Road to Recovery [Winter Soldier - Virginia & Defiant]

[Virginia Greene]

Elise Torwin had definitely made some bad decisions in her life, but this one might have been one of the worst. She wasn't even entirely sure he knew her name. She didn't know his -- not for lack of trying, it had been redacted -- but here she was. Sitting in the back of an unmarked truck, briefcase in her lap, and a large imposing man sitting next to her. Everything was silent, except for the soft sound of breathing and the noises that came with a large truck moving. She had to break it though, she had a job to do. "Give me your arm." This scenario was familiar. It had happened more than once before; he obeyed and she sedated him so that he wouldn't cause trouble between here and when they could get him into the chair.

After the Captain America fiasco, sedative had been the only way to convince the higher ups that they shouldn't just 'end the program' right away. It was a strange and confusing moment of morality for the psychiatrist, and luckily she'd had a little time to think about things. Now though, they were using him more; one last burst to try and clean up some of the mess, killing SHIELD and HYDRA and just anyone they needed to be quiet now that so much was out in the open. Elise had no issue with the killing, and she'd used to have no issue with dealing with the asset, either. But now during the debriefings he looked at her with slightly more human in his eyes, and she could no longer wash away the smell of electricity and singed human hair that seemed to cling to her after she had to recommend the electric 'treatment' again. The doctor had always prided herself on her rational and emotionless way of looking at things, but once the feelings had started, she'd been entirely unsure of how to handle them.

So now here she was. She'd spent the last month carefully withdrawing massive amounts of money, unsure if HYDRA was able to observe her bank account or not, and it was in her briefcase now, stacks of hundreds, fifties, and twenties rubber banded together. She'd memorized as much as she could off of his files, what they hadn't entirely removed of his history. She was pretty sure that if this worked he was going to kill her too, and she'd accepted this. Death by the man she'd helped to torture and control was probably what she deserved, but she might be able to use her knowledge to survive.

She knew only he could see inside her briefcase, so when she opened it and removed the small vial and needle, he'd see what was in it. That was good, he'd need it. "I have a new formula today that should eliminate some of the side effects." The burly man sitting across from her let out a gruff "it doesn't matter, he doesn't care", and Elise fixed him with an icy, almost elitist stare. She was the one with a degree, if she said that a new chemical was needed, it was needed. Of course, in this case she'd actually cleaned out the container and replaced it with a harmless saline mixture, but only she knew it. Carefully she took his arm, prepped the needle, and injected the large assassin.

Now it was out of her control.

((I may come back and color her speech, it's just too hard from my phone))

 

[Defiant]

'Bucky thinking'​

'The asset thinking'​

Memories

"Physically speaking"


***

It was like a crack which he couldn't fill. He didn't want the memories to keep coming back. It didn't want them. There was a war in his mind and both sides were fighting furiously. Both knew the risks of what this meant. Remembering. It brought pain, more than pain. Pain he could handle. Pain they could both handle. The weapon and the man sharing one body. They were comfortable with pain, it was a daily thing. Pain was something handlers didn't tolerate. The chair brought desolation and despair. It was pure agony.

Memories lead to the chair.

They both wanted the memories gone.

The body mumbled, unintelligible words lower than a whisper.

“Three two five... five,”

The needle was wrong. There was no warmth traveling through the muscle, spreading through the blood to cause him to be slow, altered. The asset's head shifted to the right, the side she was sitting on, three and a half inches. Eyes following the motion as the asset looked to the doctor. He'd seen the money. Something was different.

The burly man leaned back, his head tilting up as his eyes closed. Relaxing since the doctor had done her job and the asset would be easier to put down should he try anything.

'You need to get away. They're going to erase you again. This is your chance. You have a chance. You need to run.'​

'It has no mission. Asset does not have a weapon. Handler's present.'​

The asset turned his gaze to the man.

'They're going to put us in the chair!'​

'We are a weapon.'​

When the truck they were travelling in hit a bump his metal arm moved forward, the palm connecting with the burly man's nose, pushing firm cartilage into his brain. He shivered and died. The asset sat silently.

Falling. Snow. Screaming. Pain.

Bucky.

Sergeant. Serial number 32557038.

He was a he. Not an it. He was trained to be a weapon but he wasn't an object. The notion kept coming faster and faster after each wipe. The crack getting bigger, flooding his brain faster with facts. Facts Hydra had tried to keep from him.

His eyes, human and alert yet cold and dangers, turned to her once more. “Why?” He asked simply. He knew she was smart. He knew who she was and what she'd done to him. They had time. He killed. He wanted to kill her. But first he had to know why she'd given him a needle which didn't put him down.

 

[Virginia Greene]

((I'll add some color to my posts soon. I'm responding from my phone today. Also, apologies on this taking so long!))

Every time, she half assumed it would be the day this bandaid of a solution stopped working. He would be too far gone (too back to himself?) and stop her. He wouldn't just hold still for the needle, and there wasn't much she could do when that happened. Elise wasn't someone who dealt with the asset when he was having issues; there were people for that. It was hard to find a doctor with questionable morals who'd actually graduated with a good degree. There were more disposable employees. Techs, the hired muscle, basically any number of people who were below Elise. She knew it, they knew it, and it was why a stern word or her particularly well mastered elitist look of disapproval worked. Rank in HYDRA mattered, and she was just 'worth more' than they were. This was the kind of place where she thrived, and she had. Up until growing a conscience. Or the slightly starved conscience crawling out of the box she'd shoved it into and promptly taking over, whichever was more accurate.

When he killed the man, Elise winced and leaned away from him for a moment. Then she returned to her initial position, back straight, briefcase in her lap. She didn't really want to, but the brunette had spent years forcing herself to at least look like she was maintaining composure. She'd never seen someone die before, at least not in person. She'd watching the asset's kills so that she could properly debrief him and analyze him to find out if he needed to be wiped or not. Those were on a small screen and often with other employees and no sound, though. It was very different, more than she thought it would be, to see it in person.

"The project is over. Whatever you've got in you, they -- we can't get out." She couldn't exclude herself right now. They both knew better, and it wasn't like it made any difference how she phrased it, really. "You don't have very much time. The driver will know soon something's not right, you're either going to need to get out or kill him." She didn't answer the 'why', because it would take too long. There was no easy answer that she could think of that didn't involve why she was who she was. "I couldn't print off your files, just read as much as I could." So she knew things that she couldn't just give to him like the briefcase. She wasn't sure what good it was, but she'd wanted to know.

She wasn't going to offer him the briefcase or anything like that. It was a gesture she couldn't make; hadn't even really thought to make. Did it make her selfish that she was forcing him to take it by force or by letting her go entirely? It wasn't really a full offer of freedom if she wasn't handing it to him. Maybe fully selfless gestures weren't something she could do. It wasn't how you got anywhere in the world.