june 2016

THE ASSET SMIRKED as the heavy door swung shut, engulfing her in silence. She had three hours to get her mind back together, to get herself ready for another mission, and then she would be out of here again. She sighed, almost in yearning.

It was almost like she could do whatever she wanted.

But alas, they were always watching. In fact, those sorry excuses for guards had probably rotated and were now spying on her right now, crowded around a set of several computer screens and peering in on her. It should have been unnerving. But she just twisted her head to stare at an upside-down dome on the ceiling that stared right back at her from the corner, its red light flashing every hour of the day.

It was rather large if she considered the idea of hidden surveillance cameras. It was an obvious show of power on Hydra's part. Of course, that was all they were known for. Their unnecessary displays of rule over incapacitated people. They were always watching, and they wanted everyone to know it.

Asset 53 flashed her teeth at the bastards that were no doubt watching her, simultaneously raising her middle finger and snarling, "Je te déteste putain." I fucking hate you.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a small stack of four books on a metal table that looked suspiciously like a surgeon's tool table but was used as her own bedside table. All four of the books were black, painted that way so as to keep her surroundings as bleak as possible. One day, long before, they had been vibrant shades of red and blue and green, she was sure. But she was not allowed to have anything colorful in her room. Hydra had made it strictly forbidden.

She may have been their most trusted asset, but even she had to be kept in darkness. Too many things were on the line if she defected.

Not that she would, though. There were too many benefits to this...job. She was still living, and the kill...it was exhilarating.

The asset picked up the first book on the top of the pile and flipped open the cover, reading the German words on the dictionary's pages. Another smirk rose to her lips as she thumbed through the pages, found the words she was looking for, and recited them to the silent camera in the corner: "Saugen Sie meinen Schwanz, Sie Bastarde," she snarled. Suck my cock, you bastards.

She searched around the next book for a similar phrase, this time the words in Korean. "Neo seuseulo jagilhaela!" Go fuck yourself!

There was a certain thrill that she savored when she cursed people out in different languages. Something in the way that they had no clue what she was saying made her smile wider and her amusement greatly increase. Of course, half of the fun came from hearing their mumbled reactions, trying to figure out just how it was possible for her to switch languages so quickly without missing a beat.

That was a part of her that would always stay with her, she suspected. She didn't know how, but she'd become fluent in about thirty different languages over the years. It was something that, she figured, made her one of the most valuable assets in Hydra's history.

A whimper stirred her from her thoughts, tearing her gaze from the security camera. Seeing the source of the noise, Asset 53 tossed the books on her thin cot, stalking over to the opposite side of her room where a two-way mirror had been set into the wall. It had always been there, and after many months, the asset was allowed to...use the room it peered into.

Inside the room, tied with his hands behind his back and slumped in a metal chair that scraped against the floor, sat a man that didn't have a name. At least, not one that he knew of.

When he was first given to her, they told her that he was supposed to be an addition to the program but that he "hadn't cooperated," which resulted in becoming a gift to the deadliest member of the program. Questions were never asked, and now no one seemed to remember that he'd ever been here in the first place.

She cocked an eyebrow as she stared at him through the transparent side of the mirror. He was a strange looking man, but she supposed it was probably because the entire right side of his face was lazy and unresponsive. His eye drooped and his mouth was perpetually etched in a half frown.

He hadn't responded nicely to the electric shocks she'd administered.

What a shame, the asset thought to herself, rolling up her sleeves and waltzing to the door that would lead her to him. When she entered, the man let out a sharp yelp, blubbering sounds of pain and misery filling her ears. "Please, I beg you, please don't—"

The asset tutted, raising a finger to her lips. "Hush, Mr. Smith," she said, faking endearment to the man whose name she'd made up many weeks ago. "You'd better stay quiet, or they'll take you away from me." She stood in front of him, her hand just grazing the injured side of his face.

Her prisoner jerked away, muffling a groan of pain as it blossomed from the movement. Spitting at her, he let out a snarl. "Anywhere would be better than this. Hell itself would be bliss compared to you," he rasped.

She merely sighed, pouting. "That's not very nice of you to say, Mr. Smith," she said. Leaning down to collect the knife that had conveniently not been removed from her person, the asset stood up. "For that comment, you've got to deal with the consequences."

His eyes widened, strings of apologies pouring out of his mouth like prayers. He jerked himself backward in an attempt to move his chair away from her, but try as he might, he was not successful. He had to sit and await the pain was sure to come soon.

"Let me tell you a story, Mr. Smith," the asset smiled, gazing adoringly at the knife held in her hand. "If you don't make a sound, maybe I'll let you rest." She raised an eyebrow. "I'm leaving tonight, you know."

The man let out a shaky breath, mumbling, "Thank God."

She flipped the knife in her grip and shoved it under his chin, pressing threateningly against his throat. "What did you say?" She growled.

He gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing against the weapon. "N-nothing," he stammered. He held his breath until she pulled away a few moments later, letting out a relieved sigh.

"Mr. Smith, if you weren't under my care," she pondered aloud, "where do you think you'd be?"

This time, he didn't reply. Smart.

The asset smirked. "Why, you'd be dead." Leaning closer to him, she stuffed her knife back into its sheath. "Don't bite the hand that feeds you, dear friend. I can get rid of you just as quickly as they can." Satisfied with the fearful expression on his face, she sauntered out of his room, slamming the door shut.

—————

It wasn't every day that Asset 53 was merciful. Usually, she would have relished in the pain on Mr. Smith's face, she would have loved to see streams of blood pouring out of wounds that she inflicted. But today, something was different. Killing Dr. Selvig had apparently been enough for the day, especially knowing that she would be spilling blood sometime soon.

She rubbed her eyes, imagining a weary expression on her face. She was losing it, her hold on sanity. She suddenly felt sick, disgusted with herself. She wanted to curl in on herself and rip herself apart, separating the murdering bits and the bits that were...

What else was there besides the murderer?

She shook her head violently and began shedding her clothes, unable to allow herself another thought like the one before. She knew what she needed. She needed a clean slate. Everything was better with a fresh mind, rid of all those conflicting thoughts. A few hours in the ice should do it, she told herself, stripping down to her underthings and eyeing up the cryochamber that had been installed in her own room.

They'd called it a sign of trust. They trusted her to use it when she needed it, like one would take a few pills to make their headache go away.

The chamber was always ready for her, always up and running, its temperature shockingly cold. The first times she'd used it, the icy sensation had made her panic, causing her to bang on the glass door, shouting for help, for anyone to let her out—

She didn't think about that day anymore. The fact that she was right now...well, that was just a sign that she'd been out of cryo for far too long.

Closing the door, the asset closed her eyes and let the waves of cold seep into her bones, longing for the moment she would wake up with a clear mind.

—————

It felt like only minutes later(but it had to have been hours) when she walked down the corridor, escorted by the same woman who'd led her back to her room after returning to the Hydra compound after her previous mission.

"I assume cryo treated you well?" She spoke into the silence, a ghost of an amused grin lining her lips.

The asset, empty-minded, nodded. "Oui, Madame."

"Good. We need you fresh for this mission, 53." The woman crossed her arms as she paused in front of a door that would open up to reveal an elevator. The asset had seen it many times before. "This mission is unlike anything you've ever done before."

Asset 53 stood stiffly, hands clasped behind her back. "I will fulfill my orders, ma'am. I will not disappoint my superiors."

Her companion didn't say anything for a beat; she just stared at her. Something flickered in her eyes before she quickly blinked it away, swiping her identification card and allowing the elevator doors to slide open. "In," she said.

The asset followed orders, robotically entering the elevator and turning around to face the woman who did not join her.

"This is as far as I will go today," she said softly, her voice wavering over the words. "See you on the other side, 53."

The asset dipped her head in acknowledgment. "Heil Hydra."

She expected to hear the mantra in response, but the elevator doors slid shut before she could hear anything.

When the doors opened, her eyes landed on a spindly man whose clothes were too big for his size. His floppy brown curls were thinning, but by the way they were falling all over the place, he either didn't notice or didn't care. For Dean Thompson, the leader of a Nazi scientific branch, he didn't care much about his appearance.

He inclined his head. "Good morning, Soldier," he greeted her.

The asset didn't have to say anything; Thompson turned on his heel and led her to yet another room in the compound, closing the door swiftly once they were both inside. This was her briefing for the next mission. Her hands itched to hold her knife again.

As Thompson gave her new orders, the words rang in her head, echoing through her brain. It was a task that, executed properly, would change the course of history. She had to blink, the shock wearing off as he repeated the orders again.

"In a matter of two months, you must become as close to Tony Stark as he is to those foul humans he calls his friends. You must be his go-to, his most trusted ally, worthy of all his secrets." Thompson cleared his throat, clasping his hands together and holding her gaze. His eyes, once green, were fading into black as he continued. "And when you have captured him, when you look into his eyes and see nothing but trust, that is when you must do it." He swallowed roughly, but the next sentence rolled off his tongue with ease.

"You must kill Tony Stark, and begin the world's purification of the Avengers."

No one had ever been given such a specific set of orders, much less a timeline. It was unheard of, for fear of assets waking up from their heavenly, clear-minded state and turning against their creators.

It happened once. They weren't going to let it happen again.

But there was something different about her, about Asset 53. Shed of her name and all personal identity, all of the things that made her physically unique, were gone. Of course, that couldn't even begin to touch how much her mind had changed, what they'd done to it.

They'd dug their claws in deep, latching onto her innermost self and snatching her out, leaving a shell of a human behind, open to following orders given to her. But instead of molding her into a killer by only using cryo and their silly trigger words, they built her from the ground up. Went to any measure to create her, to make her the best, most merciless assassin they could ever ask for. They burned her to the ground, and from the ashes, Asset 53 was born.

She could talk freely, control her actions—for the most part. Everything she did was for the good of Hydra. Especially this, she thought to herself as she climbed into the plane that would take her to New York City. A faraway place on another continent. She had to live there for two months.

Just get the job done, she told herself, then you can go back.

The plane was hot and stuffy, restricting her ability to breathe comfortably. It was probably on purpose, to keep her from full strength while she was transported across the globe in the company of at least ten other Hydra agents. This was unlike anything she'd ever done before, that was for sure.

But from the red faces and short breaths of the pilot and her surrounding "bodyguards," it was definitely not their idea to cut the airflow of the flying tin can.

"So I guess it'd be pointless to ask you to open a window?" She sneered, locking eyes with the burly man to her right. He jumped slightly at the sound of her voice, tightening his grip on his firearm in his coat pocket. Even with their rotations, they routinely forgot about her ability to talk, the polar opposite of the other assassins Hydra rounded up over the years. They were always shocked by the fact that while she was able to take orders, she was no stranger to giving them, as long as they were for the good of Hydra.

Always for the good of Hydra, always building their fortress up, so they can find more like me, enough to build an army.

With a loud whine of power, the airplane began to roll forward, and she fastened her seatbelt, although it didn't really matter whether she did or not. The serum she was created with would prevent any fatal injuries.

Asset 53 sat back and closed her eyes, calming her nerves and holding on to the emptiness in her mind.Time to kill an Avenger, she thought with a satisfied, malicious grin.

Oh, happy day.

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wow this was so long, i'm sorry but it had to be done.

thanks for reading! i love my little psychopath. see you on friday!

xoxo lola

published on: february 12, 2019