Alexander Pierce (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
peacemongering) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thisavrou_log2016-08-06 06:17 pm
peacemongering) wrote in thisavrou_log2016-08-06 06:17 pm
Entry tags:
In the game a chess (Closed)
Who: James Bucky Barnes (The Winter Soldier) & Alexander Pierce
When: A few days after Pierce's arrival
Where: Nomo Deck - Room #005
What: The Winter Soldier pays a visit to a former (or is it?) HYDRA head.
Warnings: Will add as necessary
[There was a time for privacy and while communal living was something that he was going to have to get used to all over again, Pierce considered himself gamely and adaptable. This was a new life after all, one that started when his last had ended, and every opportunity required some kind of inconvenient sacrifice at first. He might have aged and grown slightly soft of body, but he was as sharp and as cunning of mind as ever.
Being in the communal room alone was fleeting, so he sat on his bed jaunting down notes for his new career path. Beyond exercising and exploring the Moria, there was little else to occupy him as he suspected that the potential number of enemies from his world was mounting. Few would outright attack an old man, he knew (and it was something he would take advantage of), but if word spread of his endears, it would make welcoming new conversations with an open mind more difficult. So, he needed to know as much as he could about the individuals that were here before making slow and systematic approaches to potential interesting parties.
He paused to scratch a few notes with a pen on a plain pad of paper next to him, leaning forward to examine the image on his MID. The room was quiet, the lights dimmed due to the necessary energy conservation attempts of the new captain and first mate. He had settled himself strategically under the air vent that circulated fresh and old, having already pin-pointed those pipes as the biggest and most hidden 'highway' in the entirety of Moria. Walking the halls was his plan, but he knew that some preferred the silence and the isolation.
Those were useful individuals. So he continued on the note taking, scratching more notes and humming softly to himself the Holst suite for Mars, the bringer of war.]
When: A few days after Pierce's arrival
Where: Nomo Deck - Room #005
What: The Winter Soldier pays a visit to a former (or is it?) HYDRA head.
Warnings: Will add as necessary
[There was a time for privacy and while communal living was something that he was going to have to get used to all over again, Pierce considered himself gamely and adaptable. This was a new life after all, one that started when his last had ended, and every opportunity required some kind of inconvenient sacrifice at first. He might have aged and grown slightly soft of body, but he was as sharp and as cunning of mind as ever.
Being in the communal room alone was fleeting, so he sat on his bed jaunting down notes for his new career path. Beyond exercising and exploring the Moria, there was little else to occupy him as he suspected that the potential number of enemies from his world was mounting. Few would outright attack an old man, he knew (and it was something he would take advantage of), but if word spread of his endears, it would make welcoming new conversations with an open mind more difficult. So, he needed to know as much as he could about the individuals that were here before making slow and systematic approaches to potential interesting parties.
He paused to scratch a few notes with a pen on a plain pad of paper next to him, leaning forward to examine the image on his MID. The room was quiet, the lights dimmed due to the necessary energy conservation attempts of the new captain and first mate. He had settled himself strategically under the air vent that circulated fresh and old, having already pin-pointed those pipes as the biggest and most hidden 'highway' in the entirety of Moria. Walking the halls was his plan, but he knew that some preferred the silence and the isolation.
Those were useful individuals. So he continued on the note taking, scratching more notes and humming softly to himself the Holst suite for Mars, the bringer of war.]
no subject
But here is one of HYDRA's leaders, the man he had been sold to by the Russians. He remembers him, and there is everything wrong and profoundly twisted about all of this. For all intents and purposes, Pierce would know that he's here -- debriefed in secret, perhaps, or simply looking through the list. Bucky had kept a careful, tense distance, observing him for days through the vents, and even watching the people he'd spoken to. They didn't know him, but he doesn't put much stock in that conclusion. With Pierce and HYDRA, it's always better to believe that nothing is always as it seems.
As it is, his own state of mind is chaotic, wildly conflicted; he should hate this man and all the others that had stripped him away and implanted something terrible in his head, the architects of brainwashing and torture that spanned decades, burning out everything that had once mattered to Bucky Barnes and using that to create a pet monster, a tool.
But Pierce hadn't been there when it all began; it was only at a much later stage, and even then he had distantly sensed that there was something different about him: the genuine belief that he could create a new world free from the evil of terrorists. Pierce spoke to him of it, how the Soldier was the key to creating that world, how his work had shaped the century. He was the first person who appealed to reason first; and pain, Pierce had told him, was necessary to provide clarity of vision, to clear the clouds that encroach on the horizon.
The Soldier had complied (but not agreed, they made sure he had no capacity for that); compliance was rewarded, and pain brought order. Even now he's still shaking HYDRA's poisonous truths from his system.
It's been nearly six months since he had broken off from HYDRA, but what is six months compared to over seventy years worth of what was done to him? Bucky is a survivor, picking up the pieces of what's left and re-discovering what he is, and he clings even more tightly to the progress he's made and what he's created for himself. He thinks of Steve, wonders what he would have done, and knows that he needs to face his demons on his own. He can't run away forever.
Bucky finally knocks on his door, unwilling to reveal to Pierce his comprehensive knowledge of the ventilation system. He might have come to Pierce, but he's not here for orders -- he will never do that again. ]
no subject
He flipped his notepad closed and tucked it under the neat blankets and rose to his feet, padding to the door. He listened for sounds of conversation that may indicate the exact number of individuals that were on the other side, but all was quiet. Most likely a single visitor. His Glock 19 was locked and loaded but hidden under the mattress of his bed, a device that he had taken special care not to display. He was spry enough to reach it if absolutely necessary. Violence was only required when covering one's tracks and after negotiations of any kind broke down.
Opening the door, Pierce found surprise flicker across his features at the individual who stood on the other side. His Queen of the chess board. Without hiding it, surprise shifted to warmth as he regarded the Winter Soldier that stood so different from the cold, ruthless and largely emotionless creature that had been HYDRA's prize weapon in the world of espionage and changing the course of history. The Soldier looked good, healthy but he had spent so long watching over this entity. There was strain, lines that hadn't been there before while under his rule.
If the Winter Soldier was here to kill him, it wouldn't have been to a door knocking. It would be quiet, quick, and brutal. He doubted that he would even have a chance to make a sound, which meant that this visitation was specifically for him and it was on supposed neutral ground?
He slowly stepped back from the door, pulling it open wide to reveal the entirety of the room beyond. He gestured for a hand of welcome for the Soldier to enter, and his smile was actually genuine as he surveyed how beautiful the most potent and intelligent of weapon still remained. Like a well kept revolver from a different time.]
Look at you. That blush of health wasn't there the last time we saw one another. Please, come in. [A show of trust. Be alone with him when he was outmatched and couldn't hope to speak the number of words necessary to force compliance.]
Tell me, what would you like to be called? [Give a little power, see how far the programming had unraveled.]
no subject
Although to be honest, the idea of Pierce as a cartoonishly evil villain seems far too childish for the likes of him. No, his is a more insidious brand of evil -- infinitely more affable and deadly, and perhaps he would have had the world on a plate if it wasn't for hubris, or the misguided belief that sending the Soldier to kill his best friend wouldn't, at the very least, cause complications that are beyond even HYDRA's reach.
But that's all spilled milk now, and the effects Pierce has had on Bucky is far more lasting, reaching deep into him like a poison that's taken root. There is defiance and rage, a fury at what had been done to him, all that he's endured; but Pierce is not the sole architect of Bucky's torture and captivity -- he was not the one who had a primary role in breaking him. He simply took over from his predecessor, even if the crime is no less forgivable. Bucky remembers fighting the programming every step of the way, the many, many times he had come up for air only to be faced with the horror of what had been done to him, the agony and helplessness of knowing that this is his own personal hell, and that no one would come for him.
Pierce brings back all of those emotions and then some, and he remembers the time he spoke to him gently, and oh, how his battered mind had latched onto the knowledge that he had caused less pain than the others, how Pierce had always told him that he didn't like employing the hard way when he could do it the easy way, and how Bucky's defiance had pushed him to it, the pain that he deserved because he didn't behave you failed your last mission --
-- he feels sick to his stomach at the lies, the horror, but here he is, speaking to him like a father to a son, alone and outmatched and just as charmingly courteous as he had always been. Of course, that was how he'd managed to fool Fury all these years, didn't he? He had fooled the whole world, but only because he wasn't a megalomaniac hell-bent on subjecting the world to his command.
No, he was different from the rest of HYDRA. He had truly believed in eliminating world threats -- he just didn't care for the many other lives that would be lost in the process. Bucky didn't care for his vision, much less HYDRA's, but he remembers the autonomy he had on his missions, the scrap of freedom he was given when he was commanding tactical teams. And in the same vein having been lied to, manipulated into believing that he was doing something good when all he was doing was causing many more deaths of innocent people, and so much more horror, cutting a bloody swathe through the decades.
And now, the helpless people begging for their lives had taken a brand new meaning -- the last thing they saw was a monster; and if it hadn't been for him, how much better would the world have been?
Pierce actually asks for his name, wants to know what he likes to be called; and the strangeness of it makes him pause; surprises him. He cared, he was the one who meted out the least punishments; all that happened to you on his watch was your fault, wasn't it, a small, traitorous voice speaks up before he can squash it, silently horrified at himself, the lengths pieces of his mind would go to justify what had been done. ]
James.
[ Not Bucky, never Bucky -- he doesn't want that name used by him. He's unsettled, aware that this is a bad idea, that even though he could very well kill him where he stands (it would be so easy to reach out and close his fingers around his windpipe and crush the life out of him, but to what end?), Bucky knows he's out of his league with this man; powerfully charismatic, and charming. War is not won by soldiers alone, but by men like him, too. The chessmasters.
He hesitates at the door, before he sets his jaw and steps in. He will not be afraid, not now. He's a survivor. He must remember this. ]
You know that, don't you? It's James Barnes. [ Not the asset. Not the Winter Soldier. James. ]
no subject
So many years ago when Colonel Karpov introduced him to this entity that was more mystery than reality, he had immediately been taken with his first sight of the Soldier. This Fist of HYDRA. Zola's second greatest creation, so well-honed, well-trained and yet so fragile. The Soviets had slipped a harness on a tiger and controlled the leash that kept it from leaving but also had been forced to come up with a discipline regime to keep the tiger from being exactly that. It could turn on them with a single mistake.
Over the years, he had watched every mission, every training session, read every single mission report, the red book of 'words' and everything from the general upkeep to dietary requirements of the Soldier. In a sense, he knew the Winter Soldier better than anyone. He had memorized every line, every curve, every twitch of expression that had flitted across that face. He knew it intimately because to tame a big wild cat, one had to have respect for what it could do and know the moment before it was about to turn on its masters. And when the Soldier came into his care, he had been different.
Forced compliance was meaningless. In the end, what shattered remnants of a man fought beneath. He certainly wasn't the only one to recognize that fact, but he had taken a different track that those of HYDRA who dealt exclusively with the Soldier. HYDRA had the gift of a brainwashed intelligent weapon that fought constantly for freedom, even if that fight was buried so deep that it was unseen. So to limit the effects of the fight, he had reasoned. He had presented his ideas simply and purely as logic over emotion, had paved the way for the Soldier to perform because it was the right action to take, not because he, Alexander, had waved a hand and told the Soldier to jump the necessary hoops. The Soldier thrived under him because there was the illusion of a conscious decision to perform and performance meant reward.
And even now, as his old Queen of the chess board stepped into the room, he inclined his head in an obvious nod of approval. Like the Soldier had had a choice when stepping into his room where, yes, he was outmatched and woefully unprepared on a physical level. A part of him wanted to end his days in the jaws of this tiger; it would be a good death, if there was such a concept. Instead, he played the game. Cause and effect. Compliance and reward. Handler and weapon.
Alexander waited at the door, standing by the open gateway to the halls beyond in case the Soldier decided to bolt. Like an offering of an escape if 'James' wasn't prepared to face this. No mockery, only understanding as if he knew the trials and tribulations of trying to gather the pieces of memories and an old life back into some piled mess of paranoia. And when the polite time had passed, he gently shut the door, turning his back briefly in yet another show of trust.
Yet, he specifically turned to face the Soldier at the question, the corner of his lips rising in a smile again.] James Buchanan Barnes. Sergeant of the United States 107th Infantry Division, and then onwards to Sergeant of the Howling Commandos lead by Captain Steven Grant Rogers. In the archives of military protocol, you are or were simply 'MIA' due to the lack of body acquired after your fall from a train during a mission to capture Doctor Arnim Zola.
[He stepped away from the door, tucking his hands into the pockets of his uniform and closed the distance between them, looking into that almost forever young face.] Your life's work is an aspect I have made priority to know. Because you were always special, James. A survivor to the very last breath... and yet... [He tipped his chin, watching out of the corner of his eye.] You struggle. Please, let's talk as we always could. Will you sit with me awhile? I can make us a cup of tea, though I admit it's not the best brew.
[Again, leaving the proverbial ball in the Soldier's court. Trust. An offer of potential information. He had much after all. He knew the Soldier better than anyone after all.]
no subject
No, Pierce gleans what is important and discards the rest as efficiently as he discards people who no longer serve his interests. Bucky's aware of just what he had stepped into, no matter the courteous gestures and the show of choice, the snare is there, waiting to be snapped tight at the opportune moment.
The question is, what is the opportune moment?
Bucky might have endured unspeakable torture through the decades, subjected to the worst kinds of pain and horror one can inflict on another -- but he's not worthless; he might be a broken man, but he's not worthless. And given the right motivation, Bucky Barnes can be lethal. He knows Pierce knows it too, because the man has always been one of the smartest, brightest minds in HYDRA (how else had he ascended so quicky?), he was the one who discovered a more efficient way of commanding the Winter Soldier. He brought about more effective results, even if it had ultimately failed.
Bucky might have been the victim of these vile machinations, but he's not blind to their awful veracity -- it worked, a lot of the time. There are others still in the programme, screaming in the small part of their minds that had been locked away by the coercion before that, too, would be wiped away.
And here it is, Pierce's gentle, warm words -- he talks to him like a father to a son, but Bucky knows better even when he complied, even when he resisted and brought the pain on himself. He was the one to shape the world, the special one, and his mouth is dry in the face of such a deadly adversary, a man he doesn't quite know if he can beat.
He must. He broke out of the programming and survived, moving on with anger and horror and determination -- you don't need hope or happiness to survive, not when you're Bucky Barnes and you deserve neither. But decades worth of mental conditioning is a powerful thing that leaves its roots in you even when you've shorn much of it off, and Bucky has barely had months to shake it off.
You were always special.
He frowns, knowing that it's a prelude to more talk, to finding out just what it is that he wants. Bucky denies the part of him that wants to escape and put as much distance between them as he possibly can, forcing himself forward. He must be stronger than this.
He lifts his chin briefly, an unconscious mimic of the night he had appeared in Pierce's kitchen, silently watching him offer milk in a glass. ]
I don't drink tea. [ A beat. ] What do you want?
no subject
It was fanciful to see the lines along the Soldier's face harden, those blue eyes sharpen, and he expected some sort of mulish set of the jaw to greet him. There was always fight in the man under the programming, and he had always marveled and respected it. Oh yes, he tried to contain and snuff it out, but it was for the needs of HYDRA had he had done so. Sacrifices had to be made.
His thoughts were his own at the blunt refusal, and he turned away, padding deeper into the communal living area to poke at the tap for some boiling water. It was guarded now, frugally distributed so he was certain to limit his uses of the water to what was strictly necessary. He had requested tea from the cafeteria area, and he had received a few tea bags of unknown origin. He filled his mug with boiling water and set the bag to steep, all but ignoring the question asked of him.
Instead, he hummed a soft tune to himself, using a small spoon to stir around the mug. He watched the water darken, gently tapping the edge with his spoon.]
I believe I should be inquiring as to your motivations for coming here unannounced. So, James, what do you want? [In the now, in the future, from the past.]
no subject
[ Bucky is stubbornly holding on to his resolve, all the while knowing that this is a bad idea, that in terms of manipulation and strategy he could very well be outclassed. Bucky isn't the least manipulative; at least not above what he needs to survive, it just isn't written in his blood the way it is in Alexander Pierce's. He's the weapon to Pierce's taskmaster, even if he doesn't serve him anymore.
He's studying him, watching him closely and observing every movement, how Pierce seems distinctly undisturbed at the fact that he's broken from HYDRA's control and is only paces away from him. He refuses to answer Pierce's question, not yet -- and while a part of him could never have imagined that something like this could be possible, he forges forward anyway.
He's not their toy anymore, he's not his to own and order around. He cannot be. ]
no subject
[Alexander was under no illusion of the Soldier's skills and it was almost laughable that his old asset would even think that was a question that needed voicing in the first place. The Winter Soldier was more than skilled to take out a man like him regardless of what spy skills he still possessed because a weapon of that magnitude was a force to be reckoned with, and he hadn't the time nor the care to worry on such trivial matters.
No, he suspected that his wayward Soldier was here to prove something personally, not to him but the asset himself. That was perfectly fine by him because whatever control the Soldier thought came between the pair of them was quite thoroughly false. The reality was that between them Alexander would have more control for the time being. There were certain measures that the Heads of HYDRA were allotted with their weapons, and he doubted the the protocols had disintegrated enough that the Soldier could actually kill him.
He seated himself at the table provided, crossing one leg over the other and looked up at his Soldier.]
What do you want, James? Your asking questions to my questions is not very productive, so if you are after something in specific, by all means ask.
no subject
Bucky wouldn't have waited to be here in this room with him if he wanted his head. He doesn't want to do this anymore -- there is too much blood on his hands to add Pierce's to his, no matter how much his anger simmers deep within, buried underneath all the wounds that have barely scabbed over, the nightmares that will never recede.
Even now, it's a distinctly unsettling thing, to be face to face with this man who had commanded him for so long, who had been the kinder of the handful that owned him as he changed hands like a commodity. But he's here of his own volition, he's made his choice, and he sinks his teeth into that knowledge, wills it to give him strength. He has yet to shake off the years of conditioning when something in him stirs that the tone of his voice, the traitorous desire to obey, to do as he asks because he demands compliance -- ]
No. [ He grounds out. Another act of defiance, and no one will take him by the arms and push him back into that goddamn thing. Not again. His heart is pounding, remembering what happened the last time he denied him, issued a quiet protest only to be endure a familiar agony. He forces that down, and he meets his eyes. ] I want to know what you plan to do here. But you're not going to tell me; not the truth, anyway.
no subject
He feigned an interested look at the demand. He would have thought that adding the word 'please' would have earned better results, but then again, perhaps the Soldier had not developed manners. Perhaps there was no room for anything cordial between them. There was time and opportunity to build back their repertoire in his honest opinion.]
If you don't think I'm going to speak the truth, why ask at all? [He leveled the Soldier with a calculating stare.] Can you name a time when I was dishonest to you? Can you tell me of a scenario where I lead you astray from the mission that we have spent years building towards?
no subject
He must.
He has come out of one battle into another one here, and this time there is so much more on the line. Pierce's question, however, throws him for a loop. No, no, he hasn't. Pierce has never guided him wrong, he has never lied about the mission, he has never --
-- he takes a breath, then looks him dead in the eyes, jaw clenched. ] Your vision of the world is not what I wanted. You made me believe I was doing something good.
no subject
He suspected that this entire encounter was to prove something to the Soldier himself, and he, Alexander, just happened to be the closest mountain to climb emotionally, mentally and perhaps a little physically. As far as HYDRA went, he was one of the top heads and had a personal stake in the Soldier's productivity. All this posturing was about as cute as his granddaughter admitting she had hidden her juice-stained dress in a floor vent all those years ago.
It was just as fruitless as well.]
James, let us be honest with each other. I didn't give you view of the world and HYDRA that you carried; that would be the Soviet Leviathan team. I maintained what they initially created. Please, if you're going to blame me, at least do so with what I personally did to you.
[He folded his hands and watched the Soldier with open affection.] I gave you missions, a purpose, and I was the first handler since Karpov to remove you from cryostasis frequently. Your services were invaluable and as my grandmother always said, what is the point of having something priceless and valuable if one always hides it away? You were and are priceless, James. And if you ever lose your way on whatever path it is you think you're on, feel free to visit me.