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A Heady Breath of Fresh Apples

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With a broken mind, broken spirit, tattered soul and morality, the Asset only lives in colors. He remembers pale skin, sky eyes, foaming white spittle. He remembers a dark flush of pink, stark against purple bruised bags under someone’s eyes. He remembers black gloves, black clothing, leaving a sticky crimson residue behind. He remembers glinting metal weapons.

“Who the hell is Bucky?”

Vaguely, he remembers rebecoming ‘he’. For so long, he was ‘it’, a weapon to be used. He associates ‘he’ with dark blues and reds swirling together, a molten metallic beauty to be shaped and molded by the person who claims the identity. 

So many foreign words that make little sense with what context he has, yet somehow naturally align.

He fights when he sees sky eyes again, the blue reeking of desperation, and heartbreak. Silver and black scrape and punch, slice and scratch and cut. Red spreads across a white star, blue uniform, white face, blond hair, and sky eyes blearily blink--

“I’m with you ‘til the end of the line.”

--and flashes of black and white papers, a pressed green uniform, a left arm reaching for the sky eyes--

The man falls and the Asset jumps after him. 

The water is murky and dark and the Asset doesn’t hesitate when grabbing the sky-eyed man, pulling him into the green underbrush. 

He knows who the man is. Rogers, Steven G. Code name: Captain America. Skill level: ten. Mission: kill Rogers, Steven. Disobedience leads to punishment. 

Punishment is darkdarkdarkdarkdark, a blackness that the Asset can never escape from--

But would he be punished if he never returned?

Who would punish him?

He doesn’t know. 

He remembers the ideas of ghost stories; a whitened ghoul hiding in the shadows. He doesn’t run. He lurks in the shadows of the hospital and watches the sky-eyed man. 

When he is almost fully recovered, the Asset appears like the apparition he is. He remembers: he is a ghost story. He remembers alliances. He remembers fear. 

“I need your help.”