The Silver Soldier

XXXIII

The room seems quieter than before. I can't figure out the reason why.

Argent looks back at the one-way glass. At whoever is waiting behind it. But I keep my eyes on Argent.

He returns his focus to me. "If he was standing right here, and he ordered you to kill me. Would you?"

"Hypothetically?" I ask.

"Yes."

A ghost of a smile crosses my face. "I wouldn't need him to give the order. I would strangle you with my own two fucking hands out of my own free will." I whisper. "And I would not feel a Goddamn thing."

That seems to do it for him. I only see the hurt flicker in his eyes for a second before he has his back to me. The door leading out of the room buzzes, unlocking. And Argent is walking away before I can begin to smile, and by the time I start to laugh, he has slammed the door shut behind him.

I'm alone in the room, but I can feel at least six pairs of eyes baring down on me from the other side of the mirror.

Now they know they can fix me.

They think I'm being controlled, just like the Winter Soldier. They have seen the words tattooed on my chest, and by now they have translated them.

They think I'm fixable.

But that would require me to have been broken in the first place.

I stare at the mirror, right at where I pin Scott's heartbeat to be. And I train my eyes six feet up the wall, to where I believe his face to be.

I let my gaze linger.

And then his heartbeat is moving, he's walking. The buzzer sounds once more and the door swings open.

I can't read all of the emotions in his face. Anger. Pain. Grief. So many of them. He storms towards me, fists balled.

I don't have time to speak before his knuckles are hurtling towards my face with so much power I barely see it coming. He makes contact with my cheek, and my head is thrown violently to the side. I know for sure that my cheekbone is broken, and at least one tooth is loose.

I smile, spitting the tooth onto the grey concrete beneath me. Silver blood is dripping from my lips, courtesy to the hole I had bitten into my cheek the moment his fist hit my face.

"Oh c'mon Scotty boy," I grin up at him. "You think I can't take a little punch?"

"Stop it." His eyes are crazed, I wouldn't be surprised if he hit me again. He opens and closes his fists as he paces back and forth before me. I hold his gaze as he walks, a half-smirk on my face.

"Do it again." I taunt with a sneer. "Beat me to a bloody pulp, Scott. I know you want-"

"Stop it." He stops in front of me. "Just fucking stop already."

I search his face. "You feel guilty." I conclude, smirking. "You know it's your fault, all of this is your fault."

"Stop it!" He yells. I watch him in silence, amused. He points at me, on the verge of tears. "Just stop. Okay? Don't speak, don't breathe, just stop."

I raise my eyebrows.

"You are going to answer my questions. Do you understand me?"

"You just told me not to speak." I state.

He's turning red.

"And no." I say. "I will not."

Why would he think I would answer his questions? I only answered Argents because I couldn't care less about what happens to Carson. He was a stupid pain in my ass for too long.

Scott is so red I think his head might explode.

He keeps his stare on me. When he speaks again, his words aren't directed towards me. "Bring him in." He says.

The door buzzes, unlocking.

A man walks in, and at first I don't recognize him.

But then I do.

"Zumo." I realize. He had come to the island a few times, mostly to bring in a person for us to dispose of. And here he is now, working for the enemy.

"Mr. Stilinski." He acknowledges me, I can hear his slight Russian accent. It reminds me of Fridrik.

I hope Fridrik is alive, I didn't see him after the fighting was done. Actually, I didn't see him at all.

Zumo looks down at my chest, his gaze lingering on the backwards list of command words. He won't know that they are fake, he was never told if I was under control or not. I can only hope he believes my lies, just like everyone else.

I chose the words myself. Silver, Seven, Homecoming, Nine, Malevolent, Sixteen, Nightfall, Mercury, Chaos, and Covetous. I found them fitting with my past, just as the Winter Soldier's had been fitting for his.

Zumo studies me for a moment before speaking. "The newer wave of soldiers underwent a different type of brainwashing." He says, stepping closer to me. "The Winter Soldier was brainwashed through systematic torture, causing him to forget who he was, and making him fully loyal to Hydra... your friend here might be different." He explains.

He runs a gloved finger along my metal prosthetic on my chest. Admiring it. Then he meets my gaze... and that's when I realize that he's not who they think he is. He's not on their side. "Mr. Stilinski remembers his past, but only the bad things. He has no good memories of you, or his childhood. Hydra brainwashed him to believe you are the bad guy, and he has most likely been conditioned to only want one thing." A pause. "To put a bullet in your forehead."

Scott is silent.

I know Zumo is lying.

There are no such soldiers.

He continues: "As I was saying, this new set of soldiers were made differently. In turn, they must be unconditioned differently as well. Your friend - I'm assuming - is part of this new batch. All you have to do is speak his command words from the last to first, and you will have your friend back."

"And if it doesn't work?" Scott asks.

"It will." Zumo is looking at me, sending me a message with his eyes.

The last thing I heard, this guy had been in prison for his involvement with the Winter Soldier. They only reason he could be out, is because SHIELD brought him in to fix me.

He wants me to cooperate so he doesn't have to go back to jail. He knows that I need him as much as he needs me.

The man look to Scott for confirmation.

Scott nods, and Zumo begins to read out my command words. I make a show of struggling against the restraints, hissing profanities in Zumo's direction. But he continues, already halfway through.

"-Шестнадцать," he says: sixteen. "Сумерки, Меркурий, Хаос..." Nightfall, Mercury, Chaos; he pronounces them all perfectly, taking his time to get each one correct. And then he gets to the last one, Covetous, he pauses before saying it, leaving me and everyone else in suspense.

When he finishes, I yell out in pain, clenching my jaw so hard I hear my own molars cracking under the pressure. I ball my fists until my knuckles turn white. And I hold my breath, waiting for the stars to begin appearing.

I have nearly mastered the art of rendering myself unconsciousness, all it takes is an excruciating amount of pain and no oxygen to the brain. I'm getting both by fighting the restraints and holding my breath.

I need to knock myself out to complete the act. Scott and everyone on the other side of that mirror will be expecting me to pass out.

It's all an act, of course.

I am a very good actor.

And I need everyone to believe it.

Within a few moments, my vision is black and white.

Barely another beat passes before I am out cold.