Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Her lungs felt like they were bleeding. Her throat was dry and aching. Her legs burned from the exertion, but she kept running.

She needed to run.

She needed to get away from this place.

Toni could hear the crunch of snow covered leaves as military grade boots tread behind her over her panting breaths. She didn’t need to look back to know he was advancing.

Didn’t know how with that muzzle in the way, every breath has to be heavy and sticky. And yet he gained ground.

It's cold and her breath fogged in front of her, her hands were freezing. Everything around her was white and gray with snow and slush.

The facility loomed over her, blocking her shadow. She saw the treeline.

Toni didn't know where she was but anywhere is better than in there.

Given that it was chance she even escaped in the first place, she didn't have the best vote of confidence of getting out again.

The body that tackled her was clad in leather, its cold burning her exposed skin.

She screamed and scratched, but his eyes were covered with goggles and a mask of sorts. She pulled his hair, but he didn't care and pressed her further down into the ground.

"Let go of me!" Toni screeched at the top of her lungs.

He didn't listen. Soon Toni's arms were bound behind her to her back as she marched back towards the facility. She lashed out as best as she can, dug her heels into the dirt.

It didn't matter.

Toni was going back.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked desperately.

She already knew what HYDRA wanted: her genius, her weapons more specifically. But Toni wanted to know what this guy in specific is getting out of this.

If it was money, she had more than enough of it.

"You don't have to do this!" Toni was reduced to pleading. "I have more than anything they could ever give you!"

He didn't respond.  

It couldn't be belonging because he was treated like a dog by the other fascist dickwads. At least most of the time, others he was commanding, but those are few and far between. Toni could sometimes hear his screams from the door of her cell.  

"We can leave together! Escape! You don't have to hurt anymore!"

That gave him pause.

"Yeah! That's good! C'mon! Let's go!" Toni encouraged. "I can keep you safe! Away from them!"  

He shook his head, then they continued.

Fucking hell.

No, no, no, no.

Toni was hit with a gust of warm, stale air as they entered. Her body appreciated it. Toni caught sight of the guy she'd stabbed in the eye with a screwdriver.

His smirk was crooked and gap-toothed in the creepiest way. Toni shivered in disgust and shrunk in on herself. His eyes followed her until Toni's out of sight.

Her cell door was as bleak as ever before. Sergeant Barnes opened the door, and there stood the assumed head of the facility.

He grinned just like the guy she stabbed.

Jesus Christ.

"Thank you, Soldat," the shorter, very bald man (it was difficult not to notice) commented approvingly.

Toni could feel the Sergeant Barnes nod before leaving the room.

Leaving Toni alone...with this lunatic.

"Miss Stark," the Lunatic began. "You've given us quite the trouble. Such a shame when all we want are weapons, weapons we are more than willing to buy, might I add!"

"Cut the bullshit, you killed my mom and kidnapped me. I wouldn't put it past you lot to kill me off as soon as I'm not useful," Toni asserted.

The Lunatic took a moment to fake his consideration. He came closer to Toni. She backed up as far as she could until she hit the wall.

"I suppose you are correct. But you see Miss Stark, you are young and much smarter than your father," the Lunatic remarked, drawing his finger along Toni's lower jaw. His touch felt dirty so, she shook him off.

"You can shove your compliments up your ass," Toni snapped.

The Lunatic leaned back and straightened out his impossibly ruffled clothes.

"Very well," he stated primly. "Go a few days without food, if you aren't convinced by then, we'll have to invest in others means."

He left, the door resounding as it slammed shut.

Toni swallowed nervously.

Fuck.

The good news was they didn’t do something stereotypical and shackle her to the ground. The bad news was the Lunatic did, in fact, keep his word.

Chapter Text

There were two thousand, three hundred, thirteen dark marks on the ceiling. Toni had counted and recounted them forty-two times. That, of course, discluded the mostly superficial cracks lining it.

The camera monitoring her was old, it was maybe late seventies tech. It blinked red irregularly. Which lent evidence to her current theory, that there were gaps in the footage running. Toni would have used those times of blindness to hide, but there wasn’t any place to. The ceiling was too high, an odd architectural choice for sure. However, it worked in HYDRA’s favour.

Toni had nothing to do. Which was for the best, seeing as what they would have her do would be undoubtedly despicable.

Still, Toni was bored.

Toni wished they would give her a crayon. It was the least they could do. She’d said so to the camera several times, but either they had no audio, or they were ignoring her.

The last option gave Toni the motivation to be very vocal about her displeasure.

“What, are you afraid I’ll stab you with it?” she criticized loudly.

“How’d you get your eye poked out Gerald?" Toni mocked, "Oh, that little girl stabbed me with a crayon. I mean, a little girl is not how I’d describe myself but let’s be honest. All of you are clinging onto your fragile masculinity.”

“Then again, being called a little girl isn’t really demeaning, is it?" Toni wondered.

Christ, her throat was so dry her voice creaked.    

Toni hadn’t had a drop of water in what she assumed was a day.

“C’mon guys, water your genius! Don’t wanna go through all this trouble for nothing!” she croaked.

The floor was cold beneath her. Toni could feel it leeching her body heat away.

“And a blanket would be nice! I know I lost comfort privileges but, I’m feeling 'weally, weally, sowwy' now.”

Toni startled at the sudden clank of metal against metal. The sound came from the door, a bowl had been pushed through the slot. The water inside it splashed. Toni’s relief overwhelmed her disgust with the dog bowl.

Well, Toni supposed as she drank the lukewarm water, she had antagonized them.

Had someone heard her from outside or had surveillance picked up on her request?

The water had a metallic taste that her throat appreciated. It would have been pleasant if somebody wasn't staring at her through the slit.

Toni looked up and, well, she screamed.

Toni thought the press had eyes that could peel back skin, but they had nothing on her guard. Although, there was nothing predatory about his gaze. His eyes were just intense and really unnerving.

“Uh…thanks,” Toni muttered defensively.

The slot was floor level, so he must’ve been flat on his stomach against the floor. Why?

“What am I, an exhibit to you?” Toni sneered.

There was something oddly familiar about his eyes, Toni realized as she stared back at her guard.

Toni tugged on his greasy hair, to test his tolerance. His brown hair was actually the thing that gave his identity away.

“Barnes?” she asked incredulously.

His only acknowledgement was the way his eyes went wide with fear, his skin couldn’t get paler than it already was.

“Shit sorry, is that a sore spot?” Toni asked.

He didn't respond.

She didn’t understand what was going on with her guard. Howard recognized and called him Sergeant Barnes. But the guy obviously was not okay with that name.

Well, he seemed okay with Soldat when Lunatic called him that so maybe:

“Soldat? Do you want me to call you that?” Toni tried.

Actually, “why are you here? You brought me back to this shithole! This isn’t some sort of half-assed apology, is it? Cause it's shit!”   

He didn’t respond, and Toni was sick of him.

“Go away if you aren’t going help me,” Toni demanded bitterly.

Soldat made no move to go. Toni couldn’t fight her childish compulsion to shove his face away with her hand.

“Shoo!”

A mistake was made Toni realized, as cold metal gripped her wrist.

“Christ--”

He shoved her back, with a metal arm.

“Не надо!” He growled.

Toni’s Russian was a bit rusty but--

“Пиздец!” Toni protested.

He almost slammed the slot shut on her hand.

What the hell?

***

Toni didn’t think that HYDRA would put one of their hitmen on guard duty. It was definitely below his paygrade. So, either HYDRA’s management was shit (viable), or Soldat was willing to help in some capacity.

Either way, the Lunatic didn’t say anything about the weird conversation she had with the Soldat when he visited.

Hunger pangs had firmly set in Toni's stomach, and she was feeling nauseous.

“Have you had time to reconsider our offer, Ms.Stark?” the Lunatic asked politely.

Toni’s lips thinned. She couldn’t make weapons for him. Of course, her refusal would mean death, or something considerably worse but, maybe she could stall. At least long enough to escape. How would she do that?

“Well?” he asked a little impatient.

Something that would keep them satisfied without wreaking havoc all over the world. What could she...do.

“Yes,” Toni replied stiffly.

His expression softened considerably. He sort of reminded Toni of Obie, which was disturbing to think about.

“Oh? How so?”

“Well,” Toni started, “you can’t just trust me off the bat. The last time you did that, one of your guys lost an eye. I need supervision.”

He nodded agreeably.

“How about the Soldat?” Toni asked the back of her neck was sweaty.

The Lunatic’s expression became stony, “why is that?”

“He was the one who caught me last time,” Toni tried to go for nonchalant.

“Surely, someone else could easily do so as well, you aren’t as good as you seem to think,” he admonished.

“Well, I could also do maintenance on his arm? The silver one, it is mechanical, isn’t it? This way you get weapons and an even more efficient hitman.”

There was a heavy pause.

“I’ll consider it,” he then promptly left.

Toni let go of the breath she was holding.

Chapter Text

The only low tech aspect of the prosthetic (and that is what it was , it couldn't be a sleeve) was how it was installed .

Toni was not a doctor by a long shot (at least a medical one) but the scarring (both frost-like white with age and pink and swollen) around what was left of the Soldat's shoulder was telling.

She couldn't fix the port, not without resources. However the tech, the grotesque if innovative prosthetic?

Toni could do better.

“....you have three week trial period,” the henchman finished his long-winded rambling.

“What? Then you'll return to sender?” Toni quipped, longing to already be elbow deep and reassembling the Soldat's prosthetic.

“We'll see if you last that long,” the American snarled at Toni, before slamming the (very reinforced) door shut.

Toni's grin only faltered when the resounding clang faded.

She turned to the brooding brunet beside her.

“He's joking right?”

The Soldat didn't even dignify her question with a twitch .

It was going to be a long ride.

The panel required more than a cursory pry of fingers, which while theoretically useful for keeping gunk out, was unfortunate for the mechanic.

The panel was thick metal, and it felt a bit awkward to find an angle to pull when the said panel was for an arm. Which was attached to a person.

The point couldn't be overstated.

Especially when she had to ask him to move this way and that.

“Could you...? Great, yeah.”

The wires, the pistons (which twitched in aborted motions as the Soldat shifted, the most human thing he'd done thus far) clearly had time to oxidize. Rusted and creaking quietly, Toni grimaced. Sure, the Soldat's prosthetic was beyond anything currently on the market, but nobody was doing the small things upkeep-wise.

She was almost confident in saying nothing had been causing noticeable issues because of some fluids smoothing over any big creaks and grinding. Toni was sure it was just oil and otherwise steadily leaking from where she couldn't see, but the mechanic couldn't overlook the possibility of it being blood sloshing around from where it sunk through the fishtail design's cracks.

The arm was heavy, cumbersome and had considerable response delays, Toni hesitantly let Murder Grunge Raccoon (she needed to work on a good nickname) use a wrench for a mobility test.

Toni considered the lack of stabbing a success.

However, she was losing hope of an actual collaborative effort to escape. Toni almost couldn't blame the guy...cyborg? The arm's condition was in fact abysmal.

(If Toni were in her lab in Boston, she'd have not only cleaned him right up but would've had a partial design for an even better arm already drawn up.

But this wasn't Boston.

This was Bumfuck-Nazi-ville.)

It was when Soldat, like a solid however-many-pound wall, did not shift--

“ C'mon you fucker--”

-- that a less-rusty-almost-shiny thing caught Toni's eye.

The middle of it blinked on and off like a ruby if the way it reflected and refracted could be turned off and on again.

Toni smothered an 'Ooo' with a greasy palm.

“Nice.”

Murder-Raccoon (that's the name Toni's going with, even if it’s longer than Soldat) glowered at her, his long-suffering sigh not needed, but distantly appreciated.

Which was to say, not nice at all.

A tracker.

Of all things.

But at least it got him sort of verbal.

Hurray?

Toni glanced to where she thought a camera might be to find it...well. Mauled. Toni blinked.

She guessed she didn't have to be careful about what came out of her mouth.

“So, what, you can't pry this thing out yourself?” Toni asked as she poked at the little tracker.

Reminded her of a ladybug.

“It's not that simple,” Toni fell off the (ass-numbing, cold as fuck ) bench in shock.

Dude sounded like he hadn't spoken in years (which is false, they screamed at each other last  night like especially anxious possums), with some sort of accent (not quite Russian).

“Holy shit! You speak English.” he glared at Toni condescendingly, if that was possible.

As Toni (without any embarrassment, people had seen her do worse) dusted herself off and situated herself back at somebody's right, his left (no caffeine was driving her up the wall) a little hesitant to get elbow deep in his arm again, another silence had fallen.

“So?” she prompted.

He side-eyed her.

“What do you want me to do? Pry it out? Sounds too simple, you could threaten anybody else into it.”

“They – it would do nothing I'd get nowhere.”

“That means squat to me.”

“Look – do you want out of here or what?”

“Out, but who's to say helping you isn't a test.”

“You tried to bribe me yesterday.”

“And you just dragged me back. Past me was a little desperate, I wonder why.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, with his flesh (that sounded weird) hand.

“I didn't have the tracker out, and the base was on high alert , not to mention--”

“Alright, I get it .”

“So get it off of me.”

The short of it was Toni tried, but Murder-Raccoon was right.

It wasn't that simple.

The tracker was a part of a beam (which was sort of wire or was conductible enough to act as one), which, if tampered with, would discharge however many volts into the flesh part of her one-armed friend.

Toni learned this the hard way.

With a hand wrapped tightly around her throat while she stared into reluctantly glassy eyes.

In the next moment, Toni had never been more grateful in her life to see the American. Just because Murder-Raccoon was on her side didn't mean she was eager to get choked when she made a wrong move.

It would do, if possible, next time Toni went poking around his arm, she would know what was a sensitive place before she got a metal fist to the face.

Although not expecting retaliation to being electrocuted was unfair, she did have a fair amount of experience when it came to electricity and lab accidents to know what a bitch it is to get zapped.

Toni took the bread in her cell to be a type of consolation prize. 

Chapter Text

There was only so much somebody could do on their own. Especially in a facility that Toni had barely seen the inside of. There was a plethora of ‘how’s - aluminum foil could weaken the tracker’s signal, but would the shocker react to a lack of radio signal, or would it deactivate? Toni didn’t want to risk the former. Where exactly would she get the aluminum foil - was someone constantly monitoring Murder Raccoon? Would that mean she’d need to build a spoof GPS, and would she even need to; since the tracker in M.R’s arm looked recent compared to the rest, perhaps there were spares she could activate instead?

Toni needed more data. She needed to talk to M.R. But their next session was hours away, so in the meantime, Toni would make bootprint art on the wonderfully dull wall in front of her. 

It was easy enough to draw a smudgy rabbit and, she supposed an accompanying Elmer Fudd would be easy. Of course, to her core, Toni was a mechanic and always would be, so her bootprints were just that to anyone else.

Toni huffed when she ran out of space. There went the only thing that was keeping her from going insane. Damn her short legs. No, damn her dirty hands that she couldn't wash or drag over her face. Damn her greasy hair for making her scalp itch. And her fucking parents for getting her into this mess then dying on her and-- 

Why the hell did Howard know M.R's name?

Sure, Howard was a weapons manufacturer, and he'd done demonstrations, but Howard didn't remember names - he'd barely remembered Toni's name until she was four and built the circuit board. 

Yet, on that snowy night, where Howard was shitfaced and half-way dead from the impact of the crash itself he said, in the tiniest voice Toni had ever heard; 

"Sergeant Barnes?" 

And then there was the crunch of something giving way. Presumably his --

Toni's heart was throbbing in her chest. It didn't matter. Right? So what about dear old dad - it was just, the name was familiar, in a way that made Toni think about the blue felt of a doll. 

The stone dropped with the weight of an iron anchor. 

James Barnes .