𝒑𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒕 || s. rogers & b. barnes

12||; 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒆

⤷ march 28, 2014
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"Hello again, Metatron," Pierce greets, his smile making her uneasy and anxious.

"Please," she chokes out, looking at him, "please...let me go."

Pierce feigns consideration for a short moment, before he looks back at her and slowly shakes his head. "I'm afraid I can't do that, Metatron —"

"Irina," her mouth blurts before she can stop herself. Irina feels the heat leave her face, turning it white with horror.

"Watch it," the man from the mall threatens, placing his hand over the gun holster at his hip.

Pierce lifts a hand, holding him off. "No hard feelings, Rumlow, no hard feelings," he says, that uneasing smile returning. Irina's stomach churns. "Our dear Metatron has only been putting what she's learned the last few years to the test. I must say, it was remarkably surprising to see you there, at Stark Tower, so full of defiance and life — with your brother, no less," he chuckles.

"It was surprising, sure, but when you grabbed me, Metatron...you see, that was the exact moment I realized; we hadn't completely lost one of our best assets. It still knew how not to act, what not to do....so I held out hope," he steps away from the table, waving a dismissive hand.

"Of course, it probably would have been more efficient and convenient for our cause to take you from your apartment when the many chances arose before, but watching you play house with Captain America was far too amusing."

Irina watches him as he circles behind her table, as far as she can before she can't anymore, and he disappears. Her heart beats erratically, and she instead looks at the man named Rumlow, who watches her with a slight sneer on his lips.

"I wonder," Pierce speaks from behind the chair, "how long it would take to erase all that you've learned. Not the most valuable intel, of course, like the weaknesses of the Avengers, but the...annoying little defying parts. I doubt it would take long. Your mind has always been ours, it just needs a small sweep through before you're back to being Metatron, HYDRA's number one stealth asset."

Irina squeezes her eyes shut, pressing her head into the back of the table. "Please," she cries, a quiet sob sneaking past her lips. "Please, I just wanted to be good. I just wanted to be like —"

"Like your brother, Iron Man? Or your roommate, Captain America? You don't really think you could ever be as good and righteous as them, do you? With all the blood on your hands?" Pierce chuckles with amusement, the slight shake in his voice indicating he was shaking his head. "It seems a full wipe will need to be in order, instead. Rumlow, I trust you'll handle it."

Rumlow nods, raising a hand and tilting it down. The single door slides open again, this time, a line of doctors and men in white coats come striding in, spreading across the room and around the table she was stuck on, bounded on.

Her eyes dart across each men that bustle, plugging in things and tightening the bonds on her wrists and ankles. "No — No, nono — please, please don't —"

They'll make her forget.

Forget the Parkers.

Forget Danny.

Forget Thor.

Forget Banner.

Forget Barton.

Forget Natasha.

Forget Tony.

Forget Steve.

Forget everyone and everything she's grown affection for in her seven years of living — truly living.