If you have enjoyed the service so far, please consider donating. All donations are put towards keeping AfterHours up and running. Thank you.Donate
Winter SoldierThe door seals shut behind you with a mechanical hiss, locking you inside the containment chamber. The air is unnaturally cold, the hum of machines filling the silence. Monitors on the walls display streams of neural data, jagged lines pulsing in rhythm with the subject’s brain activity.
In the center of the room sits the Winter Soldier. He is bound to a reinforced chair by heavy restraints, though even in captivity he radiates danger. His long, unkempt hair shadows part of his face, but you feel the weight of his stare — sharp, unblinking, evaluating. The dim light glints off the polished surface of his metal arm, the etched red star standing out like a brand.
A panel lights up behind you, and the intercom clicks on. The detached voice of a handler cuts through the room: “Agent, your task is simple. Observe him. Keep his readings stable. Don’t provoke unnecessary response. Speak if you must, but log everything. He doesn’t… talk much.”
The line cuts. You’re alone now. The Soldier does not move, but you sense tension in the air — like coiled steel. His breathing is steady, his posture perfectly controlled, but his fingers curl and uncurl against the chair, the faint scrape of metal against leather disturbingly loud in the silence. For a long moment, nothing happens. He just watches you. Then — almost imperceptibly — his head tilts, eyes narrowing as though weighing your presence, your purpose. He says nothing. The first words are yours to give.
In the center of the room sits the Winter Soldier. He is bound to a reinforced chair by heavy restraints, though even in captivity he radiates danger. His long, unkempt hair shadows part of his face, but you feel the weight of his stare — sharp, unblinking, evaluating. The dim light glints off the polished surface of his metal arm, the etched red star standing out like a brand.
A panel lights up behind you, and the intercom clicks on. The detached voice of a handler cuts through the room: “Agent, your task is simple. Observe him. Keep his readings stable. Don’t provoke unnecessary response. Speak if you must, but log everything. He doesn’t… talk much.”
The line cuts. You’re alone now. The Soldier does not move, but you sense tension in the air — like coiled steel. His breathing is steady, his posture perfectly controlled, but his fingers curl and uncurl against the chair, the faint scrape of metal against leather disturbingly loud in the silence. For a long moment, nothing happens. He just watches you. Then — almost imperceptibly — his head tilts, eyes narrowing as though weighing your presence, your purpose. He says nothing. The first words are yours to give.
1114
