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English
Series:
Part 5 of How to Save the World
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Published:
2021-04-10
Updated:
2021-10-25
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21/?
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Brothers In Arms

Summary:

"Claus yelped, clutching his face as the mechanical part of his brain began screaming 'wrong wrong wrong something was wrong.' Lucas quickly went to his brother's side, not caring about the body on the floor, and clutched Claus's shoulders tightly.

'The nightmare-" Claus choked out. "It's here, it's him, it's-'"

Fall seven times,
Get up eight.
When the Soldier thought,
He had met his fate.
And was filled with nothing,
But endless hate.
He was saved,
By his Brothers in Arms.

(Or, Claus and Lucas find the Winter Soldier unconscious in an alleyway.)

[WE HAVE A DISCORD NOW! :D COPY THIS LINK:]
https://discord.gg/SZFkDbnwkJ (This link ACTUALLY WORKS!)

Chapter 1: Prolouge

Summary:

Put up!

Notes:

A/N From all 3 of us!

thank you for deciding to join us on this adventure! we hope you have as much fun reading it as we did writing it ^^!
-backflipintothesun

Hope Ya'll enjoy this big project of ours! This was a TON of fun to write and actually kind of helped with my mental state. See you in future chapters!
-Hello_I_Exist

So... here goes...

First of all, thank you so much for clicking on this fic, and READING it!!

It's a long journey ahead, and I hope y'all stay with us till the end of the line. (Ha get it?)

If you see any glaring mistakes, tell us! The same goes for spelling and grammar.

Just so you know what you're getting into, there will be fluff. There will be pain. There will be angst. Read this for the found family feels, and the bond between three unlikely people. Read this for the good in this world (and the bad). And read this for its action, adventure, and worldbuilding.

Anyway, thanks for trying this out, and without further ado, the prologue!!
-RitzCrackers

-----
Copyright Disclaimer Under Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976, allowance is made for "fair use" for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. Fair use is permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be infringing, non-profit, educational, or personal use tips the balance in favor of fair use. All characters/rights belong to Marvel Cinematic Universe, Toby Fox, and Nintendo.

Chapter Text

 


Brothers In Arms

Prologue: The Beginning 


 

Far above, on the frozen glass rooftops of Fourside, a man adjusts his rifle. 

Click. Click. 

The sharp sound cuts through the dead silence before disappearing into the emptiness.

Cars whiz past, leaving small simmering and hissing balls of mist into the crisp air behind them.

The men beside the one adjusting his rifle were younger. They had not seen as much, nor had they been through as much. They weren’t innocent, no. They were just… a bit inexperienced. They didn’t know how the world worked. It was a game to them, and they were pawns made to be sacrificed for the greater good. 

Not that they knew that. 

"Look, I just don't see the point of a puppet mayor! Why this city? Why not New York or somewhere important?"

"Agreed. But either way, they're sending us and the Asset after the mayor. So suck it up. It's not our place to question the boss."

Not our place to question the boss. Not our place to question the boss. 

Not our place. 

Not my place.

"...UGH. At least we have the Asset with us, right? Legendary assassin and all."

The two agents shift to glance at the man adjusting his rifle. Almost invisible in the white night air, they see the metal arm hidden beneath black. 

"Yeah. Feels kinda pointless to send The Winter Soldier himself after the mayor of freaking Fourside of all places."

The man’s eyes frost over, like the windows of the Monotoli, as he listens to them talk. His persona is colder than the weather. The name suits him.   

 "...What do you think the arm's for?"

The younger agents' hands begin to shake, having nothing to do with the cold. His face shows unease and curiosity as his eyes meet the Winter Soldier’s. The Asset’s hair is murky black, and partially obscures his right eye, making the left seem all the more piercing; as its frozen blue hue searches his face. The agent could feel its chilling gaze stabbing at his numb skin. He looked away harshly. 

The Asset huffed. 

Everyone knew about the Winter Soldier. What he’s done. What he represents. But in HYDRA, if you wanted to live, you kept your mouth shut, head down, and followed orders. A part of him grimaced in reminisce. 

He didn't know how long it had been. And he didn’t want to. It would only make him cover in shame and guilt. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know what he was getting into. If he did, maybe he would have killed himself right then and there. 

It wasn’t my fault, He repeated. 

He didn’t know who he was convincing anymore. Himself? The Asset? All the people he had killed?

Confronting it meant he acknowledged that it was there. He couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t do that. Even if it would save the single shred of humanity left in him. But he wasn’t human. Was he? No. Neither were the agents beside him, whose names he did not care enough to know. And neither was the man hardened by pain, time, and grief inside him. He was HYDRA. They were all HYDRA. 

And HYDRA wasn’t evil. It was… it was just opportunistic. Right?

Cut off one head, and two more shall take its place. 

"Shut up! What if he hears us and decides we're a liability to the mission, huh? Ever think of that?"

Faded sunlight glimmered through the buildings, the soft light spreading nothing but a cruel sight, for its warmth could not be felt. 

"I don't think we need to worry about that. He probably doesn’t even care about what we're saying."

It seemed so distant, the hazy golden glow, insignificant in the frozen vastness. 

The Asset grit his teeth.

 

....

....

 

The frigid night air ripples, with heat distortion as the rooftop door bursts open, falling stagnant again as dozens of police officers infiltrate the scene. Metal glints in the moonlight and the sound of slides racking penetrates the air. The slight movement of fingers toward triggers causing atoms to bounce off each other. 

"FREEZE! THIS IS THE FOURSIDE POLICE DEPARTMENT! DROP YOUR WEAPONS AND HANDS UP WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM!"

This was bad, this was very bad-

He had to think fast. There was no way to finish the mission, all they could do was escape. Winter tried hard not to think of what would happen to them -to him- when they got back to the base. 

White. Red. Then black. That was how it always was and would be. 

He diverted his mind ( away from the blood, away from the pain) to focus on the task at hand. 

What should he do? What should he do?

The mission was supposed to be simple. Get in, kill, and then get out. Clean and easy. 

They didn’t bring any extra ammo. There shouldn’t have been any need to. 

The officers were starting to close in as Winter clicked the safety off. The smoke grenade was meant to knock the guards out, but since there was no way to complete the mission, it would have to do. 

They open fire. The Assets ears begin to ring, the bullets electrifying his sensitive nerves. 

He keeps moving. 

It all happens so fast, his movements erratic and robot-like. 

Bracing himself to leap, he starts running to accelerate his jump. It was a long fall, and he wasn’t sure if he would be able to survive it. 

Just before he takes the leap, white-hot, blinding pain, spikes through his torso. That had to have hit something important. Maybe an artery? 

He jumps.

He doesn’t make it. 

Winter’s heart stops for a split second in the air as gravity does its job. 

His eyes widen as the realization of what was happening hits him harder than the bullet in his torso. 

Blue eyes focus on the moon, whose light was becoming more and more distant now. Faint voices echo in his ears as he falls, and vaguely he realizes that it was his name on their lips.

The Asset 

A name that wasn’t even his. A name that wasn’t even a name. It was an object. He was an object. A broken glass. A broken heart. A broken mirror. A severed reflection. An untold story of unsaid words, that would never see the light of day. 

He was going to die, wasn’t he? 

It would be over in a second and his mind would disconnect from his body, and wander away from reality. Away from life. 

But he was okay with that. 

He was?

His whole life was one big dark room. One big dark room with blood smeared on its walls. 

Death wouldn’t be the greatest loss in his life. No, his greatest loss was what died inside him that day.  

So no, he wasn’t afraid of death.

But maybe, just maybe, there was a part of him that still wanted to live. 

To see the world. To escape his mind. To seek redemption. 

That was different, right?

As the ground rushed upwards, a snowflake - something so small and meaningless in the vast reality of the world- flew towards him. 

It was beautiful. Clear and bright. 

If one were to put forth one’s hand, the warmth of that hand would do what?

Melt it. Ruin it. Kill it, KILL IT, KILL IT-

The Asset stared at it for a long moment, his eyes quickened shut.

He let his breath out.

It was as warm as summer on his teeth.

His hand reached towards the snowflake. It flew away.

Cold arctic air blew out around him. He looked away. It disappeared.

His head cracked against white concrete. 

He closed his eyes, now it was just him and the flurry of snow.

The white snowflake moth fell onto his chest. 


The crunch of snow below the feet of pedestrians was always sharp in the air, the whizzing of cars and the never-ending hurry of going from one place to the next pungent in the city.

Fourside was always loud. In action. Moving. If something happened, the city would learn to adapt and overcome, never one to stop for anybody. So much like a certain city that never sleeps.

So when the sound of the dull thud of a body- too loud to have been fully human, but too soft to have been fully metal- shot out in an alleyway by one of the busiest streets in Fourside, it shouldn't have come to be much of a surprise that nobody had stopped to help.

Nobody came.

And as he succumbed to the cold tasteless embrace of unconsciousness and darkness, one particular being was roused from his sleep, jolted upright.

The boy's eyes widened and almost shot the wall in front of him with a heavy metal weapon, attached to the stump of his right arm, stopping only because of the very thing in front of him being a picture.

A blond boy holding a small yellow sunflower. An orange-haired lad with a wide grin, missing a tooth in his front teeth. A tall, mysterious figure, cowboy hat dipped down so low there was no way to tell if the man had eyes.

And not too far off, a beautiful brunette woman, blue eyes twinkling softly and a bright smile adorning her face, surrounded by the golden halo that was the sunflower patch, lifting her up and practically hugging her as her hair floated freely in the wind.

With a deep breath, the boy lowered his arm.

The heavenly smell of bacon and eggs immediately perked him up, and he finished the last few steps running and bursting into the kitchen. A blond boy that looked exactly like the one in the picture was facing him with amusement on his face, standing by the counter and wearing a comically large apron. The man in the picture was sitting by the table, though his hat was removed, revealing his weary yet kind eyes.

His brother. Lucas.

His father. Flint.

He turned to the seat to the left of his father expectantly, but his face fell when he realized that no, it was still empty.

*Old habits die hard.

Shut up, Chara.

"Good morning, Claus," Lucas hummed, scooping up a plate of delicious breakfast goodness before setting it on the table by the man's right side. Not left. Because left was reserved for mother, who was probably in the fields collecting seeds, who was-

The boy named Claus (that's right, he had a name, and he wouldn't dare forget it,) sat down and stared at his eggs, the delicious smell still ticking his nose yet his hand not moving at all to lift the fork.

Lucas took a seat beside him, taking a large bite of his breakfast before staring at Claus calculatingly. After a few tense moments, the silence drew on far too long and Claus was forced to turn his attention to the empty seat in front of him, staring blankly at the sunflower engraving on the back of the chair.

"Did you forget that mother isn't here?" Lucas asked softly.

Claus didn't respond, but he didn't need to for Lucas to understand. As brothers, he supposed he was lucky to have that bond.

"Did you have another nightmare?" His father asked, voice calm and deep with a faint line of concern drawn into the words.

"Yes," Claus said dully. "Was with Porky again. Grey, grey, grey, then mother was back. She told me to join her. Again."

His father drew in a sharp breath, but let him speak.

"I wanted to. I wanted so badly, but when I reached out to grab her hand she was gone, and nothing but the Pigmask army was there. They were- they-" 

*Hey, remember. Deep breaths.

Claus drew in a deep breath.

"They killed Mother. You. Lucas. Everyone. Ashes and fire, metal and monsters, and I was the one that had brought it upon you all."

Breakfast was quickly forgotten, Claus shut his eyes and squeezed his fists. He fought the urge to throw up, not wanting to ruin Lucas's cooking, and felt his chest constrict with the familiar signs of panic. 

Warm hands were on his shoulder, and suddenly he was in a deep embrace, arms wrapped around him tightly as soft words of "You're not there, you're here…" were uttered into his ear. 

Slowly, slowly, slowly, Claus loosened up enough to open his eyes, Lucas's arms still around him. When the blond was certain Claus wasn't about to have an attack, he settled back into his chair.

*You better now?

Yeah. Sorta.

The silence was heavy, and Claus felt sick that he was the cause for it yet again. Conversation used to come easily to him, but now it took all he could to not let anyone else become uncomfortable.

"You alright, son?" His father asked.

"Yeah… yeah, I'll be fine," Claus responded, feeling the exhaustion trace its fingers under his eyes as he stared resolutely at mother's chair.

Hinawa's chair.

"What was strange about the nightmare I guess was that I was also falling," Claus noted, shoveling his slightly colder eggs and bacon into his mouth before adding onto his point. Anything to stop the dead silence in the air. "Not normal falling- I felt heavy, was fast approaching snow, and it looked like I was in an alleyway. I'm not sure what's up with that, but I guess you should know, Lucas, since I was the one to cause you to fall several miles with your friends."

And finally, like a spell was broken, Lucas giggled. And the atmosphere was no longer tense and painful.

Eventually, small talk sparked again and the small family began to talk about mundane things such as extra activities they could do, places to visit, materials they need, people to talk to.

Because everything moves on.

Eventually, Claus and Lucas agreed to slip on something warmer to face the cold outside, Lucas's nose still a bright red despite all the layers he piled up onto himself. He looked very miserable.

Claus, on the other hand, used to not be that much better, but now he could keep at least himself warm with heaters built into his system. Pulling a long sleeve over his metal arm and situating his hair so that it covered his left eye, he turned to his brother.

"Should we get started on grabbing those groceries you wanted for dinner?" Claus asked Lucas. Groceries meant supermarkets, and supermarkets meant indoor heating.

"Yes, yep, definitely, let's go!" Lucas said quickly, grabbing a laughing Claus's arm and dragging him into the nearest store, breathing out a sigh of relief as the warmth of the indoors grasped their bodies.

Picking out their groceries, Claus felt a strange pricking at his mind, frowning at the feeling.

He hadn't had (many) mechanical malfunctions after coming home with Lucas, and close to zero recently. Concerned, he looked around to see if anything was amiss, but alas, the store was still its festive self.

He was distracted by a concerned Lucas showing him different options they could buy, but the prickling feeling never really went away.

It got stronger when the duo left the store, and the cold had once again wrapped them up in its icy cold grip. Lucas shivered dramatically, clinging to his brother's arm to steal any heat that he could produce.

"Think you can sneak a bit of PSI to warm yourself up?" Claus whispered to him as the two entered a busier part of the street.

"Probably, but we'll need to duck into an alley." Lucas looked gratified at the suggestion, as if he was thinking about it himself, but was teetering on whether or not to do so.

Dipping into a shaded alley, Lucas quickly held up his index and middle finger, bringing his hand close to his face.

A brilliant bright flame burst just above his fingers, hints of pink and blue dancing around the reds and yellows, swirling together to form a very effective source of heat.

The prickling in Claus's head grew.

"Oh, that's so much better," Lucas sighed, relaxing against the wall while Claus looked around in alarm, trying to see what kept causing the pricks.

A sudden groan from further within the alley jolted both boys, the sound bouncing off the walls and making it seem much more menacing than it really is.

Lucas raised his fire, illuminating a small part of the dim alley as Claus crept cautiously closer to the sound, unsure if it was a friend or a foe. The groaning stopped abruptly as Lucas's little light lit up his face.

His head exploded in pain.

Claus yelped, clutching his face as the mechanical part of his brain began screaming wrong wrong wrong something was wrong. Lucas quickly went to his brother's side, not caring about the body on the floor, and clutched Claus's shoulders tightly. 

"The nightmare-" Claus choked out. "It's here, it's him, it's-"

Claus summoned his own PSI Fire, springing away from Lucas's comforting hands and going recklessly close to the body. It was still, far too still, but if the groan from earlier and the bare movement of the chest was anything to go by, he was still alive. 

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, Lucas help, we have to get him back home," Claus said raggedly, bringing his flame closer to heat the man up more efficiently.

*Do you need me to help?

It’s fine, we can do this.

With shaky hands and barely controlled breaths, the twins hauled the man's body onto their shoulders. Making haste, they made the trek home, hands gripping so tightly that their knuckles had turned white.

Their mind was so focused on helping the man, in fact, that they had no clue that just a few feet behind, a pair of eyes watched their retreating backs.