wicked games | steve rogers [2]

1

WICKED GAMES,
CHAPTER ONE

PERCY WAS COLD. He was cold and alone and afraid. He didn't know where he was. He didn't know where he came from. He'd lived his life, if this could even be called that, in a tiny white room for days on end. They would come in with food, check his vitals, and then leave. Day in and day out like clockwork. They wouldn't talk to him. They wouldn't answer his questions.

And now, they'd shoved him out into the world alone. It's the middle of the night and the city is still busy, crawling with life. Percy's bare feet tapped against the concrete as he walked, rubbing his upper arms for warmth. The shirt they'd given him was long sleeved, but it was thin and practically useless.

He didn't know where he was going until he got there. It was a familiar path, and forgotten all the same. Although that could be due to the fact that it had been forever since he walked anywhere. When you were dead, you didn't really need to go anywhere. You just existed, and technically you weren't even doing that.

He pressed the button once he was in the elevator, and the words of where his body was taking him finally came to mind. Tony Stark's office. How exactly does he know Tony? The memory is fuzzy and distant, but he was sure that it would come to him soon. Everything had been coming to him in a dizzying blur of colors and disembodied voices.

He knocks on the door, and he's not sure why exactly he's so sure that someone will answer him, but some part of his memory insists on it, so he obeys. The door swung open and a dark haired man stood on the other side. There were bags under his rounded, dark brown eyes and he somehow looked tired and wide awake all at the same time. Percy would guess that they were about the same height. The man's thin lips parted in surprise as took Percy in, his eyes scanning him from top to bottom. It couldn't be. "If you're a skrull playing some kind of a sick joke, it's not funny. Wearing my dead friend's face isn't funny, it's twisted. And I have important work to do."

He moved to shut the door, but Percy stopped it with surprising speed - and strength. Since when could he do that? "No, Tony it's me. I'm actually Percy. And I'm kind of scared and lost, and I didn't know where else to go."

Tony's brow twitched. "I already told you this isn't funny."

"Then it's a good thing that neither of us are laughing", Percy responded, still not removing his hand from the door.

For a moment, Tony was lost in thought, somewhere far away in a long forgotten memory. "Knock it off, Percy, this isn't funny. I'm working." "If it's not funny then it's a good thing neither of us is laughing." Tong stepped away from the door. "Come inside, quick, before someone sees you." Percy stepped inside, and Tony studied the South Korean man before him. He looked like Percy. He talked like him. Maybe it was genuinely his friend. "How are you here, Percy?"

"I don't know", Percy admitted. "These people - apparently they stole my body the day of the funeral and kept it the whole time for this experiment. I don't know who they are or what they want. They just kicked me out when they were don't monitoring me, I guess."