hawksvane

Your Testament On My Lips ||

            One month.

        That was how long it had been since James and Clint had been in the same room. After Clint had been taken away, Lukin had beaten James bloody until the HYDRA agents had dragged him off and then dragged the crazed man out of the room. Pierce was not impressed with what had become of the Russian but he was impressed with the obedience the Asset showed. He was then loaded up into the chair and wiped several times consecutively to remove any and all traces of Russian programming from his mind before the new implementations was place in. His obedience, his skills; everything built back up to re-create the deadly Winter Soldier with a few new touches and some upgrades to his arm.

        The Red star on his shoulder was even altered a shade to match.

        That month was a learning process. Who to respond to, whose commands to follow and the strictest tests of obedience had him nearly ending his life over and over just because he was told to. One agent in particular, Rumlow, took a great interest in the weapon that was molded up and became his charge. He experimented with his levels of obedience, worked with different weapons and techniques and of course, late at night, he took stress relief with the assassin in ways that sickened even some of the guards.

        But now HYDRA was moving. Fury was dead and Rumlow had just returned with the Winter Soldier, wiped his memory of the assignment and had been on his way to store him in cryo when he’d decided to test out a little sick theory. He left James in his cell and went to find the one other prisoner in the opposite cell block, the one that had been starved of help, attention and medical attention though there were rumours that Lukin had said one last goodbye.

        James sat on his knee’s, hands clasped together and head down. His hair was longer, straggly and shrouding the muzzle that kept him silent. He wore only the black combat trousers and boots, torso bare and bruised, fresh scarring clear and yet an increase in muscle mass and leaner. They didn’t feed him, felt no need to but a drip gave him what nutrients his body needed to survive. He sat there and waited, calm and quiet, for whatever his handler would need him for and there was, just a flicker of apprehension, of fear as he knelt there and waited.

hawksvane said: The archer responded with startled silence, blinking in surprise but not displeasure, the hint of a smirk on his face. “…huh.”                                                                

Steve cleared his throat and backed away from the other. “I.. I uh.. apologize about that, sir…” He stammered, cheeks flushing pink.

Phone calls.

What.

the hell?

He was standing there in the rain staring at God knew what. Just the rain. It felt really nice, falling nonstop against his burning head.

Oh, there it was again. A subtle vibration, something he shouldn’t have noticed in this state, nor in this atmosphere.

A cheap, throwaway phone appeared in his hand, the source of the vibration. It had been in his pocket this whole time. A miracle it wasn’t busted all to hell in this rain.

Not really thinking about it, he flipped it open easily without checking to see who the hell was calling him; neither did he say anything when it reached his ear.

Coulson stopped breathing for a second when he heard the phone pick up, stunned again. Stunned the burn phone was still active and that someone had answered it. Now please just let it be in the possession of the right person.

“Agent Barton, please report. Status, location. Do you require a pickup?” He made himself enunciate carefully, in case reception was bad where Barton was, then hurriedly adding on, “Don’t hang up, Hawkeye. Please.”

And hoping, hoping, that against the curl of ice in his gut and veins, that his Hawk was okay, so he could apologize for so many failures.

Archery for Beginners || hawksvane & triednotto

It wasn’t logical that Ariadne was ever going to need to use a bow and arrow. But in her slight acquaintance with Clint Barton, Ariadne knew that he knew a lot more than just archery, and in her quest to defend herself she figured he was a good resource to tap.

Hopefully bribery would work.

Stark Tower was impressive, but frankly Ariadne had some questions about the ‘glass box’ aspect of the architecture. Skyscrapers didn’t have to be devoid of detail…

Hopefully he liked peanut butter cookies.

Crossed Wires ||

        Other than the sound of the fans coming from James’ computer, the only other sound was the pop of his spine as he stretched up from his chair and eased out the aches that had gathered from the hours in front of the computer. The project he had been working on had just been uploaded and James always loved the rush that came from posting the truth online. He’d just exposed a doctor for performing illegal plastic surgery and being the cause of the deaths of several hundreds of people. Something the government had covered up due to the amount of money the doctor had been raking in.

        He dragged his hand over his eyes and yawned, the headset hanging squint over his ears as he tried to ease the tiredness aching over his mind. Living where he was, a small rather shitty apartment, it would be hard to believe that Bucky had been a soldier in a past life. Fighting in a war that had taken more from him than any man deserved to lose and it had turned him sour to the government, to the way the world ran. As such, his years spent on therapy had given him the time he needed to hone in that mind of his, turning his skills to a technical warfare.

        It was all details that didn’t matter now, it was from a past life that didn’t matter. James swung his legs down from the edge of the desk and leaned forward, only to leap up cursing and swearing when he knocked over what remained of his coffee onto the keyboard and transceiver. He knocked the cup away, grabbed an old t-shirt and dabbed it over the mess, only to stop when the shouting and swearing, and what could be interpreted as a scream, filled his headset. James stopped, reaching up and pulling the device fully over his ears while watching his transceiver flicker, die out then roar back into life. The voice stayed though, and James could recognise the sound of gunfire anywhere. But how the hell did a feed like that find him?

            “The fuck–?”

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