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The Asset gritted his sharpened fangs, crouching slightly to better take in his opponents. There were three up way too close. One was an unenhanced female, but she fought like she had been trained in the red room, so The Asset wasn’t foolish enough to dismiss her as a threat. Another, unenhanced male, was covered in metal armour which seemed to have guns and blasters hidden throughout it based on what The Asset had witnessed so far. The third was enhanced, super strength and senses at least, perhaps more enhancements that The Asset hadn't worked out yet. They were crowding in, thinking they had him cornered, but no. This was exactly where he wanted to be.
The mission was simple. Eliminate the target – complete. Eliminate all who got in his way – in progress. Return unharmed – in progress.
He was a spider, corners were good. All he had to do was lure them in nice and close, then he would jump up, launch off the wall, spin midair and drown them in webs and the kill would be his for the taking. Easy.
He let his body drop ever so slightly further, preparing to launch himself up, right as another enemy appeared in the door, only to freeze at the sight of him. The asset bared his teeth, frustrated to have to recalculate, but not particularly bothered.
"Spyder?"
The shaky tone and cracking voice felt wrong, but the voice was one The Asset knew well. Now, as the figure rushed forwards, The Asset was the one to freeze. Had no one else moved, he probably would have remained frozen until the figure – the older asset – reached him. As it was, the man in the armour moved sharply, clearly noticing his moment of weakness and the asset sharpened, dodging the blow and stiffening to perfect posture, even as he prepared to fight. He wasn't foolish enough to be anything other than perfect when a superior was on the mission with him, though this particular asset had vanished two years ago. The asset, even with his faulty memories – memory was not a skill that Hydra cared greatly for in their assets – could recall the exact day on which the older asset left. The Winter Soldier. His trainer. Only, he had defected, and if the mentor defected...
For almost a year, the asset had been deemed utterly untrustworthy. That meant reprogramming. That meant testing. That meant all punishments were severe for they lived on one strike instead of the standard three – One mistake, minor punishment: no food for a week, usage as a training dummy, usage for his superiors enjoyment, something simple, something that wasn’t at all an inconvenience for his superiors. The second mistake, whips, beatings, testing of new information gathering strategies, new serums, new ways to hurt the enemy. The third mistake was the chair. – After The Asset's mentor had defected, the smallest mistake was straight to the chair. Now, now he was perfect. He was allowed on missions again. He never stepped a muscle out of line. Now, after all of that, his mentor dared to show his face again?
A sharp reminder, given to him by his new handler flashed through his mind.
"If you ever see The Winter Soldier again, you are to kill him. Show him no mercy. Do you Understand Asset?"
The words, hissed while his chin was gripped tightly, angrily, every time before they put him under on the chair whipped through his mind, and finally, he focused.
The figure rushing towards him, calling out his old title from a time when punishments were far rarer was not his mentor. He was a traitor and Peter was instructed to kill him, all other objectives could be forgotten for now.
He hissed, low and sharp, the inhuman sound his enemies only warning before he was leaping up, webbing them to the floor and practically flying towards the traitor, whipping out his guns and sending a full round towards the man before continuing forward, fully aware that his target was well trained. Trained by his own trainers, and for far longer. The traitor was out of practice though, and The Asset had been programmed time and time again to kill him. He would not fail now.
His knives slashed and cut towards the traitor, but the man grabbed the weapons with his vibranium arm, effectively crushing them and disarming the asset in one go.
"Spyder!" The traitor tried again, he sounded desperate. Good. The asset lunged forwards, clawing and punching and putting his all into taking the man down.
He would have succeeded too, had it not been for the red room assassin breaking free of his webs enough to send a dart flying through the air and into his arm – it was meant for his neck, but that much The Asset had dodged. Regardless, he felt the effects almost immediately, his body starting to turn sluggish. No. No, he couldn’t fail. Not now. Not when he was so close.
He clawed uselessly at the place the dart had been, as though he could rip the poison out of his skin, but it didn't change anything, and slowly, he tilted forwards, hissing viciously as the traitor caught him. Just because he couldn’t fight back didn't mean he wanted help, least of all from the enemy.
"Spyder?"
"Fuck. You," The Asset hissed back.
"He should be out cold, that dart was dosed with the stuff that puts even you and Cap under," The red room assassin said, and the asset just spat in her direction. As far as he cared, they could all die.
"Spyder, kid, are you still in there?"
The asset snarled at the traitor's question. No. Spyder was long dead. The weak kid who had been spared too many punishments by his mentor was gone, replaced by a snarling, biting creature who knew better than to risk his handler's disappointment. No. Spyder was most definitely gone. In his place was a furious deadly thing.
"I'll kill you."
"Spyder, please," The traitor sounded desperate, his hand moving to run through the bloodied matted mess that The Asset knew grew on his head. Two years ago, his hair was always perfect. The Winter Soldier ensured that, combing it each night. His new handler did not care for such foolish use of time. His hair would likely be shaved if the matte didn't make such a great hand hold for any superior wanting to drag The Asset around.
"Die," The Asset snarled in reply, hating that his body refused to move, refused to fight back against the touch.
"Kid, please, I'm here, I've got you."
"You gave up. You left me. YOU left ME," The Asset growled, "I didn't give up. You did."
"Kid, I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."
"Three hundred and twenty seven," The Asset ground out, his voice criminally steady, even as the traitor made several questioning noises, "Three hundred and twenty seven. That's the number of times I remember going into the chair because you left. That's not including all the ones my mind has wiped. No. Don't fucking cry. I was never allowed to. Crying was a failure, a mistake. I had no strikes left. Ever. Crying meant the chair. You don't get to cry. Not when you left me. You gave up. I didn't. And now I am too fucking broken to ever cry again, and that's on you."
"Kid..." The traitor breathed, shaken and torn by the harsh words. The Asset didn't care, just continued on.
"I can't kill you now, but know, one day, I will, and I won't feel an ounce of remorse for the father who betrayed me," With those whispered words, harsh and unyielding, The Asset finally succumbed to the sleeping drought running through his veins. The moment he woke up, that would be his mission.