fossilised | HYDRA world AU

HYDRA world AU

The world changed the day that Steve Rogers went into the ice.

Troops that had been following his exploits across the Allied Nations lost hope and lost morale, thinking that if even a super soldier could be defeated then what was the good of them fighting? Conversely, the Axis Powers grew more confident, hailing the defeat of Captain America, and that became a symbol for them to rally around. Technically, the Nazi Party won that war, but they were only in power for a year before HYDRA grew tired of being merely a part of a whole and decided to subsume their former masters.

They, after all, had no real interest in eugenics or genocide, that was the way to rule a single country. They wanted world domination, and they got there through careful promises, through underhand dealings, and by convincing the public that the freedoms they were giving over were for the greater good. After all, how could HYDRA protect them without knowledge, without obedience?

Years turned into decades and what had begun as a tentative regime had become all-powerful and tyrannical as technology boomed and citizens were born into this new world order. Children were taught from a young age, scared with stories of the Soldier. A boogieman to most, a whispered secret of its actual existence to others, the Weapon sent in when all else had failed. At least fifteen organised rebellions had been quelled by its deadly presence alone, and now most feared to even try.

The Soldier was an obedient tool.

Until the day it disappeared.

It had been a fairly routine mission, just reconnaissance on a boarding school down in Texas to make sure that nothing subversive was being taught on the curriculum after rumours to the contrary had reached powerful ears. It had sat and stared down a scope for 72 hours and seen nothing, heard nothing, and so it left as ordered, neither disappointed or elated at not having to kill that day. Its next mission was to take out a tanker of supplies on the Arctic ocean, kill all souls aboard, and make it look as though one of their enemies to the East had done it.

Simple.

The Soldier didn't like the cold. It wasn't supposed to like or dislike anything, and so it carefully guarded that secret, but it didn't like the cold. It was reminiscent of storage, and of a place coated in snow that was synonymous with pain. But that dislike didn't cause any hesitation, and the Soldier dived into the frigid waters from its dinghy to swim toward the ship. But something stopped that progress. Something sighted under the water, something inside frozen ice. A face that caused more pain than even the freezing water, that made the Soldier believe its heart was about to stop dead. Something in its head broke, a reset button to the orders given, and suddenly nothing seemed more important than to collect that someone frozen in ice and protect him. Keep him.

It took nearly 40 hours to drag the ice floe to the surface and chip away enough to retrieve the body inside, and another 24 to get to shore. Even the Soldier's enhanced body was pushed to its limits from the prolonged exposure to the cold, and the extreme physical effort it took. But eventually the Soldier and its captive (Ste--?) were ensconced in a small abandoned building.

Steve would wake up naked, on the floor, and being stared at by a man all in black leather with a mask hiding his face.

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Everything exploded, like he woke up in the middle of a canon blast and was shooting through the sky, tumbling end over end. All he heard was the blast. All he felt was a zap of pain and numbness traveling in waves over his skin. All he saw was red and white, flashing as his cells woke back up to the memory of what it was like to see. He tasted soot and salt.

And then he jerked away. His body jerked in response to consciousness and then fell still again. Steve Rogers opened and closed his eyes. He lifted his head an inch from the wet dust-mud and dropped it again.

His chest rose and then he rolled onto his back to try and focus on what was above him.

Nothing looked right. Where was the plane? “Peggy...?” His voice wasn’t up to par. It was hoarse but healing. He didn’t have the strength to force a cough, but it would come back to him as his body healed and repaired itself.

He lifted his head again, angled towards the figure. Not Peggy.

“Who’re you?”

Peggy?

The name didn't mean anything to the Soldier. Was it a person or a code name? Maybe even just a code word? It was fairly sure that this man with his confusing face and irritatingly blue eyes must have been a former handler at some point, otherwise how would the Soldier know him?

It was confusing, therefore, not to be recognised.

The accent was American, and had a twang to it that sounded familiar deep inside him, in the same way that Russian felt familiar. Not just one of the many languages known in order to be a good operative, but a mother tongue, a home wrapped up in words.

The question was a tough one to answer, and so the Soldier settled for just tossing a jacket in his direction. Now that he was awake, it seemed somehow more inappropriate that he should be naked.

Though he wasn’t cold, Steve did care about his own shame seeing as how he didn’t quite know where he was or who might be in the area. His mother taught him modesty, and while he was still a bit all-around cloudy on the immediate details surrounding him, it was in his best interest to cover up. And to do so politely.

“Thanks, pal.” Steve was aware that he hasn’t been answered and aware that masked people tended to be more often on the enemy’s side of the war. He was slow to sit up, covering himself across his lap with the coat.

His eyes adjusted slowly to the light and he scanned the room quickly. Old. Plaster was starting to disintegrate noticeably. This place looked like it never used to be much, even when people used it, and now it seemed no one had used it for a long time.

“Have to ask again,” Steve said, more cautiously. “Who are you and who do you report to?” He could figure out the where after the why, and after every breath hurt. It might take a bit to finish healing and he had to be on good condition to fight or flee.

That question was like barbed wire in the brain. Who did it report to? Nobody. What was a weapon without someone to wield it? What insanity had led him to break from its mission just because some frozen asshole stared up from the bottom of the ocean? There was a whole tanker of people that were alive now when they shouldn't be, and HYDRA would be looking.

The Soldier somehow knew that using its natural voice might be a bad idea, might lead to discovery, and so it chose an accent. Still speaking English, but as if Russian born, to mask the familiarity of that Brooklyn beat.

"Nobody."

The voice was a rasp, barely there. Too quiet and too hoarse. But the answer would do for both. The Soldier was Nobody now, and it reported to nobody.

"You were in the ocean."

Russian. Steve was immediately on guard, jaw set. There was nothing to use as a weapon here, save for his own body and the coat he had been given. The coat could actually be useful, both as distraction and to momentarily bind the masked Russian. Steve carefully tensed his muscles in a wave, testing them each discretely. He still ached, but he put the ache behind him in the back of his brain where it belonged. He’d fought through worse.

A Russian operative who wouldn’t name his commanding officer wasn’t someone that Steve wanted to deal with, not right now, but he couldn’t change the space or the circumstance.

So he nodded.

“Yeah. I guess I didn’t put the plane down far enough.” So was the tesseract back in play? “What else did you find? My shield? I’d like to have that back. Sentimental value.”

The shield had been by this man's feet, and he had been dressed in a fancy uniform. But the Soldier had stripped him to keep him warm, and the shield was out of sight in the next room. It hadn't seemed prudent to leave something that could be a weapon with a... captive?

Is that what he was? Captive? Rescued victim? Old handler?

The Soldier shifted, arms folded, the flash of metal visible just barely between glove and sleeve. It wasn't an idiot, it knew fighting, and obviously this man was thinking of fighting him.

"Didn't see a plane. Just you."

Metal screamed body armor to Steve, which just added another layer to this Russian operative. He could also read that his own tension was starting to play across the other, not that there was tension written on the visible parts of the operative’s face, but because he could see the slight shift in weight to mirror his own. It forced Steve to relax, though he didn’t lower his alert levels.

The operative was careful with his words, which Steve could either dismiss or read into. He seemed somewhat confused, though that could be a ploy. He knew all about what HYDRA was capable of. Mental and emotion experimentation was just as prevalent as physical experimentation. There was a chance that others were gathered nearby, listening in or even observing. Steve put little past them.

“No plane?” Could it have shattered on impact? Could the pieces have floated off in different directions? “Guess I did a number on it. Not real sorry, got to say.” He took another long look around. “Suppose you’re not going to let me go, are you?”

What was with this guy and all the tough questions? Geez, didn't he know that being silent could sometimes (often) be the best way to go? This was another thing that the Soldier hadn't considered, which was a big oversight in hindsight. Usually it had a set mission, parameters that could be followed carefully to achieve a desired outcome, but it didn't know what the desired outcome was here.

Why take this man to begin with? Should he be kept captive? What the hell was going to happen now?

"No."

Walking away from a mission wasn't something that could just be revoked, so this man was a captive now, for better or worse. The Soldier would figure out the why later.

"Tell me who you are."

Steve was taken so far aback that he ended up taking the Soldier’s mental advice about staying silent. People tended to know who he was, not because Steve was an egoist, but because the nature of his very existence tended to put him on almost everyone’s radar.

He wasn’t sure what the right answer here would be. Captain America in the hands of a Russian operative was too good of a bounty. Captain Rogers of the United States Army was also a pretty good prize.

If the Russian didn’t know him by sight, considering he was naked and devoid of his shield and any other incriminating marks, he might as go with the basics.

“I’m just a soldier from Brooklyn,” he responded. “Now I answered you, son. You should do me the same.”

Hiding his name, that meant he was probably someone important. High ranking, perhaps? Though the costume didn't make much sense with that, it wasn't an outfit that screamed American military. If anything, it screamed American cabaret act. Somebody on HYDRA's radar? Then again, could easily be someone hiding out from any number of world organisations, so that didn't help much.

"I did. I'm nobody."

Even though this guy was buck naked except for a borrowed jacket, there was something about him that kept the Soldier wary and alert. Some instinct that said this guy knew how to fight.

"Give me your name, and I'll give you some food."

Bargaining. A good way to make a captive feel more at ease, or so the training drilled into its head said. Not that the Soldier was used much for bargaining, much more for when bargaining had broken down.

“Not really that hungry,” Steve lied easily. He was always hungry, that was a curse to bear to maintain his body, but he could also forget it for long stretches of time. He’d replenish when he had to. Without knowing why, or analyzing why, he felt as full as he had before undertaking this last mission. It meant to him that he’d gone down hours before.

Not decades before. It would never occur to him that his stomach contents had frozen right along with the rest of him and that’s why he felt a little indigestion. Even officer rations weren’t the best.

“But you can call me Steve.” Steve, American soldier, from back when there was such a thing as the United States of America. He was a living fossil without even realizing it. “Should I call you Mr. Nobody? Sounds like something out of a dime store novel,” he replied with a laugh.

Right.

Good point, the Soldier had used fake names on undercover missions before, always under the caveat that it understood that they didn't belong. A weapon didn't actually have a name of its own and it had to give them back after the mission. But this was a different type of mission, and being undercover might be part of it.

A tiny thrill of fear ran through it as it imagined the punishment that would come from daring to choose a name for itself. Just temporarily, just to be mission compliant.

"...you can call me James."

Why James? No idea. Just the first thing that came to mind. Though it was stupid, come to think of it, it wasn't a very Russian name to go with the accent. Should've gone with something like Ivan or Nikolas. Too late now.

The Soldier reached around the door and pulled a bag of McDonalds takeout into view, just a Big Mac, fries, and coke. Having no idea that even the concept of McDonalds had been a decade away when Steve went into the ice.

Even if Steve had said he wasn't hungry, it was good practise to follow through on deals made. A name for food, and a name had been given. So.

So... a bag of burgers for a name? Those were burgers too. Steve could smell them. Beef and cheese, but not fresh. Not recently made. Cold not. Cold and something else that he couldn’t put his finger on. He didn’t care to spend much brain power on it anyway considering the obvious cruel taunt cast at him with that name.

James. Said so casually. No Red was ever named James, not to Steve’s knowledge. HYDRA knew all about James Barnes, though. Sure. It was an obvious name without going down to nicknames. The guy hadn’t given him ‘Buchanan’ or, God help them, Bucky, but it was enough to get his blood burning.

He couldn’t let it.

“What do we have here, Jimmy?” Steve asked, because he was not going to call the operative James. He took the bag after that lapse of time, brain firing slowly, and glanced inside at the colorful wrapping with words in both English and German.

That was... that was different.

“Think I might pass this time. But you go ahead and have a bite.”

There was an immediate aversion to the name Jimmy, though there was no reasonable explanation why. But it caused a scowl to appear, visible even over the mask, and the Soldier shook his head.

"James."

Not Jimmy. Or Jim. Or anything else. This was the name chosen for the mission, even if it was an ill-advised and non-Russian sounding name, and this was the name that was going to be used. So there.

The Soldier considered the food for a moment before shrugging and ignoring the greasy packet on the floor as unimportant.

"You'll need to eat eventually. You can have it then."

That was concerning. Had he just been found and fished out of the water and then taken to this building for literally no reason whatsoever? Was there truly no game plan on play here? Steve followed with the scowl, providing one of his own.

“I’m going to need some real clothing then.” Why weren’t they on a ship? Steve didn’t feel the toss of the ocean or smell the salt. Why were they alone? Was Howard looking for him? Actively?

Was Peggy?

“No offense to your coat but it ain’t my size.”

"You can have your clothes back when they're dry."

That was possibly the longest sentence that the Soldier had said in decades, and it showed by the way its voice tailed off nearer the end into something hoarser. Usually the only things required where brief affirmations, a confirm or deny, from some little mission detail.

"I've removed the weapons."

There had been a very old fashioned gun, though it was waterlogged and useless, along with a combat knife, the shield, and a pocket watch with a damaged photograph inside.

It was obvious that his captor had something wrong with him. Something very wrong. So many things gave it away that Steve might be in the hands of a mad man or a spy gone rogue: The body armor, the name, the fact that there was no explanation as to why Steve was on dry land when the man didn’t even seem to know him and their lack of contact from anyone save for a hybrid grocery store with German/ English lettering on it.

Everything pointed to a potential double cross too.

He needed more information here and the agent wasn’t going to be the one to provide it.

So Steve stood. He wasn’t threatening in any other way. He just stood and took hold of the coat in one hand to cover himself. “I think I’ll go and find something myself,” he said, carefully picking his way towards an obvious exit.

Possibly to Steve's surprise, the Soldier didn't block the doorway or make any moves to stop him from leaving. Mostly because it was obvious that they couldn't stay in this little building forever and there was a full intention to follow him and make sure nothing happened.

The Soldier stayed silent as the door opened.

The mad swim through the ocean had brought them to Alaska, on the edge of one of the port towns. Opening the door would reveal a landscape far into the future of what Steve Rogers had left behind. Cars roared down a motorway in the distance, different shapes and far faster than in the forties. A plane flew overhead. Pylons were everywhere. A girl across the street coming out of a place with a large M over the door, holding one of those greasy burger bags and dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, pointed a small rectangle at him and it flashed.

The Soldier remained within grabbing distance, though concealed by the shadows in the doorway.

"Get back inside."

James’ voice alone triggered Steve into action and he snapped the door closed as directed. His senses were in overdrive and he had no sense at all about what had happened. The building itself was quiet. He didn’t hear anything happening outside of it, the thick doors and walls made sure that the abandoned warehouse across the highway from the restaurant his food at him from was silent and secure.

He was breathing hard. It wasn’t fear but uncertainty that caused him to hesitate before he took a step back towards the Russian.

Nothing outside looked right, but Steve had only ever known Brooklyn, Queens, and the wooded villages of Europe. He couldn’t discard nor reconcile why a German (or Russian) town would look so different, though his upbringing had always earned him about how Other part of the world could be.

“Where did you bring me?” He asked again. He needed to know the country at least.

Good.

There was a moment of concern that the panic (why panic? What was so frightening about the world outside?) would have caused Steve to run and then there would have had to be a fight while the Soldier subdued him and took him someplace else secure. After all, Steve wasn't a prize to be given up lightly. But sense prevailed, and now they were both back on the right side of the door.

The Soldier hesitated, considering whether any harm could be done in telling the truth here. But it was impossible to tell, because whether Steve was ally, enemy, or prisoner was still entirely unclear.

"Alaska," an answer vague enough to not give away specific locations, but still an answer. "I swam us here after I pulled you out of the ocean."

“Alaska is part of America.” Steve was doing his best to keep his voice down and his teeth from clenching. He didn’t care for being bullied and right now, he’d given this man no reason to lie to him. There were enough uncertainties here that he didn’t need them added to with games.

Could that woman in the strange outfit be part of some HYDRA test? Steve didn’t like the idea of that.

He dropped the coat on the floor and turned to face the stoic masked man. He would go with the idea that they were in some sort of facility, that he had been captured, and this was a ploy for information. It was standard fare when dealing with HYDRA. You expect that they are using you.

“I crashed a plane in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, too far away for anyone to swim me to safety. We are obviously somewhere in Axis controlled Europe. We need to come to an understanding here and find some sort of mutual respect for answering each other’s questions. Like men.”

Even though most of the Soldier's face wasn't visible through the mask, there was still an obvious air of confusion at how worked up Steve was getting. Alaska was in America, so what? Was Steve a fugitive in America, despite making a big deal about being an American soldier?

What the hell was going on here?

"The Axis Powers were subsumed in 1946 by HYDRA."

So what the hell was this guy talking about? At least it was one of those facts the Soldier actually knew, having the great history of how HYDRA came to conquer the world was one of the things that survived wipes.

"HYDRA control most of Europe, all of America, and parts of South America."

Another man might have laughed at the absurdity of it, but Steve’s face never changed. He couldn’t leave again without closing unless it was dark out. He couldn’t trust what he was being told. And he was starting to think that he was being held hostage by a crazy person who likely could not hurt a fly, let alone him.

Steve needed to get back on course and find his way out of the situation. He could try for extraction, but it was likely easier and quicker to get himself out of the jam he was in.

Because what was the alternative?

HYDRA won the war? How long had he been out for if that was the case? Steve frowned and moved back towards where he had woken up to sit and wait for nightfall.

James would at least get his wish for silence.

Had he really not known?

It was common knowledge to everyone, even a weapon kept on strict guidelines for what was pertinent knowledge or not. The schools taught a curriculum designed by HYDRA, there were cameras everywhere, everyone's computers and cell phones constantly monitored them. Most people liked to pretend it was a good world, not one where they feared a masked assassin might come for them if they said the wrong thing.

But everybody knew HYDRA ruled.

The Soldier followed Steve back into the small room he had woken up in and took a seat in the doorway, a deliberate move so that Steve would have to get past him to get out again. Nearly an hour passed before the Soldier spoke up, starting conversation hesitantly but with purpose.

"...you really didn't know? How long were you in that ice?"

Don’t know what? Steve had been battling boredom and a sense of dread that wouldn’t leave him, even as he tried to muddle through escape plans and contingencies on escape plans.

He was almost startled, therefore, when James spoke again.

“A few hours?” No. James said ice. Ice didn’t make sense. The ocean was cold, yes, but it would take awhile to actually ice over after he crashed. Steve found his lips sticking to his teeth. He needed water. Everything was much too dry here. “I could really use some answers, here, pal.”

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