Alexander Pierce stood in the shadows of the museum, wearing a mild smile as he watched the crowds queue up to enter the great exhibit room. A hum of hushed whispers had floated towards the ceiling, as people all expressed their intrigue at what they were about to see.
The Victory’s of HYDRA live exhibit was the newest addition to the Smithsonean, an addition that Pierce had had a personal hand in funding and setting up. He’d spent hours of his own time making sure that everything was perfect.
And it was.
It finally was.
“Everything’s set up, boss.”
He inclined his head to Rumlow, and nodded slightly.
It was time for his final walk through.
He slipped through the side door into the large exhibit hall, and began down the line.
The first on the right, ‘The Archer’ was the most involved, with several props and flashiness to catch the eye of the viewers. The star of it was standing against the wall, as still as a statue, while two handlers applied the finishing touches to his makeup. The once world renowned archer was glaring daggers at the woman who was evening out his complexion, and covering up any signs of the enforcement that had been done to get him to comply.
Pierce’s smile widened as his eyes explored the set that had been built. The tightrope, the rings that would be on fire, and the wheel of death; all testaments to the archer’s former past.
His eyes traveled back to the archer, in time to meet his gaze.
The archer’s glare sharpened, and his jaw clenched.
One of the handlers noticed, and grabbed his chin roughly in order to force his head forward again.
Pierce chuckled, and kept moving.
‘The Captain’s’ display was next.
It was, in Pierce’s opinion, the most intriguing.
A thousand nanobots had been injected under skin, taking away his control over his motor functions, and turning him into the perfect animatronic.
The perfect display.
Pierce stopped in front of it, and grinned at the mannequin-esq way that the former Captain was standing, with his shield on his arm. “Turn it on.”
A few seconds passed, before Steve began to move, displaying one of his signature actions of throwing his shield. The shield slid through the air, carried by the wires, and then returned in time for him to do a backflip and catch it.
“Beautiful,” Price murmured.
The Captain returned to the starting position, and performed a salute.
His eyes, similar to the archer, held a cold fury within their depths, and Pierce didn’t blame him for it. He was back to being a dancing monkey, put on display for the entertainment of others.
“Bring out the girls.”
The vintage fanfare began to play, and moments later the showgirls marched out to perform their routine.
Pierce chuckled as the Captain’s limbs began to carry him throughout the dance steps, and as the installed voice box, within the Captain’s throat, began to narrate appropriate propaganda.
It was truly a masterpiece.
Pierce watched the entire routine with an amused smile, more than satisfied by the smooth movements, and elegance of the performance.
“Anything else you want to see?” The Captain’s handler called down, from where he was stationed.
“Make him say it.”
A few beats passed, before the Captain’s mouth opened and the recorded voice rang loud and clear: “Hail HYDRA.”
“Well done.” Pierce stepped closer to the exhibit. “Bring him down here. On his knees.”
A moment passed, before Steve moved forward and mechanically dropped down to his knees at the edge of the stage.
“How the mighty have fallen.” Pierce smirked at the way Steve glared at him - the only sign that the former avenger still existed.
“I’m dying to know what you think about the modifications we made to your body.”
The glare sharpened. But there was something else. A hint of fear - resignment.
Something Pierce relished.
“You know it was Stark’s nanotech that we put in you, right? He designed it all, down to making sure that they bonded perfectly with your cells and DNA.” He reached forward and moved a piece of fabric aside, revealing the thin scar over his throat. “He even designed this.” He ran his thumb over the scar. “Brilliant.” He met Steve’s gaze. “Wouldn’t you agree? My perfect dancing monkey.”
Silence.
Perfection.
“It’s a shame about Mister Wilson. I can’t imagine the guilt you must feel, knowing that if you had left him alone, he’d still be alive.”
Something shifted in Steve’s gaze.
Pierce smiled. “Make him say it again.”
Steve’s mouth opened on cue. “Hail HYDRA.”
“Again.”
“Hail HYDRA.”
“Again.”
“Hail HYDRA.”
“One more time.”
“Hail HYDRA.”
“Mmm.” Pierce sighed, and patted Steve’s cheeks. “Music to my ears.” He moved his gaze over Steve’s face, and smiled widely. “The soldier will be in the audience today.”
Steve’s gaze sharpened, and his eyes widened slightly.
“Maybe, just maybe, if you’re on your best behavior, I’ll let the two of you have a few minutes together. My two puppets. Oh the things that I could have the two of you do.” He patted Steve’s cheek again. “Back to his mark.”
“Yes, sir.”
Steve’s legs moved, lifting him and carrying him back to the center of the stage.
“Have a good show, Captain.”
He moved onto the next exhibit, the voice of the handler telling everyone to reset following him.
When the next exhibit wasn’t on display it would either be in the lab working, or using its suit to help HYDRA maintain control. Where once the people cheered at the sight of the hero, they screamed in horror at the iron fist of HYDRA.
They complied.
It complied.
The former Genius had no control over the suit.
He was merely a puppet, while those above him governed his every action.
‘The Man of Iron’ display was the most interactive of them all. The suit flew around the hall, taking pictures with interested guests, giving rides to children who wished to fly, and spouting out its owner's former wit and charm.
“Is it awake in there?”
One of the handler’s looked up from where he was polishing the metal, and nodded. “Yes sir. It always is.”
“Lift the visor.”
The handler nodded, and pushed a button to retract the visor of the helmet, revealing the glare of Tony Stark.
“I just wanted to stop by and thank you for your hard work on the nanotechnology we injected in Rogers. I’ll make sure that your handler gives you time tonight to see it in action.”
Something seemed to break in Stark’s gaze.
“Your brilliance is a gift that keeps on giving. You should be proud.”
“Go to hell.”
The handler pushed another button causing electric volts to pulse through the suit.
Stark’s head arched back as a strangled cry pushed past his lips.
“That’s enough,” Pierce said after a moment.
The handler pushed the button again, and the volts stopped.
Stark’s head fell forward, as his chest heaved with labored breaths.
“I think you’ll find that you’re already there.” Pierce nodded to the handler, and replaced the visor. “Make sure it puts on a good show.”
“Oh it will sir.”
Pierce nodded his head, and kept moving.
The last display was Pierce’s personal favorite.
‘The Ballerina’
Pierce knew that it was the most macabre of the displays, but there was no denying its beauty.
The former black widow had truly been stretched to her limits, and her body knew no bound.
Through the use of leather cuffs and wire, she moved gracefully through the air, at the whim of the puppeteer behind the curtain.
She had been dressed in her black combat suit, complete with the infamous red black widow belt. Her lips were red, her eyelids were smokey, her cheeks were pink, and her hair was tied back in a bun, with loose strands of hair shaping her face. Instead of her preferred boots, her feet had been fitted with black point shoes that gleamed in the light.
She was stunning.
There was simply no other word to describe it.
“Show me the routine.”
The handler applied a bit more lipstick, before stepping back.
The high pitched notes of a music box began to play, and the widow took flight. She lifted gracefully from the ground, as the wires moved her arms and legs through the practiced dance routine. The wires manipulated her every move, forcing her into spins, leaps, and twirls that were as humiliating as they were elegant.
A sigh escaped Pierce’s lips, as he took in the serene beauty of the art before him.
The wire forced her right hand to her lips, and then towards Pierce.
He smirked at her, and blew a kiss back at her.
Her left foot rose to her right knee as she performed a perfect pirouette.
She then lept in the air, her legs splitting widely in a grand jeté, before she landed softly on the ground and lowered into a swan-like bow.
Pierce clapped loudly. “Bravo! Perfection. Utter perfection.” He walked up to the stage, just as the wires lifted her and lowered her into first position. “What a beauty you are. Really. Just magnificent.” He walked around her, his eyes lingering on every curve, every muscle. There was something intoxicating about her powerlessness, about the way he could control her with just the flick of a switch. He paused in front of her, his hand trailing along her jawline before cupping her chin. “I always knew you were something special,” he whispered, his breath warm against her skin. “Even when you turned your back on the Red Room, I couldn’t help but admire your tenacity, your...cunning. But now… now you’re exactly where you belong.” Natasha’s eyes flickered with the barest hint of defiance, a spark that refused to be extinguished despite the horrors she had endured - the literal breaking of her body. Pierce noticed, of course, and it only made his smile widen. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her ear.
“Do you think I don’t see it?” he asked, his tone mocking. “That little fire you’re trying so hard to keep alive? It’s cute, really. But it’s also pointless. You’re mine now, Natasha. You belong to HYDRA. Just like the rest of your little band of heroes.”
He straightened, admiring the way her body tensed, the way her lips pressed into a thin line. She would break eventually. They all would. But for now, he enjoyed watching her struggle, relished in the challenge of dismantling the Black Widow piece by piece.
Pierce glanced at the handler on the controls. “Arabesque.”
The wires moved, extending her left leg out behind her and her arms out in front of her at a delicate angle.
“On her toes.”
The wires pulled again, lifting Natasha onto the platform of her slippers.
“Straighten your back.” Pierce walked around, and placed his hand at the center of her back. “Hold it.” He continued around her, trailing his hand along her waist and down her leg. “Mmm.” He grabbed her foot, and bent her leg into an attitude position, lifting it slightly as he did.
The wires accommodated, remaining taut and forcing Natasha to hold the new position.
Pierce wandered back to the front, and smirked at the way Natasha’s jaw had clenched. “Round your arms out for me, dear. High fifth.”
The wires adjusted, lifting Natasha’s arms above her head.
“There we go.”
Pierce stepped back and simply took her in. “Stunning, my dear. Simply stunning." He waited three minutes, smiling to himself when he noticed her muscles start to shake from the strain. "Alright. Back to first.”
The wires released, and she was allowed to lower back into her resting position.
“My little ballerina.”
Pierce suddenly noticed a tear sliding down her cheek, leaving a glistening trail in its wake. “Oh come now, my dear. We can’t have that. You’ll ruin your makeup.” He reached out with his thumb and wiped the tear away, his touch deceptively gentle. “The guests are expecting perfection. We wouldn’t want to disappoint them, now would we?” He pulled his white handkerchief form his pocket, and slid it gently under her eye. “There we go.” He used it again along the bottom of her lower lip, wiping away a smidge of misplaced lipstick. “Perfection.”
Her gaze held his for a brief moment, before she lowered it to the ground.
“Oh, look at that. Bring her arms to low fifth.”
The wires shifted, and her arms rounded into the position.
“And her feet. Put them in fifth as well.”
The wires moved her, as directed.
“Now stay just like that. Keep your head down.” Pierce stepped back, and pulled out his phone to capture a picture. “Wait, wait.” He stepped close to her again, and grabbed her chin to shift it into a downward angle. “There we go. Now shoulders back - open your chest. Just like that. Don’t move.” He stepped back, and snapped another picture. “Oh.” He sighed and shook his head. “Stunning.” He admired her for a long moment, before turning and walking off the stage. “Have a good show, dear. I’ll see you later.”
He stepped off her platform, and looked around the hall.
It was ready.
“Sir.” He turned to look at Rumlow approaching. “The Grandmaster sent a convoy. He’s agreed to our terms.”
“When will they arrive?”
“By the end of the week.”
Pierce smiled widely, and nodded.
Soon he’d have the complete set.
“Good. Good.” He swept his gaze around the hall again. “We’ll begin construction on the exhibits tonight.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Alright then.” He glanced down at his watch.
10:00 AM
“Enjoy your first day on display,” he said, addressing the whole room. “You’ve all more than earned it.” He chuckled to himself and looked at Rumlow. “It’s a new age, Rumlow.”
“Yes sir.”
“Tell them to open the doors. The museum is open for business."