Weapon // Avengers OC/AU

Mission X (Prolouge Pt.1)

Mexico, January 5th 1989, 20:01

"Stop slacking."
"Yes sir."
"Will you get to four hundred?"
"Yes sir."
"By the time I come back in here after making my coffee?"
"Yes sir."

The man in tight, bottle-green military uniform smirked to himself. Stood with a back as straight as a ruler, chin high and face chiselled so that all his features came to a protruding point in the centre of his face. His black steel toe caps were polished and preened within an inch of their lives. They clicked coldly against the grey, dead cement floor and echoed sharply against the walls and ceilings, made of the same material.

Stains of grease, dirt, mud and blood lines the floor thinly every now and then - but apart from that, the plain mattress (that was once white) and a conscious corpse, the room was empty and solemn.
The room itself must've had at least a 30ft by 30ft sizing, for no particular reason.

The man walked slowly, proudly towards the vibrainium door as if he were inspecting invisible artefacts in a museum. Once he arrived at it he knocked three times.

Rat-a-tat.

A far more shrimpy looking young man opened the door abruptly in less than a second, shattering the silent atmosphere as the door squeaked against the concrete beneath it.

The shrimp nodded at his superior.

"Colonel." He spoke, his words were big but written in italics.
"Sergeant." The superior's words were bigger, and written in bold.
"Is she complying?"
"At the moment."

A beat.

"If you would follow me to my office, I would demand a status report on mission x."
"Right away, sir." The shrimp scrambled out his words in a phonetic mess, before moving aside and letting the Colonel pass him down the thin, dark and dingy corridor. All that lit it up was a single, dusty lightbulb that hung on old wires. The same could be said for the room behind. But seeing as that room was so large, the tiny bulb only lit up a hazed circle in the middle.

Right in the middle of that circle was the conscious corpse, who's wheezes and grunts filled the room, who's mutters of counting how many press-ups she had done ghosted against the walls.

"372...373...374...375...376..."

The door to her room shut with a slam.

"Sergeant?"
"Sorry sir."
The Colonel looked down his nose at his coworker.
"This way."

S.H.I.E.L.D Secure Facility, January 5th 1989, 20:08

"With all due respect sir-"
"I gave you orders, so follow them."
"But sir-"
"No buts!"
The young boy of twenty two stood frozen cold in ankle deep snow, listening to his Colonel screech over his earpiece.

This secure facility was certainly too secure to nip in and out of.

"If you could listen to what I say Sir, there is an issue!"
A moment of silence landed, "what issue?" The man mocked the last word.
The boy took a deep breath, "The lockbreaker hasn't worked."

Silence.

"..Sir? Do you copy?"

Silence.

"..Si-"
"What do you mean the lockbreaker 'hasn't worked'?! That damn thing was fresh out of Stark's oven, and you're telling me it 'hasn't worked'!"
"With all due respect sir, my comrade has spotted the root of the problem."

He glanced over to his friend, who was desperately fiddling with the lockbreaker they had attached to a side door. They're eyes met, the fiddler frantically shook his head.