Chapter 1
"So this is why I’m at level alpha clearance?" Alexander Pierce stared at the man through the observation mirror. He’d hoped it was his dedication to the cause, or the way he handled the incident in Nicaragua. Not this. He’s not just some asset to be used to handle a malfunctioning weapon.
"He only responds to … very specific visual and audio stimuli." Though a shrivel of a man in a wheelchair beside him, Director Zola’s voice crackled through all the speakers around the room. "I did not choose you just for your blond hair, Agent Pierce. Demeanor has proven to be important."
"And what happens when I get too old?" Alexander carefully directed his gaze back at the Winter Soldier. He already knew the answer: HYDRA loved redundancies. But at this juncture, he needed Zola to think him a fool for asking. "Why go through the trouble of finding and training the right handler," he paused, waiting for Zola’s raised eyebrow while carefully weighing his next words to make sure they come out effortless, "when you can use Steve Rogers?"
Now he turned to face Zola, allowing himself to take in the old man’s hunger and curiosity and trepidation. “They still have vials of his blood in New Mexico.” He was still careful not to smile, not yet. “I can get you some, and you can create a dozen Steve Rogers.”
"But to create Captain America… to *control* Captain America…" Zola’s voice, thin and blubbering, coming out disjointed from the speakers.
"He’ll just be a sick kid with the right hair and the right demeanor. HYDRA will teach him order." Alexander smiled, deferentially. This was easier than expected. "If you want, I can take charge of this project."