[This encounter had only a few ways of ending, and Rumlow certainly didn't fear any of them. He had learned a long time ago that, while fear was natural, it had be controlled and mastered or else it would take the edge off of his skill. He had spent years mastering his fears, and HYDRA had helped by exposing him to all of them, forcing him to adapt, accept and change to meet them. He wasn't stupid though; he understood that the HYDRA way was mostly do-or-die and no one would give two shits about him if he croaked. If he was lucky, he'd be burned. If he was unlucky, it was a shallow ditch.
He might have been a handler with the ability to call in the Asset under strict reasoning and protocol, but it was not a situation that came up more than four times in his career. He had been responsible for the Asset, debriefing the mission, making certain the Soldier was suited and geared up, waiting for the pick up. There relationship hadn't been friendly but neither had it been hostile. He admired the Soldier: the skill, the control, giving up everything for a cause to be nothing more than a tool for the machine of HYDRA.
And when their eyes met and the Soldier stepped forward, Rumlow remained exactly where he was, casual and calm. There was no fear that this might end in his death; he knew it was coming anyway, especially after all he had done. If not by a bullet, blade or explosive, by all the nasty shit he had been exposed to in his time soldiering and as STRIKE. He set his com unit on his raised knee to free up his hand and sat up straighter all the same.
He smirked at the comment, confident that while he didn't have control here, he knew where the line was.] I've been told that a few times, but I always wake up. My crew called me a roach way back when.
[He glanced up to where Rollins' pod hummed softly, like some industrial refrigerator unit at his back.] You won't remember the first time we met, but it was something like this. [He reached back and rapped on the pod he was leaning on.] I was assigned to transport you, and I spent the flight lounging on your tank. Amazing really... you of all of them surviving. No one else could. Never saw you wake up that trip.
no subject
He might have been a handler with the ability to call in the Asset under strict reasoning and protocol, but it was not a situation that came up more than four times in his career. He had been responsible for the Asset, debriefing the mission, making certain the Soldier was suited and geared up, waiting for the pick up. There relationship hadn't been friendly but neither had it been hostile. He admired the Soldier: the skill, the control, giving up everything for a cause to be nothing more than a tool for the machine of HYDRA.
And when their eyes met and the Soldier stepped forward, Rumlow remained exactly where he was, casual and calm. There was no fear that this might end in his death; he knew it was coming anyway, especially after all he had done. If not by a bullet, blade or explosive, by all the nasty shit he had been exposed to in his time soldiering and as STRIKE. He set his com unit on his raised knee to free up his hand and sat up straighter all the same.
He smirked at the comment, confident that while he didn't have control here, he knew where the line was.] I've been told that a few times, but I always wake up. My crew called me a roach way back when.
[He glanced up to where Rollins' pod hummed softly, like some industrial refrigerator unit at his back.] You won't remember the first time we met, but it was something like this. [He reached back and rapped on the pod he was leaning on.] I was assigned to transport you, and I spent the flight lounging on your tank. Amazing really... you of all of them surviving. No one else could. Never saw you wake up that trip.