With the two assets having been successfully introduced, HYDRA rolls out the next stage of its super soldier program: determine which is the stronger of the two and which, then, is the more disposable in the worst case scenario where one must be liquidated to save the other.
Which is the better serum, the better Winter Soldier? HYDRA's? Or that traitor Erskine's?
Today that will be determined: physically, at least, as the mental conditioning required for both Barnes and Rogers is vastly different, with Rogers needing far more attention, more care, than his old war-buddy who is practically docile in comparison to the fits the other throws. Today the Winter Soldier will be escorted to a training room that is typically lined with thick impact mats and weights. Those weights have been removed, he notices immediately, his blue eyes still red-rimmed thanks to a recent session in the Chair and he'll assume that those had been suddenly deemed a threat, a possible weapon. Even the chairs along the wall have been removed, the mirrors.
Not the usual training session, then.
The Winter Soldier waits, barefoot and bare-chested, dressed down to neoprene pants that hug and deny any advantages of his usual armored padding and any grips that the Captain could possibly use against him. He isn't surprised to see that the other asset is dressed similarly. It's the first time that the Winter Soldier believes he has seen this man, his mind, his memories still swimming in that heavy fog that weighs down on his eyelids and bows his shoulders into a hunch inward. His head tilted slightly to the side, his tangled hair half in his face, the Soldier sizes up today's opponent as he's herded in by more guards and handlers than anyone else he's ever seen before.
Similar height. Similar build. Blonde hair. Blue eyes, glazed over but still roaming around the room as if he hadn't already pinged on the Winter Soldier as a threat. Something of a beard - a sign, the Winter Soldier thinks, that this man is more dangerous than most, if a handler can't approach him with a razor. The beard is long enough that the Winter Soldier could grab it, if needed, and he dutifully files that away as he watches the other man come to a stop before him. Behind him, he's aware of someone from his own handler team roughly pulling his hair away from his face and into a ponytail.
A handler speaks.
Her voice rings across the training room like the voice of God.
"Permanent maiming or killing is forbidden. Best two out of three. Go!"
physical combat assessment 1
Which is the better serum, the better Winter Soldier? HYDRA's? Or that traitor Erskine's?
Today that will be determined: physically, at least, as the mental conditioning required for both Barnes and Rogers is vastly different, with Rogers needing far more attention, more care, than his old war-buddy who is practically docile in comparison to the fits the other throws. Today the Winter Soldier will be escorted to a training room that is typically lined with thick impact mats and weights. Those weights have been removed, he notices immediately, his blue eyes still red-rimmed thanks to a recent session in the Chair and he'll assume that those had been suddenly deemed a threat, a possible weapon. Even the chairs along the wall have been removed, the mirrors.
Not the usual training session, then.
The Winter Soldier waits, barefoot and bare-chested, dressed down to neoprene pants that hug and deny any advantages of his usual armored padding and any grips that the Captain could possibly use against him. He isn't surprised to see that the other asset is dressed similarly. It's the first time that the Winter Soldier believes he has seen this man, his mind, his memories still swimming in that heavy fog that weighs down on his eyelids and bows his shoulders into a hunch inward. His head tilted slightly to the side, his tangled hair half in his face, the Soldier sizes up today's opponent as he's herded in by more guards and handlers than anyone else he's ever seen before.
Similar height. Similar build. Blonde hair. Blue eyes, glazed over but still roaming around the room as if he hadn't already pinged on the Winter Soldier as a threat. Something of a beard - a sign, the Winter Soldier thinks, that this man is more dangerous than most, if a handler can't approach him with a razor. The beard is long enough that the Winter Soldier could grab it, if needed, and he dutifully files that away as he watches the other man come to a stop before him. Behind him, he's aware of someone from his own handler team roughly pulling his hair away from his face and into a ponytail.
A handler speaks.
Her voice rings across the training room like the voice of God.
"Permanent maiming or killing is forbidden. Best two out of three. Go!"