Chapter Text
“What, do you think that we can’t handle this?” Steve asked, the hurt and insult clear in his voice. Fury’s face was impassive and betrayed no emotion at the whine. Steve could already tell that his fellow teammates felt the same for the most part. Tony was making no attempt to conceal the discontent he was feeling, face in a frown and a half sneer on his face. Bruce had a small frown on his face, hands a knot as his fingers interlocked and clenched together as he healthily managed his frustration. Even from where he was sitting Steve could see the careful even breaths that the doctor was taking. He couldn’t get a read on Natasha - but he could get an idea from the way that Clint seemed so nervous standing next to her. As if ready to run or stop her - not that Natasha would ever let her emotions go like that. She was far too in control of herself. But the fact remained that Clint was clearly picking up something that he wasn’t.
“Don’t bring your emotions into this. We are cleaning up a mess here, and frankly we’re short staffed.” Fury said, eyes seeming to narrow just a little bit more. Steve closed his mouth, but still felt insulted at the clear distrust. “We are trying to clean out Hydra. They’re a deep stain in the world, in this city. We need all the help we can get.”
“And what exactly is this help?” Natasha was clinical in her speech, but there was a certain iciness to it that sent a shiver down Steve’s spine.
“Equipment.” Fury replied tersely. “Some technology that the military owned for a stretch of time, we’ve acquired their contracts.”
“Better be good technology.” Tony scoffed. “If it’s something that you clearly don’t think I can create.”
“It’s part of a set, but for now you will only get one of them.” He explained, not rising to Tony’s tone. “The other two we’ve given to some other teams.”
“Do we get to see this mythical weapon?” Hawkeye asked, raising an eyebrow.
“This is an expensive contract. I’m giving you this, and I’m expecting to see big results. You will become experts in using this. Do you understand?” Fury doesn’t actually wait for a response, and frankly Steve is pretty sure that if he had it would have opened him up for at least three snarky comments. “You will find it in the other room. I have other things I need to attend to.” He turned, his coat dramatically flowed behind him, as he entered the elevator.
Steve didn’t like the Shield bases. They were uncomfortable, having a sterile feel to them. He much prefered when they used Stark Tower as their base of operations - they had used it so often that it felt like a second home to him. Not that he would ever tell that to Tony, man had enough of an ego as is.
“Well, we should go and familiarize ourselves with whatever this is.” Bruce stood up, stretching. “Although I hope it’s not a weapon. That won’t be much use to me.” Steve nodded. Bruce didn’t fight when they were hunting down Hydra. Really he didn’t fight if he could avoid it, and the other’s were understanding, doing their best to keep him out of fights. Instead he helped them behind the scenes, using his mind instead of his muscles.
“Yeah, if only so I can shove it up Fury’s-”
“Tony.” Natasha said, stopping Tony in his tracks. “Do not take this personally.” Steve glanced at Clint, whose eyebrows had shot up. So clearly Natasha already was taking it personally. That was Clint’s ‘practice what you preach’ look.
“The sooner we head into the other room, the sooner we can familiarize ourselves with whatever this is. Fury’s vagueness doesn’t sit easy with me, especially if he intends for us to use this item effectively.” He followed Bruce, the other’s close behind.
It was one of the lounging/planning rooms on the base. A large screen off to the side, several couches and a coffee table. Mini fridge. Weapon’s cabinet. A large window that looked out over the city, where one could stand and contemplate as their teammates bickered about tactics before turning around dramatically and declaring their own plan of attack.
On the coffee table sat a giant wooden crate. A crowbar sitting innocently on top of it. The sides were plastered with all kinds of writings and warning in a myriad of languages. Hawkeye strode forward confidently as Bruce halted to inspect the side, picking up the crowbar and immediately getting to work on opening it.
“Woah, woah, woah!” Steve held up his hands, rushing forward. “Should we really be opening it before checking all this other stuff?” He gestured to the inscriptions. Hawkeye gave a small sigh.
“Do you really think Shield would just leave us alone in this room with something we could screw up just by the act of opening it?” He grunted as he continued to wedge the crowbar along the top piece of wood until finally it gave. “Come on, help me open our Christmas present.”
Steve hesitated for a moment, but ultimately he trusted his teammates and Clint did have a point. He grabbed the side of the wooden panel and helped to move it away. The gasp from his other teammates sent him into a state of higher alert and both him and Hawkeye quickly dropped the lid on the floor, moving over so that they could see the contents of the package. Guns? Some kind of super computer? Maybe a new found power core for things?
It was like peering into a casket. The wooden paneling. Whatever was in there wasn’t quite packaging peanuts, but did have a certain light blue coloring, and if you looked quick you could mistake them for flowers. The figure inside of the box was submerged in them. A robot made of some kind of silver, gleaming metal. Dark lines showed where metal plates met, creating geometric angular patterns across his face and around his skull. He wore a dark jumpsuit, like one of the kinds that the lower end Shield employees wore.
“A robot?” Tony let out an anguished exclamation. “Do they think I can’t make a robot?!”
“Do we turn it on?” Natasha pondered.
“Maybe they want us to deconstruct it and make more?” Bruce put his own theory into the ring, eyes intently analyzing what could be seen of the robot. A muffled sound like a humming grew louder, some kind of ticking began as well, and Natasha didn’t even cover they way that she now had a knife in her hand, probably pulled from her boot.
The robot’s eyes opened.
They were a glowing vibrant green, turning in their sockets and taking in the figures that loomed over it.
“I would prefer to stay in one piece.” It’s voice was rich and deep. As it talked it raised it’s arms out of the sea of packing materials it was submerged in. Slowly, like testing the water in a pool, it moved its elbows and then each finger individually. Seeming satisfied with its assessment the robot pulled itself into a sitting position, and then after another moment, exited the box.
The rest of Steve’s teammates moved quickly out of the way to provide space for the robot. It was wearing thick and heavy boots, and some kind of vapor came off of its body, sneaking through its joints and gaps in its plating from somewhere within it. It idly picked out a few pieces of the packing material that had stuck to its clothing, carefully put it back in the box. Each movement was stilted, as if scripted out, and though they were smooth enough it was the sudden stops and aborted look to its actions that made it not quite passing. Although while it had come out much more than a few had landed on the ground, but it didn’t do anything about those ones.
“Who are you?” Clint asked, head tilted slightly.
“What are you?” Natasha corrected. She had learned that sometimes that was the more important question.
The robot stood with perfect, eerie posture. Now that it was standing Steve could see six short fin like protrusions sticking out of the back of its uniform. From the other side of the robot he could see the way that Tony stared at it, as if he was already thinking of ways he could have made a better one. Clearly still nursing his wounded ego.
“My name is The Spine. I am an automaton currently contracted to the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. That is all that is currently relevant.” It had little inflection and little in the way of expression as it spoke. Frankly so far it was making Natasha look like a vivacious young lady full of life and energy.
“What- this is- what does Fury think we can do with this thing?” Tony asked in exasperation, throwing his hands up in the air.
“I mean it could… maybe it has a connection to Hydra? Made by them perhaps?” Bruce tried, hand on his chin.
“I was not made by Hydra. My creator is irrelevant to the current interests of Shield.” It replied, causing Bruce to jump slightly.
“And should we decide we require that information?” Natasha asked.
“At that time, should that time come, we may discuss the possibility.” The Spine said cooly.
“What can you do to help us?” Steve tried to ask it kindly, although he was fairly sure that it was lost of the robot who seemed to have the personality of a piece of toast. It looked like they had been given some kind of fairly basic soldier robot with a maybe decent AI system ingrained in it. Probably why Fury had said it was part of a set - more people to take the canon fire.
“Tactics, fighting, surveillance, technological inference.” It rattled off. After standing, it’s eyes had remained facing forward, not even turning to look at the different people that addressed it. And something about those eyes bothered Steve, though he was unable to put his finger on it.
“Nothing we can’t already do.” Clint muttered under his breath, loud enough for all of them to hear.
“Fury told us to familiarize ourselves with the technology.” Natasha said.
“So we open it up.” Tony casually let the words slip off his tongue, and for the first time something that approximated a reaction shook through the robot. An extra burst of vapor came off of it, most noticeably from its fins, and its shoulders hunched up slightly, the sound of metal clacking against metal as many of the gaps in it’s plating suddenly butted together.
“The contract that binds me to be here also prohibits any deconstruction or adjustments made to myself.” Steve didn’t miss the frustrated sigh that Tony let out at that.
“Then I guess we’ll need you to show us for yourself what you can do? Fighting seems like a good place to start.” Bruce said calmly, ever the mediator. The robot gave a small nod, the other’s muttering words of agreement.
“I guess we should get into some sparring clothes then.” Clint said, looking down at the jeans and t-shirt he was currently wearing.
“Let’s plan to meet in training room omega in about ten minutes?” Steve said, looking at the others for approval. “Alright, sounds good. And robot, uh, The Spine, will you need any help find your way?” He glanced over at the metal man. Face still largely expressionless.
“I have the map of the facilities.” The robot replied tersely.
“Sounds good - we’ll see you there tin can!” Tony declared, heading off with the other’s to their temporary rooms.
The robot began to move as well, steps deliberate and just not quite human enough. Each time a foot came in contact with the ground it kind of cushioned the fall more than an average person would. Idly Steve wondered if it was a mechanical thing or a habit it had picked up from somewhere.
It stopped though, face turning towards the window, optics within its sockets trained on the city that lay before them. And while it’s face remained the mask of neutrality that it had maintained thus far, it’s eyes… Steve knew where he had seen those eyes before. The realization came to him in a flash. They were the eyes of a man who had been through war, been through hell, and was oh so tired. And sad. In the military Steve had seen those eyes too many times, on seemingly every face he passed. And for the longest time, it was those eyes that had looked at him in the mirror every morning.
Maybe there was more to this robot than Steve had anticipated.