Dolly

04.31, October 31st, 2013

Commander Rumlow’s com crackled to life, informing him that there was A Situation with the Asset in post-mission cleanup.

“Looks like that beer will have to wait, boys, the Soldier apparantly has its panties in a twist.” he announced, closing the door to the van instead of getting into the passenger seat. Rollins sighed and threw his cigarette to the pavement, grinding it out beneath the heel of his boot as he stuck the keys back into his pocket. Westfahl had the audacity to look disappointed.

“Aw man, I was looking forward to trick or treating with my nieces, I have the most awesome Batman costume this year, and Leila was going to be Batgirl and little Amber…” Westfahl babbled, sliding out from the back of the van and following the Commander and Rollins back into the bank building, unaware that the other two men weren’t listening to a word he was saying.

***********************************************

The scene that greeted Rumlow when they had made their way back into the vault wasn’t as bloody as he expected it to be. The STRIKE team members that had stayed behind to oversee the post-mission procedures looked slightly uneasy, but were still at their posts along the wall of the vault. The fat bald tech with the bowtie was red in the face, while the mousy-looking thin one was fidgeting nervously. Rumlow couldn’t remember their names and didn’t particularly care.

The Soldier itself was in the Chair, barefoot and unrestrained, stripped down to its tacpants, but the crease in its brow and the clenched hands told Rumlow all was in fact very much Not Well. Something was brewing and it was A Situation indeed.

“What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?” Rumlow inquired, deceptively gentle as he approached the Chair, eyes fixed firmly on the Asset. The way the Asset's blue eyes laser-focussed on him as soon as he was in the room was unsettling every time, but he made sure not to show it. Jack had his six, he was sure of that, and he imagined handling the Asset was a bit like handling a big cat; Show no fear.

The fat, balding tech got even redder in the face, handgestures clearly signalling frustration as he motioned at the Soldier.

“It got something in its hand and won’t give it up!” Fatty stated, and Rumlow raised an eyebrow at the Soldier while Mousy just wrung his hands. These guys were useless, and he wondered how long their heads would stay attached to their shoulders, if they couldn’t even manage to get the Asset to give up something it had supposedly pilfered.

“Is that so?” Rumlow questioned, eyes fixed on the Asset, knowing he would not get a verbal answer. At least it had the decency to lower its fucking eyes, which was a clear indication that yes, it had indeed pilfered something it wasn’t supposed to have.

“Well then, give it here, Soldier.” Rumlow ordered, holding his hand out. The crease in the Asset’s brow deepened, the right fist tightening around the contraband, jaw squaring defiantly for a second. It was rare to see anything but instant obedience these days, rare but not unexpected. Rumlow knew it was best to wait these moments out, as they usually resolved themselves almost as soon as they started. Knowledge and instincts like this were why he was still the Asset’s handler after all, had been for years instead of rotting in an unmarked grave somewhere.

This time it was no different. The Soldier swallowed as its fist uncurled a little, before moving its hand over to Rumlow’s outstretched one and dropping something small in it. A chastised look came over the Soldier as it let go of the item, hint of pink spreading over its cheeks. Rumlow looked down at the item that had been dropped in his hand.

It was a little porcelain baby doll, barely 2 inches in length. The thing was old, kinda creepy, and dressed in a white-ish linen dress with blue embroidery. Huh.

“Where the fuck did you get this, Soldier?” Rumlow asked, studying the little dolly. The Asset looked uncomfortable, not meeting Rumlow’s eyes and rubbing his thumb and fingers together as if it was still feeling the doll’s little linen dress.

“...the little house.”

“The little house.” Rumlow repeated, incredulous. "What 'little house'."

"The little house in the little girl's room." the Asset confessed, eyes downcast. It knew it was in the wrong.

“You thought it was a good idea to take a little souvenir from tonight’s mission?” He questioned, icy undercurrent in his voice. “Tell me, Soldier, was it stated in the mission brief that you were to leave the target's bedroom, sneak into the girl's bedroom and take an item from the premises?”

The Soldier looked like it hoped it would disappear into the ground, Chair and all. “No Sir.” it stated, as if it was painful.

“So we agree that taking anything was noncompliant? Good. In that case, I won’t have to spell out why you’re being punished.” the Commander barked. The little embarrased flush that had been on the Soldier’s face vanished, and it squared its jaw again as Rumlow pulled out his stun baton. The mismatched hands clenched around the armrests of the Chair. The Asset intentionally pushed its head back against the headrest before the shocks would make its muscles contract and smash its head into the metal headrest.

The stunbaton whined as it powered up, electricity crackling as Rumlow pushed it against the metal shoulder, creating a feedbackloop in the Asset’s body. It went rigid and stopped breathing as the electricity made it spasm unvoluntarily. Rumlow drew back after a couple of seconds before pressing the baton to the Soldier’s crotch and firing it again. A whine slipped from the Asset at the second shock, its legs trembling as it fought to stay passive.

“I will not have you dragging in garbage. Next time, I’m shoving the baton up your ass!” Rumlow growled as he pulled back the stunbaton. The Asset knew better than to apologize, staying silent and looking adequately chastised. Rumlow was done with this shit, he wanted his beer.

“As you were, gentlemen! Hose it down, wipe it and put it in its containment cell. I better not get commed for this sort of shit again.” Rumlow snapped at the two techs, as he holstered the baton again and turned around. He gave Rollins an epic eyeroll as he dumped the creepy doll in the sharps-container near the door.

“I swear there’s nothing left up there but swiss cheese, fucking dumbass…” he muttered, Rollins and Westfahl following him back into the hallway.