My name's Sam Wilson. I'm Captain America.

“Thank you,” Sam quipped, although not sure if this was meant to insult or if Zemo was being serious. 

Zemo didn’t seem like anyone who would be anything but serious, and this scared Sam. He didn’t want to be anything like Zemo and he did not want Zemo’s approval for anything he did.

A blinding pain shot through his body. Sam felt as though every bone in his body was simultaneously breaking and, for some reason, all he could think about, was HYDRA, and Zemo. And his childhood. Every mistake he’d ever made, every bad decision, every life he’d taken accidentally, was becoming him, and consuming him in this pain and he couldn’t stop it. 

Nouä.

And then, there was sadness too, of all the loss he’d endured, all of the people he couldn’t save, and what had turned him away. Even the good memories, the ones he remembered like heavily faded dreams were consumed by pain and hatred and anger. 

@the13thsuperior

Zemo watched Sam’s reaction with mild interest. Words were powerful even in the most innocent of dialogues. In Zemo’s line of work, however, there was a significant increase in their potency. 

“What are you feeling now, Mr. Wilson?” He probed calmly. Eyes ever watchful, he monitored every muscle and vein throb that might possibly twinge. He studied Sam like a scientist might do with a lab rat. His training may have been in engineering, but his mind worked well in either capacity. 

He turned his head to look at the doctor, nodding his head to command a raise of the voltage, then returned to watch his patient. Zemo’s lip curled as he thought of the next word in the sequence, this would certainly bring about a reaction.

He screamed, for the first time, when Zemo increased the voltage yet again, when the pain became too unbearable, and through his own shouts he heard a word, a name, that shook him. He couldn't identify exactly why the word affected him so, but he saw, in his mind, his parents, his mother, and his siblings, and then he saw nothing. He heard screams, those of present day, and of the past, the violence that had torn his family apart and that had changed his life so drastically. 

“Just... stop it.” He managed, his jaw clenched, unable to get the image out of his head. A burst of anger swept through him, an uncontrollable rage and a need to hit something, to hurt... And this feeling was not as unfamiliar as he would have liked to believe. 

“No kidding,” Sam managed, “Except have you considered the trend of motivations based on revenge always getting the short end of the metaphorical stick?” He wasn’t really in a position to talk back, he knew, but he’d never been able to give up the last word. Steve hadn’t been able to get it out of him, and Zemo sure as hell wasn’t going to. 

But he was finding it harder to open his mouth, much less think, as his whole body felt like it was slowly setting itself on fire. He’d been through worse, of course, but it didn’t change the fact that there was noting he could do about it. What hurt more, was that this was all his fault: allowing himself to get caught was a rookie mistake and letting Zemo get to him was an even bigger foul. 

“I will not let you use that against me…” he repeated, “It wasn’t real. It was Red Skull. It wasn’t-” Vigoare. “That’s not real. It’s not me.” He was thinking this, and yet, he was not believing it. “If you don’t take responsibility for your actions, what kind of hero are you? They weren’t my actions. Really?” Sam pulled, very uselessly, against the restraints, “It’s not me.”

@the13thsuperior

The curl of his lip shifted slightly upwards again. That Sam was trying so hard to remain alert and strong was amusing, to say the least. It would prove worthless in the end. The programming set in place by Red Skull was nearly fool proof. Which is why Zemo used the shooting and the electric shocks, as well as the codes.

“Humor suits you, Mr. Wilson,” Zemo commented idly as he signaled to the doctor to raise the level by a half again. “I will be sure to allow you to keep that. It will work for the plan.”

Zemo didn’t seem like anyone who would be anything but serious, and this scared Sam. He didn’t want to be anything like Zemo and he did not want Zemo’s approval for anything he did.

A blinding pain shot through his body. Sam felt as though every bone in his body was simultaneously breaking and, for some reason, all he could think about, was HYDRA, and Zemo. And his childhood. Every mistake he’d ever made, every bad decision, every life he’d taken accidentally, was becoming him, and consuming him in this pain and he couldn’t stop it. 

Nouä.

And then, there was sadness too, of all the loss he’d endured, all of the people he couldn’t save, and what had turned him away. Even the good memories, the ones he remembered like heavily faded dreams were consumed by pain and hatred and anger. 

Sam’s increased struggles with the first protocol word caused the smallest tug at the corner of Zemo’s lip. This would not be a fight the Avenger could win. Red Skull had made sure of that. “Raise the level by a half.” He ordered without looking at the doctor.

Once again, the physician fought with himself. Though, as before, the desire to live easily overcame the draw to medical ethics. As he raised the level the doctor silently sighed. Ignoring medical ethics had gotten him and the others in the room removed from their previous positions. None of them had clean hands.

Zemo watched as the extra energy attacked Sam, continuing the stalking circle. A slight increase of the height of the pull on his lip later, he opened his mouth to release the second of the ten words Johann Schmidt used to control Sam’s mind. “Vigoare.” This one, Zemo supposed, would bring back memories.

____________________

“No kidding,” Sam managed, “Except have you considered the trend of motivations based on revenge always getting the short end of the metaphorical stick?” He wasn’t really in a position to talk back, he knew, but he’d never been able to give up the last word. Steve hadn’t been able to get it out of him, and Zemo sure as hell wasn’t going to. 

But he was finding it harder to open his mouth, much less think, as his whole body felt like it was slowly setting itself on fire. He’d been through worse, of course, but it didn’t change the fact that there was noting he could do about it. What hurt more, was that this was all his fault: allowing himself to get caught was a rookie mistake and letting Zemo get to him was an even bigger foul. 

“I will not let you use that against me…” he repeated, “It wasn’t real. It was Red Skull. It wasn’t-” Vigoare. “That’s not real. It’s not me.” He was thinking this, and yet, he was not believing it. “If you don’t take responsibility for your actions, what kind of hero are you? They weren’t my actions. Really?” Sam pulled, very uselessly, against the restraints, “It’s not me.”

Zemo turned his attention towards the doctor, giving the hired physician a subtle nod. With the assassination of the nurse, the doctor knew better than to disobey or act in ignorance. He placed his hand on a dial and twisted it to the first position, releasing waves of electricity at twenty second intervals. It would not kill Sam, though the constant surging of energy would cause a fair bit of pain for Sam’s still healing body.

Watching this, arms clasped behind his back, Zemo’s expression remained blank. The Avenger would fight, of this Zemo was sure, but eventually, the pain would force submission. Though sometimes a helping hand was needed in such matters, “Nume.”

Just as with the Winter Soldier, Red Skull had crafted a series of seemingly unrelated words that melding together would draw Sam back into the alter ego that had been created for him once upon a time, and give Zemo complete control over the newest Captain America. The time for a change of the tides had come.

_________________________________________

“Whatever we did...” Sam said through gritted teeth, “We did for the good of humanity. I’m sorry if it didn’t go down how you... how it... how it should have, but collateral damage was never the goal in mind.” He squeezed his eyes shut, going through the motions, trying to stay relaxed as every muscle in his body tensed. The Soviets were not kidding around. Not that he ever joked about serous things...

“We may not be perfect, but the Avengers were never out to hurt anyone. Never out to kill innocent people. There were times we screwed up, but unlike...” he paused, having trouble forming his words, wrapping his head around his sentences... his brain was on fire. “Unlike some Nazi-based organisations, I won’t.. name names... We. don’t. Not for personal gain for for some, some sick vendetta against...” Something in Zemo’s poison was meddling with his brain, making it harder to think, to rationalise. Sam found himself unable to do anything but think about where he was and listen to the sounds of the machines around him and something about Zemo’s voice. It was familiar.

“Nume.”

No. Where had he heard that before? Back. Way back. His thoughts were muddled. Red. Hydra. Snap. Brooklyn. Mob. Skull. Hydra... “NO!” Sam yelled, forcing himself to meet Zemo’s gaze, forcing his eyes open, despite whatever was keeping his mind incoherent and despite the pain... “I will not... You will not use that against me... Will not-” More to himself than anyone else, but Sam was thinking more clearly now. He knew what this was.

Zemo raised a brow but otherwise made no movement or attempt to interrupt Sam’s ramblings. The Avenger’s sarcasm was not lost on the superior man, but Zemo cared little for Sam’s pitiful whining. The man was annoying, to be sure, but with the right stimulation, would prove to be a formidable pawn. Zemo enjoyed collecting pawns. Used in just the right way they could be most effective. Which is exactly why Sam had been brought here.

“The first thing we shall do is improve your speech. Vulgarities and indolent language such that you use is for the ignorant masses. Your English language holds so many words that do not get used because you and your country men are, for the most part, incredibly dull. If you are going to insult me further, Mr. Wilson, I would suggest you consult a dictionary and improve your intelligence beyond that of a four year old.”

He turned to the doctors, eyes flicking towards the wires attached to various electrodes placed in carefully selected positions across Sam’s body. Looking back to the lead doctor, hands still calmly tucked behind his back. “Start the procedure now, Doctor. Raise the shock value to level one to begin. We do not want to overly stimulate our guest too soon.”

One of the nurses opened her mouth to protest, but closed it. Zemo, catching the action, rolled his eyes in annoyance. Reaching to remove the small pistol at his side he raised it up and shot the nurse in the head. She dropped and the others stared wide eyed between her and Zemo. “Any other protestations, or can we proceed as I have instructed?”

“Hmm, give me a second while I come up with synonyms for “evil son-of-a-bitch,” Sam retorted sarcastically, “Villainous asshat, nefarious moron, detestable excuse for a human being... You know what, my sincerest apologies for not insulting you properly.” He rolled his eyes, trying not to let his anger get the better of him and failing spectacularly. “I don’t make a habit of wasting words on someone who attacks me or the people I care about. And you’ve already shown yourself to disregard every ounce of possible human decency, so pardon me for not choosing my insults more carefully.” He hated being talked to like a child, especially by Zemo, who it was clear, wasn’t going to acknowledge him at all and Sam was starting to think this was bigger than just a revenge ploy.

“Start the procedure now, Doctor. Raise the shock value to level one to begin. We do not want to overly stimulate our guest too soon.”

Oh shit. Not this again. Was Zemo just going to sit here and torture him? Did he think Sam was just going to break? "You know you’re not helping your whole “cliche villain” case,” Sam pointed out, almost to distract himself from his own thoughts. His head was spinning. There was a lot running through at the moment, the overwhelming element being that he was not going to get fucked around with by HYDRA or any HYDRA wannabe. Zemo might have unnerved him, but he was not going to break him, and Sam was certainly going to do whatever he could to make sure that didn’t happen. But there was no talking his way out of this now, which meant he needed a miracle or a stroke of luck and it was not looking good at the moment. 

He didn’t say anything when the gun shot went off, or when the woman fell. And so it began, he thought, for the first time truly scared. He didn’t care if Zemo tortured him, he could hurt him all he wanted, but as soon as he started killing innocent people, there was no chance. “Don’t do that,” Sam began, his voice calm, and more steady than it had been in all of their conversation, “Whatever you want, whatever twisted plan you have, keep the bystanders out of it. If this is about Rogers, or the Avengers, keep it between us, but there’s no need for innocent lives to be lost.” Sam was grabbing at straws, but his tone was confident, “You know that more than most, I’m sure.”

‘Captain America’ Found Dead.

Suspected HYDRA Involvement; S.H.I.E.L.D. is Silent. Steve Rogers Return and Where is Tony Stark?

Zemo frowned down at the newspaper. The lackey responsible for this overly late delivery would be shot. There was no excuse for the tardiness and misplacement that resulted in this particular paper being delivered to Zemo’s desk two weeks after it was printed. He set it aside and rose from his seat, walking out the door and requesting the man in charge of his mail be brought to him promptly. In the meantime, he had other priorities to attend to.

After a short walk that took him down a few more levels of the converted warehouse that served as a paper printing company as a front, Zemo entered the room at the end of a long corridor. Doctors and medical assistants filed around, all monitoring various machines and charts pertaining to the man lying asleep on a bed in the center of the room. Sam Wilson would be the first of many trophies Zemo collected as he continued to slowly tear the regrowing Avengers apart. 

Movement in the room stilled as he stepped further into the space, walking up to the side of the bed. His hands resting behind his back, he looked over at the lead doctor. “How soon will he be ready enough for the procedure?” While he may have asked the question, his tone let them know in no uncertain terms that the answer best be positive.

“I believe he’s ready now,” the lead doctor answered hastily. The other medical personnel shared expressions of doubtfulness of Sam’s readiness. They did not agree with the doctor’s assessment, but they all- the lead included- shared the same desire to live. 

“Good, rouse him. I want him awake for this process.”

The doctor nodded, signalling to his assistants with more subtle nods of his head to acquiesce and give their employer what he asked for regardless of personal opinions. One of the assistants administered a drug to wake him, slowly emptying the syringe into Sam’s IV.

There wasn’t much to see from where he was strapped down. There were bright lights and metal and dark looming walls... oh, and Zemo’s stupid, evil face. “I would say the same, but I took an oath and that would be a lie,” he responded, voice low, trying to sound threatening and realising that it was fairly futile from his position. “You know, if you wanted to bring me to your creepy dungeon, you could have just asked,” he added, sarcastically. He tried to move the arm where the bullet, laced with whatever the fuck Zemo had concocted, had entered just to the right of the shoulder blade. 

“You could have killed me,” Sam pointed out, angry with himself more than he was with Zemo. He had let this happen. And now everything he’d talked about with Steve and Carol and the rest of the Avengers was going to be useless if he didn’t hold his game together. “-And it would have been easier than whatever you have planned. I’m no side kick, you son of a bitch.”

Sam sighed, “A mutant friend of ours named Henry McCoy who I worked closely with in the fight against HOPE, hinted at a team of heroes should the Avengers be disbanded. I’m not sure of all of the details myself, and I haven’t committed to anything, but it’s a fall back should S.H.I.E.L.D. fail to have our backs.” He took a drink, trying not to sound too cynical and failing miserably, “As for why S.H.I.E.L.D. is helping us, I assume it’s for their own gain although I’m not positive. Coulson and Fury haven’t contacted me for months although they’ve supposedly been working through agents in the higher up ranks. We’ll see where that goes but until S.H.I.E.L.D. drops the “mysterious” act, we won’t get anywhere.”

“As for the mutants, HOPE was experimenting. Some sick stuff, and on top of that, they had government backing from some corrupt politician who shot himself when he realised he couldn’t win. I wasn’t there for that, though. “I’m still waiting on a follow up to all of that, but reports have been coming in slowly because HOPE didn’t leave any records. They just ended so we don’t know how deep they go.”

@iminthearmynow

Steve let his eyes drift to the table. Things sounded even worse coming from Sam than they did in the papers. He felt even worse about how he’d abandoned his fractured team before in his quest to save a friend. And for what? Bucky was in the wind again, Tony had “died” only to come back, Sam had to take on Steve’s former title and try to keep some semblance of order in the chaos that stirred in the aftermath.

Sam finished his drink and leaned back, head against the wall, “When you’re ready to get back in the game, you can start by trying to contact S.H.I.E.L.D. and tell them to get their asses in gear. I think Coulson likes you more than he does me; maybe you can get through to him and get us the help we need. With all of these rumours of HYDRA returning, I think we should be extra vigilant. You never know what could happen and we have to be ready.”

 “I have an idea to reunite the Avengers,” Sam began slowly, “I know we need to because somethings coming and we’re going to need to be able to stand strong. But I would appreciate any help you can give me… Reconcile with Stark, find the Maximoff twins… Anything. I’m trying to get a hold of Fury but who knows where S.H.I.E.L.D. is at the moment. We can do this if we work together, though. Are you ready to get back into the game?”

“Stark…” She shook her head. “He’s probably best left to you. We’re still on good terms, at least as far as I know. He needs someone to extend the olive branch.” She smirked at him, flying in a quick, tight circle around him. “Besides, I can cover more ground, hopefully find the twins faster.”

Sam did a couple of loops before landing lightly, his wings folding in. It felt good to be back in his element, away from the stress and pressure he’d been under the past few months. “Carol...” he spoke abruptly, hesitating, wondering how to word this, “In the event of my departure or inability to serve as a leader for the team, I was wondering if you’d do the honours. I’m not planning to kick it anytime soon, but I like to have a back up just in case. I’ve been thinking about this, but ever since HOPE, it’s made me realise how... prepared we need to be. For whatever comes our way.”