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Vasily was satisfied.
The serum had worked as expected, and the results were outstanding – an entire kill squad turned into enhanced super-humans. They’d already been Hydra’s finest before that, only overpowered by the Winter Soldier himself, but now it was the other way around, now the Soldier didn’t stand a chance against a single one of them.
Change was in the air, Vasily could feel it; this was the beginning of a new era, the single Soldier would soon be replaced by a small army, and maybe, if their scientists were good enough, even more of them. Maybe one day, all of Hydra would be like this, the marvelous blue liquid running through their veins, and nothing would stand in their way anymore.
He could tell that the Soldier didn’t like those changes though. Even now, as he was standing next to Vasily in front of the Cage where the other Soldiers were currently being evaluated by the scientist before their next training session, he was tense, jaw clenched, eyes focused on them.
People who had never met the Soldier in person believed that he was nothing more than a robot-like creature, a mindless killer, but Vasily knew that this was not true. The Soldier had feelings, and even though they rarely showed in the field, they were what made him so successful. He wasn’t just good at what he did because he was fast and strong, but also because he was an extraordinary tactician. He knew how to predict a human’s moves because he could think like one.
Vasily had often wondered what kind of person he’d been before all this, but he tried not to ponder over that question too much, because it was a dead end. The only thing he was almost certain about was that the Soldier had always been intelligent and compassionate. And right now, he seemed outright jealous.
No one ever told the Soldier anything, but Vasily knew that he was smart enough to conclude that they would soon be replacing him, that he would soon become a obsolete. He felt a bit sorry for the Soldier, because he’d done all of Hydra’s dirty work for decades, just to be discarded and thrown away like trash. And also because Vasily had grown to like him, to read his moods, to keep up a good maintenance routine.
He’d always been thorough when it came to his weapons, and he’d always known that a weapon was only as good as the person who took care of it. Kept it clean, oiled it well, stored it just right. And that’s how he’d learned to push the Soldier’s buttons, because that’s what he was: A weapon that needed maintenance. The medical staff took care of his physical health, Vasily did everything else. Keeping him loyal like a guard dog.
Essentially, it was simple: Punishment for undesired behavior, rewards for desired behavior. The range of punishment was wide, but Vasily didn’t like getting too creative. He found no joy in hurting the Soldier, and the most simple kind of pain did the job just fine. Rewards were a little more complicated; he couldn’t just gift him something, and he always had to keep to a strict diet, so actual food treats were out of the question. So it had to be other things, a warm shower or an additional blanket. But eventually, he’d found out that the most effective reward was anything done to the Soldier’s body: Physical affection, a pat on his shoulder, a hand in his hair, some words of praise. Sometimes even an orgasm. And it worked; the Soldier was well-behaved and loyal and compliant.
The New Soldiers were different; they were nothing but raw materials, weapons that could fall apart and explode in Vasily’s hands at any given moment. So he had to treat them well, obtain good maintenance procedures. And he had a sense for what they needed to behave. They didn’t need a firm pat on the back or a slap across the face. They needed a toy to chew on. And as much as it upset him, he knew exactly what would keep them from sticking their sharp teeth anywhere they didn’t belong.
“It’s time for their training course,” he said, trying to make his voice sound as firm as possible. “Teach them something, Soldier.”
*
The Soldier was terrified.
He was used to be the predator, but now, inside the Cage, facing the New Soldiers, he felt like prey. Their eyes were resting on him, something like hunger written in their faces, and he knew that this would hurt. Karpov kept telling him that this was not punishment, it was teaching, but it felt a lot like punishment. The pain, the contemptuous looks, the knowledge that he would no longer be able to satisfy his handler – it was frustrating, he kept failing, and he wanted nothing more than to prove that he was still good enough, a weapon worth keeping.
He was able to block Yosef’s first few punches, but he already knew that he wouldn’t last long. He’d never had an advantage in tactics and skill, it’d always come down to strength and speed; he could do the same as them, just faster and with stronger force, but now they were faster, they were stronger, and it didn’t take long until he’d been dragged against the bars, his entire body screaming pain.
And this had been Yosef alone; the other New Soldiers hadn’t moved a muscle, just standing and staring, and now they walked up to him while Yosef still held him in place, a hand wrapped around his neck, making dark spots shimmer across his field of vision.
This was usually the moment when Karpov called them off, because it was clear that he’d lost – but this time, he didn’t. He could even see him standing outside of the Cage, hands behind his back, a look on his face that almost resembled pity, avoiding the Soldier’s gaze. The Soldier didn’t understand. He’d lost, just like many times before, so why didn’t he say anything, why didn’t he tell them that the lesson was over, why didn’t he command them to stand down?
A wicked smile appeared on Yosef’s face, on all of their faces – and then they attacked, ripping his jacket from his body, all of their hands on his skin, slapping and punching and tearing. He couldn’t fight back, they were too damn fast, he couldn’t even follow what happened until they pushed him against the transparent wall and held him in place like this, forehead and naked chest pressed against cold glass. Outside he could see Karpov, watching, waiting, why doesn’t he tell them to stand down, and then he felt Yosef’s body against his own, his cock rubbing against his ass through the fabric of his pants, hard, and he suddenly knew where this was going.
He tried to fight, this is not supposed to be punishment, but he was too weak weak weak no longer a good weapon, he tried to stop Yosef from pulling down his pants, but it didn’t work, Yosef was so much stronger, and he looked over at Karpov for help, but he just stood there and stood and stood and watched and —
The Soldier screamed as Yosef thrust inside him, and that’s when Karpov turned around and left.
*
Darya was exactly where she wanted to be.
Sitting on the Soldier’s cock while the others held him down, her hands wrapped around his neck, her thighs pressing down on his sides – and he was still struggling, still trying to fight, it was adorable. He was bleeding, his body painted with bruises, and his face and hair a mess, all sticky with blood and sweat and tears and cum. Every whine, every sob, every pathetic little sound he made send a hot wave of arousal through her body, and she increased her speed, riding him until he whimpered, no longer Hydra’s strongest weapon, just a toy to be used and ruined and thrown away, because time’s up, honey.
She slapped him across the face, just because she could, just to feel that power of getting to do whatever she wanted, and no one could stop her. He was shaking and crying and struggling and just didn’t pass out – but that’s what she wanted, crossing his physical boundaries with pure strength, making him faint, maybe even killing him. But he was still conscious, breathing heavily, pupils dilated, trying to fight off his approaching orgasm, a futile attempt. She buried a hand in his hair and pulled, and the Soldier cried out and moaned, his entire body shivering as he came inside of her. The others laughed, and she was on her feet and had sat down on his face before he could even realize what was going on.
“Lick me clean,” she commanded, and he looked up at her in confusion, always expecting pain and humiliation from them, but never orders.
“Didn’t you hear her,” Yosef growled and kicked him in the ribs.
The Soldier screamed in pain, muffled by her body pressed against him, followed by a weak, desperate whimper. Darya looked over her shoulder and saw Dmitri playing with the Soldier’s limp cock, making him flinch and whine from overstimulation. Finally, she felt his tongue between her legs, working her so efficiently as if he’d done this countless times before, and it didn’t take long until she came hard, pressing him down into the concrete ground so forcefully that she almost believed she’d cracked his skull.
*
The Soldier didn’t pass out.
Everything was blurry, but he stayed conscious, until it was over, until he was left on the ground, hurting and shaking, with no tears left to cry and no voice left to scream. He felt sick, dirty, sticky, torn apart, set on fire; he just wanted to curl up and faint, but he couldn’t move, he couldn’t even breathe properly, every breath ragged by dry sobs and sniffles. He wanted to stop feeling, he wanted to stop thinking, but even after all of this, he was still painfully aware of his failure – failed as a soldier, failed as a weapon, failed as the once valuable fist of Hydra.
A warm hand in his neck. Not pressing down, just gently resting there. The Soldier was too weak to move, too weak to look up, but he knew that it was Karpov. He ached for him to say something, to explain all this, but he stayed silent until the Soldier felt so numb that the only thing he was aware of was Karpov’s thumb gently stroking the sticky, delicate skin of his neck.
*
Vasily was devastated.
He knew that the New Soldiers had needed it, that it was necessary to keep them in check, but it still hurt to see his Soldier like this. Dirty. Broken. In pain.
Vasily was one of the few people working for Hydra who didn’t find pleasure in destroying beautiful things, and he knew that this was the reason why he’d been entrusted with the Soldier in the first place. The reason why they’d been so successful over the past few years. They were a team, the Soldier and him, and he owed him an explanation at least. He should tell him the truth, praise him for his service and explain that he’d done enough, that he’d paved the way for something so much greater – but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. And he didn’t know what would be worse: Leaving the Soldier in the dark about what was going on, or knowing for sure that he was smart enough to already having figured it out.
“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” he said after a while, unable to sound firm.
As the Soldier tried to move, a pained moan escaped his mouth, and he looked up with an expression so sorrowful, it made Vasily’s heart ache.
“Or don’t,” he tried to soothe him. “If it hurts too much, you can rest a little longer.”
The Soldier went limp on the floor again, and Vasily continued softly stroking that spot in his neck. Now he was worried. This was just the beginning, and once the New Soldiers got released into the world, there would be no one stopping them. They were loyal to Hydra, just like himself, but they were also feral beasts, wild dogs that could never be recaptured once they’d been let off the leash.
“You can rest,” he repeated. “You’ve done so well, Soldier.”
The words of praise echoed through the cold and empty base, like ghosts trapped between prison walls.