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#ronance as buckynat tho.... hehehehe
snowangeldotmp3 · 1 year
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who the hell is robin?
(the winter soldier robin au)
(this is a mini au featuring platonic stobin and ronance! for reference; robin is the winter soldier, steve is the captain, nancy is the black widow. @suwunnysideup is the reason this exists, we got to talking abt it and i couldn't stop thinking abt it.)
They’re in broad daylight. In downtown Hawkins. Steve pants, body aching after receiving a blow from the metal arm. Nancy runs alongside him as they stare at the mysterious figure in all of the smoke and rubble. As the smoke clears, Steve catches a glimpse of a blonde bob, a familiar blonde bob. Is that…? She’s alive!  A smile spreads like wildfire across his face. Nancy hangs back, squinting to see who it is. She grabs Steve’s arm, briefly holding him in place, “Steve,” she says, voice low, “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
Steve yanks his arm free of her grasp, ignoring her warning. He gets closer to the blonde fringe, coughing through the smoke. The blonde begins to turn, and the reflection of sunlight on the metal arm nearly blinds him. His smile drops, a hard lump forming in his throat. He tries hard to swallow past it, forcing himself to speak. “Robin?” he gasps, tears brimming in his eyes and a sickening, lurching feeling in his stomach.
The blonde turns around, and Steve hears Nancy utter a soft oh my god–like a prayer. It’s her. It’s Robin! She’s alive! Oh my god. 
Except she does not recognize them. Steve can see it in the way her eyes remain emotionless, dead. But, he thinks, and maybe he’s just a little too hopeful, he thinks that when he said her name, something registered in her eyes. It’s quickly replaced though, as her eyebrows furrow, fully facing him as she says, “Who the hell is Robin?” She draws the handgun from it’s holster and aims it straight at Steve. His best friend is gone. 
Maybe not, he thinks, maybe she’s still in there.  And it’s foolish and silly and full of hope, but he knows she’s in there. How does he know? She hesitated.
(Later, when Robin is sitting on the chair of the dreaded, but routine, memory wipe machine, sitting in silence as they routinely fix her arm, pieces of her (?) memory resurface. She looks to one of the Russian guards. “That man in the middle of town,” she starts, her own voice surprising her, “who...who was he?”
“You met him earlier, on a different mission.”
This does not convince Robin. No, she thinks. Her voice hoarse from disuse surprises her once again, “I knew him…”
The guards are angry. She can tell at the way they all tense when she says this. The head guard fills her in on what she’s done, what she can accomplish. But this does not satisfy her. It is an itch that she must scratch, a scab that she must pick at. Her voice is soft, but no longer hoarse, as if the return of her memory alone has made her stronger, somehow. “But I knew him…”
This is the final straw, and she briefly hears someone shout “Prep her!”  as the rubber mouthpiece is routinely slid in her mouth and someone pushes her shoulders back, ensuring she sits properly before they place the electromagnetic plates on her skull. She clenches her teeth, waiting for the inevitable, but all she can think about before they pull the switch is; I knew him. I knew him. Don’t forget. I knew him. I knew him. I know him. 
They pull the switch, and the cycle begins again.)
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