The Mimic (HE/HIM VERSION)

73

"Good morning, bubba! You were out for a while, how're you feeling?"

Y/n had been awake for hours, finally coming down from whatever was in that gas. His wrists and ankles were bound to the metal chair that he was sat on, leaving an irritated redness from where he'd tried to escape. The power-dampening collar was wrapped tightly around his neck, and y/n was sure that if the collar was even an inch tighter he wouldn't be able to breathe. His body ached from being sat upright for so long - it brought back bitter memories of having to sleep on the ground during his time in Hydra. Y/n had no clue where he was, the deserted warehouse barely let in any sunlight, so the only source of light he had was one that hung over his head, creating a yellow, artificial hue around him. It was a sickly yellow, one that made everything it touched look out of place. Y/n scowled at the sound of the stranger's voice, keeping his eyes fixed on the concrete floor. He didn't respond, focusing all of his energy on trying to put up a strong front. The stranger preyed on his vulnerabilities, he couldn't display more of it.

The stranger frowned when y/n didn't respond. He strolled toward him in a casual manner, pulling his gloves on. The gloves were dark, made out of some sort of leather. Whilst the stranger valued his appearance, there were many reasons why he wore them when near y/n. The first one being to make sure he didn't leave any DNA on him. The second reason was to make sure that if y/n somehow broke out of the collar, it'd be harder for him to burn him. And, the third and final reason was that they were the gloves that the man in the suit wore when he abducted y/n. He gave the gloves to y/n for him to wear when they were escaping the apartment. He knew the feeling of those gloves far too well, and the stranger knew that. The man stopped in front of y/n, suddenly grabbing his chin with his gloved hand, forcing him to look him in the eyes. "A conversation involves two people speaking, you know. So tell me, how're you feeling?" He cooed, a fond smile still on his face.

Y/n's breath hitched as his chin was grabbed, glaring up at the stranger with angry eyes. He recognised the gloves straight away, the texture of them causing tears to prick his eyes. Who was this man and why did he know so much about him? Y/n quickly blinked the tears away, pushing back the memories that resurfaced of that horrible night. He had to put up a strong front, he couldn't let him see that he was getting to him - despite the tear stains still being obvious on his cheeks. Y/n took in a few shaky breaths, studying the man's smug face. "Fuck you." He snapped, spitting a nice glob of saliva right in the man's face.

The stranger quickly let go when y/n spat in his face, taking a few steps back. He chuckled slightly in frustration, wiping the saliva off of his cheek. "Okay, okay. We're playing it that way, are we?" He hummed, looking up at the smug smile on his face. The man grabbed a chair, sitting down opposite y/n, a few feet away from him. He sighed quietly, resting his elbows on his knees as he kept his eyes fixed on y/n. "I have always been fascinated by Hydra's work. I've spent my years researching and collecting different pieces of memorabilia. But you? Your case has been the most interesting of them all. Buried under layers and layers of security that I've had to work through." The stranger hummed with a smile, clasping his hands together. "I've been looking for you for months, bubba. What you did for Hydra was ground-breaking. A perfect soldier, raised by his handler to ensure loyalty. You are amazing. You eliminated hundreds of threats like it was nothing, and I'm asking for you to do it again." The stranger smiled, moving to pull the journal back out of his coat pocket.

Y/n listened to the man, anger and guilt beginning to build as he was reminded of his past. He was just like them. He was just like Hydra. He praised him for murdering innocent people. Y/n's life wasn't memorabilia to be collected, every single piece displayed a life of indescribable pain and torture. Something that this man would never understand. Y/n quickly lifted his head when he was asked to do it again, his face falling at the sight of the journal. His once angry eyes were full of terror, the tightness in his chest coming back. "No, no. You can't do that." Y/n rushed out, glancing around in attempt to find a way to escape. "You can't. I'm not doing it again. I said no." Y/n said seriously, pure fear in his voice.

"Oh, I wasn't really asking for your permission, bubba." The stranger cooed, smiling at the fear in his eyes. He opened the journal, sifting through a few pages until he found the correct one. "Apologies for this, you are simply a stepping stone in my plan." The man hummed, standing up from the chair. "Oh, and apologies for my accent." He chuckled, clearing his throat as he started to walk in circles around y/n, making sure he was far enough away that y/n couldn't spit or hurt him from where he was sat. That was when the code words begun, speaking in perfect Russian.

"Longing."

"Stop!" Y/n yelled, scrunching his eyes shut. He didn't want to go back under. He'd finally gotten his life back, and now this man was dragging him back to square one.

"Rusted."

Y/n begun to squirm in his seat, trying his hardest to break out of the ties that bound him to the chair. He outstretched her hands in attempt to use his powers, but of course the collar prevented them completely. He had to get out, he had to.

"Seventeen."

Y/n could feel his heart beating in his chest as he continued to squirm. He pushed as hard as possible against the cable ties, but they just seemed to cut into the skin on his wrists and ankles.

"Daybreak."

"Shut up!" Y/n screamed, trying to drown out the stranger's voice. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!" He yelled, but he just seemed to be getting louder.

"Furnace."

Y/n thrashed against the chair, desperately trying to escape. He continued to yell in attempt to drown him out, using all of his strength. But without his powers, there was nothing he could do.

"Nine."

Tears begun to fill y/n's eyes as he continued to desperately thrash. He thought back to all the good times he'd had with the team. He could've been in Bucky's arms by now, still in bed. But he wasn't. He was stupid and naive, and fell for a stranger's simple trick.

"Benign."

Y/n screamed out angrily as tears fell down his cheeks. He could feel the memories begin to drift from his head as the words seeped in. Y/n desperately tried his hardest to remember everything, he had to remember the team, he had to. "Bucky, Steve, Wanda, Nat, Vision, Tony, Peter, Sam, Clint, Thor, Loki, Scott-" Y/n shouted out, repeating their names over an over in attempt to stop himself from forgetting.

"Homecoming."

Y/n continued to shout out their names, but with every moment he seemed to miss out a name or mess up. "Bucky, Steve, Wanda, Nat- Come on." Y/n whispered, getting quieter and quieter as he realised he was forgetting. "Bucky, Steve, Wanda-" He murmured, scrunching his eyes up as he tried to focus. "Bucky, Steve-" Y/n begun to shake, tapping his foot as if it'd help him remember. "Bucky-" Y/n was trying his hardest to hang on. Come on, he could remember. But the names had disappeared like someone blowing dust off of an old book.

"One."

Y/n's head hung low, hot tears streaming down his face. He'd given up on trying to escape. He couldn't remember anything. The words sunk in more and more, He was losing control of himself. Losing any sort of free will by just a few simple words. "Stop it..." He whispered brokenly.

"Freight Car."

By the time the last word was uttered, y/n had fallen into silence. The stranger looked at him in disbelief, surprised that the words had worked so well. He knew they would, but it was surprising to see it actually happen. The man slowly set the journal down on his chair, taking a few careful steps toward y/n. He reached out, carefully lifting y/n's chin to meet a pair of empty eyes. "Soldier...?"

"Ready to comply."