hydratrashmeme | Dumpster #4: I Don't See How That's a Party

Dumpster #4: I Don't See How That's a Party

Okay, kids, you know the drill. Don't be a jerk except to fictional characters. Warn if you want, but read at your own risk, because

hydratrashmeme is about as far from a safe space as you can get. Garbage we like: noncon, whump, aftermath, violence, mind control, inappropriate uses of Bucky Barnes' metal arm, bad guys doing dirtybadwrong things to your faves. Garbage you should find a different trashcan for: a/b/o, D/s-verse, soulbonds, mundane AUs, OOC evil!good guys doing dirtybadwrong things to your faves, rotting leftovers dressed up as a romantic gourmet meal. Nothing wrong with 'em, but this isn't the crowd you should be pitching to if you're trying to sell Brock Rumlow as anything but a human dumpster fire.

Link your fills on the fill post, post unprompted fills as replies to a header comment so the wall o' text is collapsible, and let me know if you're interested in helping out with the Pinboard archive.

[Rules in full] [Round 1] [Round 2] [Round 3] [Fill post] [Chatter post] [hydratrashmeme Pinboard archive (maintained by

greenkirtle)] [Round 4 in flat view (comments in non-threaded chronological order, most recent last)]

All prompts or fills that contain Infinity War spoilers must go on the Infinity War spoiler post until May 26th. Spoilers in the main dumpsters will be deleted.

Round 4 is closed; comments and fills in existing threads are still welcome, but all new prompts go to Round 5.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

0630, day 5. I stop pretending to sleep. Agents Stinson and Kawamura report that their watches passed without trouble. The Asset retained his position (face-down on the ground) for the entire night. He gets up when ordered to. I ask him whether he’s gonna try and kill me again today - he appears not to remember the attempt of last night. He also appears to have realised that he has a left arm, and is using it normally. It is decided to confiscate his primary weapons (rifle, sidearm, additional two-shot sidearm, grenades, two combat knives), and divide the extra load among the rest of the team. We pack up and move out, myself on point.

0800, day 5. Agent Kawamura, in follow-up position, observes that the Asset is out of formation again. Upon looking around, it emerges that he is more than fifty yards behind Agent Kawamura. I ask Agent Kawamura why he, bringing up the rear, allowed the Asset to drop back. Agent Kawamura replies that ‘he gave me The Look’. Agent Stinson tells Agent Kawamura that he (the Asset) always looks like that.

After a short discussion, we are able to establish that the ‘Look’ referred to is the one where he stares at you like he’s wondering if your liver would be good with fava beans and a nice Chianti. I suggest that Agent Kawamura, a former Navy SEAL and SHIELD Strike Alpha member, should try not to be intimidated by brainwashed Communist murder Barbie. Agent Kawamura agrees, but contests that our red-menace friend also tried - and nearly succeeded - to kill former Navy SEAL and SHIELD Strike Alpha commander Agent Rumlow (me).

The Asset catches up during this discussion and stands there staring at us. Agent Stinson gets antsy. The Asset addresses me as ‘sir’ and asks if there’s a problem. I respond that the problem is him being out of formation, and enquire whether he’s picking fucking flowers back there, when he knows for fucking sure that Agent Kawamura is currently meant to be the ass-end of this group. He says he thought he saw something, and that you can never be too careful in enemy territory. We visually inspect the surroundings, and find nothing. We decide to move on, with Agent Kawamura instructed to administer a corrective shock to wherever he fucking likes if the Asset even considers turning around or slowing up.

0900, day 5. I lose count of how many times I hear Communist murder Barbie get zapped. Agent Rollins says it’s 14, I say it’s 15. Agent Stinson says it’s 12 and a half. Either way, nobody is out of formation, and Agent Kawamura is not dead.

Your ability to build tension is awesome, and I'm on the edge of my seat to see how fucked-up this situation will get before HYDRA resolves it...

Also, I laughed way too hard at "brainwashed Communist murder Barbie".

0945, day 5. Agent Kawamura reports that his stun stick is out of power. An inspection confirms that he has been using it on the highest setting.

1100, day 5. Agent Kawamura tells Agent Rollins to tell Agent Stinson to tell me that he doesn’t like the way the Asset is looking at him. I reply that I can hear him from the back of the group anyway and he doesn’t need to play fucking Chinese whispers. Agent Stinson suggests that the phrase is racially insensitive. Agent Kawamura informs him that a) it’s just a term for ‘language I can’t understand’, similar to ‘it’s all Greek to me’, b) he’s not Chinese.
I tell them to can it, and rotate formation so Agent Kawamura is on point and I am follow-up. The Asset appears willing to stay in front of me.

Approx. 1300, day 5. We reach designated waypoint at [co-ordinates near that thing…]

He puts his head down gently on the desk.

“What are they called? Those things? They’re made of concrete, the fuck are they called? In Europe. Those fucking things.”

Jack’s large warm hand rests on the nape of his neck. It almost makes his head stop hurting. “Pillboxes.”

“That’s it!” He jerks upright and sincerely wishes he hadn’t. Jack’s grip closes minutely, steadying him as he pinches the bridge of his nose and groans. The sound of the planes comes droning back into his skull, for a few endless-seeming moments.

“And that’s my shirt.”

“I don’t see your -” in actual fact, it does have Jack’s name on it. “I don’t see you using it.”

“I could take it off of you.”

He smirks. “Later. Actually, not later. Nobody needs to see that.”

“I saw it happen,” Jack reminds him, without sympathy. “I know what’s under there.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Rest stop at [co-ordinates] marked by disused 'pillbox' defensive structure. We set down outside the structure and distribute rations. The Asset is behaving for once, so it is decided to lift the food restriction. I remove his mask, with Agent Rollins covering in case he goes for the fucking kill again, since he could take me apart like a fucking bread roll without even trying and you bet he knows it....

...with Agent Rollins covering, in case he should pose a threat to personnel.

He thanks me, fluffs his hair with his right hand, and says it feels like 'we haven't eaten in days, right fellas?' Agents Stinson and Kawamura agree with him. He additionally comments that we shouldn't stop for long, since ‘we might have Jerry on our tail’. I say that I decide when we pack up, and that I haven't seen any signs that we're being followed. He says that that's what makes him suspicious, and 'HYDRA might be pretty fuckin' dumb, but they ain't fuckin' stupid'. Nobody has anything to say to that.

Agent Stinson checks the GPS and the Asset watches him do it with the look of a man who's already seen a ton of crazy shit, then says 'the hell you got there?' I tell, him, in Russian, to shut the fuck up. Agent Stinson looks to me for guidance and I instruct him not to say anything. The Asset looks confused. He asks me for clarification. I tell him that he knows fucking well what I'm saying, and what I'm saying is shut the fuck up, in a language I fucking well know he speaks.

He looks me right in the eye and says, in Russian, 'I don't speak Russian. You got me confused with someone else, comrade.'

Agent Stinson says 'Next you'll be telling us you don't have a left arm.' The Asset freezes up, and I remind Agent Stinson that I told him not to say anything, for this exact reason.

I address the Asset, in English - I am his commanding officer, he is on mission, he most fucking certainly has a left arm and he is to obey orders given by the squad. He says he doesn’t understand. I ask him what year it is.

He says 1944.

At this point, I lose my temper. I approach him and shove him backwards - he retreats/falls into the main opening of the abandoned defence post. I ask him again what year it is. He says 1944. I ask him again. He says 1945. I yell at him, over his answers, demanding repeatedly that he tell me what year it is. He responds with 1939, then 1963, then 1950, then 2000, then 2020, then 1991, crawling further back into the space and becoming distressed. I come closer and he appears to break down, screaming at me 'I don't know, I don't know’. I stop yelling and smack him across the face. He is visibly shaking and says ‘I don’t know, sir. I’m sorry, sir.’ I kick him in the gut and tell him that he will be sorry.

Agent Rollins enters the doorway and informs me that I’m making way too much fucking noise. I apologise for that, and for flipping out. The Asset is using his right arm to shield his body and his left to drag himself closer to the back wall. Agent Rollins offers to stand guard while I take some time outside to cool down.

Approx. 1330, day 5. I assist Agents Stinson and Kawamura as we prepare to move out. Agent Rollins, inside the structure, requests that I pass him the Asset’s mask, so he can put it back on. A few minutes later, he returns with the Asset following and compliant.

He looks over at Jack, who is busy making more coffee.

I do not ask Agent Rollins what he did to get the Asset to fall in line. I still haven’t asked. I get the feeling the answer will be ‘what was necessary’ or some bullshit like that. Let’s be real here I don’t really want to know.

This part, this whole part right here:

I approach him and shove him backwards - he retreats/falls into the main opening of the abandoned defence post. I ask him again what year it is. He says 1944. I ask him again. He says 1945. I yell at him, over his answers, demanding repeatedly that he tell me what year it is. He responds with 1939, then 1963, then 1950, then 2000, then 2020, then 1991, crawling further back into the space and becoming distressed. I come closer and he appears to break down, screaming at me 'I don't know, I don't know’. I stop yelling and smack him across the face. He is visibly shaking and says ‘I don’t know, sir. I’m sorry, sir.’ I kick him in the gut and tell him that he will be sorry.

Holy shit, I love you. This is my jam! My moldy, disgusting jam.

OP here - thank you :3 *pours jam on floor and rolls around in it*
I will admit that this was one of the bits which made me almost reconsider the whole 'field report' format, because it might not come across properly - and it was such a vivid image, Rumlow yelling "What year is it?! What year is it?!" as Bucky tries to 1) get away and 2) give the right answer....

(the comments on this give me life in general, it warms my cold dead heart to think that people like it!)

(SA) I'm glad you're enjoying the comments! I'm enjoying this story, so... :D

Seriously though, that whole paragraph gave me chills and feels out the wazoo. The part that got to me the most was when he guessed "2020". Jesus.

Oh, Bucky.

(keep up the fabulous work!)

I LOVE THIS FILL AND I LOVE THE FORMAT.

For me at least, the vivid imagery is certainly coming through.

He twitches guiltily and wipes the last as soon as Jack turns around.

“You ok?”

“Thinking.”

“Won’t disturb you, then. It might take a while.”

“Fuck you.”

1915, day 5. We are still 2.5km from the RV/extract point, having lost time with Asset shenanigans. He frowns at the phrase. ...lost time due to previous events. It is becoming dark. We tighten formation so nobody wanders off into the fucking forest again. The Asset is avoiding me and Agent Rollins, but otherwise compliant.

We increase pace. The Asset begins to drop behind again, and Agent Rollins, at the rear, warns him to keep up. Agent Stinson adds that, if he doesn’t, there’s nothing stopping any of us from ramming a stun stick so far up his ass that it’ll electrify his tonsils. He keeps up with us the rest of the way.

2030, day 5. We reach the extract point at [whatever co-ordinates I don’t give a fuck] and radio to confirm. Extract scheduled for 0600 the next day. Base station enquires whether we need backup in case Murder Barbie is acting out. We tell them to bring some big guys with big guns, or a dart gun full of horse tranqs, whatever works. Agent Simms informs us that horse tranquillisers only make him angry. I inform Agent Simms that we didn’t fucking need to know that, and ask who fucking died and made him the fucking expert. Agent Simms agrees to requisition backup.

Agent Rollins takes first watch, and the rest of us prepare to sleep. The Asset is pacing, apparently agitated. I tell him to sit the fuck down. He stares into the forest, which is completely dark. Agent Kawamura says it’s fucking creepy. Agent Stinson asks if there are wolves. Agent Rollins tells him that wolves died out in Europe a few hundred years ago, but is unable to verify the statement, so we have to believe him on that. Agent Stinson asks if there are bears. I tell him that we’d have no problem fighting a bear, as we have the ability to shoot it in the fucking face, and the Asset probably wrestled tons of bears as part of his training in Russia. Agent Stinson doubts that the Asset would defend us against a bear and predicts that he would stand back and let it eat us. He asks the Asset directly, and the response is that yes, ‘he would fight a bear on our behalf, if necessary. Agent Stinson asks whether the Asset wrestled bears in Russia. The Asset says that information is classified, which we take to mean ‘yes’.

Agent Kawamura snores like a fucking freight train, for the record.

I have to tell the Asset three times in as many minutes to stop fucking pacing. He sits down, then stands up again a few seconds later. I order him to sit by me, remove an adjustable strap from a kit bag, and loop it around his neck, keeping my foot on the other end. Every time he tries to get up, he chokes himself like a dumb fucking dog. I hand the makeshift leash over to Agent Rollins so I can get some fucking sleep for once.

Approx. 2330, still day fucking 5. I get woken up by a noise that sounds like a man being strangled with the strap from a kit bag.

A fucking choke chain! Implied past bear wrestling!

I love it.

Agents Stinson and Kawamura are still asleep, because not even Agent Kawamura sounding like an active fucking volcano can wake them up. I ask Agent Rollins why he's doing what he’s doing. He doesn't answer straight away, and holds the strap with one hand while fending off the Asset's arm with the other. The Asset is using only his right arm to either try and tap out or get free, it's not immediately clear. Agent Rollins releases pressure on the strap and asks the Asset whether he's gonna keep asking stupid fucking questions or whether he's done fucking around and ready to fucking behave (I'm paraphrasing). He addresses Agent Rollins as 'sir' and says he's ready to behave. Agent Rollins asks how long he choked the stupid idiot for. The Asset replies one minute, seventeen seconds. Agent Rollins looks at me and I get that shiver down my spine when he's being fucking scary but also so fucking badass I get a semi just from looking at him, even worse when he's in tac gear....

He pauses and edits the paragraph a little, by removing the last sentence entirely.

I ask Agent Rollins what the Asset did to deserve the punishment given. He informs me that the crazy fucker was quiet for a bit, not even trying to stand up, before he looked out into the forest and said 'Where's Steve?' Agent Rollins enquired what the fuck he was talking about. The Asset responded 'So is he catching us up, or what?' That was when Agent Rollins opted to administer the belt-to-the-neck treatment, rather than risk any more questions.

I take out my stun stick for the first fucking time this mission (a personal record) and tell the Asset to come sit at my feet. He does. I ask him who the fuck he thinks Steve is. He says he doesn't know. I tell him he's lying and zap him on the metal arm. He promises that he's not lying - he doesn't know Steve. But he knows Steve will catch up with us eventually. I assure him that his imaginary friend Steve is not fucking here and never fucking will be and zap him again. I ask him what year it is. He shrinks away from me and says he doesn't know, which is the right answer, so I don't zap him for that. Without prompting, he says that Steve might - something, because I don't let him finish the fucking sentence. He yelps out loud and it wakes Agent Stinson, who has the good fucking sense not to interfere. I tell the Asset to shut the fuck up. He tells me he's sorry, and tries to crawl backwards. I grab the kit bag strap and haul him in. He lashes out at my legs with his right arm, then his left, and catches me on the ankle. It fucking hurts and I find it difficult to stay standing. He almost crushes my fucking bones and then pulls me off my feet. Agent Rollins aims his weapon at the Asset, but warns me that he cannot fire without hitting me. Agent Stinson goes for his kit. The Asset goes for my throat.

Agent Stinson takes a silenced pistol and fires a single shot at the Asset. The shot hits the fucking metal arm and ricochets into the Asset's right thigh - don't ask me how because I was at that present moment being used as a fucking twister mat by the world's fucking deadliest assassin. Agent Rollins tells Agent Stinson to stand down, and pulls the Asset off of me. The Asset folds up, clutching his leg.

Agent Rollins attends to me and confirms that I am not badly injured, although these fucking bruises will stay for weeks. Agent Stinson loses his temper and lays into the Asset with the butt of his pistol, striking him on the face and head. The Asset attempts to avoid him but does not escape or attack. Agent Rollins orders Agent Stinson again to stand down, and this time he listens. Agent Kawamura wakes up and asks what the fuck is going on.

He promises that he's not lying - he doesn't know Steve. But he knows Steve will catch up with us eventually.

My heart. Shattered.

(I love this story so much)

As the appointed medic, Agent Kawamura gives me a once-over and agrees that I’m not about to drop dead anytime soon. He approaches the Asset, while Agent Rollins covers with weapon pointed at the Asset’s head. Agent Kawamura confirms a gunshot wound to the lower right thigh, passing all the way through without hitting anything vital. The Asset allows him to apply pressure and field-dress the wound, then tries to get away. Agent Rollins makes sure that he doesn’t.

I ask Agent Stinson why the fuck he took the shot. He says his intention was to hit the ground next to us, to scare the Asset. I ask him why the fuck he thinks that would scare the Asset and exactly what the fuck that would achieve. He says he doesn’t know - all he could think was that the Asset would kill me if he didn’t act. I commend him for his loyalty and then chew him out for fucking shooting our fucking assassin when there are other fucking ways to get the Asset to stand down.

(I’m glad he did it, though.)

“What would you do if he’d killed me back there?”

Jack looks up from examining an errant thread on his sweater. “You already asked me that.”

“I’m asking you again. Now that we’re - now that it’s over. What would you have done?”

“I would’ve shot the bastard in the head,” Jack says, without hesitation. “Like I said before. And I stand by that.”

“They’d have you in front of the firing squad for that.”

“I know.”

We’re all too fucking keyed up to sleep and it’s about 0100, so I authorise staying awake until dawn. The world’s worst fucking slumber party is made of the four of us, sitting in sleeping bags in a rough circle around the Asset with our weapons directed at him. I order him to lie on the ground and not even fucking think about moving. As far as I can tell, he doesn’t.

Approx. 0245, day 6. Agent Kawamura is intermittently falling asleep. He decides to make safe his weapon and rest against his kit, and Agent Stinson shifts round to cover his position.

0300, day 6. Agent Stinson asks whether lighting the portable stove will attract bears. I tell him that I don’t fucking know. The consensus is that a bear attack would be welcome at this point: it is predicted by Agent Stinson that we’d all fucking die, the Asset would kill the fucking bear, and then it’d be his ass on the fucking line when the extract team came and found what happened. Agent Stinson lights the portable stove and boils some water, and steals the cranberry and rooibos antioxidant detox tea bags we know Agent Kawamura keeps in his kit bag. To be fair, it’s not bad stuff. Agent Kawamura does not wake up.

0330, day 6. The Asset moves and I ask him what the fuck he thinks he’s doing. He says he’s stretching out a cramp. I figure it’s fucking cold as hell out here and the ground is damp, so he’s probably telling the truth. I authorise him to stretch, as long as he’s careful with his leg. He does, and then sits there inspecting his wound for a long-ass time.

0340, day 6. Agent Stinson says sorry for shooting him. The Asset asks what happened to warrant it. Agent Stinson looks to me for approval - given - and tells him that he tried to murder the squad commander. The Asset says ‘oh’ like he fucking forgot, and apologises to me for trying to tear my fucking face off. I am too fucking tired at this point to be mad at him for doing it in the first place, so I say it’s ok. He stares at his left hand.

0350, day 6. The Asset asks where we are. I tell him to shut the fuck up.

0355, day 6. The Asset asks where we are, in Russian this time. I tell him, in English, that our location is classified, we are on mission, and I am his CO, and that thing he’s staring at is his left arm. He wiggles his fingers and does that freaky thing with the outer plates and says he can’t remember losing his arm in the first place. I say it’s fine, he doesn’t need to remember.

He asks me what year it is.

I’m still too fucking tired to get mad at him, so I tell him that that’s need-to-know information and guess what, he doesn’t need to fucking know. He shrugs and says ‘can’t a fella ask a fuckin’ question’, quietly but sure as fuck loud enough for me to hear. I bounce a tea bag off his head.

0420, day 6. Agent Kawamura wakes up, looks around, says ‘damn’ and goes back to sleep again.

0430, day 6. Some kind of bird hoots very loudly in the forest. Agent Stinson asks whether bears can imitate bird noises when they stalk their prey. Agent Rollins tells him that they cannot.

0435, day 6. The bird hoots again, much closer. Agent Stinson asks whether bears are capable of climbing trees and leaping down onto people, as an alternative to charging them on the ground. Agent Rollins asks Agent Stinson whether he’s ever seen a fucking bear outside of Grindr. Agent Stinson replies that he has never seen a bear in the wild and claims not to have Grindr. I tell him he’s a fucking liar because he was on there last Tuesday, half a mile away across DC and describing himself as ‘chubby and fun’. He says that was for research purposes and questions how I knew that anyway. I realise I fucked up. Agent Stinson assures us he will delete the ‘research purposes’ app when he gets back, but not before finding my twink ass.

The Asset asks what Grindr is. I tell him to shut the fuck up, and additionally inform Agent Stinson that I am not a fucking twink. Check my fucking description - I work hard, play hard and I like it rough, and I am most fucking certainly pitching and not catching.

“Ten bucks says you forget to take that out before you send it to the man upstairs.”

“Fuck you, I won’t.” He takes it out immediately, just in case.

I'm primarily here for the Bucky whump, but I gotta tell you how much I love Rumlow's voice, and his relationship with Rollins here.

(Also, can't wait to see how you wrap this up!)

0500, day 6. One hour from extract. Agent Stinson makes more tea. I replace the strap on the kit bag.

Approx. 0510, day 6. The Asset says, very clearly, that he could kill us all and just run for it. I tell him that we’ll fucking shoot him if he dares to fucking move, and remind him that we don’t like deserters. He says that some of those deserters are guys with a gal back home, and a family to hope for, and no wonder they’re scared. I say that he doesn’t have any of those things, and the only things he should be fucking scared of are mission failure and me, in that order. He and I have a staring contest. The Asset looks away first, but only because Agent Kawamura snores incredibly loudly right behind him.

0530, day 6. The Asset can hear the extract crew coming, and looks around for the aircraft. Agent Stinson wonders aloud if bears will attack helicopters. Agent Kawamura sneezes himself awake. I tell everyone to prep for extract, get their shit together and let me do the talking. Agent Rollins and questions whether this is wise. I ask him whether he wants to do the fucking talking - especially since some of the guys outside the team have never even heard him speak. He declines the invitation.

0540, day 6. We collect our kit and move to open ground. The Asset gets up and starts pacing again, with a small but noticeable limp. Agent Kawamura advises him to sit the fuck down, before he opens his wound. The Asset stares at Agent Kawamura as if he just grew horns. Agent Kawamura repeats the order. I repeat the order. The Asset does not obey, but doesn’t carry on pacing, either.

Agent Stinson suggests kicking the Asset in the fucking bullet-hole so he’ll sit down. Agent Kawamura says that, from a medical standpoint, this is inadvisable. I ask whether it’ll do serious damage. Agent Kawamura says it will not. I get up and kick the Asset in the fucking bullet-hole. He whines and drops on his knees. I grab his hair and ask him whether he’ll get up until the fucking chopper arrives, or fucking sit down like we fucking told him to. He says ‘no promises, pal’, which I judge to be an incorrect answer. I crack him across the face, and re-state the question. He asks whether the chopper will take long. I draw my stun stick and press it against the dressing covering his wound. He gives the correct answer - he’ll sit down like we fucking told him to.

Agent Kawamura says that jamming the stun stick in the bullet-hole and turning it on would definitely be medically inadvisable, and also probably smell of roasting, which would make us all hungry. I agree, but predict that it would be really, really fucking satisfying to see the stupid fuck get what’s coming to him.

Agent Stinson says he could really use a bacon sandwich right about now.

0600, day 6. The extract chopper finally fucking arrives. We load up and inform the crew that the mission was successful but the Asset is wounded. Agent Crabbe asks how that happened. I tell her that we’ll explain when we get back, in the presence of command personnel. The Asset receives medical attention without ripping anyone’s head off for once.

Post-extract, we are debriefed and the kill confirmed - the target missed his expected return date and the alarm was raised. A search by local forestry personnel and law enforcement is currently underway, which will discover the body at the foot of a rock face, having slipped and fallen.

I report before Secretary Pierce, who gets all the details out of me about how we ended up shooting the Asset in the fucking leg, then chews me out for it and orders a penalty for damaging the Asset. Because I am incredibly brave and also fucking tired, I offer to take it for the whole squad because those guys were just along for the ride.

Although at the time I didn’t know it was twenty lashes for each of them, so I’d end up getting eighty. Fuck that. I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known. Just so you know, it hurts like a bitch.

I get up and kick the Asset in the fucking bullet-hole. He whines and drops on his knees. I grab his hair and ask him whether he’ll get up until the fucking chopper arrives, or fucking sit down like we fucking told him to. He says ‘no promises, pal’, which I judge to be an incorrect answer. I crack him across the face, and re-state the question. He asks whether the chopper will take long. I draw my stun stick and press it against the dressing covering his wound. He gives the correct answer - he’ll sit down like we fucking told him to.

The hair pulling! (*whimper*) Rumlow taking 80 lashes (holy God, ouch!) How will Rollins react to that? And will there be an extensive examination/torturous brainwipe of "the Asset" because of this "malfunction"?

(This story has been so captivating, thank you author-anon!)

[WHALE FLAILING AND GENERAL DISTRESS]

He sits up and un-kinks his back, painfully. One of the medics patched him up afterwards - and returned an owed favour by giving him some very, very effective drugs. But they’ve worn off, and all the different types of pain in his body are having a shouting match, with him in the middle. He still thinks they went easy on him.

I don’t even want to know what happened to the Asset.

They’d had another staring match in the chopper, although this time the Asset won. Probably a fairly hollow victory. The poor bastard was hauled off immediately upon their return, the minute they got onto solid ground, limping and huddled, the business end of a rifle pointed at his skull, and he reached for them before he went. Fucking grabbed at the squad, as if holding on to them would do any good. Fuck knows why.

He rubs his eyes and resists the temptation to lay his head on the desk and go to sleep, forever. Jack rolls a chair closer and puts a hand on his leg.

“You ok?”

They’d all seen it; standard procedure. Some liked to stay stoic and silent, and some liked to delve the furthest reaches of their vocabulary for the filthiest curses they could imagine and fling them at all and sundry - the squad, the guy with the whip, the Asset, all of the above’s mothers, their grandfathers, their partners, their dog….

The pain didn’t get to him too badly, at the time. He knew it had to be done. But the other two shifted and stared at the floor, looking like they were a bare second away from asking to be excused (which was never, ever - ok, it happened once. But what happened after that meant nobody even dared any more). Jack watched everything, standing in his field of vision. A little tense, maybe, fingers clutched a little too tight on folded arms. But he watched.

“Ah, I’m fine. I’m finished, anyway. I’m done. You already wrote y-.”

“Yep.” Of course Jack already has; he was probably working on it from day 2.

“Fuck you.”

“It lines up with yours. Except a little less… detailed.”

“This is just a draft. I’ll edit it. Tomorrow.”

“You ready to go home? And by home, I mean my couch, because I’m not letting you alone in the state you’re in.”

“Sure. Let me just… I’ll save it here. Send it to the Secretary after I edit. Right.”

Jack stands and pulls out his keys. “I brought the bike. Think you can stay awake long enough to hold on?”

“Fuck you, I can.”

-----

And that's all, folks! ...Or is it...?

Very grateful for all the happy/agonised comments and encouragement :) you guys are the best!
(And if anyone wants to write what exactly happened to the Asset afterwards, feel free.... Might even have a stab at it (!) myself.)

Signed, Anon (the Tooth Nonnie, if anyone knows that one).

I KNOW THAT ONE.

This was fucking fantastic. I really liked the format, and thought it added a layer of...horror of the banality of bureaucracy? Like not only is there torture and murder all around, but then you have to file paperwork for it. Adds a certain something.

0330, 48 hours after extract. I wake up lying on Jack’s chest - I can’t fucking sleep on my back and I know we said the couch, but come on, he’s warm. And actually kinda cuddly when it’s just the two of us, but he’d choke the motherfucker who called him out on it. So would I. It’s our fucking business where we sleep, and our fucking right in a free fucking country to go around to each other’s apartments and get pizza and ice cream and snuggle in bed watching some dumb animal show….

“Fuck. FUCK.”

“What?”

“I sent it. I fucking hit send. I’m pretty fucking sure I fucking hit send.”

“Instead of save?”

“Jack, what do I do? Fuck you, stop laughing! Help me. I’m fucked. I am SO fucked….”

This is just fantastic. As another anon put it I love your Rumlow voice here, and the clever format with its side plot unfolding in the asides and finally dovetailing into the conclusion. It's funny, it's horrifying, it's deeply interesting. Good job.

Now on Ao3 (and properly edited!): archiveofourown.org/works/8807017

- Start of recording -

(F)emale voice : It’s [date] and [time], and this is Tech Team Agent [REDACTED]. This recording is for archive purposes, to be added to case file [number] on subject [REDACTED], aka the [REDACTED].

Male voice: [indistinct]

F: No, I’m not doing it in Russian. They can all speak English - if they want it, they’ve got translators. Go away.

[Pause, sounds of movement]

F: Background to investigation: Strike personnel, deployed on six-day target elimination mission in Northern Europe, reported malfunction of [REDACTED] starting approximately seventy-six hours post defrost - post removal from cryo-stasis - and worsening until mission end which was... four hours ago. The… the full report from the squad commander has yet to be issued, but initial communication suggests that the subject has been acting confused and not responding to direct orders. [REDACTED] was involved in a physical conflict with members of the team, resulting in gunshot wound to the right upper leg. The bullet isn’t still in there, we checked. It’s already healing.

He… there are no other injuries apparent. The mission was completed and the subject was compliant upon extract; stripped of weapons and outer clothing and prepared as normal for pre-cryo diagnostic procedures - with the exception of administering intravenous [REDACTED]. ‘Cause that makes him dopey and we need to ask him stuff.

[Pause]

F: Subject is alert and aware of surroundings, he’s looking me in the eye. Except obviously he stops doing that as soon as you mention it, but whatever. Look at me. That’s it. Do you know who I am?

Subject voice: No Ma’am.

[Subject is male, with a North-East American accent which varies in strength during the course of the recording. Translation yet to be obtained for time points where he is not speaking English.]

F: Do you know where you are?

Subject: No Ma’am.

F: Do you know wh… actually this question - I won’t say it - apparently was the cause of some of the trouble earlier. I’ll skip it. Ok. You have a bullet wound in your right leg; do you have any idea why this is?

Subject: I attacked Agent [REDACTED] and one of the others shot me. It hit my left arm but it ricocheted.

F: Why did it ricochet?

[Pause]

Subject: ...because my left arm is made of metal.

F: Ok, don’t give me that look. I know. I was just checking if you -. Ok, fine. Why did you attack Agent [REDACTED]?

Subject: I don’t remember doing it.

F: That was not my question. Why did you attack Agent [REDACTED]?

Subject: I don’t remember.

F: Do you remember what happened before or after you did it?

Subject: He was asking me questions. Then… I must’ve done it. And then… I was sitting on the ground. With my leg....

F: What questions was he asking you?

Subject: I don’t remember.

F: Why was he asking you questions?

Subject: I don’t remember.

[Pause]

Subject: I... disobeyed his orders.

F: Which orders?

Subject: He told me to… he told me not to - they were… they were ch-. Uh, he told me to shut up. Because I talked too much about… about something. I asked him questions.

F: What did you ask him?

Subject: I was walking around and he didn’t like it. I asked him [indistinct Russian].

F: What’s that in English? Hey. He’s just staring at me, hang on. [clicks fingers] Hey. In English.

Subject: Where are we? They said did I fight bears?

F: Did you what?

Subject: Did I fight bears? In Siberia.

F: ‘Did you fight bears in Siberia’?

Subject: That information’s classified, clearance [Russian].

F: I wasn’t aski- ok, fine. Why would they…? Anyway.

Subject: I attacked Agent [REDACTED] before. He said I tried to kill him.

F: Did you try to kill him?

Subject: I don’t know. Probably I did.

F: Probably? You said you attacked him - that would be the second time - because he was asking you questions - about something - after you disobeyed his orders. Why did you do it the first time?

Subject: He told me to put my hands on my head. I… don’t remember doing it.

F: And why was that a problem for you?

Subject: He kept saying the left arm, the left - I, uh… I don’t have a left arm.

F: Are you trying to be smart with me? Or what about with him? Were you sassing him?

[Pause]

Subject: I don’t have a left arm. I’m sorry.

F: You sure about that, Mister? Why don’t you take a look?

Subject: That… that isn’t… [Indistinct, Russian]. I lost it. When. I lost it.

F: It’s right there.

Subject: I’m tellin’ ya, I lost it. Lady, I don’t know what your game is - but makin’ fun of a guy with a war wound, that’s below the belt.

F: Didn’t you just say that y-?

Subject: Look, I’ll do whatever you want me to, I’m sorry - but you can’t… you can’t tell someone to do somethin’ with a limb they don’t have, I don’t care how crazy you are.

[Pause]

F: Didn’t you just say to me that -?

Subject: I’m sorry! I - [Russian].

F: Quiet. Didn’t you just confirm to me that your left arm was made of metal?

[Pause. A mechanical sound.]

Subject: [very quietly] But I don’t….

[Pause]

F: Ok, his heart rate just spiked. It’s stressing him out. He… is… just wiggling his fingers - on the left - and watching them. It’s definitely stressing him out. Hey. Look at me. Look. Ok, he’s looking. You’re gonna do as I say, ok?

Subject: Yes Ma’am.

F: Do you know where you are?

Subject: No Ma’am.

F: Do you know what year it is?

Subject: Nineteen - uh, I - I don’t know. Nineteen - two thousand and - I’m guessing, I mean - I’m sorry, I don’t - I don’t know…

F: Looks like that’s another stress point. [Quietly] For reference - he doesn’t usually know, but he doesn’t make random guesses either and it doesn’t bother him. As far as I’m aware, this is unprecedented. [Louder] You don’t know.

Subject: No Ma’am. I don’t know.

F: What’s the last year you remember?

Subject: Nineteen forty-five. Maybe… forty-seven. Guy told me once it was forty-seven, I think.

F: This is a specific memory that you have?

Subject: You know what they did to him?

F: Is this -?

Subject: They said [entire sentence, Russian], I mean who did he think he was? Giving [REDACTED] information. [REDACTED] doesn’t get that. He doesn’t get to know what the year is, he doesn’t - he can’t - he doesn’t remember. What, you tell him baseball scores? The news about factories and the ships, the bombs, Americans like? They made him read to the, they made him read out, he was going to be killed. He didn’t like that, he was reading his death; they killed him. I killed him.

[Pause]

F: So you’re remembering specific time points?

Subject: I don’t know when it was.

F: You just said the year.

Subject: I don’t know that.

F: You said it was in nineteen forty-seven.

Subject: I don’t know what year it was. It might not have been true.

F: You think the - these people might have been lying to you?

Subject: Yes ma’am.

F: Why would they lie to you?

Subject: To stop me from knowing what year it was.

F: Has anyone ever told you this information?

Subject: No.

F: Has anyone ever asked you to guess or deduce this information?

Subject: Agent [REDACTED] did. I didn’t give him the right answer, so he hit me.

F: Was this when you attacked him?

Subject: I don’t remember.

F: So the first time, he told you to put your left hand on your head, and you didn’t think you had a left hand, and then tried to kill him. And the second time, he asked you questions because you disobeyed a direct order that he gave you, to shut up, and you answered incorrectly and then tried to kill him. Is that right?

Subject: Yes ma’am.

F: Did he shock you?

Subject: I don’t remember.

F: What would your response be if somebody shocked you? In the sense of correction, not, uh… emotionally.

Subject: I just… they just would do it.

F: What would your response be?

Subject: Sometimes I don’t know why they do it.

F: Even so - how would you respond to that?

Subject: [agitated] I didn’t do anything, ok?!

F: That wasn’t my question.

Subject: He grabbed me and I hit him, I didn’t try and kill him!

F: When was this?

Subject: He was - I was just - he grabbed onto me. I meant to make him stop. He’s not my target! Target was [REDACTED], level two, at [REDACTED] coordinates to be eliminated by accidental death setup falling at [REDACTED] Pass with evidence planted to suggest ill-preparedness for inclement weather conditions! We succeeded objective, I didn’t - I didn’t… [indistinct] I’m sorry… [indistinct].

(M)ale voice: He’s very confused, I think he’s seriously losing stability.

F: You think? Maybe we ought to just move him to cryo, we’ll see the report later.

M: Seems like it’s related to temporal drift… not sure what triggered it off. I don’t think we’ll get that out of him, he probably won’t remember.

F: Wipe him?

M: Not without [REDACTED] in his system. There’s not enough time. And I’m not taking any chances, we’ll do it when he defrosts next.

F: You could slap some in now, maybe it’ll work faster. His heart’s going pretty strong.

M: Might be possible. [REDACTED], we need a cannula. Get him prepped. We can administer now and wait to see what happens, no harm in tryi-.

[Loud, mechanical sound and thumps on surfaces. A person cries out in distress. Choking sounds.]

F: [loudly, agitated] Shit!

- End of recording -

Signed, the Tooth Nonnie (ok this is definitely finished now... probably.)

So good!

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