I'm just filling in random Russian words for the trigger in order to get this posted. If you have any ideas, though, please let me know!
It had been nearly a year after Captain Rogers and his other friends had left Wakanda in pursuit of yet another heroic endeavour that T'Challa's researchers had hit upon a viable strategy for countering the Winter Soldier's triggers. They had no test subject for a trial run, of course, so nobody knew if the process would actually work out as predicted.
So they extracted Mister Barnes from the cryofreeze chamber.
T'Challa had insisted they wait for a day when he could be present to personally oversee the process. The least he could do for this man he had wronged was to make very sure he did not accidentally kill yet another person.
It was eerie watching the Winter Soldier's return to consciousness. There was some drowsy lolling of the head, lazily blinking eyes - and then suddenly, like the flick of a switch, the man came to attention, eyes hard and focused, muscles tense, lips pressed together in a thin line.
T'Challa wondered what the man expected to happen if this was his natural reaction upon waking. Nothing good, that was certain. He hurried to disperse the man's anxiety. "Mister Barnes, welcome back," he said politely. "You are still in Wakanda and in no danger from anyone present. We have not removed your restraints yet as we were not certain you would be able to stand on your own. Will you be alright if we remove them now?"
Barnes's rigid posture loosened a little, but he still seemed wary. "Where's Steve?"
"He is currently on a mission," T'Challa explained, "and has been for several months. In the meantime, my researchers have devised a process that may succeed in removing your triggers. Would you like to get out of your restraints and discuss it with us?"
Barnes looked pensive. "You'll need better ones before you use any of the words," he demanded.
"Of course," T'Challa easily agreed. He was relieved; he had been thinking the same thing, but hadn't been sure he'd get the other man to agree.
"Alright then," Barnes said.
They released him, and while it seemed to cost him an extreme amount of effort, he made it over to the table and managed to lower himself into a cushy chair unaided. A tiny sigh escaped, then his features lost all signs of strain and rearranged themselves into a blank mask.
T'Challa and the head researcher then explained the process in detail. They talked about the three copies of the red book they had acquired and checked against each other, about their plan to counter the trigger Zemo had used. They mentioned the other trigger phrase they had found, and their theory that since Zemo had focused on the longer one, the shorter one might be less powerful and did he know what it might do? They went into detail on their counter-action strategy.
Barnes listened quietly, never interrupting or even moving his head in approval or denial. Twenty minutes later, the researcher fell silent and T'Challa looked inquisitively at Barnes. "What do you think? Does this have a chance of working?"
Barnes finally spoke. "Honestly? I understood maybe half of what you said." His mouth twisted. "Okay, so actually it might have been closer to thirty percent. The thing is, I don't really remember much of the training, much less each separate mission. I didn't even know there was more than one trigger. Knowing Hydra, it could be an activation phrase for some specialist skill I'm not otherwise aware of as easily as it could be a kill switch. I don't have a degree in psycho-crap either, so your guess is as good as mine. No wait," - he looked at the researcher - "you probably do have that degree, so your guess would actually be better."
He leaned back, suddenly projecting lazy abandon rather than the previous rigidly cold tension. "So, hit me with that second trigger. If it's not a kill switch, we'll know what it does and you can devise a plan for that one, too. If it is... well, we'll burn that bridge when we come to it, right?"
A kill switch. Somehow, despite all their theories and research, none of them had ever spoken that out loud. None of them had wanted to believe that such a thing was possible: to program a human being to the point where he would die on command. Not kill himself, but die, without application of any exterior force. Yet here Barnes was, telling them he had no idea how human psychology worked while at the same time talking about kill switches like they were a natural given. Something that just existed. Something that might exist inside him.
T'Challa looked at Barnes then, really looked at him. All the gestures were right, the tone was perfect, and yet... He was nearly certain that the man underneath the bravado was scared shitless.
As he realized that Barnes was serious about the kill switch, T'Challa's respect for Barnes grew tenfold. The man had no idea what would happen to him now and yet he was still ready to trust T'Challa - a virtual stranger who'd tried to kill him not so long ago - with his life.
"Is it likely to be a kill switch?"
"As I said," Barnes reiterated, "you probably know better than I do, so you tell me."
T'Challa looked at Anathi. The studied psychologist bit his lower lip. "Until now, we assumed that such a thing cannot exist."
Barnes smiled grimly. "No harm in trying, then."
T'Challa wasn't buying it. "Have you ever seen a kill switch successfully being used?"
A shadow passed over Barnes's features. "I have no memories of that. Doesn't mean it hasn't happened."
Well. That told them exactly nothing. Barnes seemed to believe that kill switches existed, but couldn't substantiate it. His conviction could stem from personal experience just as well as it could be an old wives' tale his captors had told him to keep him in line.
"How do you wish to proceed?" he asked Barnes. Ultimately, it was his life.
"Let's do this," Barnes said, once again trying for nonchalance, failing more noticeably this time.
"Are you really sure?"
Barnes gave up on the pretence and his eyes focused on T'Challa's with frightening intensity. "I need to know."
T'Challa silently stared at him for a long time, trying to guess his motives. Did the man want to die? Or was he just understandably sick of not knowing what was inside his own mind? In the end, he decided that whatever his reasons, Barnes did know what he wanted and T'Challa had no right to refuse him. Actually, seeing how he had wrongfully hunted the man before, he rather had a duty to help him be free of his chains now.
He gave a single, slow nod, looking back at Barnes unwavering. "I will be right here the entire time. I will keep you from harm to the best of my abilities, and I will protect everyone else from being harmed by you. I personally take responsibility for whatever happens during this test. This, I promise you."
For a fraction of a second, Barnes looked like a deer caught in headlights, then the shutters came down again. "Alright. Do it."
He stood up on his own and walked back to the cryofreeze chamber, waiting for T'Challa's men to retie the bands around his torso and legs. They brought over the reinforced vibranium cuffs T'Challa had ordered to be made and tied them around the man's three limbs, attaching them both to each other and to a triple-reinforced hook in the floor.
Barnes raised an impressed eyebrow, but still asked: "You equipped to stop me if this turns me into a rabid monster and I snap 'em?"
"I have heightened strength myself," T'Challa said, hoping it would reassure the man. "Even if you broke lose of your restraints, I am confident I could contain you."
Barnes raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't contradict him. T'Challa supposed he must really trust those restraints.
"...We will also withdraw behind that one-way glass over there. It is bullet proof and might give even you some trouble." T'Challa cocked his head. "Are you satisfied with these precautions?"
Barnes gave him a grim smile. "I'll be like a bug under the microscope. Just what I always wanted." Then he shook his head. "Yeah, yeah. Just go ahead already."
One last, piercing look, then T'Challa left the room, followed by his research team. As promised, they gathered on the other side of the one-way glass.
"Proceed," T'Challa said.
Fundani stepped up to a microphone, holding onto one of the red books, and read the trigger words in flawless Russian. "Золото. Mучение. Покой."
Barnes grew still. His chin fell to his chest, eyes closed. At first, it looked like it might be the attentive quiet that had been described to them, the Soldier waiting for orders. But then Barnes's body started trembling, beads of sweat forming on his brow.
"Mister Barnes," T'Challa spoke into the microphone in alarm, "what is happening to you? Can you tell me what is going on?"
The man's head snapped up and T'Challa took a step back from the glass in shock. Barnes's eyes were lifeless, with the pupils blown wide, but not a shard of recognition in them. His mouth stood agape as though opened around a voiceless scream, or maybe a moan. His trembling increased, right hand opening and closing uselessly at his side.
"Barnes," T'Challa tried again, but there was no reaction save for a tiny whine that escaped before the man cut it off with a panicked look around.
"May I...?" one of the researchers said, gesturing to the microphone. T'Challa nodded.
"Soldier!" the man barked. "At attention!"
It worked. Barnes's head snapped up, his entire being focusing on the origin of that harsh voice. The trembling increased when he only found a small speaker in the corner of the ceiling.
After a quick glance at T'Challa, seeking confirmation, the man continued. "What is your mission, Soldier?"
Some of the tension seemed to go out of Barnes at the words. "I exist for your pleasure, Sir." A stronger shiver went through his frame, followed by a gasping, loud moan.
T'Challa looked at his research team, who looked back at him with widened eyes. "Was that...?"
"I believe so," T'Challa answered. He had to make sure, though. "Soldier," he now addressed Barnes himself, "are you in pain?"
Every bit of tension returned to Barnes's muscles in a heartbeat. "My pain is of no consequence, Sir." It was very obviously not what he wanted to say, but just as obviously the only thing he was allowed to answer.
Another moan escaped Barnes's lips as his head first tilted back, then dropped to his chest, like he were writhing in pain or ecstasy.
"Your majesty," Anathi said, sounding unusually hesitant, "look." T'Challa looked where Anathi was pointing and saw something he had so very much not wanted to see just now.
A tent in Barnes's pants.
T'Challa flinched. "Don't tell me those lowlifes...," he whispered.
"It rather looks that way," Anathi answered. "What are we going to do about it?" This was not the kind of conditioning they had expected, and they were it was unlikely that their original plan of attack would help with this.
"I am uncertain. Do you think this will just come to an end on its own if we let it, or is some action required?"
"We lack data," Anathi admitted. "It's hard to tell."
They silently looked on as Barnes made tiny, helpless sounds of arousal, eyes searching the room for something, or maybe someone. Anyone.
"Barnes, are you in there?" T'Challa asked through the microphone. "Do you know who we are? Who you are? Do you remember anything? Have you got any idea how to end this?"
"Sir," Barnes repeated in a throaty whisper, "I am here for your pleasure."
"Can we put him back in cryo?" Anathi asked. "The reports say his conditioning broke before when he was knocked unconscious."
"It's worth a try."
It didn't work. Barnes panicked when they closed the lid on him, and he resurfaced three hours later equally as panicked, and still very much in his sex slave mindset.
Meanwhile, T'Challa had tried to contact Captain Rogers but had been unable to reach him. The only one he could get a hold of, Stark, had informed him that he was currently missing a supreme intergalactic battle and Steve Rogers was, as usual, in the thick of it. Then something like the sound of a lightning bolt striking a boulder sizzled through the line. "Sorry, now's not the best time, I'm being shot at by -" Stark explained before the line went dead.
T'Challa wanted to scream.
There was no telling when Rogers would return to Wakanda, or even if he'd be in one piece when he did. There was no-one left to ask for help or, failing that, information, and Barnes was still suffering in the next room.
T'Challa sighed. "Let's wait and see if it passes on its own."
Fill: Touch-starved 2/?
It had been nearly a year after Captain Rogers and his other friends had left Wakanda in pursuit of yet another heroic endeavour that T'Challa's researchers had hit upon a viable strategy for countering the Winter Soldier's triggers. They had no test subject for a trial run, of course, so nobody knew if the process would actually work out as predicted.
So they extracted Mister Barnes from the cryofreeze chamber.
T'Challa had insisted they wait for a day when he could be present to personally oversee the process. The least he could do for this man he had wronged was to make very sure he did not accidentally kill yet another person.
It was eerie watching the Winter Soldier's return to consciousness. There was some drowsy lolling of the head, lazily blinking eyes - and then suddenly, like the flick of a switch, the man came to attention, eyes hard and focused, muscles tense, lips pressed together in a thin line.
T'Challa wondered what the man expected to happen if this was his natural reaction upon waking. Nothing good, that was certain. He hurried to disperse the man's anxiety. "Mister Barnes, welcome back," he said politely. "You are still in Wakanda and in no danger from anyone present. We have not removed your restraints yet as we were not certain you would be able to stand on your own. Will you be alright if we remove them now?"
Barnes's rigid posture loosened a little, but he still seemed wary. "Where's Steve?"
"He is currently on a mission," T'Challa explained, "and has been for several months. In the meantime, my researchers have devised a process that may succeed in removing your triggers. Would you like to get out of your restraints and discuss it with us?"
Barnes looked pensive. "You'll need better ones before you use any of the words," he demanded.
"Of course," T'Challa easily agreed. He was relieved; he had been thinking the same thing, but hadn't been sure he'd get the other man to agree.
"Alright then," Barnes said.
They released him, and while it seemed to cost him an extreme amount of effort, he made it over to the table and managed to lower himself into a cushy chair unaided. A tiny sigh escaped, then his features lost all signs of strain and rearranged themselves into a blank mask.
T'Challa and the head researcher then explained the process in detail. They talked about the three copies of the red book they had acquired and checked against each other, about their plan to counter the trigger Zemo had used. They mentioned the other trigger phrase they had found, and their theory that since Zemo had focused on the longer one, the shorter one might be less powerful and did he know what it might do? They went into detail on their counter-action strategy.
Barnes listened quietly, never interrupting or even moving his head in approval or denial. Twenty minutes later, the researcher fell silent and T'Challa looked inquisitively at Barnes. "What do you think? Does this have a chance of working?"
Barnes finally spoke. "Honestly? I understood maybe half of what you said." His mouth twisted. "Okay, so actually it might have been closer to thirty percent. The thing is, I don't really remember much of the training, much less each separate mission. I didn't even know there was more than one trigger. Knowing Hydra, it could be an activation phrase for some specialist skill I'm not otherwise aware of as easily as it could be a kill switch. I don't have a degree in psycho-crap either, so your guess is as good as mine. No wait," - he looked at the researcher - "you probably do have that degree, so your guess would actually be better."
He leaned back, suddenly projecting lazy abandon rather than the previous rigidly cold tension. "So, hit me with that second trigger. If it's not a kill switch, we'll know what it does and you can devise a plan for that one, too. If it is... well, we'll burn that bridge when we come to it, right?"
A kill switch. Somehow, despite all their theories and research, none of them had ever spoken that out loud. None of them had wanted to believe that such a thing was possible: to program a human being to the point where he would die on command. Not kill himself, but die, without application of any exterior force. Yet here Barnes was, telling them he had no idea how human psychology worked while at the same time talking about kill switches like they were a natural given. Something that just existed. Something that might exist inside him.
T'Challa looked at Barnes then, really looked at him. All the gestures were right, the tone was perfect, and yet... He was nearly certain that the man underneath the bravado was scared shitless.
As he realized that Barnes was serious about the kill switch, T'Challa's respect for Barnes grew tenfold. The man had no idea what would happen to him now and yet he was still ready to trust T'Challa - a virtual stranger who'd tried to kill him not so long ago - with his life.
"Is it likely to be a kill switch?"
"As I said," Barnes reiterated, "you probably know better than I do, so you tell me."
T'Challa looked at Anathi. The studied psychologist bit his lower lip. "Until now, we assumed that such a thing cannot exist."
Barnes smiled grimly. "No harm in trying, then."
T'Challa wasn't buying it. "Have you ever seen a kill switch successfully being used?"
A shadow passed over Barnes's features. "I have no memories of that. Doesn't mean it hasn't happened."
Well. That told them exactly nothing. Barnes seemed to believe that kill switches existed, but couldn't substantiate it. His conviction could stem from personal experience just as well as it could be an old wives' tale his captors had told him to keep him in line.
"How do you wish to proceed?" he asked Barnes. Ultimately, it was his life.
"Let's do this," Barnes said, once again trying for nonchalance, failing more noticeably this time.
"Are you really sure?"
Barnes gave up on the pretence and his eyes focused on T'Challa's with frightening intensity. "I need to know."
T'Challa silently stared at him for a long time, trying to guess his motives. Did the man want to die? Or was he just understandably sick of not knowing what was inside his own mind? In the end, he decided that whatever his reasons, Barnes did know what he wanted and T'Challa had no right to refuse him. Actually, seeing how he had wrongfully hunted the man before, he rather had a duty to help him be free of his chains now.
He gave a single, slow nod, looking back at Barnes unwavering. "I will be right here the entire time. I will keep you from harm to the best of my abilities, and I will protect everyone else from being harmed by you. I personally take responsibility for whatever happens during this test. This, I promise you."
For a fraction of a second, Barnes looked like a deer caught in headlights, then the shutters came down again. "Alright. Do it."
He stood up on his own and walked back to the cryofreeze chamber, waiting for T'Challa's men to retie the bands around his torso and legs. They brought over the reinforced vibranium cuffs T'Challa had ordered to be made and tied them around the man's three limbs, attaching them both to each other and to a triple-reinforced hook in the floor.
Barnes raised an impressed eyebrow, but still asked: "You equipped to stop me if this turns me into a rabid monster and I snap 'em?"
"I have heightened strength myself," T'Challa said, hoping it would reassure the man. "Even if you broke lose of your restraints, I am confident I could contain you."
Barnes raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't contradict him. T'Challa supposed he must really trust those restraints.
"...We will also withdraw behind that one-way glass over there. It is bullet proof and might give even you some trouble." T'Challa cocked his head. "Are you satisfied with these precautions?"
Barnes gave him a grim smile. "I'll be like a bug under the microscope. Just what I always wanted." Then he shook his head. "Yeah, yeah. Just go ahead already."
One last, piercing look, then T'Challa left the room, followed by his research team. As promised, they gathered on the other side of the one-way glass.
"Proceed," T'Challa said.
Fundani stepped up to a microphone, holding onto one of the red books, and read the trigger words in flawless Russian. "Золото. Mучение. Покой."
Barnes grew still. His chin fell to his chest, eyes closed. At first, it looked like it might be the attentive quiet that had been described to them, the Soldier waiting for orders. But then Barnes's body started trembling, beads of sweat forming on his brow.
"Mister Barnes," T'Challa spoke into the microphone in alarm, "what is happening to you? Can you tell me what is going on?"
The man's head snapped up and T'Challa took a step back from the glass in shock. Barnes's eyes were lifeless, with the pupils blown wide, but not a shard of recognition in them. His mouth stood agape as though opened around a voiceless scream, or maybe a moan. His trembling increased, right hand opening and closing uselessly at his side.
"Barnes," T'Challa tried again, but there was no reaction save for a tiny whine that escaped before the man cut it off with a panicked look around.
"May I...?" one of the researchers said, gesturing to the microphone. T'Challa nodded.
"Soldier!" the man barked. "At attention!"
It worked. Barnes's head snapped up, his entire being focusing on the origin of that harsh voice. The trembling increased when he only found a small speaker in the corner of the ceiling.
After a quick glance at T'Challa, seeking confirmation, the man continued. "What is your mission, Soldier?"
Some of the tension seemed to go out of Barnes at the words. "I exist for your pleasure, Sir." A stronger shiver went through his frame, followed by a gasping, loud moan.
T'Challa looked at his research team, who looked back at him with widened eyes. "Was that...?"
"I believe so," T'Challa answered. He had to make sure, though. "Soldier," he now addressed Barnes himself, "are you in pain?"
Every bit of tension returned to Barnes's muscles in a heartbeat. "My pain is of no consequence, Sir." It was very obviously not what he wanted to say, but just as obviously the only thing he was allowed to answer.
Another moan escaped Barnes's lips as his head first tilted back, then dropped to his chest, like he were writhing in pain or ecstasy.
"Your majesty," Anathi said, sounding unusually hesitant, "look." T'Challa looked where Anathi was pointing and saw something he had so very much not wanted to see just now.
A tent in Barnes's pants.
T'Challa flinched. "Don't tell me those lowlifes...," he whispered.
"It rather looks that way," Anathi answered. "What are we going to do about it?" This was not the kind of conditioning they had expected, and they were it was unlikely that their original plan of attack would help with this.
"I am uncertain. Do you think this will just come to an end on its own if we let it, or is some action required?"
"We lack data," Anathi admitted. "It's hard to tell."
They silently looked on as Barnes made tiny, helpless sounds of arousal, eyes searching the room for something, or maybe someone. Anyone.
"Barnes, are you in there?" T'Challa asked through the microphone. "Do you know who we are? Who you are? Do you remember anything? Have you got any idea how to end this?"
"Sir," Barnes repeated in a throaty whisper, "I am here for your pleasure."
"Can we put him back in cryo?" Anathi asked. "The reports say his conditioning broke before when he was knocked unconscious."
"It's worth a try."
It didn't work. Barnes panicked when they closed the lid on him, and he resurfaced three hours later equally as panicked, and still very much in his sex slave mindset.
Meanwhile, T'Challa had tried to contact Captain Rogers but had been unable to reach him. The only one he could get a hold of, Stark, had informed him that he was currently missing a supreme intergalactic battle and Steve Rogers was, as usual, in the thick of it. Then something like the sound of a lightning bolt striking a boulder sizzled through the line. "Sorry, now's not the best time, I'm being shot at by -" Stark explained before the line went dead.
T'Challa wanted to scream.
There was no telling when Rogers would return to Wakanda, or even if he'd be in one piece when he did. There was no-one left to ask for help or, failing that, information, and Barnes was still suffering in the next room.
T'Challa sighed. "Let's wait and see if it passes on its own."