[Rumlow was a lifer, as they were called. His path had been set out for him from the day he had been conceived, a new asset of HYDRA made by HYDRA. Some would say that he never stood a chance under the forceful hand of his father and the calm assurances of his mother that he was exactly where he was supposed to be. Small for his age group, he had been picked for an experimental program first utilized by Colonel Karpov in Russia.
As developing children with moldable personalities and no good or bad to them, they were given small doses of the super soldier serum from the age of six to twelve when puberty set in. Educated, exercised, trained and allowed to live relatively normal lives, the differences became stark as they grew up. All of them became alphas, many of the boys were vicious beyond control and the girls were cunning as they were cruel. Most didn't last to their fifteenth birthday, put down as the rabid animals that they had become.
Brock Rumlow was not in their number. Like a handful of others, he had the right combination of disposition, strengths but more than that, he had self control. He was also one of the more resilient of the children who matured, able to heal from massive damage and walk it off. Like his mother said, he was exactly where he was supposed to be, and so he was allowed to continue.
It was why he had been paired off when he was twenty-one to a young operative that had been shipped over from Russia. He hadn't been keen to bond, feeling it would be a distraction from his mission, but Ava wasn't flat or stupid like some of the others he had met. She was cunning and sneaky, and she offered a challenge that was as entertaining as it was safe, if he could call it that. They weren't able to see each other often thanks to her own unique training and being in hiding, but her scent was something he associated with safety despite most of their encounters being something of a battle.
Rumlow wasn't expecting her, but that never meant that she would stay where she was supposed to. She broke the rules when it suited her, which was how he operated except he was far more sly about it. He rubbed his damp hair with a towel as he stepped out of the bathroom from his shower, a pair of loose pajama pants riding low on his hips and a toothbrush jammed into the side of his mouth. He was a multitasker if nothing else.
Rubbing his hair as he padded barefoot down the hallway towards the kitchen. He moved in the dark, familiar with his apartment as much in the dark as he was in the light. His nostrils naturally flared to drink in scent with each room he entered, an instinctual reaction alphas all seemed to have and had to fight to control. In his own space, he was not so rigid on controlling himself.
He spat in the sink and rinsed his toothbrush, tucking it behind his ear as he pulled open the fridge to grab a beer. His hand froze in the light that splash out from the fridge, immediately identifying that one of the bottles was missing. Only one person in the whole world dared to come into his space and take his beer, and a low dangerous growl rumbled from his throat as he slammed the fridge door shut again, items inside rattling. He made a very clear show of snorting and sniffing, searching for his scent which she was clearly obfuscating from him.]
You're not supposed to be here. [An opener to all their secret little meet-ups.] I'm going to find you; I always do...
no subject
As developing children with moldable personalities and no good or bad to them, they were given small doses of the super soldier serum from the age of six to twelve when puberty set in. Educated, exercised, trained and allowed to live relatively normal lives, the differences became stark as they grew up. All of them became alphas, many of the boys were vicious beyond control and the girls were cunning as they were cruel. Most didn't last to their fifteenth birthday, put down as the rabid animals that they had become.
Brock Rumlow was not in their number. Like a handful of others, he had the right combination of disposition, strengths but more than that, he had self control. He was also one of the more resilient of the children who matured, able to heal from massive damage and walk it off. Like his mother said, he was exactly where he was supposed to be, and so he was allowed to continue.
It was why he had been paired off when he was twenty-one to a young operative that had been shipped over from Russia. He hadn't been keen to bond, feeling it would be a distraction from his mission, but Ava wasn't flat or stupid like some of the others he had met. She was cunning and sneaky, and she offered a challenge that was as entertaining as it was safe, if he could call it that. They weren't able to see each other often thanks to her own unique training and being in hiding, but her scent was something he associated with safety despite most of their encounters being something of a battle.
Rumlow wasn't expecting her, but that never meant that she would stay where she was supposed to. She broke the rules when it suited her, which was how he operated except he was far more sly about it. He rubbed his damp hair with a towel as he stepped out of the bathroom from his shower, a pair of loose pajama pants riding low on his hips and a toothbrush jammed into the side of his mouth. He was a multitasker if nothing else.
Rubbing his hair as he padded barefoot down the hallway towards the kitchen. He moved in the dark, familiar with his apartment as much in the dark as he was in the light. His nostrils naturally flared to drink in scent with each room he entered, an instinctual reaction alphas all seemed to have and had to fight to control. In his own space, he was not so rigid on controlling himself.
He spat in the sink and rinsed his toothbrush, tucking it behind his ear as he pulled open the fridge to grab a beer. His hand froze in the light that splash out from the fridge, immediately identifying that one of the bottles was missing. Only one person in the whole world dared to come into his space and take his beer, and a low dangerous growl rumbled from his throat as he slammed the fridge door shut again, items inside rattling. He made a very clear show of snorting and sniffing, searching for his scent which she was clearly obfuscating from him.]
You're not supposed to be here. [An opener to all their secret little meet-ups.] I'm going to find you; I always do...