#redstartraitor

[miindgamex-blog]

@red-star-traitor [CIVIL WAR SPOILERS TO FOLLOW]

We are bringing in Barnes. We are sending you in to do a small evaluation before we send in the doctor-make sure he’s ready-and capable-of answering.

Alex’s lips pressed into a thin line at her orders, but she gave a small nod before turning and walking away. She knew why they were sending her-no one else knew as much about Hydra assets and how they functioned than her. But for once-the logic didn’t ease her apprehension as she grabbed her tablet-pulling up every file she had on the Winter Soldier, attempting to get her thoughts in line before she found herself with the assassin Hydra had used.

The assassin she had used years ago.

Stilling before the door-she gave a small nod to the guards outside before walking in, trying not to let her shock register when her eyes met the Soldier’s-or James, now.

She stepped into the light-but ignored the table they had set up, instead moving to stand in front of it, eyes dropping as she made some initial notes on her tablet-appearance, things like that. “My name is Alexandra Lennox, I’m just here to ask you a couple of questions, James. You don’t have to answer right away.” She wasn’t sure if he would recognize her or not-if her Hydra background would come into play here-but she decided to play it safe, moving quickly to the first question.

“Do you know who you are, James? Where you are?”

[stevecandothisallday-blog]

Coffee with Assassins

@red-star-traitor

The day just never seemed to end. Steve’s eyes kept darting to the clock, as if that would make his shift go by faster. His feet were aching, his back was sore, and the customers grew less and less patient with him not always catching every part of their order. He had tried to make his hearing aid as obvious as possible, turning it up all the way so he could catch the most, even if it was still not everything.

He scrubbed at the counter, getting at any coffee ring that was left when the customer kept their cup there too long or when someone spilled a bit. From time to time he was jolted to attention, not immediately hearing when a customer would approach, and sheepishly moving to take their order and rush off with it. When his friend Sam was working, he usually made sure he would tap Steve on the shoulder to help him out here and there, or take a couple customers himself. Today was just Steve.

‘Excuse me, you didn’t get my order right.’ A woman demanded once, already loud enough for Steve to hear, but he was finishing up on another order. The woman just repeated herself, making herself even more audible, as if Steve’s hearing aid meant he couldn’t pick it up when she was basically yelling at him. “Sorry ma’am, give me just a minute, be right with you.” 

It was no wonder that now his shoulders were hunched slightly, and his energy was even lower than it had been at the start of his shift. Luckily, things had quieted down, and he got to doodling again, not taking notice as another person entered the shop.

[docbanner-blog1]

Lure [Closed]

When HYDRA fell, independent organizations never lost interest in targets that were previously under protection. While SHIELD still had loyal, active agents, there were never enough to cover all of their bases. There used to be eyes everywhere, always watching the important ones. The heroes, the assassins, and the dangerous types all had a guardian angels. Even if they were more than capable of defending themselves, it was in their handlers’ best interests to keep things quiet. (In most cases.)

One such organization had been able to send an anonymous message to two of their targets. A promise of meeting an old friend, a lure. Someone important enough to bring them from the shadows. Each target was presented with the chance to meet a different person. Who the organization chose didn’t matter- the old friend would never be there. Just James Buchanan Barnes and Robert Bruce Banner.

The instructions were clear, eleven o’clock p.m. Third floor of the what happened to be one of the dingiest apartment buildings in New York City. Room 148.

Each room along the hallway contained agents with firearms at the ready. Assault rifles, pistols, and dart guns laced with powerful anesthetic. They were confident that their prey wouldn’t be able to avoid capture.

The sky was unusually clear that night, and the familiar sound of traffic punctuated by the occasional siren felt normal to Bruce. He felt almost calm as he walked down the street towards the building. So many things had transpired already that he didn’t feel like much else could go wrong. Of course, he had been wrong plenty of times before. He doubted that the person he promised to see would really be there, and tried not to get his hopes to high. Despite this, the small promise was just enough to lift his spirits. Bruce just didn’t want to feel stupid when things didn’t go his way.

He climbed the stairs, and kept a hand on the damp rail. As Bruce looked up towards the third floor doorway, he noticed the splotches of mold that coated the walls. The lighting was even dimmer in the hallway he entered. A weak, reddish light flickered above him, and illuminated motes of dust that drifted in the air. The apartment seemed abandoned. Though the warning signs in his mind continued to glow brighter, Bruce began to make his way towards room 148 with cautious steps.