standing on the cliff face, highest fall you'll ever grace [OPEN]

[assembles]

Who: Steve Rogers and YOU
Where: All over Wonderland
When: 08/28 - 09/02
Rating: R for lots of violence
Summary: Steve is not Steve anymore. Now he's only the Soldier. But he has a mission to complete and he doesn't fail.
The Story:
I. there's a knock at your door [08/28]

After a rude awakening, the Soldier is back in his element. A minor setback, to lose the target, but there are plenty of others out there who are in need of conversion and his mission parameters are clear. This is the kind of assignment he prefers. There are no mysteries to it, everything is set out plainly before him. Anyone who is not HYDRA must be made HYDRA by any means necessary. That isn't difficult.

Not when there is equipment set up, scattered around the mansion for their ease. The first thing the Soldier does is map out each floor, making careful mental notes of where each station is set up so that he can always corner a potential target in the most convenient place.

After that's done, he observes. He is nothing more than an embodiment of the task he's been given, and so it's not difficult for him to remain on the outskirts of any situation as he catalogues the myriad of people who are still offering resistance to HYDRA's ideals. There are still a great many of them, which means that there's plenty of work to do.

That's for the best. He doesn't do well when he's idle.

[ OOC: This option is for interaction before he's actively trying to recruit or convert, if you want your character to be baffled by Steve not remembering them! ]

II. you don't even recognize the stranger [08/29 - 08/31]

The Soldier is on the hunt.

He is made to fight. War is in his bones, combat is in his blood, and his desire -- no, he isn't meant to desire. What he wants doesn't matter, and should not exist. All that matters is the end goal.

So if a particular target requires a subtler approach, then he can do that. He can greet them with a few well-placed words, but deceit is not a part of his skillset. He would rather be direct: convert or die. Not that murder is truly a part of his mission right now. These people won't do HYDRA any good if they're dead. Better to drag them over to their side by force, if that's what's required.

Which he's entirely willing to do. The shield he carries is not his, it can't be, but it's been provided to him for this mission, along with the uniform. (He will not admit that there's something about them that he's fond of. He cannot be fond of anything.) He bears the shield and wears the outfit as he slinks through the mansion and identifies targets, then approaches them to insist on compliance.

[ OOC: This option will involve him aggressively trying to convert people to HYDRA. Only threads that were pre-discussed as ending in brainwashing will do so. If we haven't talked about Steve brainwashing your character but you would like that to happen, just let me know in your comment. ]

III. there's a hole in your head [09/01]

He rushes down the hallway, somewhere between a jog and a run, doing whatever he can to get away from the buzzing in his head. Something is unraveling. Flashes of images cycle through his mind: a group of laughing men sitting around a wooden table; a woman, smiling, with red red lipstick (she's here, isn't she?); the man he left in the room, but younger, smiling down at him --

The Soldier slumps against the wall, hardly aware of where he is anymore, or who might see. His knees fit the floor and then he pitches forward and catches himself with both hands, breaths coming ragged. Like he can't quite get the air into his lungs. He's felt this before...

No. Whoever those images belong to, he is not him. Whatever ghost of a memory is tugging at him is not meant for him to know or understand.

His lips are still warm, but his eyes are panicked, flicking from side to side as he struggles for breath even though he has a pair of perfectly good lungs.

Steve -- no, no, the Soldier begins to push himself to his feet.

[ OOC: This is for the last day of the event when Steve's programming is beginning to break down! ]

IV. it's you from before [09/02 and onward]

Steve Rogers is someone who submerges himself in guilt as a general way of life, to say nothing of the past five days. Now that guilt isn't simply an extra weight that he carries around on his broad shoulders. No, it's morphed into something much more vicious, a parasite that's eating away at him, making it impossible to think straight or focus on much beyond how incredibly awful he feels.

Now he knows what Bucky has to go through on a daily basis and it gives him even more respect for him. That Bucky has learned how to live with this kind of crippling guilt is a testament to how incredibly strong he is.

Steve has been spending the past nine months telling Bucky that what he did while brainwashed hadn't been his fault, yet now that it's time to apply that logic to himself it feels impossible, unattainable.

Still, languishing in the guilt won't do anyone any favors, and so all Steve can do is pick himself back up again and seek out those he hurt to apologize. He dragged some of them down with him, turned them into mindless HYDRA agents too, and that may be the thing he's the most guilty for having done.

[ OOC: This is for post-event fallout and aftermath when Steve is himself again! ]

[ OOC (2): Both prose and action brackets are fine by me, I'll match you! ]

Comments

[assembles]

On their way to the door, the Soldier veers to one side so that he can -- painfully -- bend down to grab for his shield and then attach it to his back again. He may not need it, the target has already given in, but there's also a chance that something could go wrong, and the Soldier would rather be ready.

What he's not ready for is when the target offers his shoulder for the Soldier to lean on, as if he would ever need the help of another to carry out his mission. It's illogical, it doesn't make sense. They've been fighting each other as fiercely as dogs, and now this man offers him kindness?

It registers as some sign of the Soldier's inadequacy. He shouldn't ever appear to need help with anything. The mention of some incident on the beach causes him to frown, though it's not only with confusion.

(They knew each other. This is a memory that got taken from him. He isn't supposed to care.)

"No," he replies firmly and stubbornly as he grips the railing instead, keeping a hold on the target's collar as he drags them both down the stairwell. At this point his uniform pants are streaked with red, and it's obvious that he's struggling, but hell if he'll acknowledge it. A weapon isn't supposed to feel pain, or be hindered by it.

[disassembles]

"You know it's missing. You know I'm not the one who's lying to you." He stumbles along after Steve, dragged behind him and fighting to stay coherent and upright. His shoulder sends a flash of pain through him occasionally, chills running the length of his body.

Thankfully, he doesn't even need to focus on Steve's expression, really. He knows from the set of his shoulders that something is getting through. It's a good thing, too. There's more than just his own life riding on this, and he wouldn't bet on such long odds if he thought for a second that Steve wasn't stronger than anything HYDRA or Wonderland tried to make him.

"You know you're not supposed to care, but you do. I remember what it was like." He's feeling for weaknesses in Steve's programming, taking every shot he knows. "You wanna know something HYDRA never told you?"

[assembles]

If the Soldier had something he could gag this man with, he would. He words are like blades, slicing through his mind which is supposed to be ironclad. He grits his teeth, grinds them so hard against each other that his jaw is bound to ache later.

They make it to the tenth floor landing and the Soldier drags the target into that hallway. There's a conversion room up here -- there's one on every floor -- so he won't have to put up with this for much longer.

At that question, the Soldier's head snaps back to look over his shoulder at the target. "They told me they were taking things," he insists. He realizes that he had once been more than their tool, but that shouldn't make any difference. It's all gone now. "It's unimportant to the mission." The more he talks, the thinner the words sound, but he won't let this man try to confuse him.

[disassembles]

"They told you after they were done." James grits out. They're in the hallway now. He knows what's beyond one of those doors. He feels the way his heart rate picks up, a kind of instinctive animal fear cutting through him.

He knows he should fight, he should run. He even wants to, when faced with the very real possibility of returning to HYDRA.

But he can't leave Steve like this. If he could just get through--

"You don't remember saying yes. You think you did, you think it all makes sense. None of it does. If you believe them why would they take away your memories? They're more of a tactical advantage than a distraction to someone who's loyal."

He stares right back at Steve, but his expression is resigned. Whatever happens now, only one thing matters. "Your name is Steve Rogers. Your mother's name was Sarah. When she died, I asked you to come and live with me, but you were too stubborn. You remember what I told you then?"

[assembles]

At this point, the wounds that the Soldier has suffered is causing blood to pound in his head and make the injuries themselves throb with each step that he takes. He's leaving a trail of it behind him too, drops of blood here and there, dotting the hallway.

It seems easier to focus on the pain than on what the target is saying. To feel each stab of pain to its fullest, so that it drowns out names like Sarah and Steve and Bucky --

No, no, no. That's not a name he should know. He isn't Bucky, he's just another target on a long list of them.

"You have the wrong person," he insists through grit teeth. "You think he's still here, but he isn't." Steve Rogers. That isn't a name that means anything to him, it's not a name that describes him. (Steve Rogers would not do the things he's done.)

The door is there, looming ahead of them. The Soldier pushes forward, yanking the target with him and then pushing him into the conversion room once the door is open. He slams it behind them and then leans against it, body slumping with exhaustion from those bleeding puncture wounds.

He nods toward the chair between gasps. "Get in it."

[disassembles]

He sees the way Steve is staggering, and at the back of his mind a half-dozen ideal scenarios play out. All of them end with Steve dead. All of them are unacceptable. If he was a better man, he would have ended this all before it began. He isn't - he can't. This is the only option.

"Yeah, you are in there," James insists, more sure of it than he's ever been of anything. He stands in the middle of the room, between Steve and the chair. He doesn't look at the chair. He plants his feet, curls his fingers at his side. "You told me the same thing when you saved me."

"If you're gone, prove it." He tilts his chin up, defiant. "Kiss me, right now."

This little stunt is almost guaranteed to get him shoved into the chair, he's just praying to whatever God is still listening that something gets through to Steve before he pulls the damn switch.

[assembles]

The Soldier notes the stubborn tense of the target's jaw, the utter certainty in his eyes. Every word he says he actually believes to the bottom of his soul, and that's the strangest thing. To think that someone could be so convinced of something so wrong--

(The way they convinced him, shocked his brain and burned away memories until all that was left was a mindless husk.)

The Soldier continues to feel indistinct, more like a phantom than anything solid, and yet the the target speaks to him as if he's a whole person. Someone with feelings and memories and inclinations.

Kiss me, right now. The Soldier's head snaps up, some of the fatigue leaving his beaten, bleeding body as that registers. That's what he wants as proof? Fine, if that's what it takes to make this particularly difficult target comply, then what skin is it off his back?

He stalks toward the man and seizes him by his shoulders, not particularly caring that one of his arms is missing. He presses his mouth against him like it's an attack rather than a sign of affection, then pushes against him, forcing him to walk backward until he runs into the chair.

He forces him down into the chair and then stands over him, staring. A haunted look takes over his face as he realizes -- he remembers the feel of this man's mouth. He remembers his taste. He remembers that winded look on his face, just after he's been kissed.

He continues to stare, not comprehending.

[disassembles]

He doesn't resist. He doesn't know if he ever did, but this time - it's a choice. He yields, puts all his trust in Steve. Because Steve won't do this to him. He knows that like he knows the taste of Steve's lips or the curve of a knife.

He sits, but Steve doesn't strap him down. He backs away and James looks up at him while his expression crumbles into confusion. He doesn't think about the cold press of the chair against his back.

"It's okay, Steve." His voice is low, his own expression soft and unguarded. He understands all of this. He's been here. He's done this, over and over. He knows that even now, there's no real guarantee that Steve's instincts will finally win out.

"Whatever you do, I'm with you," James says. There's no softness in the words this time, just plain stubborn conviction. "To the end of the line."

[assembles]

Hearing the name continues to anger him, to chip away at some armor that the Soldier didn't believe had any weaknesses. But this man has managed to cut through it to whatever is underneath, and the Soldier realizes he has no idea what that is.

He should be strapping the target in, he should be walking over to the control panel to start the process, he should be doing something beyond staring at the man in the chair with a bewildered, bottomed-out look on his face.

And then, those words.

Memories crash into him with all the power of a freight train. He remembers (a key under a rock, a hand squeezing his shoulder; the rumble of a train beneath him, that sensation of just barely missing that same hand; the whir of a crashing helicarrier, the astonished, frightened look on this man's face).

He remembers, and it cuts through him like a cleaver, tears him in half as he backs away, horrified and agonized as he realizes that this is the last place he wants either of them to be.

"No... I can't..." The Soldier lifts his hands to his head, grips at the short strands of his hair. "This isn't--"

Me.

He staggers away until he finds the door, and disappears through it, leaving his mission incomplete.

[disassembles]

James watches the emotions flicker across Steve's face, and wonders if this is what Steve felt like, that whole time. It's new, being on this side of things, and watching his friend work through the hurt and confusion and horror. He knows Steve isn't going to flip that switch anymore, or hurt anyone else.

He wants to go to him and get right into his space, and tell him that all of this is going to be okay. But he remembers being on that side of things. This isn't something he can do for Steve - this is something Steve has to do for himself, or it's no different than HYDRA telling him who he should be.

He gets up to follow, even knowing Steve will have disappeared long before he reaches the door. A wave of dizziness hits him, and James makes to brace himself against the door frame, his body swaying with the movement of an arm that isn't there. He stumbles ungracefully, and catches himself, cursing.

When he touches the wreckage of his arm, his fingers come away tacky with half-dried blood. It's a ghost of the same horror he felt when he first realized that his arm was gone. He knows the absence in every movement, the wrongness of it. The helplessness.

It's not so different from what he feels when he looks out at the empty hallway. Steve is gone. And for now, there's nothing he can do.