It has been quite a while. Had to quit school, wasn't doing very good emotionally for me.
Had writer's block for a long time, but I'm back. I couldn't abandon this story, it's my baby.
Perhaps this next part has been influenced by my mental state but any way.
Let me say that I am so grateful for your comments, they really helped drag me out of my funk.
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“Please, Sir please. The Asset begs to be punished! It is ready to comply! Please!” Bucky screams at the top of his lungs, the horrible sound of his voice carrying through the practically-hulk-proof isolation chamber's speaker system. Bucky's pale and harrowed face rendered in perfect clarity on the wall mounted monitor.
On a seemingly straightforward mission not three weeks ago, members of a hidden HYDRA cell managed to activate the Winter Soldier programming which Steve and the others had all thought purged from Bucky's mind.
Once everything was said and done, the HYDRA agents dead and the day saved, Steve had found out how wrong he'd been.
A few days after Bucky had pulled Steve out of the river under the falling Helicarrier he’d showed up, dressed in some scavenged clothes, on the doorstep of Stark Tower. Steve had coaxed him through the evacuated reception area up to his apartment, where Bucky had asked, “James Buchanan Barnes, that's… my name?”
“Yea, Buck,” Steve had whispered in reverence, wishing to touch him but holding back in fear of scaring him away. “How much do you…”
“Steve,” he said the name as if testing it out. “I… I don't remember everything… but it's me, it's Bucky. I'm back now,” Buck had promised, all doe eyes and wobbly lip.
Five days after Bucky had appeared out of nowhere Steve's resolve cracked and they fucked for the first time in over seventy years. Bucky had looked so beautiful, all shy and waiting on Steve to guide him through it again like they had before the fall.
A lie, a flighty fantasy. And Steve had swallowed it all, hook, line and sinker.
Now Steve realized that it had been the Asset looking for ways of pleasing its handler, and Steve felt like throwing up.
The other Avengers stood around Steve in silence as the video feed continued, promises of obedience and perfect service in the hope of forgiveness kept pouring out like a broken record. Bucky didn't even talk about himself like a person anymore, only the Asset, 'it’.
That made Steve's blood boil. Everyone responsible for Bucky's current state were either dead or beyond Steve's grasp. Except for one; himself. Because, really, if he hadn't let Bucky fall off that train seventy years ago then Bucky wouldn't have landed in the grip of HYDRA, Bucky wouldn't have been turned into this broken thing, he wouldn't have-
Steve wanted very much to go back down to the gym and punch a bag of sand, but if he did that he might never stop. Bucky -or what was left of him- needed Steve to be here, needed Steve to go through with this.
JARVIS, along with every other doctor they trusted to have a look at Bucky’s readings all told them the same thing; Bucky was dying, inexplicable bodywide organ failure. It was a miracle he was still up and lucid, they all said.
No miracle, Steve knew. Zola’s experiment and Steve's bastardized serum was the only thing keeping the reaper from Bucky now. Everytime they tried to offer treatment or explain to Bucky that he was free, that he didn't need a handler, his condition just deteriorated.
“Before I go in,” Steve said. “I need you guys to promise me something.”
Everyone nodded.
“I need all of you to watch my back… for his sake. To keep vigilant of the signs. I want JARVIS to monitor us around the clock and report anything… suspicious. If I turn into someone else… If I go too deep and lose sight of why I'm doing this I want you to stop me by any means necessary… because I… I couldn't live with myself if I…”
Sam put a steady hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “We've got your back, man. You can lean on us, that's a promise.”
Tony gave Steve a nod. “JARVIS?”
“Yes, sir. Beginning to upgrade Captain Roger's quarters. Structural reinforcement should be completed in the next 72 hours. Installation of surveillance systems will be finished within in the hour, Sir.”
“Steve, anything else you'd like to add just tell JARVIS, no need to clear it with me. Now I'll be down in the lab, taking another crack on those encrypted files.” Tony gave Steve's other shoulder a pat as he passed, sharing a grimm look for just a moment.
Before Steve could reach the cell door, Nat cornered him. “You don't need me to tell you that your man, the man you know, won't come back. What these people do…” She looked away into the distance, blinked once and then turned back. “They break people and make something different with the pieces,” she said bluntly
Steve opened his mouth to say something but Nat continued before he could get anything out.
“I'm not telling you not to do this, I can see you need to. Just… watch out for yourself.”
Steve blinked, looked down at his feet. “I know,” was all he said.
The reinforced door slid open to reveal Bucky's ragged form kneeling bare on the floor, silent for once, in the middle of the room. As Steve took a wobbly step forward, he noticed the squishy, gymnastics mat like padding that covered every surface of the pale cell interior.
Bucky twitched at the soft sound of Steve's footstep but didn't look up from the space right in front of his own knees. Steve took another step, and another twitch followed; by the time Steve was standing in front of him, Bucky was actively shaking.
Steve took a breath, trying to think of something to say, everything he'd planned up until this point gone, but Bucky beat him to it. He looked up at Steve with bloodshot eyes and said with a sandpaper voice, “The Asset is ready for the next mission, sir. What is the target?” His skin was wax pale and clammy with perspiration.
“There is no target,” Steve said, keeping his voice perfectly controlled and free of all the emotions that wanted an out. “There’ll be no new missio-”
Bucky broke down sobbing, a horrendous sound tearing from his throat. “Please, s-sir. The Asset can still ser-ve! Allow it to show that it is s-still operational! Just one chance, please, sir!”
There comes a point where you know there will be no turning back. Where you can see your future laid out before you. Steve knew this was it, he also knew there had never been real choice for him. There never was when it came to Bucky. “You will continue to serve me… Asset.” the words tasted like ash in Steve's mouth but he kept going anyway because there was a light in Bucky's eyes now, hope, however warped. “But no more field work. No more targets.”
“No more combat missions?” Bucky asked breathlessly, slightly disbelieving, when Steve didn't say more. “The Asset is only for recreational use then?”
“Yes,” Steve said past the lump in my his throat.
“W-who’ll be authorized to utilize the Asset?” Bucky licked his lips nervously.
“No one!” Steve said sharper than he had intended. Bucky flinched. “Ah-I mean...no one... except me. Do you understand? You only… only serve me, no one else.”
There was more than hope in Bucky's eyes now, worship, delirious gratitude. It made something in Steve's guts twist up in knots.
Bucky gulped audibly. “Sir, may the Asset be of service to Handler Rogers right now now?” he asked, practically begged.
Here it came. “Yes… Asset. You may.”
Bucky wasted no time getting Steve out off his pants. He just pulled down the zipper and fished Steve's cock out into the open air. A bare breath later and he was choking on it, already halfway down to the root.
Steve groaned, hating himself for enjoying how that tight heat convulsed around him. Hating that he’d gotten half-hard from the mere sight of Bucky on his knees.
The blowjob was sloppy and uncoordinated. Driven more by Bucky’s desperation than any true desire, Steve knew. Not that it made a difference for Steve's traitorous cock; it was already hard as steel inside Bucky's throat.
The one-way mirror in the opposite wall showed his expression as the Asset brought him to orgasm, the face of Alexander Pierce moaned and shot down the Asset’s throat.
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Handler Rogers came awake from his peaceful slumber with a shout. The Asset flinches as it gets ripped out off its own fuzzy haze.
It watches Handler Rogers dry-heave for a moment, pitched forward on his hands and knees over the soft grass just out of arm's reach, staring into nothing. It makes the Asset tremble in its bonds to see Handler Rogers so distressed.
The Asset wracks it's brain for something, anything, to help. Even if it isn't the Asset's place to do so.
“Sir!” It tries calling out. No response.
“Handler Rogers, sir. What’s your status?” Still nothing.
“Steve-” The Asset doesn’t get any further before Handled Rogers jolts violently, wide, unseeing eyes whipping to the Asset's face.
“Buck…?” Handler Rogers asks hoarsely, like he's still dreaming.
The Asset shrinks back like it has been slapped and looks away where it's safe, where it can't see how much Handler Rogers wants it to be him.
It's not him. It must not try to be him for Handler Rogers like it pretended to when it first came to Handler Rogers years ago because that ended badly. It hurt Handler Rogers horribly. And the Asset would die before it tried that again
The Asset knows it’s not a person, just a weapon, a tool, a toy. Made for use.
It must never again try to be one.
Just a toy, made for use, made for Handler Rogers even though it can't be what, who, Handler Rogers wishes it to be the most.
Fill: Asset Management 11/?
It has been quite a while. Had to quit school, wasn't doing very good emotionally for me.
Had writer's block for a long time, but I'm back. I couldn't abandon this story, it's my baby.
Perhaps this next part has been influenced by my mental state but any way.
Let me say that I am so grateful for your comments, they really helped drag me out of my funk.
------
“Please, Sir please. The Asset begs to be punished! It is ready to comply! Please!” Bucky screams at the top of his lungs, the horrible sound of his voice carrying through the practically-hulk-proof isolation chamber's speaker system. Bucky's pale and harrowed face rendered in perfect clarity on the wall mounted monitor.
On a seemingly straightforward mission not three weeks ago, members of a hidden HYDRA cell managed to activate the Winter Soldier programming which Steve and the others had all thought purged from Bucky's mind.
Once everything was said and done, the HYDRA agents dead and the day saved, Steve had found out how wrong he'd been.
A few days after Bucky had pulled Steve out of the river under the falling Helicarrier he’d showed up, dressed in some scavenged clothes, on the doorstep of Stark Tower. Steve had coaxed him through the evacuated reception area up to his apartment, where Bucky had asked, “James Buchanan Barnes, that's… my name?”
“Yea, Buck,” Steve had whispered in reverence, wishing to touch him but holding back in fear of scaring him away. “How much do you…”
“Steve,” he said the name as if testing it out. “I… I don't remember everything… but it's me, it's Bucky. I'm back now,” Buck had promised, all doe eyes and wobbly lip.
Five days after Bucky had appeared out of nowhere Steve's resolve cracked and they fucked for the first time in over seventy years. Bucky had looked so beautiful, all shy and waiting on Steve to guide him through it again like they had before the fall.
A lie, a flighty fantasy. And Steve had swallowed it all, hook, line and sinker.
Now Steve realized that it had been the Asset looking for ways of pleasing its handler, and Steve felt like throwing up.
The other Avengers stood around Steve in silence as the video feed continued, promises of obedience and perfect service in the hope of forgiveness kept pouring out like a broken record. Bucky didn't even talk about himself like a person anymore, only the Asset, 'it’.
That made Steve's blood boil. Everyone responsible for Bucky's current state were either dead or beyond Steve's grasp. Except for one; himself. Because, really, if he hadn't let Bucky fall off that train seventy years ago then Bucky wouldn't have landed in the grip of HYDRA, Bucky wouldn't have been turned into this broken thing, he wouldn't have-
Steve wanted very much to go back down to the gym and punch a bag of sand, but if he did that he might never stop. Bucky -or what was left of him- needed Steve to be here, needed Steve to go through with this.
JARVIS, along with every other doctor they trusted to have a look at Bucky’s readings all told them the same thing; Bucky was dying, inexplicable bodywide organ failure. It was a miracle he was still up and lucid, they all said.
No miracle, Steve knew. Zola’s experiment and Steve's bastardized serum was the only thing keeping the reaper from Bucky now. Everytime they tried to offer treatment or explain to Bucky that he was free, that he didn't need a handler, his condition just deteriorated.
“Before I go in,” Steve said. “I need you guys to promise me something.”
Everyone nodded.
“I need all of you to watch my back… for his sake. To keep vigilant of the signs. I want JARVIS to monitor us around the clock and report anything… suspicious. If I turn into someone else… If I go too deep and lose sight of why I'm doing this I want you to stop me by any means necessary… because I… I couldn't live with myself if I…”
Sam put a steady hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “We've got your back, man. You can lean on us, that's a promise.”
Tony gave Steve a nod. “JARVIS?”
“Yes, sir. Beginning to upgrade Captain Roger's quarters. Structural reinforcement should be completed in the next 72 hours. Installation of surveillance systems will be finished within in the hour, Sir.”
“Steve, anything else you'd like to add just tell JARVIS, no need to clear it with me. Now I'll be down in the lab, taking another crack on those encrypted files.” Tony gave Steve's other shoulder a pat as he passed, sharing a grimm look for just a moment.
Before Steve could reach the cell door, Nat cornered him. “You don't need me to tell you that your man, the man you know, won't come back. What these people do…” She looked away into the distance, blinked once and then turned back. “They break people and make something different with the pieces,” she said bluntly
Steve opened his mouth to say something but Nat continued before he could get anything out.
“I'm not telling you not to do this, I can see you need to. Just… watch out for yourself.”
Steve blinked, looked down at his feet. “I know,” was all he said.
The reinforced door slid open to reveal Bucky's ragged form kneeling bare on the floor, silent for once, in the middle of the room. As Steve took a wobbly step forward, he noticed the squishy, gymnastics mat like padding that covered every surface of the pale cell interior.
Bucky twitched at the soft sound of Steve's footstep but didn't look up from the space right in front of his own knees. Steve took another step, and another twitch followed; by the time Steve was standing in front of him, Bucky was actively shaking.
Steve took a breath, trying to think of something to say, everything he'd planned up until this point gone, but Bucky beat him to it. He looked up at Steve with bloodshot eyes and said with a sandpaper voice, “The Asset is ready for the next mission, sir. What is the target?” His skin was wax pale and clammy with perspiration.
“There is no target,” Steve said, keeping his voice perfectly controlled and free of all the emotions that wanted an out. “There’ll be no new missio-”
Bucky broke down sobbing, a horrendous sound tearing from his throat. “Please, s-sir. The Asset can still ser-ve! Allow it to show that it is s-still operational! Just one chance, please, sir!”
There comes a point where you know there will be no turning back. Where you can see your future laid out before you. Steve knew this was it, he also knew there had never been real choice for him. There never was when it came to Bucky. “You will continue to serve me… Asset.” the words tasted like ash in Steve's mouth but he kept going anyway because there was a light in Bucky's eyes now, hope, however warped. “But no more field work. No more targets.”
“No more combat missions?” Bucky asked breathlessly, slightly disbelieving, when Steve didn't say more. “The Asset is only for recreational use then?”
“Yes,” Steve said past the lump in my his throat.
“W-who’ll be authorized to utilize the Asset?” Bucky licked his lips nervously.
“No one!” Steve said sharper than he had intended. Bucky flinched. “Ah-I mean...no one... except me. Do you understand? You only… only serve me, no one else.”
There was more than hope in Bucky's eyes now, worship, delirious gratitude. It made something in Steve's guts twist up in knots.
Bucky gulped audibly. “Sir, may the Asset be of service to Handler Rogers right now now?” he asked, practically begged.
Here it came. “Yes… Asset. You may.”
Bucky wasted no time getting Steve out off his pants. He just pulled down the zipper and fished Steve's cock out into the open air. A bare breath later and he was choking on it, already halfway down to the root.
Steve groaned, hating himself for enjoying how that tight heat convulsed around him. Hating that he’d gotten half-hard from the mere sight of Bucky on his knees.
The blowjob was sloppy and uncoordinated. Driven more by Bucky’s desperation than any true desire, Steve knew. Not that it made a difference for Steve's traitorous cock; it was already hard as steel inside Bucky's throat.
The one-way mirror in the opposite wall showed his expression as the Asset brought him to orgasm, the face of Alexander Pierce moaned and shot down the Asset’s throat.
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Handler Rogers came awake from his peaceful slumber with a shout. The Asset flinches as it gets ripped out off its own fuzzy haze.
It watches Handler Rogers dry-heave for a moment, pitched forward on his hands and knees over the soft grass just out of arm's reach, staring into nothing. It makes the Asset tremble in its bonds to see Handler Rogers so distressed.
The Asset wracks it's brain for something, anything, to help. Even if it isn't the Asset's place to do so.
“Sir!” It tries calling out. No response.
“Handler Rogers, sir. What’s your status?” Still nothing.
“Steve-” The Asset doesn’t get any further before Handled Rogers jolts violently, wide, unseeing eyes whipping to the Asset's face.
“Buck…?” Handler Rogers asks hoarsely, like he's still dreaming.
The Asset shrinks back like it has been slapped and looks away where it's safe, where it can't see how much Handler Rogers wants it to be him.
It's not him. It must not try to be him for Handler Rogers like it pretended to when it first came to Handler Rogers years ago because that ended badly. It hurt Handler Rogers horribly. And the Asset would die before it tried that again
The Asset knows it’s not a person, just a weapon, a tool, a toy. Made for use.
It must never again try to be one.
Just a toy, made for use, made for Handler Rogers even though it can't be what, who, Handler Rogers wishes it to be the most.
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