you could be the corpse and i could be the killer

[fromthenewworld]

Forced to Kill
WARNING: this meme could be triggery
It's simple you see...
1 : Post as your character; include name and canon of course!
2 : Respond to other people; you are now forced to kill that person.
3 : Reasons for being forced can be anything — threat, duty, whatever.
4 : How you kill them, be it knife, poison, strangulation, is up to you.
5 : Profit... ? from here

Comments

[freightcars]

[ The Soldier is so used to people fighting he'd actually... forgotten about this as a potential outcome for a moment. An almost comically bemused expression passes along his face behind his mask, visible only in his eyes. He knows- they both know, probably- that there's a chance shooting Banner in the head will be the straw that breaks the camel's back and causes the Hulk to surge forth through the stuff pumping through his system.

He just can't possibly know.

But what he does know is if Banner's heart rate can get this high and he hasn't yet turned, the Soldier has plenty of room. So he stops them short a second into the scream, and raises his gun to cock it next to Bruce's ear. Makes sure he can hear it nice and clear, and then aims for a spot between Bruce's feet.

Pulls the trigger, filling the air around them with a resounding crack! ]

If you do that again I will shoot off an appendage.

[ He says it in crystal clear English, without a trace of accent or empathy. ]

[punybanner]

[ It's a bad idea to struggle, Bruce knows, but he doesn't have much choice - and if his body won't fight, he can at least try to call attention to himself. It's selfish; whoever might come will probably be attacked or even killed. But again - what choice does he have?

The sound of the gun just barely registers in his ear before the shot goes off, making him jump in equal parts surprise and fear. The scream dies in his throat and for a moment it's eerily silent, save for the thumping of his heart and the ringing of his ears. Then the soldier speaks again, in English this time, and Bruce's drug-addled brain manages to understand that they at least share the same language. ]

Where are you taking me? [ he asks, his voice hoarse and shaky. He tries to turn his head but it makes his shoulders ache, so he keeps his eyes pointed to the darkness eating up the road in front of them. ]

[freightcars]

[ The soldier does not answer because he does not need to answer; building rapport was not part of his mission. Giving away information was not part of his objective. While he has not been expressly forbidden from speaking to the captive, he is not inclined to human behaviors anymore. They have been trained out of him.

He doesn't seem particularly angry about the scream, frankly. Doesn't seem vengeful when he pushes Bruce forth again those last few yards toward the blacked out van parked inconspicuously away from streetlights or busy places. Does not throw him into the back of it once he rolls the door open, but does firmly and unrelentingly guide.

There's no seat in the back, no latches on the windows, no handles on the inside of the doors. There's just the wide, flat, empty stretch of carpeted vehicle separated from the driver and passenger's seat by a metal mesh caging. It's clear that's where the soldier is headed when he shuts the door on Bruce, and sure enough a beat later he's slipping into the driver's seat and starting the engine.

Together, they pull away from Bruce's newly established home.

The soldier has been thawed for nearly ten days, it's an unusually excessive amount of time. Typically he gets two or three - debriefing, mission, assassination, shake loose the tails, return. Reset. Refreeze. Repeat. He's permitted only rote amounts of sleep and of food for this, and the sheer amount of surveillance he's had to do over this last week?

The soldier is tired.

The Asset is not permitted to feel tired. The Asset does not decide when he sleeps.

He drives. ]

[punybanner]

[ The empty darkness within the van fills Bruce with a renewed sense of dread, but when his weakened body rolls onto the carpet a tiny part of him is relieved. At least this hurts a little less than being dragged around. Plus, it doesn't seem likely that he'll get shot if they're in a moving vehicle - though he honestly has no idea what this man is willing to do to him.

When they start to move Bruce's stomach lurches, the realization of just how shitty this situation is sinking in yet again. He does his best to shift so he's pressed up against the corner where the mesh caging meets the van's interior wall, hoping this position will prevent him from being jerked around too much if they go over any bumps.

His eyes travel up to the back of the driver's seat, where he can see the outline of the soldier's head and shoulders. It's the best look he's gotten since that syringe went into his neck. There's a stiffness to his body that seems militaristic; then again, that could just be his memory talking, since his only experience with antagonists thus far has been entirely with the US army. ]

What's your name? [ he asks, wondering if going a different route will provoke some sort of response. Probably not, but what else can he do? There's little point in screaming again. ]

[freightcars]

[ Bruce is right, though perhaps not for the reasons he thinks. The soldier doesn't answer, doesn't appear to even acknowledge or hear the question. It's met with silence, but internally the gears in his mind work. Mull over the question. His name - he supposes Asset or Soldier is not a name, no matter what language they're spoken in. Vaguely remembers being corrected, a sharp slap across the face, harshly whispered, the asset has no name but that which is given by Hydra.

Lips twitch. He presses the petal down. Too long without a reset. Too long since he's been grounded. Too long and the static starts to leave, making room for the voice.

They have a liaison point to reach. Two hours from Bruce's home is a motel with three rooms rented for the night, all by the same arm under different credit cards and different names. They each span two weeks, and they seem to be unrelated. He'd been given one at random to use, and the other two sat to the left and to the right. Just in case the walls were thin. Just in case there were neighbors or prying eyes, just in case- anything.

This is where he takes Bruce, silent and jerky around winding roads. Unresponsive, inhospitable. Doesn't even turn on the radio. ]

[punybanner]

[ The silence is unsurprising, but disheartening nonetheless. Bruce settles back for what he assumes will be a mostly silent drive to wherever they're going. The little of the outside world he can see through the mesh and the windshield passes by quickly, but not quickly enough to seem like they're rushing to get somewhere.

As the quiet settles over him he realizes just how strong the drug running through him really is. To keep the Hulk at bay for this long - even he hasn't managed to come up with anything short of killing himself, and that seems like it isn't guaranteed to work, either. He can't even feel the now-familiar rumble in his chest that he's become accustomed to, the presence at the back of his brain that serves as a constant reminder of what's living inside of him.

His vision is clouded around the edges, and his limbs have started to go numb as the drug works its way through his bloodstream. The fear he feels starts to be replaced with exhaustion - no doubt the result of his green side trying its best to emerge without success - and despite his best efforts he finds himself drifting off into unconscious, his expression smoothing out into one that's almost peaceful.

He only wakes when the van shudders to a halt. ]