Dumpster #3: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

[trashmod]

Holy shitballs, look at us go. Welcome to Captain America fandom's resident wretched hive of scum and villainy: ROUND THREE. AKA Bad Guys Do Dirtybadwrong Things To Your Faves, AKA the Hydra Trash Party kinkmeme. As usual, BLANKET NON-CON AND NSFW WARNINGS apply: just assume going in that everything in this landfill is unfit for human consumption.

Rules in brief: don't be a jerk except to fictional characters, warnings for particularly fucked-up garbage are nice but not required, thou shalt not judge the trashiness of thy neighbor's kinks unless thy neighbor is trying to pass off their rotting banana peels and half-eaten pizza crusts as a healthy romantic dinner for two, off-topic comments may be chucked out of the dumpster at management's discretion, management's discretion decrees that omegaverse, soulbond AUs, D/s-verse, non-superpowered AUs, and dark!good guys AUs are off-topic.

[Round 1] [Round 2] [Fill post] [Chatter post] [hydratrashmeme Pinboard archive (maintained by greenkirtle)] [Round 3 in flat view (comments in non-threaded chronological order, most recent last)]

Round 3 is closed; comments and fills in existing threads are still welcome, but all new prompts go to Round 4.

Comments

Re: FILL: Lie Down on the Wire 14/?

[(Anonymous)]

The prisoner spat out the wadding. "Steve," he said. The name made a resonance in Nomad's mind. The man swallowed. "Steve, please don't do this." He sounded afraid, though not as afraid as Nomad might have expected.

"You have thirty seconds to make your peace with God," Nomad said.

"Oh fuck," the prisoner spat. "Steve, come on. You know you're not gonna do this. You know it's me, right? You know I'm your friend. We were friends when we were kids, remember? It's me, Steve, it's Bucky."

Nomad frowned; that didn't seem right. The prisoner's eyes widened a bit, with fear or desperation, and he talked faster, the words spilling over each other. "Shit, please, I swear it's me. Please, please Steve, you don't want to do this. I'm your friend, it's me, I swear it's me, it's--"

Nomad pulled the trigger.

In the aftermath of the shot, Doctor Risman's voice seemed quiet. "Well done."

Nomad looked down at the body. With the face hidden, it wasn't disturbing, the details of its build producing no resonance. It wasn't a back he recognized, insofar as he recognized anything much. He wondered idly what had happened to him, to erase the life he must have lived before. There had to have been a before; men didn't just suddenly discover themselves full-grown. His hands and body knew how to do things. The gun had felt familiar.

The door slid open to reveal Doctor Risman, smiling. Nomad smiled back in relief. "Well done," the doctor repeated.

"Ma'am, if I may ask: who's Steve?" Nomad asked.

"That used to be your body's name," she said. "And to answer your next question, 'Bucky' was a friend of Steve's. The prisoner resembled him, and was trying to use that resemblance to stop you. He knew you don't remember, thought he might be able to fool you." She looked disapproving, though Nomad thought she was also satisfied with how well he'd performed.

Nomad thought it over. "What happened to me? To...Bucky."

"You were both in a very bad aircraft crash," Doctor Risman said. "You survived, but you've had extensive head trauma."

"And Bucky didn't make it," Nomad said. Head trauma might explain the resonance; messing with the brain could do all sorts of funny things. It was too bad his companion hadn't survived. It might be nice to have someone to pass the time with.

"I'm afraid we lost him," Doctor Risman agreed. "Now come with me."

Nomad trailed her, half a step back from her right shoulder. At the junction, they turned left, which led away from his quarters, and he fought down unease. "Bucky's an odd name," he said, to cover it. "Sounds like the kind of thing you pick because there are six other Jims on the block."

The steady tap of Doctor Risman's heels faltered for a moment. "Some people have odd nicknames," she said neutrally.

They were still down the hall from the room that held the chair when Doctor Risman stopped short and put her hand to her ear. All the guards were suddenly much tenser than they'd been instants before, and Nomad had a second of worry that he'd done something inappropriate. "How?" the doctor demanded, and then spoke over any reply, "Never mind, it's not important. Keep them out of the center block for as long as possible." She started walking again, faster, and Nomad lengthened his stride to keep up, considering what he'd heard. There was only one explanation that fit the facts.

He checked for a moment when they entered the chair room; he couldn't help it. "Ma'am," he said, and fought not to let his voice crack. "If we're under attack, let me help."

She turned to face him. "You'll help better if you do this," she said. "Sit."

It took him a long second to force himself to cross to the chair and he shuddered at the touch of the leather seat. A technician closed the restraints over his arms and offered him the bite guard. "I need him a blank slate," Doctor Risman said. "Up to full."

Nomad started to hyperventilate as the whir began behind his head. The arms lifted into his field of vision and as the contacts came down to cover his face he thought Just breathe, Steve, in a voice that wasn't his own.

*

When he struggled awake the room was empty except for two guards who looked spooked. His limbs were heavy with the peculiar lassitude the chair left behind, but it was irrelevant because he was still restrained. He spat out the bite guard. "What's going on?" he asked. He heard a crash, muffled by distance or walls or both, and started yanking at the arm restraints.

"The Avengers," one of the guards said, sounding panicky. The other guard gave him a venomous glance.

"Don't talk to the asset, dumbsh--"

The wall exploded.

In the gap were three points of blue-white light that made a resonance in his mind. The guards shouted and fired into the dust, and with a rising whine one of the points emitted a bright blast that bowled them both over. They landed hard and didn't twitch. Nomad struggled harder.

A red-and-gold robot stepped through the wall. The points of light were its palms and the center of its chest. It scanned around the room. "Guys, I found him," it said, its voice a little tinny but very naturalistic, and far more pleasant than the forbidding mask of its face suggested. "Cap, it is damn good to see you." Suddenly the front of its head...retracted somehow, to reveal a man's face. He had dark hair and brown eyes and an absurd goatee, and he made resonance too.

"Who are you?" Nomad demanded, yanking at the restraints. They creaked, but he wasn't getting out of them before the armored suit could fire, that was for sure.

"Ooooh, that's not good," the guy said. "And also I'm a little insulted you could forget me. Barnes, center block, hurry it up." He gave Nomad a slightly twisted smile. "We're on your side, I promise, hold on for just a minute and all will be revealed."

"It had damn well better be," Nomad growled.

Less than a minute later Nomad heard running feet in the hall. A man and a woman appeared through the hole, both of them in black combat gear. The woman was young and redheaded and attractive enough that it should have been distracting, but Nomad found his attention fixed on the man: Caucasian, mid-twenties, above-average height, dark hair and blue eyes and features that made the phrase "black Irish" float up. He wore a metal sheath of some sort on his left arm and his expression was trying to be blank as he crossed the room. Nomad thought that he should flinch as the metal-covered arm reached for his head, but he didn't, and there was a wrenching squeal as the man pulled one of the chair's arms loose. Then he met Nomad's eyes, searching for something. The resonance shrieked, stronger than it had ever been

"Steve," he said. "It's me. It's Bucky."

Nomad frowned. "Who the hell is Bucky?"

Re: FILL: Lie Down on the Wire 14/?

[(Anonymous)]

\o/ yay rescue!!!!! <3333 I've been holding my breath for this moment.

Re: FILL: Lie Down on the Wire 14/?

[(Anonymous)]

I AM STILL HOLDING MY BREATH HOLY CRAPBALLS

Re: FILL: Lie Down on the Wire 14/?

[(Anonymous)]

ahhhhhhhh i love this!!