Initial Masquerades & Eternally Iron Made

It never mattered: the time of the year, the time of day …if the sun was out or if the moon graced the sky. Siberia was cold. The ice never melted, the snow hide the dangers of the mountain, and yet, it was the perfect location. It was there, in the depths of the building, that they kept their most prized possessions: their soldiers, their weapons.

The metal had long since froze; it crept over the machines, and iced in every corner. The lights flickered and the glass was always fogged over.

The remnants from the Soviet Union could be seen in the efficient way that the building still ran. Slow, sluggish, but surely. Their technology was beyond time and evenly matched the science done at the hands of the Red Skull so many years before.

Viper stood in the center of the largest room: her coat did nothing against the chill and as she oversaw the frozen men and women in their chambers, she shivered. They were the failed experiments: the soldiers that could be trusted to do their job, but one had to wonder if they would come back to the fold. Their loyalty was to no man, not even to themselves and they wouldn't hesitate.

One day they would be ready; one day she would be able to unleash them into the world. But now, for now they were suspended in cryo and there they would stay.

She pulled her hood closer, tighter, and turned only to find herself face to face with the Baron.

"Strucker."

"Viper," he offered his arm and she dropped her hand to his elbow. "Have I told you that your work is impeccable? A gift to our cause…"

"Your allowances had said as much throughout the years."

"I've always seen myself as lucky," he placed his other hand on hers, "for you to pick us, after the USSR fell …lucky indeed."

"You're too kind," she sneered, "you gave me what I wanted and more, I would've been foolish to refuse. Now, tell me, what brings you here?"

The lights dimmed as the doors slid shut, leaving them in the hall. "Have you already been below?" Her question went ignored.

Another set of soldiers – assassins – another formula, another trainer's hands: below where the men she had salvaged from the Red Room.

"I always check them first," and Strucker knew that. There was a reason he was inquiring about them, "they're fine. We'll soon be able to transfer the Asset, unless you have a job for him?"

"Eskandar Rajavi."

"The nuclear engineer?"

"Yes." Strucker turned to face her, "in one week's time the Black Widow will escort him to Odessa and into custody. You know how I feel about traitors. I want him buried and I want the Asset to do it. Quick, easy, and if the Black Widow is taken out …so be it."

"No."

"Pardon?"

"Have you any idea the consequences to reintroducing the Widow and the Asset? It would be impossible, if not suicidal to attempt to control such a situation. The Asset knows his loyalty and the Widow defected, but she was his pupil. His star pupil."

"We have others."

"It means nothing if we have to watch our every move! Everything you—I, everything we worked toward would be for naught! Too many years have been spent digging through the SSR, I refuse to see it fall apart now."

"And what would you have me do?"

"We'll use the Asset, but I will program him."

Strucker scowled, "you have 24 hours prior to the end of the week to have him ready."

"I'll need more time if I'm to determine where he's wiped or not."

"And how long do you suggest, Madame?"

Viper felt the bite in his words; she had never met another man with such a short temper. No matter, she would get what she wanted in the end or Strucker would find himself without weapons. Or a head of his science division. "I want a week."

"A week? No, there is no reason we need him awake that soon or long."

"Our attention is diverted, Strucker! You expect us to have him mission ready, yet spy on Stane and find Stark? We could use him!"

He fell silent and seemed to think over her words. Strucker's eyes strayed to the false wall, the hidden door that would lead to the basement. "You have seventy two hours."

"You're making a mistake."

"Another word and you will have twelve."


"What are you doing?!" Viper demanded, sweeping through the building. By the time she left Siberia, she was fuming and the return trip had done nothing to curb her temper. If anything, the hours she had spent in the helicopter had made things worse. The nerve of Strucker, who was he to think that he could tell her how to prep and order her weapon. Dealing with the Asset was a delicate matter, one that couldn't be rushed or done half-heartedly.

And it was one she hated to do alone.

"Madame…" Viper's fingers grazed the top of her weapon as she spun around. Her hand raised; the release of the safety was loud in her ears.

"Sneak up on me again and you won't live another day." She warned, lowering her arm as the man stepped back, hands raised in submission. "What do you want? I believe I gave you orders to prep the Asset."

"We began…" Jakob List started as he joined them, clearly waiting for her arrival. "The chair was damaged last time we used it. To wake him now, we wouldn't be able to properly wipe him. Our only control would be the book…" He chuckled nervously and stepped back, hand wavering over his face. List looked at the man beside her, his eyes darting between the two of them before settling on her. He pulled his glasses free with one hand, with his other he pulled out a handkerchief. Even squinting, Viper saw that he kept both eyes on her. Good.

"Why is the chair damaged?" She snarled, shoving him out of her way to enter the lab; the Consultant was hot on her heel, nearly stepping on them in his desire to enter the lab. Viper stepped to the side to let him in front of her, eyes coming to rest on the scene.

The portable chamber had been rolled into the lab: the glass pane was iced over, foggy and melted in some spots. Set in the center of the lab was the chair that would dominate; that would control her weapon when he awakened. But at her side, staring coolly at the chamber was the man that would do even better than the chair.

The Consultant was also her Mechanic, and he worked better than any wipe, any electro-mind control, and any code words that held and dug into the Asset.

"You left him in limbo?" He growled, his arm shifting and she stopped him with a hand to his shoulder. The last thing Viper wanted was a dead scientist, even if List was worthless.

"We had no choice. He's been asleep for too long and without the chair, we would have no way to control him."

She could see him: head thrown back, hair matted around his face, his closed eyes. She knew if she looked even closer she could see his pale skin, tight from the cold and his shoulder red, irritated from the frozen metal.

"You should have looked at the chair first."

List glared at the other man, "I can't make any decisions without the Madame's consent."

"Then you should've called." The Consultant snapped at him, "you've done enough, I'll take it from here. Go away."

"So I can clean up the mess you're inevitably about to make? I don't think so."

"Get rid of him, Viper." The Consultant turned and eyed her under his hood, "I can handle the Soldier myself."

"Go."

List stepped back, looking between the two of them as the Consultant revived the defrosting process.

"You're making a mistake!" But he turned and headed for the door. List threw one last look over his shoulder, "I hope he kills you both."

Viper rolled her eyes heavenward as the door slammed behind the man, "I could never stand him." She lowered her head in time to grab his wrist, stopping him from removing his hood, "wait –"

"I already took care of it," he shook her hand off and tilted his head back, hood falling and revealing half of his face. "Go ahead, Ophelia, I'll let you know when I'm ready."

She nodded, watching as he removed the mask from his face, dark hair falling over his eyes, "be careful, Jase."

"I always am."