TM-232: Is there a situation where it's appropriate to be unkind?
[OOC: Ok, guys, this plot is finally moving again. I’m so, so sorry it’s taken so long. Between finishing my thesis, my grandfather’s death, and college graduation, I’ve had a lot on my plate. But I am dedicated to bringing Steve back, once and for all. The first two parts of this are located here and here, in which Sam contacts Steve about Sharon’s disappearance and Sam, Steve, and Tony go off to upstate New York to save Sharon from the Red Skull and Dr. Faustus. Also relevant is Sharon’s prompt here, which explains more of what she’s doing at the camp. After this post, be sure to check out Sharon’s post here for the (in-progress) next part of the story.
redwings_sam and iron_tony are referenced here with permission.]
Is there a situation where it's appropriate to be unkind?
They'd reached the perimeter. They were bound to be noticed soon; they could never completely have the element of surprise in this situation. The compound was too well-guarded. So Steve knew it was smartest to just charge in. Charge in, and hope for the best.
He turned to Tony, who had suited up and given them the best technical schematics of the battlefield that he could offer. "Iron Man, you charge in there first; try to take out as many soldiers as you can. But don't hurt them too much if you can help it - these are innocent men under Faustus' control. Whatever they try to do, it isn't their fault." Just like Sharon.
Steve shook off that unsettling thought as quickly as it had come and turned to Sam. "Falcon, take out who you can, too, and keep an eye out for Sharon. You're the one she'd most expect to show up, and you might have the best chance of getting through to her without startling or angering her. But be careful. And if you see Faustus - do whatever is necessary." Steve didn't like giving kill orders, but in this case, even his careful conscience was willing to make an exception.
He turned back to Tony. This was the first time they were going into battle since their relationship had started, in this world, and on the off chance (the very, very off chance) that it didn’t turn out as successfully as he hoped, Steve didn’t want to have any regrets. “I love you,” he said, leaning in to kiss him before he could lower his visor. Sharon might be the lover foremost in his mind right now, but it was Tony who filled his heart.
Then, pulling back, Steve adjusted the straps on his shield, holding it tightly over his forearm. "I'm going after the Skull,” he said, glancing from Tony to Sam and back again.
And then he charged.
*
He was out of practice. Out of practice, out of focus, charging after a goal he wasn’t entirely sure he could achieve.
And it didn’t make a single bit of difference.
Steve rammed through the crowd, throwing his shield like it had never left his possession, bouncing it off of tree trunks and flag poles and barracks walls to knock down dozens of henchmen. A particularly burly security guard-turned-brainwashed-minion managed to get up close, a look of inflamed fury on his face, but Steve was able to dispatch him with a well-placed kick and a shield blow to the head, leaving his crumpled-but-breathing form on the brown grass of the clearing. Above and around him, Steve could see his friends doing more of the same - Tony with his repulsors set to stun, Sam with swooping punches and scratches from Redwing.
The soldiers had been trained; that much was obvious - and Steve knew, his stomach queasy with the realization, who they had to have been trained by. Their moves were too familiar, utilizing tiny tricks and secret techniques of his own that he’d only taught to a select few others - only one of whom was currently a captive of the Red Skull. But even men who could fight like Captain America weren’t Captain America, and even in their brainwashed anger they couldn’t match Steve’s passion. Against his purposeful crusade, which resembled more than anything else a more controlled version of Wolverine’s berserker rages, little could stand in Steve Rogers’ way.
When the Red Skull finally appeared, clad in a suit and tie beneath the monstrosity of the crimson skull mask, Steve wasn’t surprised in the least. That had been the intended result. Steve knew the Skull, probably knew him better than any other living person did, and he knew that the Skull would never miss the chance for grandstanding. Steve had charged in to fill the square with noise and chaos, and where noise and chaos could be found, the Red Skull would shortly follow, to lord above it all.
If, that is, this was the Red Skull at all. Tony had said that Lukin was wearing the mask, and Steve had seen the Skull’s dead body less than two years ago. Could this just be Lukin, taking up the mantle? If so, why would a Soviet general take up a Nazi’s face? It made no sense. But the Skull and Lukin had both had the Cosmic Cube in their possession, and Steve knew from experience that things didn’t always turn out like you wanted them to when the Cube was involved. Could Lukin have summoned the Skull into his body with the Cube? Anything was possible.
But whatever the explanation, it was definitely the Red Skull’s voice that came through the mask that hovered above Lukin’s well-dressed form. “Well, well, well. It seems you are not so easy to kill, Captain.”
“You’re right about that,” Steve said, acutely aware of his lack of costume, his shield in front of him the only representation of the symbol he was supposed to be. “Now stand down before I prove the opposite about you.”
Steve could hear the sneer in the Skull’s voice when he responded. “You threaten to kill me? When have you ever been enough of a man to do that?”
“You’ve been torturing Sharon for over a year. You’d be surprised what I’m capable of right now.” Glancing around, Steve noticed that he and the Skull were the only two people left conscious in the square. Tony and Sam had taken out the last of the henchmen and had, Steve could only hope, gone off in search of Sharon. It would be so easy, now, to take out the Red Skull, once and for all. To throw his shield with enough force to sever that skeletal mask from Lukin’s body. But still Steve hesitated.
“Ah, the wunderbar Fraulein Carter,” the Skull said, his voice dripping with malice. “Yes, she is a prize, is she not? A very… capable accomplice. But I’m surprised you care, Captain. What use have you for a woman now that you have become a filthy homosexual? Or did you not think my surveillance would catch you kissing that iron pansy?” He spit on the ground through the mask.
Steve wasn’t used to letting the Skull startle him, but the revelation and insults caught him by surprise. It was the first time he’d been jeered - or heard Tony jeered - in such a way. But as soon as his shock cleared, Steve felt his mind harden into new resilience. He’d been focusing so much on what the Skull was doing to him, personally - brainwashing Sharon, attempting to murder him - that he’d almost forgotten about the Skull’s true evil. The evil that he had first fought against over 65 years ago. The evil of bigotry and hate toward those who looked, or prayed, or loved a little differently. That was what he was here to do. He wasn’t here for a personal vendetta - or, at least, that wasn’t all he was here for. He was here to eradicate an insidious, and seemingly unconquerable, evil.
Steve had delayed long enough. With inarticulate rage, he charged, knocking the Red Skull back before he had a chance to move. “So there is still a man somewhere inside of you,” the Skull taunted, fighting back. Lukin’s body wasn’t in top physical condition, not like the Skull’s last home in a clone of Steve’s own, but the Red Skull still had his share of tricks.
“There is a human being inside of me,” Steve shot back, as they fought. “Just like there’s a human being inside of Sharon, and a human being -“ he stared into Lukin’s eyes through the Skull mask - “inside of Bucky. And that is something you will never understand.”
Steve’s blows were matched by the Skull’s own, and Steve could feel his cheek split open as grunts and howls replaced their taunts. The Skull was more than prepared for the fight, but he hadn’t prepared for a kill - he’d always enjoyed teasing his victims first. Without a gun or even a knife, the Red Skull was barely a match for Steve on a normal day - and this was far from a normal day. A year of inactivity had built up a powerful urge inside of Steve, an urge to fight and to win. That pent-up urge, combined with Steve’s rage and anger over everything the Red Skull had done to him, to his friends, and to the world, fueled him to new heights of power. The Red Skull never had a chance.
Moments later, the Skull was pinned on the ground beneath Steve’s knees, nearly wiped out from exhaustion, and Steve raised his shield arm, ready to deliver a blow that would end this once and for all. No one would have blamed him if he’d gone ahead and done it. This, if anything, was a situation that merited unkindness on a grand scale. But he’d just proclaimed his own humanity, after all. How could he still make that claim, if he killed someone who might yet be rehabilitated? (Steve had always been, and always would be, an optimist.) And beneath those purer thoughts, more selfish thoughts swam. How could he kill this man? Hadn’t the year off that he’d inadvertently provided him been good for Steve - and maybe, even, for the world - in some ways? The year had given him the chance to cool down from his Civil War anger, to make up (and more) with Tony in a private, quiet way. It had allowed him to come to terms with his sexuality, to find his daughter, and to reorganize his priorities for himself and for the world. And it had allowed Bernie the time to fix the SHRA on more rational terms than Steve ever could have. The Skull certainly hadn’t predicted or intended any of that, but how could Steve kill a man who had given him all that, even accidentally? In the past year, the Skull’s worst crimes had been killing Steve - at which he hadn’t even actually succeeded - and brainwashing Sharon, which was more directly the fault of a man Steve had yet to capture.
It was a lot of rationalization, and not rationalization Steve was entirely comfortable with. But it was enough to cloud his mind with doubt, to force him to soften his final blow from a fatality to a knock-out. As the Skull’s head fell limply on the ground in front of him, Steve took a second to stare at his fallen body before turning him over and placing the high-tech handcuffs Tony had brought around his wrists. Then, slinging the Skull’s body over his shoulder, he carried it into the nearest barracks and locked it into an innocuous-seeming supply closet before running off in the direction of Sam and Tony.
The Red Skull would go to the authorities. Right now, he had Faustus to take down, and Sharon to save.
redwings_sam and iron_tony are referenced here with permission.]
Is there a situation where it's appropriate to be unkind?
They'd reached the perimeter. They were bound to be noticed soon; they could never completely have the element of surprise in this situation. The compound was too well-guarded. So Steve knew it was smartest to just charge in. Charge in, and hope for the best.
He turned to Tony, who had suited up and given them the best technical schematics of the battlefield that he could offer. "Iron Man, you charge in there first; try to take out as many soldiers as you can. But don't hurt them too much if you can help it - these are innocent men under Faustus' control. Whatever they try to do, it isn't their fault." Just like Sharon.
Steve shook off that unsettling thought as quickly as it had come and turned to Sam. "Falcon, take out who you can, too, and keep an eye out for Sharon. You're the one she'd most expect to show up, and you might have the best chance of getting through to her without startling or angering her. But be careful. And if you see Faustus - do whatever is necessary." Steve didn't like giving kill orders, but in this case, even his careful conscience was willing to make an exception.
He turned back to Tony. This was the first time they were going into battle since their relationship had started, in this world, and on the off chance (the very, very off chance) that it didn’t turn out as successfully as he hoped, Steve didn’t want to have any regrets. “I love you,” he said, leaning in to kiss him before he could lower his visor. Sharon might be the lover foremost in his mind right now, but it was Tony who filled his heart.
Then, pulling back, Steve adjusted the straps on his shield, holding it tightly over his forearm. "I'm going after the Skull,” he said, glancing from Tony to Sam and back again.
And then he charged.
*
He was out of practice. Out of practice, out of focus, charging after a goal he wasn’t entirely sure he could achieve.
And it didn’t make a single bit of difference.
Steve rammed through the crowd, throwing his shield like it had never left his possession, bouncing it off of tree trunks and flag poles and barracks walls to knock down dozens of henchmen. A particularly burly security guard-turned-brainwashed-minion managed to get up close, a look of inflamed fury on his face, but Steve was able to dispatch him with a well-placed kick and a shield blow to the head, leaving his crumpled-but-breathing form on the brown grass of the clearing. Above and around him, Steve could see his friends doing more of the same - Tony with his repulsors set to stun, Sam with swooping punches and scratches from Redwing.
The soldiers had been trained; that much was obvious - and Steve knew, his stomach queasy with the realization, who they had to have been trained by. Their moves were too familiar, utilizing tiny tricks and secret techniques of his own that he’d only taught to a select few others - only one of whom was currently a captive of the Red Skull. But even men who could fight like Captain America weren’t Captain America, and even in their brainwashed anger they couldn’t match Steve’s passion. Against his purposeful crusade, which resembled more than anything else a more controlled version of Wolverine’s berserker rages, little could stand in Steve Rogers’ way.
When the Red Skull finally appeared, clad in a suit and tie beneath the monstrosity of the crimson skull mask, Steve wasn’t surprised in the least. That had been the intended result. Steve knew the Skull, probably knew him better than any other living person did, and he knew that the Skull would never miss the chance for grandstanding. Steve had charged in to fill the square with noise and chaos, and where noise and chaos could be found, the Red Skull would shortly follow, to lord above it all.
If, that is, this was the Red Skull at all. Tony had said that Lukin was wearing the mask, and Steve had seen the Skull’s dead body less than two years ago. Could this just be Lukin, taking up the mantle? If so, why would a Soviet general take up a Nazi’s face? It made no sense. But the Skull and Lukin had both had the Cosmic Cube in their possession, and Steve knew from experience that things didn’t always turn out like you wanted them to when the Cube was involved. Could Lukin have summoned the Skull into his body with the Cube? Anything was possible.
But whatever the explanation, it was definitely the Red Skull’s voice that came through the mask that hovered above Lukin’s well-dressed form. “Well, well, well. It seems you are not so easy to kill, Captain.”
“You’re right about that,” Steve said, acutely aware of his lack of costume, his shield in front of him the only representation of the symbol he was supposed to be. “Now stand down before I prove the opposite about you.”
Steve could hear the sneer in the Skull’s voice when he responded. “You threaten to kill me? When have you ever been enough of a man to do that?”
“You’ve been torturing Sharon for over a year. You’d be surprised what I’m capable of right now.” Glancing around, Steve noticed that he and the Skull were the only two people left conscious in the square. Tony and Sam had taken out the last of the henchmen and had, Steve could only hope, gone off in search of Sharon. It would be so easy, now, to take out the Red Skull, once and for all. To throw his shield with enough force to sever that skeletal mask from Lukin’s body. But still Steve hesitated.
“Ah, the wunderbar Fraulein Carter,” the Skull said, his voice dripping with malice. “Yes, she is a prize, is she not? A very… capable accomplice. But I’m surprised you care, Captain. What use have you for a woman now that you have become a filthy homosexual? Or did you not think my surveillance would catch you kissing that iron pansy?” He spit on the ground through the mask.
Steve wasn’t used to letting the Skull startle him, but the revelation and insults caught him by surprise. It was the first time he’d been jeered - or heard Tony jeered - in such a way. But as soon as his shock cleared, Steve felt his mind harden into new resilience. He’d been focusing so much on what the Skull was doing to him, personally - brainwashing Sharon, attempting to murder him - that he’d almost forgotten about the Skull’s true evil. The evil that he had first fought against over 65 years ago. The evil of bigotry and hate toward those who looked, or prayed, or loved a little differently. That was what he was here to do. He wasn’t here for a personal vendetta - or, at least, that wasn’t all he was here for. He was here to eradicate an insidious, and seemingly unconquerable, evil.
Steve had delayed long enough. With inarticulate rage, he charged, knocking the Red Skull back before he had a chance to move. “So there is still a man somewhere inside of you,” the Skull taunted, fighting back. Lukin’s body wasn’t in top physical condition, not like the Skull’s last home in a clone of Steve’s own, but the Red Skull still had his share of tricks.
“There is a human being inside of me,” Steve shot back, as they fought. “Just like there’s a human being inside of Sharon, and a human being -“ he stared into Lukin’s eyes through the Skull mask - “inside of Bucky. And that is something you will never understand.”
Steve’s blows were matched by the Skull’s own, and Steve could feel his cheek split open as grunts and howls replaced their taunts. The Skull was more than prepared for the fight, but he hadn’t prepared for a kill - he’d always enjoyed teasing his victims first. Without a gun or even a knife, the Red Skull was barely a match for Steve on a normal day - and this was far from a normal day. A year of inactivity had built up a powerful urge inside of Steve, an urge to fight and to win. That pent-up urge, combined with Steve’s rage and anger over everything the Red Skull had done to him, to his friends, and to the world, fueled him to new heights of power. The Red Skull never had a chance.
Moments later, the Skull was pinned on the ground beneath Steve’s knees, nearly wiped out from exhaustion, and Steve raised his shield arm, ready to deliver a blow that would end this once and for all. No one would have blamed him if he’d gone ahead and done it. This, if anything, was a situation that merited unkindness on a grand scale. But he’d just proclaimed his own humanity, after all. How could he still make that claim, if he killed someone who might yet be rehabilitated? (Steve had always been, and always would be, an optimist.) And beneath those purer thoughts, more selfish thoughts swam. How could he kill this man? Hadn’t the year off that he’d inadvertently provided him been good for Steve - and maybe, even, for the world - in some ways? The year had given him the chance to cool down from his Civil War anger, to make up (and more) with Tony in a private, quiet way. It had allowed him to come to terms with his sexuality, to find his daughter, and to reorganize his priorities for himself and for the world. And it had allowed Bernie the time to fix the SHRA on more rational terms than Steve ever could have. The Skull certainly hadn’t predicted or intended any of that, but how could Steve kill a man who had given him all that, even accidentally? In the past year, the Skull’s worst crimes had been killing Steve - at which he hadn’t even actually succeeded - and brainwashing Sharon, which was more directly the fault of a man Steve had yet to capture.
It was a lot of rationalization, and not rationalization Steve was entirely comfortable with. But it was enough to cloud his mind with doubt, to force him to soften his final blow from a fatality to a knock-out. As the Skull’s head fell limply on the ground in front of him, Steve took a second to stare at his fallen body before turning him over and placing the high-tech handcuffs Tony had brought around his wrists. Then, slinging the Skull’s body over his shoulder, he carried it into the nearest barracks and locked it into an innocuous-seeming supply closet before running off in the direction of Sam and Tony.
The Red Skull would go to the authorities. Right now, he had Faustus to take down, and Sharon to save.