really noticed what he did, her fingers lace themselves in his, squeezing lightly like that's... just something they do.

"You're still hurt."

Shrugging some, he squeezed her hand in return.

"I'll be alright."

After a moment, she finds herself leaning into his uninjured side, ignoring the irrational sense-memory of having done this before. She hasn't. They're indulging in behaviors that are not acceptable.

He finds it familiar in a distant sort of way, a memory of something that he can't quite fully grasp and access yet. There's an underlying need to go, to get out of there, to not wait for orders that he can't quite seem to shake nor can be bring himself to actually act on it as he keeps a hold of her hand, staring off at the far wall.

"...Extraction will be soon."

"Yes."

The shaking from her hand returns again, only this time it's a whole-body shiver. She'll have to report, let them take her to the chair and strip all this away from her (again, again, again).

There was a feeling of dread settling into the pit of his stomach that he couldn't quite understand and it was frustrating. He didn't like not understanding things; even when he was only told what he needed to know, he still understand everything connected to the mission parameters.

But this?

Releasing her hand, his arm finds it's way around her, pulling her close and just..just looking for the contact. Needing it.

"We'll work together again," she says, not quite sure why it seems necessary to remind him.

"Yes."

Because they always ended up together. Always. A part of him knew there was a reason for that, knew that he made sure they put them back together but it was confusing as to why he knew that. Why he thought that.

Because he obeyed. He always did...didn't he?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only