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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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.”

To be fair to Steve and his nakedness, the Soldier should probably give him back his clothes soon, otherwise he might get frostbite. Alaska was cold, after all, and this building wasn't exactly heated well.

"Not a few hours. Had to dig you out of ice twenty feet under the water. You should be dead."

It didn't occur to the Sol-- James, that a normal person wouldn't have been able to dive that deep and then physically chip away at a block of ice for hours in order to rescue some frozen guy.

"What date was it?"

The reasons for impossibility that the Soldier didn’t think of had Steve’s mind reeling. It picked out the issues with what James said and tried to reconcile them to absolutely no avail. Steve’s eyes darkened and his face hardened as he came to some very frightening conclusions.

“It was February 12th,” he said tersely. He and Peggy had been planning a dance, a real dance, something that mattered to him, for once. The feeling in his stomach sank further. “1945.”

He invited James to correct him to the year. One might have passed. Maybe two. That was pushing it.

“What’s today’s date?”

1945.

The Soldier had some very vague memories that went that far back, but they were all in the abstract. Just pain and fear and endless training, the sort that seared the soul and made a weapon from what used to be a man. So perhaps Steve was lucky in that he was in a room with one of the few people that wouldn't immediately dismiss that as a lie.

Long ass time to be frozen, though. The longest the Soldier had even been frozen had been twelve years, and that defrost had been a bitch.

"October 21st, 2010."

Steve wouldn’t disagree about the defrost. It had been as painful as drowning to unconsciousness and then freezing had been. He would not say otherwise. Right now, of course, he wasn’t going to say anything. Sixty-five years was not a sum he could comprehend and he didn’t actually understand. If anything, that stretch of time was bordering on meaningless.

The brief moment of the world he had seen, however, tumbled the truth down to him. The garments. The restaurant. The cars. He couldn’t detect the lie in what was being told to him and that was causing him the majority of the distress right now.

“And HYDRA won...?” Sixty. Five. Years. Ago. This was a HYDRA world. Steve felt his jaw ache. He was clenching his teeth too tightly.

"Yeah."

It wasn't a distressing truth to the Soldier, the only world it had ever known was one as a weapon belonging to HYDRA. There were some old folks now who remembered a time before, when there were different ruling bodies in charge, but the ones still alive were the ones smart enough to keep their mouths shut about if they had preferred it before.

At least they hadn't been forced to completely change languages, though everyone now spoke German as well as English as a matter of course from childhood.

"They'll be looking for us. For me. When we move, you'll need to know how to blend in. Do you know the salute?"

Move where? Do what? Why is Steve the thing that's making him buck all of his training and run? He has no plan, no fucking clue, and yet-- somehow nothing is more important than holding onto Steve.

Malice in his eyes and voice, Steve couldn’t know that he came across more and more like the handlers James might have once known but shouldn’t recall. “You want me to Hail—“ He couldn’t even say it. It was like poison on his tongue. Still, he’d been through worse. He had to keep reminding himself of that. He needed to get out there, into the world. He had to see it for himself. And if he had to salute? So be it. He lied to his own government too many times to count. Lying to an enemy one wouldn’t be a problem.

Steve took a deep breath.

“Yeah. I know the damned salute. I need some clothes, James. Sooner rather than later.” Escape might not be a problem now, but it might also be a relative term if the whole world had gone mad.

The Soldier's whole stance shifted when Steve became more aggressive, an odd mix of subservience and a readiness to fight. A very faint whirring noise came from beneath the sleeve of his left arm as the gears repositioned into fight ready mode. It wasn't a sound that normal ears would be capable of picking up on, but super soldier hearing was a damn sight better.

Steve was right, but that didn't make it an easy problem to solve. Leaving him here would be a rookie move, just asking for an escape attempt, but a naked man couldn't be taken into public either.

"Sit down. I'll restrain you and get clothes for us both."

Restrain was not a word that Steve wanted to hear, but it wasn’t like most restraints did their job with him so he wasn’t really worried. It should have occurred to him that HYDRA, with it’s ahead of its time technology, might actually have come a long way in materials, might have discovered deposits of vibranium, might have a way of keeping a super soldier hostage.

James was living proof of that, though he couldn’t know it.

Steve wasn’t about to argue. He actually needed James for the moment and escaping him could only be possible once he had learned more of this world he had woken up in. It hadn’t set in yet that everyone he had ever known was likely dead.

He couldn’t let his mind dwell on that. So, Steve sat. He even offered up his hands, Little good it would do.

Edited 2019-03-16 20:15 (UTC)

Steve would find himself very securely bound with specialist cuffs that were part of the Soldier's materiel for every mission. Not exactly for restraining other targets, but to be carried in case the Soldier itself needed restraining for some reason, so Steve would find they were more than up to super soldier strength. Even super soldier strength with a vibranium alloy arm.

The Soldier slipped out of the building.

It was difficult to keep out of sight of the multitude of surveillance cameras that HYDRA maintained, and impossible to know who might be high enough of an operative on the street to recognise him, but he was known as a ghost for a good reason. Nobody in the world was better at what he did.

So it was only an hour later that the Soldier returned with a package of clothes (two sets of jeans, two sets of t shirts (one with the words HYDRA UNIVERSITY and one with several silhouettes doing the salute), some underwear, socks, trainers, jackets, and baseball caps.

He untied Steve and handed over one set of clothes to him.

"It's good that you should be dead, it means nobody will be looking for you."

Trying not to think about the restraints now that they were off, or about the dark places his mind had taken him while he had been left alone, Steve dressed quickly, aware that the clothing only just about fit him. The slogans were off, but he couldn’t see the small HYDRA University logo so he picked that tee and tried not to think about it too much.

He wasn’t planning on saying anything to James, not even glancing up into dark, smudged black ringed eyes once his fly was done up and he and forced his feet into the sneakers.

Not until he’d mentioned that Steve was just as dead now as his friends likely were. “Everyone I know is dead,” he said, distant and deep. “Probably for the better. No one would want to live in this world. I’m guessing they’ll be looking for you though. What’s the game plan?”

"I don't know."

The Soldier should start to change too, but there was reluctance to put on the new clothing. This body armour, these weapons, these were the materiel allowed and given. So many rules had already been broken, but it was hard to break them all. Willpower had to be scavenged and saved for the important rules.

"I don't know why I pulled you out of that ice. It wasn't my mission, I've never failed a mission before, I've never not gone back."

So why now? What the hell was so special about Steve that he superseded an order given directly by a handler?

HYDRA operatives, from all Steve had learned, were either loyal or cowardly. That’s how the Allies felt about the Axis too. It was in all of their propaganda. Evil was evil by default. It was in their nature. But this man, this Russian, he seemed to have been born and bred into HYDRA. Maybe everyone in this world was and Steve didn’t have a chance. Then again, look at him. Loyal to a fault. He’d never failed a mission.

But here he was, proving himself to be a decent man, rescuing him.

There was a chance that the whole world was like this, or enough that Steve could maybe affect change. He had to steel himself, stay focused.

“Listen pal, I don’t know. Maybe when you found me and figured out who I was, you decided that the symbol of good was worth going against orders. We can try to fix all of this, together. We just have to trust each other. Or try to. I’m guessing history wrote me in as some sort of monster.”

He couldn’t help but smirk. He kind of was a monster in a way. Like Frankenstein’s creature.

“You’re doing the right thing, son.”

Son. God that was irritating, Steve was such a little--

"I'm older than you, pal."

The words just seemed to come from nowhere, like the Soldier wasn't even consciously aware of having said anything. It certainly wasn't something planned to say, especially when the words came tinged with a Brooklyn accent instead of the Russian one that had been chosen before. This wasn't normal. The Soldier never slipped, never forgot little details, and never did anything not preplanned. Besides, it was nonsense, for all the Soldier knew, Steve was the elder of the two of them.

There was a moment of silence before the Russian accent was back, stronger, almost as if in defiance of what had just happened.

"And I didn't figure out who you were, you told me. Steve, an American soldier."

No. That was cruel. As cruel as using the name James against him. Steve was trying to stretch the shoes out on his feet, rocking forward on his toes now that his rousing speech had ended and nearly stayed up there, looking somewhat like a puffed up goose. Slowly, he rolled himself back down on his heels.

It hadn’t been too long ago, to him, that he’d heard Bucky’s voice. He knew it like he knew he was right handed and all of the stats of the Dodgers from their ‘42 season. The man might have just switched back to a now really phony sounding (to Steve) Russian accent, but the damage had been done.

“I’m Steve Rogers.”

And Bucky Barnes had fallen to his death sixty-five years ago. Steve hadn’t been able to catch him. And yet, here he was.

“And yeah. You might be older than me so I guess that counts,” he tries, voice weak. “Age before beauty.”

There was something about the way that Rogers was looking at him that made him think that he'd made a very big mistake. But how big? Did Rogers recognise the Soldier (no, impossible, even the Soldier didn't predate the war)? Was it just that the accent shift was obvious?

Urgh, he could kick himself.

Not that any of this showed on his face, the Soldier had become extraordinarily good at keeping any thoughts below the surface. A weapon wasn't supposed to occasionally think irritated or snarky comments, after all.

"How is Steve Rogers a symbol of hope?"

“He’s not,” Steve said, trying to keep his voice even. He couldn’t. It threatened to crack at every syllable. “I’m not anything. Never was meant to be anything at all, but I had to be real stupid and try to follow you to war, didn’t I? A lot of real good people make up the symbol of hope. I just wear the clown suit and carry the shield.”

He wasn’t close enough to reach out and take off the mask, but he wanted to do so. Badly. He pressed forward on a throbbing foot, the weird rubber sole of his shoe sticking to the dirty floor.

“Stop sassing me, Buck.”

Something had definitely changed here, Rogers was singing from a hymn sheet that the Soldier hadn't got a copy of. It looked like the damn idiot was going to cry all over his stupidly massive face.

"James."

Was this like the Jimmy thing from earlier? Though why Buck, that made no sense? Then again, none of this crazy few days made any kind of sense, and the sense meter was just dropping ever since Rogers opened his blue eyes.

"You were a symbol for the US army during the war, that's why your suit looks like the old flag?"

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