The Strength of a Soldier: Male Reader x Pyrrha Nikos (Part I)

Chapter III: Brave New World

Additional Author's Note: I see a lot of comments about this, and I wanted to say, despite what it may seem, this story was in no way influenced by Captain America or Winter Soldier, it's purely coincidental.

General Ironwood and Winter Schnee move from their position in the observation room and step into the interrogation room. Winter closes the door behind her and stands in the back corner, hand resting close to her blade. The scuffle in the laboratory was fresh in her mind and had severely wounded her pride. (F/N) looks up at the sound of the door opening, noting the two soldiers' presence before returning his gaze to the floor.

"How are you feeling soldier?" Ironwood asks as he lowers himself into the chair across from (F/N).

(F/N) looks up, his hair falling into his eyes. "Where am I?" He asks quietly.

"You're currently on board one of Atlas' military airships." Ironwood answers.

(F/N) releases an annoyed sigh. "Atlas. Airships. I don't know what you're talking about. Why don't one of you try making yourself useful and tell me what the hell is going on."

"Watch your tone." Winter says sharply.

"Schnee." Ironwood warns, dismissing (F/N)'s attitude with a wave of his hand. "Like I told you earlier, following the end of the Great War, the Kingdom of Mantle was restructured, and the capitol moved to Atlas."

"So the assholes in the suits moved from one rich city to another. That doesn't explain what happened. It doesn't explain why I'm here."

"Tell me (F/N). What's the last thing you remember."

(F/N)'s brow furrows as he struggles to search through his memories. "Fire." He says finally. "Gunfire and explosions. Bullets tearing through the sky and... and my mother. I promised her I'd come home alive." Tears build in (F/N)'s eyes as he continues. "She begged me not to go, but I didn't listen."

"Good." Ironwood says quietly. "Do you remember what happened next?"

"I enlisted. They told me I was going to be a member of a special task force. Like special ops. But... they lied. They experimented on me. Kept me and hundreds of others locked in cages like animals. The doctors, they turned me into a weapon. I was sent out into the field and... they took my arm."

"Good." Ironwood repeats. "It's good to hear that your memories are still intact."

"But that doesn't serve me." (F/N) says. "I still don't know what happened. Why I'm here. So when are you going to start explaining."

Winter scowls at the young man sitting in the chair but Ironwood silences her once again by raising a hand.

"Mr. (L/N)..." He starts, "there's no easy way to say this. You've been asleep for a very long time."

"How long?"

Ironwood takes a brief pause before answering. "About 87 years."

(F/N) stares off into space again. An uncomfortable silence hangs in the air for several minutes before he speaks again.

"You said I was asleep." He says quietly. "What do you mean?"

"The scientists that... made you. They cryogenically froze your body, preserving you through the years."

"So that's something Mantle does now, huh?" (F/N) scoffs. "They just freeze people and thaw 'em out a hundred years later?"

"No." Ironwood says. "Atlas doesn't cryogenically freeze people. The council has always considered it to be morally wrong given the implications. But you, you were a special case."

"Why?"

"Because..." Ironwood sighs, "because you're a weapon. And as disgusting as it is, Atlas never lets go of a weapon. Especially not one like you." The General's words cause (F/N) to scowl. "I know." Ironwood says. "It's wrong. Morally corrupt. But..."

"But here I am." (F/N) says. "You can talk all you like about how what was done to me was inhumane. How no human should ever have to go through what I've gone through. But despite all your talk about morals, no matter how high and righteous you may pretend to be, I'm still sitting here. Which means you need me. You need a weapon."

"It's like I said; it's not pretty."

"No. It's not." (F/N) agrees. "But war never is."

"Official reports say you died in the last battle of the Great War. You were given the death of a war hero and history sees you as such. But a hero's work is never over. Mr. (L/N), you have already done your Kingdom a great service, and I know it's unfair, but it needs you once more. Will you be the hero Atlas needs you to be?"

"I'm not a hero." (F/N) says. "I'm a soldier. And good soldiers follow orders."

"I'm glad to hear it." Ironwood smiles. "I'll let you know when it's time to brief you." The General stands up from his seat and moves towards the door, followed by Winter.

"Before you go." (F/N) says, stopping Ironwood with his hand on the door handle. "I know it's a long shot, but... my friends, my family. Are any of them still..."

Ironwood shifts his gaze from (F/N)'s eyes.

"I see."

"I'm sorry soldier." Ironwood says before exiting the room.

"I don't like him." Winter comments upon closing the door.

"Disappointing." Ironwood sighs. "But not surprising. What's wrong with this one?"

"Where do I even begin?" Winter says sarcastically. "He's disrespectful, arrogant, rude. I thought he was supposed to be a soldier, but he has absolutely no regard for protocol. He's unprofessional, uncouth, and..."

"And a child." Ironwood interrupts. "I think you're placing too much on the poor kid."

"His age doesn't excuse his behavior. He's a soldier, just like the rest of us."

"But he isn't like the rest of us." Ironwood sighs. "Think about all he's been through. Eager to help people and turned into a weapon, and then thrown into the battlefield with the weight of the world on his shoulders. I doubt the poor kid ever really knew what it meant to be a teenager. And now this? Everyone he's ever known is dead and the Remnant he knew died with them. If anything, you should be feeling sorry for that kid. I know I do. All alone and here he is, being thrust out into a brave new world."