Prisoners of HYDRA

1.

Subject 273-1027 lifted his hand slowly. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to. He never wanted to do it. But he had to, or... bad things would happen to him, to say the least. He felt his blood roar in his ears as he concentrated, willing the water to rise up and suffocate the family swimming in the hotel swimming pool. Their deaths were quick and painless.

For everyone but the killer. He ran a hand through his black messy hair, trying to fight the urge to throw up. The feeling of killing someone, even evil and twisted, does not feel so good. It's even worse when the victims are innocent and cheerful, a good influence in the world. Subject 273-1027 held on to the railing of the building like it was his lifeline, his insides churning like a whirlpool. He was a monster. A criminal. An assassin.

Stop it, a voice in his head chided. Subject 273-1027 jumped at the voice, looking around nervously to see if it was someone around him or something. It's not your fault, ___. Subject 273-1027 tilted his head, confused. The last word was muffled and unclear, to the point that he couldn't understand it.

What? he asked it.

I said, it's not your fault, ____.

What is that last word you're trying to say?

What, ____?

Yeah, that one.

You can't hear it? That's your name, ____. Huh, that's weird that you can't hear it. Oh my gods! Someone must've wiped your mind!

What?

Never mind that. It's not your fault, someone must've made you do this. Here, I can see... It was... Wait, why can't I get into your memories? Are you blocking them?

Blocking them? What on Earth are you talking about?

Whatever. Just listen to me: We'll find you. Okay? We've almost got your location. Just hang in there. Don't listen to anything else but-

"Subject 273-1027, what are you doing? Get back to base!" Another voice. He wondered if he was going crazy. "Subject 273-1027! Get back to base!"

He started. That definitely wasn't a voice in his head. "Yes, sir, sorry, sir!"

"Just hurry up," the voice in his comm said. "We have a few experiments left to do."

Subject 273-1027 quickly hurdled himself off of the roof of the building that he'd nested in to finish the assignment. When he landed in a neat somersault, he quickly put his blue jacket hood on, trying to blend in with the crowd as he joined its chaotic flow from an alleyway. As he dodged the people on the sidewalk, he thought back to the voice in his head. Where had it come from? What was it? Why did it sound so familiar?

Uh... hello? he called out in his mind. Nothing answered. Huh. This assignment must have gotten to him more than he'd thought. He shoved his hands into his pockets and tried to stop the shaking. He felt something small plop onto his head. He looked up quickly, thinking it was an attack by something small, like... the Ant guy. Wait, who? Where'd that come from?

He shook his head as if trying to dry his hair after a shower. It wasn't the Ant guy, whoever that was. It was just rain. The sky was grey and cloudy and depressing. Just the perfect weather to match Subject 273-1027's mood.

His thoughts shifted back to the people he'd just killed. It wasn't fair that they were killed, it wasn't fair that they died just because someone held a grudge against the father for saying something mean to him when he was little. Not only was that twisted and petty, it was unfair to the children and wife who didn't have anything to do with it, but still suffered anyways. It just wasn't fair. But saying that wasn't going to do anything. People were just going to continue dying with no one knowing who did it. Not the police, not their families, not their friends...