It isn't just that the formula in the serum used to create him was subtly different, or that one of the things it heightened was his pre-existing strong sense of justice, or even the time he served after the serum, operating on his own and outside their (or anyone else's) control. It isn't even wholly the relatively short amount of time they've had with him, since excavating him out of a block of ice.
It's all of them, and the upshot of all of them is that they can't quite completely overwrite his sense of identity, or entirely erase his memories. That doesn't mean he's himself - he's not, but he's not the point and shoot weapon they'd like him to be.
He is disoriented a lot of the time. He is more disoriented when he gets woken up, pulled out and taken to (and into) a 'holding' cell in one of their facilities to watch (guard?)--
a really short guy, who is definitely not human.
What the hell has HYDRA done now?
Steve stares for a second, expression pointedly blank, and slowly tilts his head over to one side. He says nothing until the agent who brought him down leaves. Even then it's still pretty blank and exactly one word.
Barcus is, unfortunately, an old hand at being a captive at this point. He is, naturally, petrified, but the way he's been showing it has been mostly just flinching and pulling away when one of them tries to touch him. This hasn't been successful. Several fluid and tissue samples have been taken from him, but not enough to do him any long-standing harm.
That's the part that unnerves him. No one's put a pick in his hands and pushed him into a mineshaft. No one's strung him to a windmill. If this is meant to be torture, they're not very good at it.
No, he's pretty sure this is study. Experimentation. He doesn't like being the subject thereof.
The person brought to his cell--he too assumes this is a new guard--is clearly human. A knight or fighter of some sort. He doesn't seem like he's all there, though. The way he tilts his head reminds the gnome uncomfortably of thralls of the Absolute. Mindflayers-in-waiting, with something of themselves still in there, fighting for its life.
He says nothing until the other guard leaves, either, mostly because he's been pretending not to speak their language. The accent is weird, but it's quite close to common. He can fake it. He refuses to try for them.
A simple hello, though? He would assume this is some sort of emotional manipulation tactic, sending him a potential friend to get him to crack, except they haven't been trying to crack him in the first place. He just looks up at the soldier for a long moment, stone-faced, but after a glance around and a reluctant grumble he decides he can only play dumb for a finite amount of time anyway.
"Hello. I don't suppose there's any chance of getting something to read in here, is there? Only if something horrible is going to happen to me, I'm already getting bored waiting for it."
Steve's actually wondering if this is supposed to be some new tactic for them to try on him, or if they're just so preoccupied that they are actually using him as a guard because they expect the tiny guy with pointed ears to be enough of a threat to rank a super soldier standing guard inside the cell.
Maybe it's both. Are they smart enough for that? Leverage over Steve, and the other guy lowering his guard enough for information?
"Maybe." He feels like he's got something of himself in him fighting for its life, especially in the sense that he actually has been here long enough to be afraid of them, even if he hasn't been 'broken' to their satisfaction.
He has absolutely no idea what's going on, or what the plan is. "Unless they're trying boredom as torture, they might actually hand over a book. How long have you been here?"
Could be a little of both. Could be they're having trouble closing the door they brought the little guy through (doors swing both ways, after all) and are reluctant to let their pet project get close enough to it to escape.
Without his workbench and several days to prepare, Barcus is no physical threat to a baseline human, let alone a super-soldier, so they needn't worry on that count. He's not without his own bent of resourcefulness, though, and he's taking in every detail on this man--clothing, vocal quality, body language--analyzing him like his life depends on it.
Maybe, he says and unless they're trying. That 'they' is the most interesting part. He's not one of them, then, or not in their good graces. Not in charge, for sure. The little man rubs the back of his neck, sighs, and makes a point of standing down, turning and taking a slow walk to the cot they've left him, and sitting cross-legged on the edge.
"A few days, I believe. Not long, but the accommodations could be more welcoming. And you? I rather thought you were brought in to intimidate me at first, but you're starting off slow if that's the case. What's your name?"
Steve should probably be more careful, in the event that they're being watched. Hell, it's likely they're being watched, and listened to. Steve knows it.
In spite of the fairly... remote facial expression, severe black-on-black military outfit, and ramrod straight posture...
He isn't that careful about what he says and won't be. For one thing, these are basic questions that don't worry him. For another, HYDRA hasn't gotten anywhere near managing to make Steve actively dishonest. He wasn't great at subterfuge before HYDRA, and he's not good for that now.
"I have no idea how long I've been here. My name's Steve. What's yours?" Vocal quality? ...Conversational but faintly amused. Not mocking or mean just aware 'I don't know' is stupid, and having a normal conversation with whoever (and whatever) this guy is, is bizarre. For Steve, anyway.
The gnome has already concluded that if this man isn't there to spy on him, they're both being watched from outside, one way or another. Good times.
Meanwhile, 'I don't know' is a striking answer. It could be evasive, but in that tone of voice it comes across as honest. Another captive, then, the gnome decides, though perhaps not fully trustworthy because they've compromised him somehow.
"Steve," he echoes, in a tone of voice that clearly expresses what the hell kind of name is Steve?. Humans have odd naming conventions. "Hm. Well. My name is Barcus. Barcus Wroot. Presumably, we won't have heard of one another."
He rolls his shoulders a little, consciously trying to release the tension he's been holding since he landed here. Save some of that for later. "I hope Thulla remembers to feed my cats. They're resourceful enough to find their own prey if they must, but Mishka will absolutely ruin the carpet if he eats a slug."
Not just a normal conversation, aggressively normal, like the little man is determined to bring this under control by acting like it's no big deal.
Steve does not sit down, but he does drop a shoulder to lean against the wall. Sitting would be too much relaxation, standing bolt upright is a thing he could do but sees no reason to. This is, for now, his middle ground.
He does not take his eyes off Barcus, though. "We won't have. I don't even know what you are." Which is insulting probably - the answer is 'a person' - but his social graces are more than a little rusty.
He really wants to know where the hell Hydra found him. Wherever and however he's here is probably bad news for everyone, though at least probably not Steve's immediate issue.
"How are your cats getting in and out of the house to hunt, and then ruin your carpet?" Barely there pause - "And who's Thulla?"
He seems to take minimal offense to that question. Given how much the others have been prodding him, he doubts they have gnomes here. If they did have, this whole thing would be tidier and less cruelly haphazard. "A gnome. A deep gnome, specifically, out of the Underdark. I think they were looking for something with a more threatening profile."
Like the automatons he was working on dismantling. Which he will not be mentioning any time soon.
"Alas, I'm a mere mechanic, so they'll have to get used to disappointment."
In contrast to his reaction to the question about what he is, he seems incredulous about this latter one: "Oh don't tell me you lot haven't heard of such a thing as a cat flap! You seem to be reasonably technically advanced, I'm sure one of you could invent it, given proper tools."
"... although, I'm not overly impressed by your approach. Plenty of military discipline, no intellectual discipline." He waves a hand apologetically. "Not you personally. The whole cabal or whatever this is."
"I assume they're working out how to use me for parts." And this man is the muscle, whether he likes it or not. "But cults tend not to breed innovation. Sooner or later they'll trip over their own stupid hive-mind."
He hesitates a moment, then answers, "A friend of mine. Thulla is, I mean. My second chief, of my laborer's guild."
The combination of 'reasonably technologically advanced', 'mechanic', and 'looking for something more threatening' are, in combination, a very likely answer to what has been going on.
He's not necessarily correct. He is relieved that he's able to find some sense in what has, until this second, been completely confounding him.
Not that he knows how they'd have gotten to anywhere known as the Underdark or a gnome. He's not exactly well informed about the outside world, though, and 'internet' would currently confound him nearly as much. It at least keeps him credulous.
"I don't know that there are no cat flaps." His tone is dry. "Count yourself lucky I know what a cat is." Also dry. "Or maybe I'm who should consider myself lucky." This conversation is going toward something dangerous with outward criticism of Hydra, and he just ... can't.
"Explain what you mean by intellectual discipline?" That's a...safer direction. He hopes.
It's a bit rich for him to be casting aspersions upon their technical expertise here, when you come right down to it. His world relies far more heavily on magic than technological innovation, but as the proverb goes, sometimes it's hard to distinguish one from the other, when they're fantastical enough. He has secrets HYDRA might like, and that's what's important for now.
"Mm, well, it's a little swinging door sized for a cat to come and go from the house," Barcus explains with a dismissive wave. "Every now and again an opossum creeps in, as well, unfortunately."
If it seems like he's not reacting to Steve's comment about being lucky, that's good, because he's trying not to. He adds mind altered, memory erasure? to his mental list of what's going on with this strange man.
"Intellectual discipline is focused inward," he explains grimly. "It's clear they have a strong hierarchy here, and a sense of purpose, but no one's holding themselves accountable for what they discover. Innovation must be handled with patience and care, even if you're planning on using it for evil purposes, else it will get away from you. They're lucky I'm the only thing that's come through the gateway they opened to my world, so far."
Steve has questions. Steve has many questions, and he has those questions for many reasons. He can't ask most of them, because those answers would all be the information Hydra would want - or so he assumes.
He also isn't at all sure whether he's being told the truth or this is information for their likely invisible audience to try to convince them to close the damn gate. Except... why would he want that? He can't go home if that happens.
"Were you conscious when you came through?" That's... fairly safe. He thinks. Nothing like trying to find a way to stop the entire ass world he has no connection to at all anymore from going down, when also relatively helpless and effectively brainwashed and mind wiped. "Or brought to this cell?"
"I assume, of course, they'll be questioning me about what could come through from home in short order," he goes on. "Not that I'm accusing you of anything personally, but the only reason to put two people in captivity together is to see if they'll talk to each other. Either they're listening or they'll have you repeat what I've just said."
It's fine. He hasn't let anything slip yet. Nor has he lied.
"I was...in and out of consciousness, I think," he says with a frown. "One moment I was in my workshop, and then I was so dizzy and nauseous I couldn't see or think, and then I was in a repulsive-smelling room with a bunch of hulking great humans surrounding me."
There's a momentary pause, and then he adds: "I've been playing dumb up until now. You can tell them I'm a gnome, if you like. I don't think it will matter to them."
"There's at least one other reason," Steve says, very dryly. He's not relaxed enough to sit down, but he actually wishes he were. It would be physically more comfortable and he'd stop looming over Barcus. "Leverage. That one's a matter of opportunity, rather than a primary objective."
Does he count as being 'in captivity'? Sure. It's a strange thought.
He really wishes he were dumber sometimes. He would much prefer not seeing the potential, massive, dangerous problems in what else might come through that door. It would save him all sorts of (literal) headaches.
"Leverage?" He blinks. "What, they think we're going to get attached to one another? We're not even the same species."
In fairness, this is him putting on a front, on some level. Already, he feels considerable, if wary, compassion for this strange human. There's nothing for either of them to gain by acting like it, though. If Steve has an iota of intelligence--and the gnome is pretty sure he does--he'll understand. "They overestimate my charisma, I fear, if that's the case. They should have brought you a pretty elf, or maybe a halfling. Everyone likes halflings, they can't help it. Hells, I like halflings."
"No one cares what happens to gnomes. Especially deep gnomes."
"I would like to go home," he nods agreeably. "However, not at the expense of your entire civilization and/or universe. We have our problems under control in Faerun at the moment, but I hate to see what a handful of mindflayers would do to a realm that's not prepared for them."
"You like cats." That is a solid, valid point. You're not the same species as a cat, they can be assholes, and you're clearly worried about your cats. What the heck does species and charm have to do with anything.
Also, truthfully, Steve's pretty sure this one is more about them gaining leverage over him than the other way around.
"All right." Good info. Means if he can get a chance and enough info, maybe he can shut this thing down. Pay for it, but at least that's not the entire universe or planet paying for it. Mindflayer seems like something would think they'd be able to use, but almost certainly couldn't control. The situation for everyone else doesn't improve if they can. "Maybe they'll be smarter about it than usual."
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branchandroot
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Date: 2026-01-29 03:37 pm (UTC)It isn't just that the formula in the serum used to create him was subtly different, or that one of the things it heightened was his pre-existing strong sense of justice, or even the time he served after the serum, operating on his own and outside their (or anyone else's) control. It isn't even wholly the relatively short amount of time they've had with him, since excavating him out of a block of ice.
It's all of them, and the upshot of all of them is that they can't quite completely overwrite his sense of identity, or entirely erase his memories. That doesn't mean he's himself - he's not, but he's not the point and shoot weapon they'd like him to be.
He is disoriented a lot of the time. He is more disoriented when he gets woken up, pulled out and taken to (and into) a 'holding' cell in one of their facilities to watch (guard?)--
a really short guy, who is definitely not human.
What the hell has HYDRA done now?
Steve stares for a second, expression pointedly blank, and slowly tilts his head over to one side. He says nothing until the agent who brought him down leaves. Even then it's still pretty blank and exactly one word.
"...Hi?"
no subject
Date: 2026-01-29 04:21 pm (UTC)That's the part that unnerves him. No one's put a pick in his hands and pushed him into a mineshaft. No one's strung him to a windmill. If this is meant to be torture, they're not very good at it.
No, he's pretty sure this is study. Experimentation. He doesn't like being the subject thereof.
The person brought to his cell--he too assumes this is a new guard--is clearly human. A knight or fighter of some sort. He doesn't seem like he's all there, though. The way he tilts his head reminds the gnome uncomfortably of thralls of the Absolute. Mindflayers-in-waiting, with something of themselves still in there, fighting for its life.
He says nothing until the other guard leaves, either, mostly because he's been pretending not to speak their language. The accent is weird, but it's quite close to common. He can fake it. He refuses to try for them.
A simple hello, though? He would assume this is some sort of emotional manipulation tactic, sending him a potential friend to get him to crack, except they haven't been trying to crack him in the first place. He just looks up at the soldier for a long moment, stone-faced, but after a glance around and a reluctant grumble he decides he can only play dumb for a finite amount of time anyway.
"Hello. I don't suppose there's any chance of getting something to read in here, is there? Only if something horrible is going to happen to me, I'm already getting bored waiting for it."
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Date: 2026-01-29 04:36 pm (UTC)Maybe it's both. Are they smart enough for that? Leverage over Steve, and the other guy lowering his guard enough for information?
"Maybe." He feels like he's got something of himself in him fighting for its life, especially in the sense that he actually has been here long enough to be afraid of them, even if he hasn't been 'broken' to their satisfaction.
He has absolutely no idea what's going on, or what the plan is. "Unless they're trying boredom as torture, they might actually hand over a book. How long have you been here?"
no subject
Date: 2026-01-29 08:15 pm (UTC)Without his workbench and several days to prepare, Barcus is no physical threat to a baseline human, let alone a super-soldier, so they needn't worry on that count. He's not without his own bent of resourcefulness, though, and he's taking in every detail on this man--clothing, vocal quality, body language--analyzing him like his life depends on it.
Maybe, he says and unless they're trying. That 'they' is the most interesting part. He's not one of them, then, or not in their good graces. Not in charge, for sure. The little man rubs the back of his neck, sighs, and makes a point of standing down, turning and taking a slow walk to the cot they've left him, and sitting cross-legged on the edge.
"A few days, I believe. Not long, but the accommodations could be more welcoming. And you? I rather thought you were brought in to intimidate me at first, but you're starting off slow if that's the case. What's your name?"
no subject
Date: 2026-01-29 08:39 pm (UTC)In spite of the fairly... remote facial expression, severe black-on-black military outfit, and ramrod straight posture...
He isn't that careful about what he says and won't be. For one thing, these are basic questions that don't worry him. For another, HYDRA hasn't gotten anywhere near managing to make Steve actively dishonest. He wasn't great at subterfuge before HYDRA, and he's not good for that now.
"I have no idea how long I've been here. My name's Steve. What's yours?" Vocal quality? ...Conversational but faintly amused. Not mocking or mean just aware 'I don't know' is stupid, and having a normal conversation with whoever (and whatever) this guy is, is bizarre. For Steve, anyway.
no subject
Date: 2026-01-30 03:21 pm (UTC)Meanwhile, 'I don't know' is a striking answer. It could be evasive, but in that tone of voice it comes across as honest. Another captive, then, the gnome decides, though perhaps not fully trustworthy because they've compromised him somehow.
"Steve," he echoes, in a tone of voice that clearly expresses what the hell kind of name is Steve?. Humans have odd naming conventions. "Hm. Well. My name is Barcus. Barcus Wroot. Presumably, we won't have heard of one another."
He rolls his shoulders a little, consciously trying to release the tension he's been holding since he landed here. Save some of that for later. "I hope Thulla remembers to feed my cats. They're resourceful enough to find their own prey if they must, but Mishka will absolutely ruin the carpet if he eats a slug."
Not just a normal conversation, aggressively normal, like the little man is determined to bring this under control by acting like it's no big deal.
no subject
Date: 2026-01-30 03:53 pm (UTC)He does not take his eyes off Barcus, though. "We won't have. I don't even know what you are." Which is insulting probably - the answer is 'a person' - but his social graces are more than a little rusty.
He really wants to know where the hell Hydra found him. Wherever and however he's here is probably bad news for everyone, though at least probably not Steve's immediate issue.
"How are your cats getting in and out of the house to hunt, and then ruin your carpet?" Barely there pause - "And who's Thulla?"
no subject
Date: 2026-01-30 04:11 pm (UTC)Like the automatons he was working on dismantling. Which he will not be mentioning any time soon.
"Alas, I'm a mere mechanic, so they'll have to get used to disappointment."
In contrast to his reaction to the question about what he is, he seems incredulous about this latter one: "Oh don't tell me you lot haven't heard of such a thing as a cat flap! You seem to be reasonably technically advanced, I'm sure one of you could invent it, given proper tools."
"... although, I'm not overly impressed by your approach. Plenty of military discipline, no intellectual discipline." He waves a hand apologetically. "Not you personally. The whole cabal or whatever this is."
"I assume they're working out how to use me for parts." And this man is the muscle, whether he likes it or not. "But cults tend not to breed innovation. Sooner or later they'll trip over their own stupid hive-mind."
He hesitates a moment, then answers, "A friend of mine. Thulla is, I mean. My second chief, of my laborer's guild."
no subject
Date: 2026-01-30 04:57 pm (UTC)He's not necessarily correct. He is relieved that he's able to find some sense in what has, until this second, been completely confounding him.
Not that he knows how they'd have gotten to anywhere known as the Underdark or a gnome. He's not exactly well informed about the outside world, though, and 'internet' would currently confound him nearly as much. It at least keeps him credulous.
"I don't know that there are no cat flaps." His tone is dry. "Count yourself lucky I know what a cat is." Also dry. "Or maybe I'm who should consider myself lucky." This conversation is going toward something dangerous with outward criticism of Hydra, and he just ... can't.
"Explain what you mean by intellectual discipline?" That's a...safer direction. He hopes.
no subject
Date: 2026-02-01 04:31 pm (UTC)"Mm, well, it's a little swinging door sized for a cat to come and go from the house," Barcus explains with a dismissive wave. "Every now and again an opossum creeps in, as well, unfortunately."
If it seems like he's not reacting to Steve's comment about being lucky, that's good, because he's trying not to. He adds mind altered, memory erasure? to his mental list of what's going on with this strange man.
"Intellectual discipline is focused inward," he explains grimly. "It's clear they have a strong hierarchy here, and a sense of purpose, but no one's holding themselves accountable for what they discover. Innovation must be handled with patience and care, even if you're planning on using it for evil purposes, else it will get away from you. They're lucky I'm the only thing that's come through the gateway they opened to my world, so far."
no subject
Date: 2026-02-01 05:07 pm (UTC)He also isn't at all sure whether he's being told the truth or this is information for their likely invisible audience to try to convince them to close the damn gate. Except... why would he want that? He can't go home if that happens.
"Were you conscious when you came through?" That's... fairly safe. He thinks. Nothing like trying to find a way to stop the entire ass world he has no connection to at all anymore from going down, when also relatively helpless and effectively brainwashed and mind wiped. "Or brought to this cell?"
no subject
Date: 2026-02-04 01:05 am (UTC)It's fine. He hasn't let anything slip yet. Nor has he lied.
"I was...in and out of consciousness, I think," he says with a frown. "One moment I was in my workshop, and then I was so dizzy and nauseous I couldn't see or think, and then I was in a repulsive-smelling room with a bunch of hulking great humans surrounding me."
There's a momentary pause, and then he adds: "I've been playing dumb up until now. You can tell them I'm a gnome, if you like. I don't think it will matter to them."
no subject
Date: 2026-02-04 01:55 pm (UTC)Does he count as being 'in captivity'? Sure. It's a strange thought.
He really wishes he were dumber sometimes. He would much prefer not seeing the potential, massive, dangerous problems in what else might come through that door. It would save him all sorts of (literal) headaches.
"I assume you'd like to go home?"
no subject
Date: 2026-02-15 04:58 pm (UTC)In fairness, this is him putting on a front, on some level. Already, he feels considerable, if wary, compassion for this strange human. There's nothing for either of them to gain by acting like it, though. If Steve has an iota of intelligence--and the gnome is pretty sure he does--he'll understand. "They overestimate my charisma, I fear, if that's the case. They should have brought you a pretty elf, or maybe a halfling. Everyone likes halflings, they can't help it. Hells, I like halflings."
"No one cares what happens to gnomes. Especially deep gnomes."
"I would like to go home," he nods agreeably. "However, not at the expense of your entire civilization and/or universe. We have our problems under control in Faerun at the moment, but I hate to see what a handful of mindflayers would do to a realm that's not prepared for them."
no subject
Date: 2026-02-25 08:48 pm (UTC)Also, truthfully, Steve's pretty sure this one is more about them gaining leverage over him than the other way around.
"All right." Good info. Means if he can get a chance and enough info, maybe he can shut this thing down. Pay for it, but at least that's not the entire universe or planet paying for it. Mindflayer seems like something would think they'd be able to use, but almost certainly couldn't control. The situation for everyone else doesn't improve if they can. "Maybe they'll be smarter about it than usual."