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the-chubbiest-dumpling · 6 years

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Endings and Beginnings: Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen: Rebirth

Summary: You’re just an ordinary 25-year-old photographer working in a small studio in downtown Toronto. Your life is as normal as it could possibly be, except the fact that you are given an opportunity most people only dream of.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 14 178

Warnings: Swearing, violence, torture

A/N: I’m not 100% satisfied with this chapter, but after this, it’ll be progressing into Civil War. After I change a few things, it should be well on its way.

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter NineChapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Eighteen Epilogue

Tags: @shamvictoria11 @blazeshira

Amongst the silence, Bucky’s howling could be heard from a mile away.

He’s kneeling on the ground with Steve’s arms wrapped around him, consoling his best friend in the best way he can. Steve’s never heard Bucky make such a sound before, for anyone. His wailing is enough to pierce your eardrums, he’s so upset. His throat is raw, and he finally allows himself to cry. He’s not a crier, not usually. But when you have one of the greatest things that life has given to you ultimately taken away?

There’s no reason to hold your emotions back.

He lets go of Steve’s arm and plants his palms on the ground, and bores his eyes into the grass. His entire body shakes as he replays what’s happened in the last few minutes.

We got her out. We. Got. Her. Out. I was holding onto her. I was helping her walk. We were almost at the door. We were right there. We could’ve gotten out in time. But the explosion. The blast sent us flying apart from each other. Everyone was okay. Even _______ was okay with a goddamn metal rod plunged into her shoulder. She was alive. She was talking. She wouldn’t tell us to go if she wasn’t able to walk by herself. But I still shouldn’t have listened. I should have gone in there. I should have stayed. She doesn’t deserve to die, not like this. God, not like this.

He starts punching the ground with his metal fist, and watches small patches of grass be forced out by the roots. He keeps beating the same spot, over and over, until there’s a hole in the ground. He clenches his flesh hand around the grass, and pulls at it hardly. He knits his brows together in fury as he painfully stares at the blazing fire. His veins pulse with his aching heart; he refuses to believe that you’re dead. It’s implausible. He feels sick to his stomach just thinking about you not being in his life anymore. He dryly swallows and pushes himself up from the ground. He angrily wipes his tears away and begins walking towards what used to be the warehouse.

But once again, Steve grabs his arm.

“She’s gone, Buck,” Steve tries again, trying to make Bucky accept the truth.

“She’s in there, Steve,” Bucky says. “I’m not gonna leave her alone.”

“Bucky,” Steve pleads, gripping his arm tighter. Bucky stops for a moment before pressing on. “Bucky, stop!”

Steve drops his shield and physically moves in front of Bucky to hold onto his shoulders. He makes Bucky look at him so he knows he’s listening.

“_______’s gone, Buck,” Steve says. “She’s not coming back.”

“Yes she is,” Bucky argues. “I’m going in to get her.”

“No you’re not,” Steve orders. “We’re not going to lose you too.”

“Her life is worth more than mine ever was,” Bucky declares, gazing behind Steve. “And I’m going to see to it that it is.”

Steve drops his arms when he can’t seem to bring Bucky to his senses. Bucky walks around him, still intent on walking into that burning building. Steve scoffs and shakes his head, wondering what the hell is going on in Bucky’s mind.

“You have to accept it, Buck,” Steve tries one last time, turning to face his friend. “_______’s dead. She can’t come back from that.” Bucky’s anger reaches a boiling point and his whips himself around in utter rage.

“And how do you know that?!” he bellows. “How do you know that she’s dead? How do any of you know?! My instincts are telling me that she’s alive in there, Steve! She’s–“

“You’re in denial, Bucky,” Steve informs, slowly raising his hands. “You’re not thinking clearly and–“

“I’m not in denial about anything!” Bucky challenges. “You don’t know shit, Steve! She’s–She’s a pyro… fuckin’ maniac or whatever the hell she’s called! She produces fire, Steve! What makes you think she can’t survive being surrounded by something that she has control of?!”

“Up until thus far, she wasn’t able to generate flames that engulf her entire body,” Steve explains, inching closer. “The most she could do was up her forearms, but no more. Adding to the fact that she was doused with water and extremely weak, I doubt she could have made a spark with her fingers. You saw how she was, Buck–she was barely strong enough to walk on her own. Let alone concentrate long enough to pull herself together. She wasn’t able to do it, Buck.”

“But that can’t be true!” Bucky cries. He tugs at his hair to search his brain for a conceivable reason as to why you are in fact still alive and not suffering alone in the blaze. “She can survive this. Her body–the fire could have recognized what she’s made of and protected her. It could have flown right past her o-or it… it could have avoided her altogether!”

“You’re starting to sound irrational, Buck,” Steve says, finally closing the distance again. He plays a hand on Bucky’s shoulder but he swats it away. That doesn’t deter Steve at all. He just needs Bucky to understand in the clearest way possible.

“I know this is hard for you to accept,” he starts, voice gentle. “But you must. Look at me, Bucky.” Bucky tilts his head up, and stares at Steve from the corner of his eye. “_______ loved you. I knew it, the team knew it, and you knew it too. Better than the rest of us. She would have taken a bullet for you. You meant the whole world to her. And she wouldn’t want you doing something stupid like walking right into those flames to retrieve something that’s already gone. She wouldn’t, Buck. You have to let her go.”

Bucky begins shaking his head and backing away from Steve. He repeats “no” over and over, trying to convince himself that Steve is wrong. He believes that the harder to denies it, the truer it’ll be.

“No. No. No. No. She’s not dead,” he says to himself. “She’s in there. I have to go get her. I can’t just–“

He looks up at Steve again, desperate for him to agree with what he’s saying, but he simply removes his helmet, and gives him a forlorn expression. Bucky runs a hand through his hair and tearfully looks behind him at the burning building.

“B-But she’s–I can’t–it doesn’t mean–She’s–“

Bucky covers his mouth with his hand and lets out a choked sob as reality ultimately sets in for him: you’re gone. And you’re never coming back.

“Why,” he asks aloud, his lips trembling, “why is it when everything is finally getting good for me, when things are going well, that something just steps in and ruins everything all over again?”

Steve doesn’t know what to say anymore. He’s heartbroken to see Bucky so vulnerable and so goddamn broken. Nothing he can say to him will be able to help now. He just lost the best thing of his life; it’s impossible to see the bright side to that.

Alongside Tony, Natasha also feels immense guilt and responsibility for what’s happened. She was there when Marko broke into the Tower and took Maeve. She could have done something to help. But she was powerless, just like Tony. She doesn’t have many moments like that; there’s been very few instances in her life where she stood and watched instead of taking action. She regrets this one the most. Nevertheless, she keeps a poker face and continues to attend to Maeve’s injuries as best she can.

Sam has been incredibly quiet. He compartmentalizes better than most, so he hasn’t cried, nor expressed any other emotions that would befit the situation. He realizes that you’re dead, and that you’re not coming back. But instead of focusing on that, he’s been thinking about all the good times he shared with you. All the teasing, jokes, pranks. He doesn’t want to remember you in your last moments; he doesn’t want to remember the desperation in your voice. Every time he closes his eyes, he wants to see your smile, to hear your laugh, and to remember the good times. You deserve that.

There’s not much to do now, other than clean up the mess. Steve picks up his shield and throws it on his back before walking up to Bucky to bring him back to the jet. Sam follows suit, his head hung low, his head full of memories. Tony, however, decides to do one more scan for any sign of survivors. F.R.I.D.A.Y. picks up on a single heat signature, and alerts Tony.

“Sir, there seems to be an unidentified male individual about fifty meters to the left of the warehouse.”

Without hesitating, Tony flies to the sky to retrieve the man. Steve calls after him, but he knows it won’t stop him. Steve continues to lead the now silent Bucky to the jet to give him some time to himself; but the harsh thump that comes from behind him makes him stop, as well as Sam and Bucky. They look behind them and see a man wearing an ashy lab coat, laying face first in the ground. Tony lands beside him and yanks the man back by his hair.

“Why don’t you go on and tell everyone who you are,” Tony says, his eyes icy. The man perks up into a smile, and Tony smacks him across the face.

“Tell them who you are!” Tony yells.

Chuckling, the man smiles again at the three of them before giving everyone an honest answer.

“Marko Snyders,” he says. “Pleased to meet your aq–“

Tony smacks him in the face again before letting him go to stand in front of him with Sam, Bucky, and Steve. Steve starts as he looks at the man calling himself Marko Snyders; he remembers him from the surveillance video of your solo mission. He looks worse than he did back then. But Steve doesn’t care. He clenches his jaw, recalling what happened to you back then. Being shot in the leg and on the verge of death. All because of the man in front of him.

Steve lets Bucky go and approaches Marko as he stands up, intent on giving him a good ass-kicking, but Bucky blows right past him and beats him to it. As Marko lays eyes on Bucky stomping over to him, he holds his hand up.

“Nice to m–“

He doesn’t get to finish his greeting as Bucky sends him flying ten meters back by kicking him square in the chest. Bucky swears he heard something crack, which is an added bonus. There’ll be a lot more of that when he gets his hands on him.

He trudges towards Marko again, his heart pounding loudly in his ears. His pulse is racing, and he needs to punch Marko’s face. And fast. As Marko struggles to sit on his knees, Bucky helps him by grabbing the collar of his coat and pulling him on his feet. Then he punches him across the face, sending him back to the ground. Marko voices his pain, but Bucky doesn’t hear it. All he knows right now is pain; his own pain, and the pain he’s going to inflict on Marko.

Bucky kneels down in front of him, grabs him by the front of his shirt, and starts punching the hell out of him. He uses his metal arm, since he knows it’ll inflict the most damage, and punches the scarred side of Marko’s face. Bucky yells each time he hits him, and feels stronger after each one. He’s secretly satisfied as blood pours after a particularly hard blow. Bucky’s not looking for closure or forgiveness or a truce. He’s looking for a fight, to see blood, and to seek vengeance. He’s not about to let your death be for nothing. He will avenge you.

“The Winter Soldier,” Marko manages to say, despite having a cracked sternum. Bucky pauses with his fist in the air, and fire in his eyes. “Such a p-pleasure. The world’s most… most feared man.” He swallows thickly and coughs a few times, the effects of Bucky’s wrath taking their hold on him. But that doesn’t stop him from getting in a few taunting remarks.

“Such a shame,” he continues. Bucky’s arm shakes as he holds it behind him, ready to knock Marko out if he says something he doesn’t particularly like. Everything that comes out of his mouth is offensive, but Bucky has at least a sliver of control. “I could have done some wonderful things with you. Tinkered what HYDRA put inside you.” Bucky grips his shirt tighter and Marko puts his hands up in defence. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Take it easy, soldier. I could have done a lot to you. But what I did to poor miss _______? Well. I’d say she’s lucky to be alive after all I did to her.”

Bucky finally lets his arm come swinging and socks Marko in the jaw. He falls to the ground, and Bucky watches him try to collect himself. He smirks from feeling so good. Beating the hell out of Marko isn’t fully satisfying, but it’s enough for the moment.

No one from the team has tried to stop Bucky from beating Marko to an inch of his death. Because truth is, they all want to do it too. But they’re holding themselves back because Bucky is the one most affected by your death. Losing your lover in battle is one of the worst things possible. Tony knows exactly what that feels like; he nearly lost Pepper once. But he can’t begin to imagine how Bucky’s feeling after losing you for real.

They watch on in silence as Bucky beats Marko until he can’t even move. As Bucky stares down at Marko’s beaten, bruised, bloody face, he can only picture you, and what you felt in your last moments. The pain, the fear, the desperation, the loneliness. He wanted to be there with you, to get you out of there. But you didn’t give him that chance. All you thought about was him. To get Bucky to safety first before yourself, because he deserves to live his life to the fullest, even if you’re not with him.

“I want her back,” Bucky growls lowly, scowling at Marko. Marko’s too weak to speak, and one of his eyes has been beaten shut. He doesn’t have the strength to respond. Bucky uses both hands to raise him up off the ground, and shake him in anger.

“Give her back to me!” he yells. “Give her back! Give. Her. Back!”

“Bucky, stop,” Steve urges, staring straight ahead of him. Bucky hears him, but he doesn’t obey. He keeps pounding away with all his strength into Marko’s face. As the team looks up as well, they too tell Bucky to stop. But he doesn’t. Not until his anger has been satisfied. He continues to order Marko to give you back to him, but Marko just hangs loosely in the air, unable to give a coherent reply. Bucky finally shoves him back to the ground, then sits back on his knees. He places his fists on his thighs, and breathes deeply. He can’t do this anymore. He needs to leave.

He brings his leg forward to push himself up, but Marko moves again, groaning in pain. Bucky almost snaps again, but he gains control of himself and lowers back down to the ground. Leaning over Marko, he gives him one final, intimidating expression.

“This is for _______.”

Slowly, silently, Bucky pulls back and wraps his flesh hand around Marko’s throat, and begins to squeeze. He does so leisurely, and wants his face to be the last thing that Marko sees before Bucky kills him. As his grip tightens, a light behind him grows stronger. He has no idea what’s coming, but quite frankly, he’s too preoccupied to be focused on anything else. But when the light gets too bright and too hot to ignore anymore, he loosens his grip, and sends daggers over his shoulder at the source.

His stomach drops.

Something bright, beautiful, and bounded by flames in the shape of a woman stands before him. He’s not afraid, but he’s too stunned to move. He’s never seen something so ethereal in his entire life. He instantly thinks of you, for obvious reasons. But this being doesn’t really look like you. There’s too much flame surrounding her face that he can’t make out any details. However, he strangely feels at ease; a short moment of peace for his tortured mind. The being puts her hand on Bucky’s shoulder, and speaks gently.

“That’s enough, Bucky.”

Even the way she says Bucky’s name is enough for him to lose his breath. He’s surprised to not be consumed by the flames from being touched. He doesn’t sense any cruel intent coming from her, only serenity. The complete opposite of what he’s feeling at the moment. Bucky rises from the ground while staring at her, and takes a step back. She smiles at him, before turning her gaze upon the barely alive Marko, laying motionlessly, pathetically, on the ground.

“Stand up,” she demands. Her voice is smooth and silky, but strong and dominant. Marko opens his eye, and sees something so beautiful that he cannot even fathom who made it.

“Stand up,” she repeats, her patience growing thin. Marko obeys, and steadily takes his time in getting to his feet. When he does, the woman steps forward.

“Ask for forgiveness,” she says. “Do it not, and you will die here and now.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Marko laughs as best he can with the injuries he’s sustained. The woman’s expression changes from calm to almost dangerous. Marko notices the tiny change in the woman’s face, and stretches his arms out beside him.

“And what do I have to be sorry for?”

In the blink of an eye, the woman plunges her fire-coated arm straight through Marko’s stomach, causing him to gag in pain and shock. He can speak no more, and finally begins to succumb to his wounds.

“For hurting my friend,” the woman growls. She twists her arm violently and pushes it in further so she can whisper in his ear.

“This is for Maeve.”

Pulling her arm back, she lets Marko’s lifeless body fall to the earth, and gingerly wipes her arm clean of Marko’s pungent stench. She stares down at the gaping hole in his abdomen now, and finally allows herself some harmony. She stumbles back from using so much of her remaining energy, but keeps herself upright to face the team.

Her flames flicker the longer she stays in this state, but she must explain herself before the light goes out. She musters a smile at Steve, Tony, Sam, and Bucky, and raises her arm for Natasha, Wanda, Vision, and Maeve in the quinjet. Bucky seems to be the only one not knowing what’s going on, since Steve, Tony, and Sam seem to get the picture. At least, they hope they do.

Her eyes find their way back to Bucky, since he will be the one that needs to hear this the most.

“It’s me, Bucky,” she says. “It’s _______.”

Bucky lets out an unsettling laugh. He feels like somebody’s pulling his leg, or playing a sick joke on him. Even though what’s right in front of him is terrifyingly real, he can’t grasp the fact that it’s you. He didn’t exactly see you die, but you didn’t come out of the warehouse when it blew up either. And he knows that no one can survive that.

His mouth goes dry, he blinks rapidly, and grips his hair. He wants to desperately believe it’s you, but the person in front of him seems too different. Her voice, the inability to see her face; it’s messing him up too much. He needs solid proof that this is you.

“Really, Bucky. It’s me.”

She takes a step forward, but he takes one back. He’s so confused, but at the same time hopeful and distressed and in disbelief. The turmoil inside him is blinding his judgement, restricting him from seeing the truth. He’s not afraid. He just doesn’t want to get his hopes up when everything seems impossible.

Realizing Bucky’s inner conflict, the woman takes a risk, and meddles with her power, seeing how much of it she can control. She closes her eyes for a brief second before taking another step towards Bucky and opening them again.

“It’s me,” she says gently, the flames slowly pulling away from her face. “It’s _______, Bucky. I’m alive. I’m okay.” Her face is completely visible now, and Bucky blanches. He’s at a loss for words, but his body says it all: his eyes water involuntarily, his lips part, and his legs shake. He reaches out for you, but stops himself because of the flames. You do the job for him, and reassure him that you won’t hurt him.

“It’s okay,” you say, putting your hand on his cheek. “You’ll only burn if I want you to. And I’ll never want that.”

“Is it–“ Bucky starts, swallowing thickly. “Is it really you?”

“It’s me,” you smile, the tears forming in your eyes.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes!”

Bucky lets his tears fall as he wraps his arms around you tightly and pulls you to his chest in a gripping hug. You hug him back just the same, the tears sliding down your cheeks. Bucky sniffles from holding in more sobs, which only makes you cry even more.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” you apologize, clenching the back of his vest.

“I thought I lost you,” Bucky says quietly. “I shouldn’t have–“

“Shh shh,” you hush him. “Don’t worry about that now. It’s alright. It’s alright…”

The rest of the team have their own moments of relief when you confirm that it is in fact you and not something that just crawled out of the flames. They smile at each other, and at the scene in front of them. What goes from an unbearable reality, turns into an immeasurable bliss. You pull away from Bucky too soon, but despite your new form, you still need some medical attention. However, one thing must come first.

“Bucky?” you ask, looking up at him.

“Yes?”

Stroking his cheek, you smile lovingly at him, before pulling your hand back, making a fist, and punching him in the face. He takes a step back as his head turns the other way, then looks at you in surprise.

“What the hell was that for?”

“I told you I would punch you as soon as I got out of there,” you smirk. He can’t help but smile too and shake his head at you.

“You love to keep your promises,” he says.

“I do,” you agree. Smiling, you hold onto his arm and face Steve, Sam, and Tony.

“I’m glad to see everyone alive,” you say a bit breathlessly. “And I want to give all of you your sense of relief, but I’m feeling a bit under the weather still.”

You stumble back into Bucky from being in this state for so long. Your fire flickers and begins to dim away gradually. Your energy is leaving you just as quickly, so Bucky picks you up again, and brings to back to the jet with Steve, Tony, and Sam following behind. Bucky watches in surprise as the embers begin to disappear, and your naked body becomes exposed. Your injuries are still very prominent, except for one.

“The rod is gone,” Bucky tells you, smiling softly.

“Hmm?” You blink and wearily look down at your shoulder. “Maybe that’s why I feel a little better. Somehow managed to melt it away…”

You close your eyes again and just rest in Bucky’s arms, until he gets you onto the jet and covered up. Natasha, Wanda, and Maeve are in a state of shock when they see you for real. Vision however is steadily calm, and waits to hear for anything that needs to be said.

“She’s okay, for the most part,” Bucky says as Natasha throws a blanket over you. The flames have completely diminished. “But she has a weak pulse, and I don’t know if she has any internal injuries.”

“Get the jet going,” Natasha demands, staring at you wide-eyed. “We need to get back to the compound as fast as we can. Stark, take the wheel. Wanda, come here with me.”

Without hesitation, Tony and Wanda go to their designated positions while everyone else takes a seat. Maeve sits on the other side of you, putting the back of her hand against your forehead.

“You’re so warm,” she whispers, smiling tearfully. Wanda comes to her side, and smiles gently at her.

“I’m sorry, Maeve,” she says. “But we need some space for her.”

Maeve nods once without looking at Wanda and finds a seat for herself while still being able to see you. Bucky does the same thing, leaning his elbows on his thighs, his hands clasped together. His eyes never leave you as Natasha and Wanda determine what kind of medical attention you’ll need. At this point, all everyone can do now is pray.

You wake up several hours later, about one in the morning of October 2nd. You’re back in the infirmary at the compound, laying in a bed. Your body feels like lead; even just lifting a hand seems like too much energy. Blinking and moaning awake, you stretch your legs and yawn widely, then wipe your eyes. You didn’t think you’d be staring up at this ceiling again. The lights are dimmed, and all you can hear is the gentle sound of the medical equipment monitoring your heart. You take a glance to your right, and do a double-take at what you see.

“Maeve?”

Also in a hospital bed adjacent to yours, Maeve is sleeping soundlessly and peacefully. From what you can see, she isn’t hurt badly. You have no idea what the rest of her body is like, but you trust that Dr. Markson took very good care of her. Your eyes well up just looking at her; she may seem okay, but the immense guilt you feel takes over. Your lip quivers as you breathe deeply, trying to keep yourself quiet as to not wake her. You cover your mouth as your throat closes up, and the tears get hotter.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, holding back a sob. “I’m so sorry, Maeve. This should have never happened. You didn’t deserve this. I’m so sorry I let this happen. I–“

You have to turn away and press your face in your pillow to suppress your cries. Your chest tightens as you think about all they did to her: shocking her, hosing her down with water. You don’t want to think about what else they did to her.

Upon hearing your crying, Maeve opens her eyes. She’s somewhat disoriented from experiencing the longest day of her life, but she knows crying when she hears it. Looking to her left, she sees you holding a pillow to your face.

“_______?” she calls out weakly. You sniffle loudly, and clutch your pillow tightly. Great. Now you feel guilty about waking her up.

“_______?” she calls again. “Are you okay?”

Sighing, you flop the pillow down on your lap and start wiping your eyes and under your nose. Clearing your throat, you turn your head to face her, but as soon as you do, you start crying again. You bite your bottom lip to control yourself, but your voice is still shaky.

“I’m sorry,” you say, letting a sob escape. “I’m so sorry, Maeve. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, _______.”

Maeve wants to get up and comfort you, but given her current state, she’d collapse without any assistance. For now, she simply pushes herself up into a sitting position, and stays faced towards you while she speaks.

“You listen to me right now, _______,” she begins, her tone hard. “This is not your fault. You’re not responsible for anything that happened. Nothing could have been done to prevent this, okay? Nothing you did was–“

“Stop it, Maeve!” you beg. “Please don’t act like everything that happened isn’t my fault. Because–“

“Because it’s not!” she interjects. “You’re not the one who kidnapped me! You’re not the one hosed me with water! You’re not the one that–“

“Basically ruined your life?”

Maeve closes her mouth and sighs while shaking her head. But before she can defend herself, you keep piling on.

“If I never invited you to the Tower–no, if I never even told you about me, then none of this would have happened,” you say, staring at the ceiling. “You wouldn’t be laying on a goddamn hospital bed from being hosed down with freezing cold fucking water and shocked with a bazillion jolts. You wouldn’t be traumatized or–“

“But I’m not traumati–“

“–developed some emotional damage or psychological. Hell, it might as well be all three. And all because I–“

“Shut the fuck up, _______!”

The heart monitor clearly states your surprise as it beeps dramatically. You’ve never heard Maeve raise her voice like that; well, not at you, anyway. And hearing it directed at you honestly makes you want to cry in fear. You’re paralyzed, and your breathing is tight. Maeve notices your distress, but she keeps her firm voice as she speaks.

“That asshole did this to me, not you,” she says. “He’s the one that kidnapped me. He’s the one that did those things to me. He’s the motherfucker that nearly killed my friend. He did that, not you! Do you hear me?! None of this could’ve been prevented! It’s–“

“I could’ve killed him on my mission,” you mutter. “I could have prevented all of this from happening, Maeve. If I would’ve just killed him on that mission I–“

“He’s dead now, _______,” Maeve says. “You killed him. He’s gone. What happened before doesn’t matter now. Because he’s never coming back. He’s never. Coming. Back, _______. Never.”

By now Maeve has calmed down, but you certainly have not. The more Maeve spoke, and you yourself, the more you got upset. Thinking about what Marko did to Maeve is something you’ll never be able to take back. And, traumatized or not, you know Maeve will never be the same. You know she’s strong, but… not everyone is as strong as they make themselves out to be.

(You are a prime example.)

Covering your face with your hands, you shield yourself from Maeve as you begin crying again. Your breathing gets shallow, your eyes sting, and there’s an impeccable weight on your chest that you fear you can never get rid of. You turn on your side so Maeve doesn’t see. She’s only seen you cry this hard once before, and that was a year ago. Hearing how much you want to keep it in aches Maeve to the core, so she slowly, and painfully, gets out of bed and goes to your side of the room, rolling her IV with her. She puts her hand on your shoulder, but you just curl up more. It doesn’t stop her from comforting you.

“It’s alright, _______,” she whispers, rubbing your arm. “It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

You repeat those words over and over as Maeve tends to you, and you can’t help but feel that it should be the other way around. You should be the one comforting Maeve, since she was the one that got kidnapped under your watch and was put through intense torture and mental damage. You did as well, and you recognize that, but you’re not your priority right now. You didn’t know what to expect from Maeve, but her stoic and composed demeanour is not what you were anticipating. She hasn’t cried, nor spoken about her emotions. She could just be keeping it all inside and waiting to speak to the right person about it. You suppose she has her own reasons about staying quiet, but crying about everything that transpired shouldn’t be what you’re doing.

“God, this is so stupid,” you mutter, more to yourself than to Maeve. “I should be the one comforting you, not the other way around.”

“You went through hell too,” she points out. “I’m not the only victim here. You need this just as much as any other person.”

But not as much as you?

Finally, you give in, and turn around to press your forehead into Maeve’s stomach. She combs her fingers through your hair, which eventually calms you down to a loud sniffle. It’s quiet for quite some time; you don’t know what to say, and Maeve doesn’t want to speak at all. Being able to help you find some peace of mind satisfies her enough to not have the need to talk about what happened. For now, she just wants to be there for her friend.

After what seems like hours, you pull away from Maeve, and sit up to let her see your face. You give her a weak smile behind all the tears, and continually wipe your face to get rid of them. You clear your throat, and sigh after letting all your anger and sadness out.

“I–“ you begin, intent on apologizing again, but one look at Maeve’s face tells you to rethink your statement.

“Thanks,” you say instead. Maeve smiles and nods.

“You’re welcome,” she replies, patting your shoulder. “I’ll be right in that bed if you need me.”

“Hopefully no longer than necessary,” you say. “In your bed, I mean. I’d rather not see you in that bed for more than a day, at the most.”

“Maybe I will,” Maeve says, heading back to her bed. “I’m feeling good. Nothing really hurts that much anymore. And I’m walking. Sooo… I could be out of here by the morning. After a check-up, probably.”

“That’s very optimistic,” you chuckle, laying back down. “I hope you’re right.”

“Mm, me too,” she agrees. “You on the other hand… you look like shit. Probably feel like it too.”

“I can’t argue with you there,” you smile, glancing down at yourself. “I ain’t feeling too hot. Everything is just so sore.”

“That happens when you’re–well,” Maeve stops herself and sheepishly looks to the side.

“It’s fine,” you wave her off. “I know what you mean. I feel like I got punched by Steve a hundred times.”

When Maeve doesn’t answer, you look over and see she has a dopey smile on her face. You know that kind of look. Well, you think you do. Only one specific think comes to mind when you see a face like that.

“I take it that you met Steve?” you ask, smiling a little bit smugly.

“Yeahhhh,” she sighs contently.

“Sweet, isn’t he?”

“The sweetest.”

“Anything he do in particular that made his sweetness shine?”

“Everything, basically,” she laughs. “He said that I could talk to him about anything. That he’d always be around if I needed anything. His smile, his caring nature… he’s everything that he was livened up to be. America’s Golden Boy and perfect soldier.”

She clicks her tongue then, making you raise a brow.

“Buuut…?” you egg her on.

“But he’s not,” she sighs, loosely crossing her arms. “I mean, it’s amazing all that he achieved and we owe him our lives, but… he’s just one man. He’s not perfect like everyone makes him out to be. He served in the second World War. You don’t come out of a war-torn country and expect to escape without scars. He shouldn’t even be here, but it’s not like they’re gonna put him back on ice. Fuck. This man deserves the world, but the world doesn’t deserve him. Honest to god.”

“I agree with you there,” you say, getting as comfortable as you can. “He’s seen, and been through a lot of shit. He’s done more than anyone bargained for, simply because he has to. He can hardly ignore a situation where the outcome isn’t good for the masses. There’s still so much expected of him, but all he needs is a vacation. Retirement, even. He deserves to be able to rest in peace, not pieces. Vigilante my fucking ass. He needs a break.”

“He’ll get one, I’m sure,” Maeve assures you. “One way or another.”

“Well it better not be when he’s dead,” you say. “Otherwise I’ll be pissed.

You huff angrily and pout, staring hardly at the ceiling. Maeve watches on with a sort of amusement, and shakes her head at you. She’s glad that you’re reverting back to yourself, and to be able to speak with you like this again after not seeing each other for months. As the topic of Steve has passed, she decides to bring up another.

“I also met Bucky,” Maeve announces, albeit quietly. Your eyes widen in shock. Not about the fact that she met him because obviously she did, but about the fact that she’s another person that knows where the (ex-) Winter Soldier is currently residing. It makes you nervous for her safety again. However, Tony’s been able to keep it under wraps from the public eye. And Maeve is an excellent secret-keeper. She wouldn’t dare to expose him like that.

Maybe.

You may know the real Bucky, but that doesn’t mean that Maeve had already formed her own opinions on him, prior to meeting him. But given all that you’ve said to her about him, you’re hoping at least she’s had an open mind towards him the whole time. Or else, you’re in some deep shit.

“A-And?” you ask, gulping nervously.

“He’s… also sweet,” she says, choosing her words wisely. “He’s not what I expected, to be honest.”

“Oh?” you say, peeking over at her. She seems as if she’s deep in thought. “And what did you expect?”

“Hostility?” she says unsurely. “I dunno if that’s the right word or not but… yeah. The entire flight back to this place, he kept his eyes on you. Once you were treated as much as they could give you, he sat there with you, holding your hand. He didn’t leave your side the flight back, when they wheeled you in, while they were treating you more… hell, I’m pretty sure he was in here while we were both asleep and sat with you until he was told to go back upstairs. I’ve never seen someone so… so–“

“Worried?” you guess. “Nervous? Panicked?”

“In love,” she says, her smile growing fondly. You sheepishly avoid her gaze.

“Shut up,” you whisper in embarrassment.

“But it’s so sweeeet,” she drawls. “Doting on you and speaking quietly with you while you were unconscious. He was worried as fuck, I’ll tell you that. But I could tell that he would crash and burn if you didn’t make it. When the doctor said you were stable, I swear he almost passed out from being so relieved. I was being treated at the time, but he got wobbly in the knees and needed to sit down. I didn’t see him much after that, but when I did, he was always asking about you. Steve was the only one he spoke with, no one else. How you were doing, when he could see you, if you’re allowed to eat. In all honesty, _______, I’ve never seen anyone so devoted before. He fucking loves you, and any who says otherwise is lying to themselves.”

You smile widely into your pillow, and giggle under your breath.

“Yeah, we’ve made it abundantly clear that we love each other,” you mention. “With words of affection and some… intense, physical contact…”

Maeve whips her head over at you when you say that. Her eyes widen in surprise before her gigantic smile follows.

“No,” she says, filled with nothing but excitement. “Did you actually–?”

Your embarrassed, mischievous smile says it all. Maeve claps in congratulations to which you roll over and pull the sheets over your head. Maeve expresses her blessings and gives you a hearty “well done”.

“Stop iiiiit,” you complain, still with a smile on your face.

“So how was it?” she asks, eager to know.

“I’m not saying!” you say, looking over your shoulder. “They have cameras in here. And audio. I know for a fact that Tony loves watching surveillance videos, so I’m not saying a goddamned thing.”

“Oh come ooooon,” Maeve whines. “Not even a little bit? Besides, I don’t think Mr. Stark would find your sex life that interesting.”

“Oh my god, Maeve,” you grumble. “And on the contrary, Tony absolutely loves to humiliate me when the opportunity presents itself. Like playing all the recordings for everyone of me a training room, making a fool out of myself. He’s a cheeky shit, and you better remember it.”

“Okay, okay,” she agrees, waving you off. “But can you tell me at least if it was good or not?”

“Alright, fine,” you sigh. You’ve been wanting to tell someone, and you felt that Natasha and Wanda wouldn’t give you the same reaction Maeve would. You shift again so you’re facing her completely, but rest your cheek in your hand as you remember the first night.

“It was… incredibly awkward, at first,” you start, giving her the truth. “We just silently agreed that we were ready and… well. I didn’t know how different it was from the forties, but I knew what to do in this day and age. It took some… explaining, and just overall getting in the goddamn mood because saying all that stuff made me stiff. And–don’t even say it.”

You add that part in when you see the sly smile on her face and the raise of her eyebrow.

“I’m not saying anything about that,” you say before getting back to the story. “Anyway, I tried to laugh to diffuse the tension and so we could have fun with it. He went right along with it, thank god, and after some–um. Exploring, it happened.”

You pause again, waiting for Maeve’s reaction, but she’s silent and waiting for more. She rolls her wrist to make you keep going, and you shrug.

“What else do you want me to say?” you ask.

“I dunno,” she ponders, hand under her chin. “Maybe how it felt? You can tell me that, right? For you, at least. It’s not everyday that one of your friend’s isn’t a virgin anymore.”

Your face goes red then, because a very important–yet not so important–fact just came to light. You swallow, wondering if it’s okay to tell her this.

“Wellllll,” you say, your voice getting squeakier.

“Well what?” she questions.

“Um.” You look around the room, wondering where the hell the cameras are. Just to be safe, you speak in Gaelic.

“Bhí sé ina maighdean,” you say.

He was a virgin.

“A maighdean?!” Maeve shouts.

A virgin?!

Maeve didn’t see that one coming. She has a moment to herself, slapping a hand on her forehead, and shaking her head. Blowing her lips, she tries to find the words to give a coherent response, but nothing comes up. It’s just jumbled jabbering. She doesn’t know what to say. After thinking about it, however, she draws her conclusion.

“Okay, I guess it makes sense,” she sighs, still in disbelief. “After all that, um, happened, to him, it seems plausible. But wow. I never would have guessed.”

“I know,” you agree. “I was just as surprised as you were. But I didn’t judge. And neither did he. It was very nice. Fun, definitely relaxing afterwards. He was so sweet and nervous and so was I and it was just a big pile of cuteness.”

“Awwwww,” Maeve sings, much to your chagrin.

“Shut uuuuup,” you say, covering your eyes. “I love him, okay? Fuck, I love him so much. And afterwards, bhí gnéas againn ar feadh seachtaine.”

We had sex for a week.

“Excuse the fuck outta me?!” she shouts again. “Feadh seachtaine?!”

For a week?!

“I am surprised at you, _______. But in a fantastic way! Oh my god! Mo sheacht mbeannacht ort!”

My seven blessings on you!

“Go raibh maith agat,” you say.

Thank you.

Maeve continues to have a small, freak-out moment for your accomplishment. Well, both yours and Bucky’s accomplishment. She can’t stop giggling or giving you her biggest compliments and cheers. At one point you have to ask her to settle down so no one will come in. It’s the middle of the night, and you don’t exactly want Dr. Markson to come strolling in to do a check-up when you and Maeve are having a private conversation.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Maeve laughs, dialing it down. “I’m done now.”

“Honestly I couldn’t stop covering my face from happiness afterwards,” you confess. “It wasn’t exactly magical or mind-blowing, but it was nice for us. A couple of losers just… being losers.”

“Adorable losers,” Maeve corrects you.

“Yes, yes we are,” you agree proudly, biting your bottom lip.

Amongst all your laughing and joking, you two have aroused the attention of none other than Dr. Markson. He strolls in and brightens the lights on the way, and smiles at the both of you.

“It’s good to see you two up and about,” he says, closing the door behind him. “But please, don’t push yourselves.”

“Maeve already walked,” you say.

“Walked?” Dr. Markson repeats, eyeing Maeve.

“Just over to me, though,” you clarify. “Not any further than that.”

“Hmm. While I am glad to hear that you have motor function, Miss Lockette,” he says, “I would prefer you to stay in bed until you’re completely healed.”

“Yes, doctor,” she replies compliantly.

“And Miss _______,” he says next, turning to you. “While I am happy to see you again, I am displeased to see you in this unfortunate state.”

“Me and you both,” you agree, sitting up more. “So what’s the damage? For the both of us, if I might ask?”

Dr. Markson approaches Maeve first, and makes sure that the machines are giving proper readings and to give her a quick once-over.

“Miss Lockette sustained minor injuries,” he starts, asking her to sit up. “She developed hypothermia, as well as yourself, but she was easier to treat. We gave her some warm IV fluids, peritoneal lavage, which is just washing out her abdominal cavity, and some humidified oxygen. After a few hours her body temperature improved and she was stable. Now, while she didn’t receive any serious internal injuries by the cause of a device she described to us as a ‘minimized shock therapy’, there was some damage nonetheless. A small bundle of sensory nerves was targeted in her lower back. How does this feel?”

He puts pressure on one of the spots he’s talking about, and Maeve groans in pain. Dr. Markson pulls his mouth to the side and checks her legs next.

“It’s most likely due to the trauma,” he explains. “It’s treatable, mind you. I always recommend physiotherapy and painkillers first before jumping to a more serious solution like surgery. If the patient does not improve after a certain amount of time, then I am willing to refer them to surgeries.”

“Sooo, she’s gonna be okay?”

Dr. Markson looks over his shoulder and smiles at you, then nods.

“Within time the damage will be reversed,” he says, standing up straight. “We have access to some pretty sufficient equipment and medicines, so Miss Lockette will be better in no time.” You and Maeve smile at each other, but Dr. Markson looks grim. You don’t like that look.

“As for you, _______,” he starts, your smile falling. “You sustained multiple serious injuries. Hypothermia, blood loss, frostbite, muscle damage… I was afraid we wouldn’t be able to repair what had been done to you. It was more serious than your first admission here. I hadn’t seen something like this before. Just what the hell were you doing?”

You shrink down under his intimidating gaze, even though none of your injuries were your own fault. However, it doesn’t make you any less ashamed that Dr. Markson went through that stress as a doctor.

“Nevertheless,” he continues, taking a seat at the end of your bed. “We were given a stroke of luck. The frostbite around your wrists and ankles were fairly difficult to treat, as well as the hypothermia in general. Furthermore, it was as if our efforts were useless because they were not working sufficiently. I feared that you were not going to make it.”

“So what happened?” you question.

“You,” he answers. “Your body fought back. Your power itself, in fact, is what helped heal you. After we tried treating the hypothermia and frostbite, we sent you in for an MRI to examine you internally to figure out what was happening. Your abdomen was severely bruised, and was hard when I put pressure on it. I do not know what kind of object was used, but you had a ruptured spleen. It wasn’t severe enough that the whole thing had to be removed, so we performed a partial splenectomy. This method helps to avoid the increased risk of infection that results from removing the entire spleen.

During your surgery, one of my assistants noticed that the purple bruising left behind from the frostbite began to gradually fade away. Your internal temperature was raising at the same time it was happening. I have zero knowledge about flames on the inside of the body, but it seemed to do the trick. I classified your frostbite on a third-degree level when I first received you. Third-degree frostbite causes permanent tissue damage, and you could lose all feeling. You could have lost all mobility in your hands.”

You’ve never been so afraid of a doctor before. Hearing what could have happened if not for astonishing circumstances is utterly terrifying. You didn’t know you could withstand all that without going into cardiac arrest at least twice. You cast your eyes downward and rub your chest uncomfortably.

“There’s no need to worry now,” he assures you. “You’re healing progressively, but I am still going to recommend some therapy for your wrists and ankles. Your power may have restored and reversed the damage, but it wasn’t one hundred percent thorough. You’re just out of the danger zone, and some aftercare is all that’s needed. You will feel weak, as you may have guessed. So I suggest that you stay in bed when you wake up, and then I will be back to examine you.”

“Okay,” you nod.

“And as for scarring… I leave that up to you. The cuts you received weren’t that deep, except for two. We stitched those up, and I want them to heal first before you make a decision. But the others are up to you. They were from the shocking device that was used on you. They are also fairly easy to treat, but you have a lot of them. I did not know what your choice would have been, so I didn’t leave it to chance.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

You peek down your gown, and see several small, reddened scars along your abdomen and legs. You run your fingers along them tenderly; they feel spongy, like a patch of wrinkled skin from an old blister.

Gross.

“I’ll sleep on it,” you say. “I’ll get back to you in the morning.”

“Sure thing.”

You pull your hand back and lay it down beside you. Overall, you feel fine. Physically. Just sore and tender all around. Your mental state isn’t the best, but when has it ever been? Your sigh turns into a yawn, and Dr. Markson takes that as his cue to leave.

“I shall return in the morning,” he announces to the two of you, moving towards the door.

“Oh, wait!” you call. “Dr. Markson!”

“Yes?”

“What happened to the rod in my shoulder?”

“Rod? There wasn’t any–oh. Oh, I see. According to Mr. Stark and company, you had melted away the metal pole imbedded in your shoulder. The wound was closed up completely.”

“Really?”

“So I’ve heard. There was no indication of an entry or exit wound, so we did not treat you in that area.”

“Oh… okay, thanks.”

Nodding, Dr. Markson takes his leave, and dims the lights back down on his way upstairs. You settle back down into your bed, and are about to say something to Maeve, but she’s already gone back to sleep. Closing your mouth, you turn on your side and pull up the sheets to your shoulders. Your mind is processing too many thoughts at once, making it difficult to fall asleep quickly. You shift positions many times, and rub your eyes out of irritation. But eventually, you close your eyes, clear your mind, and succumb to your fatigue.

Being the late sleeper that you are, and the fact that your injuries have taken a massive toll on you, you don’t wake up until after two o’clock in the afternoon.

You feel even worse than when you woke up twelve hours ago. Your muscles are stiff, your eyes hurt, and your heart is beating quicker than it should be. These underlying annoyances prompt you to forcefully open your eyes, and stare at the blinding white lights of the infirmary. You groan to yourself, not wanting to face the day. You’re spending it in your bed until tomorrow. Normally you’d love to sleep the day away, but not under these circumstances. Your whole body is lead, and you’re pissed off. Not exactly the best conditions to go back to sleep, nor see anybody. But you know that that won’t not happen. You’re expecting to have some visitors, but right now all you need is Maeve for company.

“Hey, Ma–aaaand you’re not here.”

One look to your right is enough to elevate your irritation. Maeve is missing from her bed. Well, more like she’s been discharged. The entire bed is gone, along with the medical equipment helping Maeve to get better. There’s not much you can do about it, so you just sigh in disappointment and wait to be checked up on.

Half an hour later of being alone with your thoughts, Dr. Markson shows his face again. You show no distinguishable reaction to his arrival, you’re so dead tired. Your eyes are heavy, and you could definitely fall asleep again after being awake for a bit, but Dr. Markson isn’t about to let that happen.

“Good morning, _______,” he says, standing at the end of your bed. He looks at his watch and smiles. “Or should I say afternoon.”

You zone out while he makes his greeting, not staring at anything in particular. Your focus goes in and out, and your head begins to drop. You snap yourself awake again however when he calls your name over and over. You stare up at him wearily, not exactly looking at him.

“Are you feeling alright, _______?” he asks, getting out his flashlight. He shines it in both your eyes, but you just keep staring straight at him. He crouches to be eye-level with you.

“_______?”

“I am–“ you begin, clicking your tongue, “–fucking, exhausted.”

You press your head back into the pillows and yawn widely as you shift in your bed in hopes of waking yourself up more. Dr. Markson checks up on the equipment to see how your health is progressing before examining you. He has you sit up, tired as you may be, and turns your wrists over, then looks at your ankles. He’s absolutely astounded by how much they’ve repaired themselves, but he is still going to recommend therapy.

“I suggest you do some whirlpool therapy,” he says, standing back up. “It keeps the skin clean and naturally removes dead tissue. It’ll be in one of those deep tubs, like what athletes use for ice baths. I have one prepared for you in the other room for when you’re ready. And have you given any thought to your scars?”

You nod when he mentions the bath for you, then tilt your head to the side when he asks about your scars. You just don’t want your family and friends finding out about them. But they’re ugly anyway, and they remind you of Marko.

“Get rid of ‘em,” you decide. Dr. Markson nods, then helps you up to take you to your bath. He unhooks you from your IV and helps you walk to an enclosed room with a sizeable bathtub just waiting for you. He allows you some privacy as you get into the tub, the jets already turned on. Once you’re settled, Dr. Markson tells you what to do.

“Keep moving your arms and legs,” he says. “It’ll help circulate the flow. The allotted amount of time is half an hour. When you’re finished, we’ll wrap up your wrists and ankles for good measure and you’ll be good to go. I will come back later to remove your scars.”

“Okay.”

Dr. Markson leaves once more, but a nurse is on standby if you need anything. The bath makes you smile because it’s so warm. You contently swish your arms and legs around like he said, and gingerly trace your fingers over wrist. You can’t believe how much it’s healed on its own. You have no idea if it’s because you have some underlying healing abilities that you never knew about. It can’t be the case because it never happened when you got hurt before. But maybe because the wounds this time are so serious that your power began acting up to protect yourself. You barely have any knowledge about your capabilities, so you’re in the dark about this.

Either way, you’re just glad that you still have feeling in your hands and feet.

You don’t want to leave the tub when the therapy is over, but you get out quickly and get dressed with the clothes provided for you. They’re simple sweats, but they’re cozy. The nurse applies the bandages, and lets you go right after. You thank her and take your time going upstairs. Your mood is still a little iffy, even though the bath calmed you down. Facing everyone is what you’re most nervous about. It should be fine, for the most part. You just want to act normally and not like anything is wrong.

You get a chill as you’re walking up the stairs, and stop walking to compose yourself. You instinctively rub your wrists, and take a deep breath.

“You’re fine, you idiot,” you say to yourself. “I’m barefoot. Of course I’d get a chill.”

You continue on your way, pulling your hoodie sleeves over your hands. You’re practically shivering now. The heat from the bath quickly disappeared as soon as you left it. You annoyingly stuff your hands in your pockets and trudge upstairs to the kitchen. But you hesitate when you reach the end of the stairwell. You peek through the window, but all you see is the wall. You open the door and peek your head out; you don’t see anyone there. You don’t know why you’re so anxious, but you suck it up because you really want to see your friends.

You creep down the hall, staying close to the wall. You don’t hear anyone in the kitchen and living room. You sigh a breath of relief, but your heart jumps out of your chest when someone calls out to you.

“_______?”

Turning around, you realize you’re right in front of Bucky’s ajar door, and peek inside. He’s sitting at his desk, writing in a journal, with a pained expression on his face. You open the door to reveal yourself, and muster a weak smile.

“Hey,” you say, waving. His mouth drops open, utterly astounded that you’re up and walking.

“How–How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Alright,” you reply, stepping inside. “Could be better but… I’m okay.”

He gets out of his chair, and takes four big steps to close the distance and wrap his arms around you. You didn’t realize how much you needed a hug. Relaxing into it, you return the hug, gripping the back of his shirt. You absolutely cannot begin crying now, otherwise you won’t be able to stop. And you don’t want Bucky, or anyone else for that matter, see you like that. Sobbing is one thing, but uncontrollable, hysterical crying gives off a very different impression. You suck all of your emotions back and just enjoy this time with Bucky.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers into your hair. “I’m so so sorry. I should’ve–”

“Bucky, how many times do I have to tell you?” you interrupt. “It wasn’t your fault. You have nothing to apologize for.”

“But I do,” he says. “I do, _______.”

He pulls back and looks at you.

“As a former soldier, and as a person, I have the duty to disobey an immoral order,” he explains. “I never had the chance because I was never given such orders, but I did when you told me to go. I never should have listened. I should have dragged you out of there. You were freezing and beaten and bruised and you had a rod in your shoulder and I should not have left you alone in that warehouse.”

He cups your cheeks and makes you look at him. You put your hands on his and lean into his touch. He gives you a sad smile, then kisses your forehead.

“I’m never listening to you again,” he says.

“I can never win with you, can I?” you joke.

“I guess not.”

He then leads you over to his bed, pushes you down, and slides in next to you. He sees the small smile you have before it disappears from your face. He immediately reaches for your hand, and notices the bandages wrapped around your wrist. He frowns at it.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice laced with concern. “Does it hurt?”

“I’m fine,” you reply, turning your wrist around. “It doesn’t hurt at all. Maybe a little numb still, but it’s nothing serious. Dr. Markson said that… my body or power or whatever healed whatever what was affected. But that doesn’t sit right with me. I don’t know how true that is, but fact of the matter is… it’s healed. Well, about ninety-five percent healed. I did some therapy when I woke up for my wrists and ankles. They should get better if I keep doing it.”

“I hope you stick to that regimen,” Bucky says. “I’ll know if you don’t.”

“And how will you know that?” you question, lowering your hand to the bed. “Are you going to come with me every time I do it?”

“If you want me to,” he says. “And it’s fine if you don’t. But just keep doing it. It’ll give me some ease. Please?”

“I will,” you promise. “It’s a whirlpool therapy, and I greatly enjoyed it. It’s warm and it tingles a bit. It’s just for my wrists and ankles, but my whole body gets treated. I like it.”

“I have no doubts then that you’ll stick with it,” he smiles. Despite your slight smiles and willingness to take care of yourself, Bucky will still worry about you. What you went through was absolutely maniacal and horrifying. You’re scarred in so many ways, and he doesn’t want to see you reduce yourself to what he’s become: a shell of what he used to be. He doesn’t know who he is anymore. And he hopes to god that you won’t go through the same crisis. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if you did.

He wraps his arm around you, and cradles the back of your head. He’s not very good at finding the right words for situations like these; he used to be okay at it, but after everything that’s happened to him, his mind is muddled. But he does his very best to comfort you.

“_______, listen to me,” he begins softly. He feels you tense up, but he just strokes the back of your head and continues on. “Whenever you’re feeling the lowest of the low, please come talk to me. You don’t have to look at me, or speak to me directly. You can be speaking to yourself and pretend that I’m not there. It doesn’t matter. But… just speak your mind. Whatever it is, you can tell me, directly or indirectly. You know I’m always here to listen. Will you promise me?”

You heart constricts from how genuine he is. You don’t know if you can keep that promise. You never, never, ever tell anyone about what’s going on in your head. Not Natasha, not Steve, not even Wanda (she could easily peer into your mind whenever she’d like, but you have faith that she wouldn’t do something so invasive). Everything is too personal to talk about, so you keep your mouth shut. You’ve written some things down in a journal, but the relief only lasts for so long. Soon enough, a new problem would snake its way into your life and give you something new to worry about. It’s all the same things, but they find a way to circle around you and make it more complex than it needs to be.

Chewing your lip, you dip your head down, giving the impression that you’ve nodded. Bucky takes your supposed answer, and hugs you tighter. You wrap your arm around him as well and press your forehead into his chest. You can’t believe how unbelievably lazy and tired you’ve gotten over the past few weeks, but you’re jaded, and need at least an hour of sleep. You yawn widely and flutter your eyes until they close. Bucky senses that you’ve fallen asleep, so he presses a kiss to your head, and pulls up some of the blankets on you. He stays awake a while longer before joining you in a calming slumber.

You’re as cozy as can be when you open your eyes again.

It’s pitch black in Bucky’s room, but you know the familiar feeling of being wrapped in his arms. And the comforting smell he carries with him. It brings a smile to your face.

You’re burrowed into Bucky’s chest, with his big, warm arms wrapped around you. You can feel the heat radiating off of him. You try looking around, but he’s got you firmly pressed against him. You yawn widely and stretch your legs, prompting him to shift. His grip loosens on you, and he rubs his face against his pillow. You take the time to feel him; running your hand down his back, along his arm, his neck, to his hair. You stroke his face with the back of your hand until he opens his eyes. He’s a groggy as you are, and brings his hand up to rub his eyes.

“_______?” he says.

“Hi,” you whisper.

You yawn again and stretch your arms before snuggling back into him. You feel better than from waking up from your other naps. No headaches, no tiredness in your eyes, no nagging feeling to stay in bed. Though it would be very satisfying indeed to stay in bed with Bucky and cuddle the hell out of him, but you need, and want, to see the rest of the team. And Maeve. You want to know where she ran off to.

But you decide to have one small, heart-warming moment with Bucky before getting up.

You use your hand to find his lips, then push yourself up to kiss him. He reciprocates sensually, his hand snaked in the back of your hair. You slide your hand down his side and stick it up his shirt, and trace your fingers around his skin. His hips shift forward at your action, making you smile. You pull away, but continue kissing him along his neck. He pushes his hand up your shirt as well, and rubs circles on your lower back. You shiver at his touch, and trail your hand farther up his back. His shirt rises, and he presses you against him. You chuckle and pull the hem of his shirt over his head. He groans, but you just laugh at him. He pulls you on top of him, and pokes his head out.

“Am I that ugly that you have to cover up my face?” he wonders, smiling a bit.

“Mmmmm yeah,” you joke, cupping his face. You give him a kiss, and grin widely at him. “Of course you’re not. You’re beautiful, Bucky.” You brush the stray strands from his face and stroke his cheek with your thumb.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“I feel a lot better now.”

He smiles back at you, and pulls his shirt down before rising up to envelop you in a hug. You sit in his lap with your legs wrapped around his waist, while he sets his chin on your shoulder and rubs his hands up and down your back. You make the happiest of noises in the back of your throat, causing Bucky to chuckle.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. You can’t control your smile and just snuggle into his chest.

“Shut uuup,” you mutter.

“Never.”

He kisses the side of your head before dragging his feet over the side of the bed and standing up, still with you clinging to him. He securely laces his hands together under your butt to keep you upright, and leaves his room to bring you into the kitchen. You stifle your laughter into his shoulder, but joyfully enjoy the fact that he’s carrying you like this. He stops, and you’re about to ask him why when he turns around, allowing you a good view of everyone staring at you. You yelp in surprise and jump down from his arms, embarrassingly flattening the front of your clothes.

Everyone casts a smile in your direction. You want to cry from how relieved they all look, but you’ve had enough of that for a while.

“Hey guys,” you say. The whole team seems to be present, two people are missing. “Where are Tony and Maeve?”

“Discussing Maeve’s absence,” Natasha speaks up. “Though I don’t know what else. They’ve been in Tony’s lab for quite some time.”

“I’m sure she’s just mesmerized by all of his toys,” Steve says. “But she’s okay, first and foremost. She’s been very… ecstatic, since this morning.”

“Of course she is,” you smile. “I’m glad to hear she’s doing okay. But I want to see her. Right now.”

“I shall go retrieve the two,” Vision offers, sinking into the floor.

“I sorta missed him doing that,” you say to yourself. You look up again and give everyone a smile, but you can feel the tears trying to push their way through. You manage to keep them in for a short minute, but they spill over once you begin giving everyone a hug. You’re overwhelmed with emotion; you had the biggest scare of your entire life, not knowing if you would see them again. But here they are, in the flesh, alive and well.

Moments later, Vision comes back with Tony and Maeve, who are still deep in conversation. You perk up at the sound of her voice, and turn around, clutching your chest. She looks completely fine on the outside, but you know, you know, she’s burning on the inside. When she looks at you, she gives you one of those smiles where she’s excited about telling someone how much she loves the environment and what she’s going to do to hone it.

You can’t even hear her as she approaches you; all you see is her smile, and the fact that she’s walking on her own. You meet her halfway and wrap your arms around her, and squeeze tightly. You rapidly blink the tears away, and revel in this moment with her. She hugs you back just as enthusiastically, and continues to chatter your ear off. She’s glowing when you pull away from her, which only makes you embrace her again. She stops her ranting and takes the time to give you a real hug, without her unknowingly ruining it.

The room goes silent as you and Maeve have a reunion. Though it was reassuring to see her when you woke up in bed, it’s much better to see her walking on her own two feet. Her hug is warm and familiar, yet secure and surprisingly strong. She’s never hugged you with such ferocity before, but you couldn’t care less. It feels great.

“You look a lot better,” you mention as you pull away again. You give her a quick once-over, just to be sure.

“I am a lot better,” she confirms, swinging your hands. “A little bit sore in some places, but overall, I’m good! Mr. Stark was showing me his lab! It’s huge! He was showing me this amazing piece he’s working on and–“

“Ah bup bup,” Tony cuts in. “That’s still a secret. Can’t go giving anything away, Miss Lockette.”

“Oh, right, sorry,” she says, rubbing the back of her neck. “Guess they’ll just have to wait and see!”

“Exactly,” Tony agrees.

“Another secret project?” you guess.

“Yup,” Maeve says. “It’s a really good one.”

“Then why do you get to know about it and we don’t?” you ask, though you don’t really mind.

“Because he likes me best,” Maeve smiles.

“I’m sure,” you smile, giving Tony an eyebrow raise.

“Enough about that,” Tony says, ending the conversation there. “_______ is up and about. Welcome back.”

“Thanks.”

No matter if he likes it or not, you move forward and give him a hug as well. You don’t remember the last time you saw Tony hug someone. He probably needs it, anyway, so you make it last. You pull away when you sense he’s had his fill, and smile up at him.

“How you feelin’ kid?” he asks.

“Better,” you reply. “My wrists and ankles still need time to heal, but I’m good. Dr. Markson will get rid of the scars, too. After that, I know I’ll be alright.”

After greeting everyone equally, you all sit down for dinner. Tony made an order of Chinese some time ago, and arrives right on time. Sam, Steve, and Bucky bring everything in, and organize it on the table in the dining room. You’re surprised by how lively everyone is; you know they’re happy about you and Maeve being alright, but you didn’t expect this.

Sam and Bucky have seemed to have called a truce, and are actually talking to each other without casting in a sarcastic remark or arguing about stupid things. Tony hasn’t teased anyone (in a bad way), and Vision is speaking more. You don’t know what else has all of them in a good mood, but you’re not complaining. You all have a nice meal together. Maeve is the most enthusiastic of the bunch, since she’s meeting such extraordinary people all at once. She has a mountain of questions for each person, including Bucky. They’re all safe questions, though. She knows not to say anything sensitive or put someone off, just like a regular person would. Just stuff about their lives, what they like, what they do in their spare time. Generic things when getting to know a person. And she’s loving every minute of it.

Afterwards, everyone goes to their own quarters. Maeve has taken a very strong liking to Steve, Wanda, and Natasha, so she stays with them. Meanwhile, you decide to go see Dr. Markson to remove your scars. The two more serious ones you’ll leave alone, but the many others scattered along your body have got to go. You don’t need the daily reminder. Bucky goes with you, because he wants to be with you for the remainder of the night and see how this goes. He’s never seen how something like this works, so it’ll be informative for him.

The process is fairly simple and painless. Dr. Markson has you remove your clothes and spread your arms and legs evenly so he can access each scar with ease. He uses a small, hand-held device that sends pulses into your skin. It looks like a hot glue gun, in your opinion. But the red light emitting from the tip fluidly removes your scars with no trouble at all. The whole procedure takes about half an hour, so you speak with Bucky during the entire thing.

“You nervous?”

“Nope. You?”

“Why would I be nervous?”

“Because you came down here with me.”

“Of course I did. I wanted to be with you.”

You smile widely at him. You don’t know if you’ll ever get used to hearing Bucky say that. You’re not even sure if he’s used to it yet. You’re still very new to having a relationship with a man, and Bucky having a relationship with anyone at all. You’re both still healing from new and old wounds, but so far, you’ve been nothing but supportive of each other. Offering comfort and insight and sympathy when needed.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, staring down at Dr. Markson’s hands. He only has a handful more to go. That time is spent in a comfortable silence, and when Dr. Markson is finished, you sit up to get a good look at yourself.

“It’s like they weren’t even there,” you comment, smoothing your fingers over where the scars used to be. “Thank you for this. I really appreciate it.”

“You’re most welcome,” he says, taking off his gloves. “There is no aftercare needed for this. Just keep up with your whirlpool therapy.”

“I will. Thank you again.”

You put your clothes back on as Dr. Markson takes his leave. Bucky takes you back upstairs, and you go straight to the kitchen to see if there’s any ice cream in the freezer. Luckily there is, so you grab the tub, two spoons, and plop down on the couch with Bucky trailing behind. You happily lay his legs over your lap and share the ice cream with him while watching TV.

The whole atmosphere seems very domestic to you. Sitting together at home, having a night in, watching some simple TV and falling asleep together. It’s exactly what you’d imagine yourself doing someday, even though you did it quite often with Maeve. But it’s much different when it’s with your lover. You even eat the rest of the ice cream when Bucky can’t have any more. Then you bury yourself against his chest while he throws a blanket over you. Steve, Wanda, Natasha, and Maeve are upstairs, Tony is most likely in his lab, Vision in his room, and Sam either in his room as well or has made his way upstairs to join the fun. But being here with Bucky is enough to keep you calm for the remainder of the night.

You two retire early to bed, despite it being ten at night. You’re nearly falling asleep on the couch, and you don’t want a sore neck in the morning. So you force yourself up, and grip Bucky’s arm to drag him off to bed as well. He’s grumpy about it, but once you push him down on his bed he instantly recoils. He pulls in his legs and hunches over. You crawl in beside him, put the covers over him, and decide to be the big spoon tonight. His metal arm is lukewarm since you were laying on it in the living room, so you settle into him quite nicely. You kiss the back of his neck and grasp his hand.

“I love you, Bucky,” you whisper as a goodnight.

“I love you too,” he says, kissing your fingers.

“See you in the morning.”

You manage to keep him in your arms the entire night, and also prevent him from having any nightmares. But that doesn’t stop you from having some of your own.

A week later, on October 9th, Maeve is going back home.

She’s had a tremendous time at the compound, you’d say. She was smiling, participating in every conversation, and wouldn’t shut up about all that she’s learned. And not one ounce of her happiness annoyed you. She’d been given the opportunity to get to know the Avengers when they weren’t risking their lives for the world. And even though she can’t speak a word of this to anybody back home, she’s perfectly fine keeping it to herself. As long as she’s able to share her experience with you over and over, she’ll forget that it was even a big event in the first place.

You walk with her to the private landing strip outside the compound where the jet is waiting for her. Tony tags along as well, to see that things go over smoothly. It’s a surprisingly quiet walk, though everything Maeve wants to say, she’s already said. It’s news enough to be able to meet at least one member of the team, but all of them at once? You’d have a small riot on your hands.

Once you’re nearing the steps of the jet, you sigh, and stop walking, as does Maeve and Tony. He hangs back to allow you to say a proper goodbye.

“This… isn’t exactly how I wanted you to meet everyone,” you say solemnly, but manage a small smile. “But I’m really glad you did.”

“So am I,” she agrees. “And sorry for chatting your ear off. I’m sure you knew everything I told you.”

“Mostly, yeah,” you nod. “But I didn’t mind. You have the right to be excited, and you know I love talking about them whenever someone brings them up.”

“We just can’t help ourselves.”

“No we can’t.”

You have a small laugh together before Maeve brings you in for a hug. You immediately reciprocate it, and control the tears when you feel yourself getting emotional. Even after hugging for a solid minute, you feel like she pulls away too early. The wind whips her wild hair across her face, and she pushes it behind her ear.

“Be sure to still keep my updated,” she says. “On them, and on you.”

“Same to you,” you say. “I wanna know how you’re doing too.”

“Agreed.”

Just then, Tony steps in, and holds out a long, rectangular box for Maeve. He hands it over to her, and she takes it.

“Just a little goodbye gift,” Tony says. “Nothing too fancy.”

Maeve takes off the lid, and her eyes widen as she stares down at what seems to be a very expensive looking Michael Kors watch. She takes it out and watches the diamonds shine in the sun.

“This is–“

“No need to thank me,” Tony interrupts. “Also, it’s not just a watch.” He makes a gesture that tells her to flip it over, so she does. “See that there? There’s a button inside that’s exclusively designated for extreme emergencies. If you ever need us, we’ll be there.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” Maeve quickly says before Tony cuts her off again. “This is more than I could ask for. I don’t know how else to–“

“No need,” he interrupts again, holding up a hand. “It’s the least I could do after all that’s happened. And I am assigning a body guard for you. Though he will act as a sort of concierge for your apartment building. If you’re ever in trouble, he will be there. He’s waiting on the jet.”

“Thank you,” Maeve says again. Tony can only smile, and offer a small hug before taking a step back to watch her take her leave. You share one last hug with Maeve before she disappears up the stairs and into the jet.

“You gonna be okay?” Tony asks you.

“I will be,” you say. “But it’s her I’m worried about. She hasn’t said a word to me since that night in the infirmary.”

“She’ll be alright, kid,” Tony assures you. “She’s strong. From spending just a few hours with her, I can tell that she’ll pull out of this okay.”

“I hope you’re right. And what is she gonna say when she gets home? She’s still in school, y’know. Her friends will know she wasn’t there.”

“I got that handled.”

“What did you say?”

“That I reviewed her work and decided to give her a tour of the clean-energy Tower. And gave her a few tips and tricks about how to achieve that.”

“Clever.”

“She’s bringing back evidence, too. I gave her some blueprints and my personal notes. So she won’t be lying about where she was.”

“Always a way out.”

“Exactly.”

“Thank you, Tony.”

“No problem. Come on. She’s gonna be fine.”

“Un.”

The two of you watch the jet take off, and you don’t go back to the compound until the jet has disappeared from your sight.

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angelsd0ntkill · 6 years

Text

Read in 2017:

One of my New Year’s Resolutions was to read at least 20 books this year, and since 2018 is here at last, I thought I’d post a list of everything I’ve read throughout 2017. :D The first 20 or so aren’t in any order, btw, I didn’t think of keeping a list until sometime in the summer. ^^”

The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath

The Glass Castle by Jeanette Walls

The Argonauts by Maggie Nelson

Tell the Wolves I’m Home by Carol Rifka Brunt

The Little Paris Bookshop by Nina George

If This Is A Woman: Inside Ravensbrück: Hitler’s Concentration Camp for Women by Sarah Helm

In Order to Live: A North Korean Girl’s Journey to Freedom by Yeonmi Park

The Cyber Effect by Mary Aiken

Pimp State: Sex, Money and the Future of Equality by Kat Banyard

Valkoiset varpaat: kauhutarinoita edited by Marko Hautala (”White Toes: Horror Stories”)

How I Became a North Korean by Krys Lee

Go Set a Watchman by Harper Lee

Never Go Back by Robert Goddard

Rest in Pieces: the Curious Fates of Famous Corpses by Bess Lovejoy

I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou

Harry Potter ja viisasten kivi by J.K. Rowling (the Philosopher’s Stone)

Harry Potter ja salaisuuksien kammio by J.K. Rowling (the Chamber of Secrets)

Harry Potter ja Azkabanin vanki by J.K. Rowling (the Prisoner of Azkaban)

Purge by Sofi Oksanen

Naamiohuvit by Ilari Koivunen

Aavikon tyttäret by Nura Farah (”Daughters of the Desert”)

milk & honey by rupi kaur

What Should We Tell Our Daughters?: The Pleasures and Pressures of Growing Up Female by Melissa Benn

Wild Swans: Three Daughters of China by Jung Chang

The Lucifer Effect by Philip Zimbardo

Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind by Yuval Noah Harari

On Tyranny: Twenty Lessons from the Twentieth Century by Timothy Snyder

Bury My Heart At Wounded Knee by Dee Brown

I’d also like to take this moment to shamelessly promo my little side-blog, @the-readingshelf, since I intend to post about all of these there eventually.

I’m pretty proud of myself for reading even more than I intended. Maybe in 2018 I can reach 30 books. :^)

#the life of a Julian #read in 2017

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kebee-s · 6 years

Video

vimeo

THE AVENGERS - Main On End from Method Studios on Vimeo.

Method Design was awarded the mission of creating the stereo main-on-end title sequence for this critically acclaimed Marvel blockbuster. The two minute sequence was created entirely in CG and portrays a photo realistic flyby of the super heroes' weaponry and armor - all in macroscopic detail.

Method Design Credits  Creative Director : Steve Viola Producer : Daniel Masciarelli Concept Designer : Chris Sanchez Designers : Bernard Crosland, Michael Sausa CG Supervisor : Pouyan Navid CG Lighter : Marko Mandaric Lead 3D Designer : Jamie Sawyer CG Artists : Omid Ensafi, Norris Houk, Ariel Loza Stereo Compositing Supervisor : Troy Moore Lead Compositor : Eva Snyder Compositors : Krista Benson, Sandro Blattner, Ivy Depies, Sam Jorgensen, Ryan Quinlin, Toma Bowen, Ryan Urban, Nicholas Kim, Jeff Allen, Doug Bloom

 Client : Marvel Studios  

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iami0 · 6 years

Video

vimeo

The Avengers - Main on End Titles from Steve Viola on Vimeo.

After the success of Captain America, Marvel Studios came back to us to pitch on the titles of their largest film yet: The Avengers. We pitched several concepts, and the fun part was the Joss loved all of them so much that, we actually had an entire meeting post-pitch to figure out which one to go with :-)

We settled on this “Battle Scars” concept which I developed first as a fly-through of the Shield Heli-Carrier, but further developed into an examination of what our heroes went through. Chris Sanchez killed it in designing the actual boards for the concept, and Mike Sausa also helped in producing the pitch and final frames. The sequence takes us through the Shield Heli-Carrier in a macro CGI sequence, as we explore the aftermath & toll the battle took on the heroes, and their suits/armor/symbols/etc. Even the super heroes came close to total defeat in the final moments of battle.

This piece was beyond ambitious with less than three months to produce a 2 minute photoreal sequence of macro CGI in stereoscopic, and have it seamlessly connect with an epilogue scene produced simultaneously by Digital Domain.

Studio: MARVEL STUDIOS Director – Joss Whedon Executive Producer / Head of Post & VFX – Victoria Alonso Producer / President, Marvel Studios – Kevin Feige

Production Company: METHOD DESIGN (METHOD STUDIOS) Creative Director & VFX Supervisor – Steve Viola Producer – Dan Masciarelli Concept Designer – Chris Sanchez Lead Designers – Mike Sausa, Bernard Crosland 3D/CG Artists – Jamie Sawyer, Omid Ensafi, Ariel Loza, Pouyan Navid Lead Lighter – Marko Mandaric Lead Compositors – Brian Delmonico, Sam Jorgenson, Ivy Depies, Eva Snyder Stereoscopic Compositing Supervisor – Troy Moore Concept, Editorial & Title Design – Steve Viola

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maryprovencher · 7 years

Text

CWNE List

Name Number Keerti Melkote #1 Kimberly Graves #2 Keith Parsons #3 David Coleman #4 Jimmy Donohue #5 Joel Barrett #6 David Westcott #7 Richard Navidad #8 Mohammad Sarwar #9 Rick Murphy #10 Ranjeet Rana #11 Ben Miller #12 Chris Hyde #13 Troy McMillan #14 Senthilraj Shanmugavadivel #15 Casey Collins #16 Reggie Pugh #17 Bader Azzouqa #18 Rick Dreger #19 Deborah Dahlin #20 GT Hill #21 Tim Lemmon #22 Metka Dragos #23 Luiz Santos #24 Kenneth Gholston #25 Vincent Chow #26 Ismail Jado #27 Zachary Crawford #28 Michael Armel #29 Goran Ost #30 Dan Spanner #31 Douglas Haider #32 Peter Mackenzie #33 Ryan Miles #34 Pablo Alvarez #35 George Anderson #36 Jeff Smith #37 Gene Sawyer #38 Henry Chou #39 Kashif Siddiqui #40 Abdullah Al-Ghubari #41 Jeremy Kennedy #42 Dilip Advani #43 Bryan Harkins #44 Jerome Henry #45 Brian B. Lang #46 Jonn Martell #47 Tom Miller #48 Wei Wu #49 Levi Souza #50 Jennifer Huber #51 Steve Smith #52 Alistair Meakin #53 Shawn Jackman #54 Seth Rosenthal #55 Roger Kuhn #56 Matt Swartz #57 Rob Rohde #58 Tim Wilhoit #59 Kevin Steuber #60 Edwin (EK) Ahn #61 Mark Buch #62 Derrick Dicoi #63 Chris O’Donnell #64 Jeff DiMaio #65 Falk Bachmann #66 Mark Phillips #67 Ronald Shaul #68 Vinay Saini #69 Kevin (Chen) Wang #70 Greg Taylor #71 Robert Schaefer #72 Bruce Heaven #73 Brian Cox #74 Darrell Schrock #75 Derrick Phua #76 Raymond Flores #77 Marcus Burton #78 Brian Kovatch #79 Tarcizo Azevedo #80 Mohammed Arshad #81 Ric Hall #82 Aunudrei Oliver #83 Andrew vonNagy #84 Christian J. Estes #85 Peter Paul Engelen #86 Mark Sanetrik #87 Paul Stanley #88 Jon Linton #89 Troy Martin #90 Chad Smith #91 Roman Podoynitsyn #92 Aaron Smith #93 Timothy Dennehy #94 Alan #95 Gregor Vucjnk #96 Hao Deng #97 Travis Schlafke #98 Chris W. Brown #99 David Cook #100 Samuel Clements #101 Terry Tam #102 Sean Rynearson #103 Tom Carpenter #104 Ken Lim #105 Tim Ritterbush #106 Thet Lwin #107 Ronald van Kleunen #108 Derrick Monahan #109 Paul Finlay #110 Arun Wadhawan #111 Chuck Lukaszewski #112 Neil Mac #113 Ty Bowser #114 Erik Lubinger #115 Lee Johnson #116 Jared Griffith #117 Leonardo Mezzanotti #118 Robert Bartz #119 Anthony Blasse #120 Carlos Alcantara #121 Theofilos Sakoulias #122 Ryan D’souza #123 Tim Rowley #124 Jason Fernyc #125 Marko Tisler #126 Jaromir Likavec #127 Scott D Swist #128 Alan Blake #129 Dick Andersson #130 Travis Bonfigli #131 Scott Stapleton #132 Ali Youssef #133 Kevin Zhu #134 Nigel Bowden #135 Kevin Franzen #136 Janet Rae #137 Nathan York #138 Erik Klaubert #139 Claudia Ibarra #140 Jeffrey Kuehn #141 Aaron Scott #142 Charlie Twietmeyer #143 Chris Radford #144 Zahari Georgiev #145 Viten Patel #146 Brett Hill #147 Martin Ericson #148 Ben Wocks #149 Mike Albano #150 Nicolò Venchierutti #151 Blake Krone #152 Rasika Nayanajith #153 Jasper Cheng #154 Darren Johnson #155 Chris Lyttle #156 Alan Klein #157 Seppi Dittli #158 Brian Long #159 Eddie Forero #160 Jake Snyder #161 Henry Owusu Karikari #162 Jeff Haydel #163 Chris Avants #164 Thomas Larsen #165 Adrian McCaskill #166 Tim Rousset #167 Jeff Chua #168 Ram Krishnan #169 Phil Sosaya #170 Jason Hintersteiner #171 Trent Hurt #172 Ty Parker #173 Marek Krauze #174 Ruwan Indika #175 Jonathan Hurtt #176 Steve Evans #177 Matti Sysmalainen #178 James Garringer #179 Francois Verges #180 Glenn Cate #181 Jeal Jimenez #182 Jim Vajda #183 Chris Dunbar #184 Trent Cutler #185 Moises Rodriguez #186 Ferney Munoz #187 Robert Krumm #188 Michael Combs #189 Brennan Martin #190 Neil McRae #191 AJ Nurcombe #192 Farzam Vafa #193 Zhang Shuang #194 Jaffar Nassiry #195 Pierre Martin #196 Matt Frederick #197 Nolan Herring #198 DeWayne Williams #199 Lee Badman #200 Andrew Shipton #201 Romany Faheem #202 Qing Xie #203 #204 Justin Peterson #205 Bin Han #206 Jeen Sern Chew #207 #208 Jesse DeWath #209 Rowell Dionicio #210 Will K. #211 Charles Lewis #212 Stefan Angerer #213 Zaib Kaleem #214 Ryan Adzima #215 Michael Ruetz #216 Daniel Koz #217 Matthew Norwood #218 Tom Van Driessche #219 Aren Gates #220 Andrew Wang #221 Nathaniel Moore #222 Warren Rautenbach #223 Ashish Bhatia #224 Gustavo Mastroianni #225 David Kershaw #226 Rex Chen #227 Shannon Cranko #228 Alexey Belousov #229 Robert Eubanks #230 Sean Sivak #231 Michael Lane #232 Joel Crane #233 Richard Steiner #234 Cedric Terrier #235 Adam Vasquez #236

Thanks to Bryan Noe for compiling this list together

The post CWNE List appeared first on Wireless LAN Professionals.

from News About Technology https://www.wlanpros.com/resources/cwne-list/

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jamestdoleus · 7 years

Text

CWNE List

Thanks to Bryan Noe for compiling this list together

The post CWNE List appeared first on Wireless LAN Professionals.

from James Dole Gadgets News https://www.wlanpros.com/resources/cwne-list/

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aaronaknightca · 7 years

Text

CWNE List

Thanks to Bryan Noe for compiling this list together

The post CWNE List appeared first on Wireless LAN Professionals.

from https://www.wlanpros.com/resources/cwne-list/

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adamgdooley · 7 years

Text

CWNE List

Thanks to Bryan Noe for compiling this list together

The post CWNE List appeared first on Wireless LAN Professionals.

from Computer And Technology https://www.wlanpros.com/resources/cwne-list/

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the-chubbiest-dumpling · 7 years

Text

Endings and Beginnings: Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen: Rescue

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 14 600

Warnings: Swearing, violence, torture

A/N: Tbh even though this is over 14k this is the fastest chapter I’ve written yet (4 days). I’m surprised I kept at it everyday 😅

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Epilogue

Tags: @shamvictoria11 @blazeshira

“Tony do something!” you scream, desperate for his help. But he can’t do anything. In a last ditch attempt, you go running out with your arm stretched, reaching for Maeve’s hand. But it’s too late. Snyders flies up into the air, and leaves you a parting gift as well: an upgraded flash grenade. You’re sent flying back inside, and land hardly on the floor. You yell as you push yourself up and run outside again, even if you can’t see. Snyders flies up into the sky, taking Maeve with him, leaving you standing there helpless, useless, as he takes his prize.

You can’t believe this. You cannot believe your eyes. You cannot believe that your best friend just got kidnapped by a complete lunatic in front of your own eyes and you couldn’t do anything to help her. Your chest feels heavy, and your legs weak. You feel like you’ve just let the entire world down. You kneel down on the cement, the amount of guilt physically weighing you down. You hold your face in your hand, and scream in fury. You’ve never wanted to kill somebody so badly in your entire life. Hot tears wet your cheeks as you rock back and forth, reeling with anger.

Your resolve couldn’t be more clear.

Lowering your hand, you glare at the horizon line and stand up, wiping your years away. You know you can’t just leave her in the possession of a potential mass murderer and innovator of weapons of mass destruction. He said you’d come rescue her.

That’s exactly what you’re going to do.

You turn around and storm back inside the Tower, glowering at Tony and Natasha.

“I’m going to bring her back,” you say hardly, leaving no room for discussion. “Whatever it takes. And no one’s going to stop me.”

“We weren’t planning on stopping you, _______,” Natasha says gently. “We’re going to help.”

“Who was that guy, anyway?” Tony asks curiously. You’re shocked that he’s asking such a thing after what just happened. Tony recognizes your confusion and continues. “He asked you if you knew who he was. And you did. Who was he, _______?”

“Marko Snyders,” you sigh, looking away. You cross your arms and stare at the floor. “He was the target of my solo mission. An enthusiastic fanboy of weapons of mass destruction and has a love for the black market. S.H.I.E.L.D. was supposed to have him in custody. He’s probably making those kinds of weapons by now.”

“Of course,” Tony scoffs, shaking his head. “Of course they give you the shadiest target to apprehend. Now look what’s happened.”

“I know,” you agree. “But I can’t dwell on that now. I need to get Maeve back. Is that new suit ready for a field test? And can you track that son of a bitch? We need to get a read on him right now. I have no clue where he’s going or have any idea about where he’d take her for that matter. So we need to–”

“_______,” Natasha interrupts, walking towards you slowly. “Firstly you need to get your head fixed. Then we can–“

“I don’t give a fuck about myself right now,” you snap. Natasha doesn’t flinch. “What matters right now is Maeve. And if you’re not willing to go after her this very moment, then I’ll do it myself.”

“And then what?” Tony asks harshly. You stop in your tracks as you begin to walk away. “You’re gonna go out on a limb and just start searching this entire city? The next? You need to calm down and think, _______. Like you said, you have no idea where she is or where he could be taking her.”

“Exactly! That’s why–“

“I wasn’t finished,” Tony interjects again. “I said you have no idea where she is. But I do.”

Your heart stops and for a second you want to start crying again. But you stop yourself from doing so. You give Tony an extremely sad expression, which prompts him to go on.

“Whatever he used to shut down the systems,” he says, walking towards the minibar, “–didn’t last for very long. It’s a mystery in itself how something could override my technology, but we’re going to look past that. Instead, we can track him.”

Tony presses the exact same button he did when everything was shut down, and this time, multiple projections of blue lines fill the room. You move away so you can see it in its entirety, and wonder how the hell this is supposed to help you all find Maeve. Tony reaches behind the counter for a remote, and presses another button. Red beams outline where Snyders was standing, and after pressing another button, reveals exactly what he was wearing.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., start the material makeup analysis.”

F.R.I.D.A.Y. scans the hologram of Snyders, and begins downloading and examining the data she’s been given. You stare at the image of Snyders angrily, but also a little confused. You tilt your head in Tony’s direction.

“Was this what was supposed to happen when you pushed that button the first time?” you ask coldly. Tony investigates the data as he answers.

“Yes and no,” he replies smoothly, skimming through what he’s been given.

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” You drop your arms and start waltzing your way over to him, intent on giving him a good punch if need be.

“What I mean is that this whole process,” he starts, referring to the analysis, “is what that button is meant to do. It captures an infrared image of the entire room, and breaks down what specific parts it’s made of. In this case, it’ll be Snyders’ armour. The thing you’re probably confused about is the ‘no’ part.” You nod once. “When the power is functioning, the device operates at its full capacity, and is supposed to making a loud clicking noise once it takes the image, but I didn’t hear it. And if it ever unexpectedly shuts down, it only runs on about thirteen percent. It’s better than nothing.”

You crack your knuckles in irritation. You’re glad that there’s at least one thing in the Tower that can work without sufficient power, but you’re still fuming about how little any of you did. It’s just like Steve says: you can’t save everyone. But that’s not going to dampen your determination. You’re not going to let Maeve be killed. Not on your watch.

Natasha silently stitches up your forehead as Tony calculates the exact location of Snyders’ position. The metal he was wearing is awfully generic, making it difficult for Tony to pinpoint him since it’s so common. But thankfully, there was one small detail about his armour that allows Tony to have a general location within a three-mile radius.

“I got it,” he announces. You jump off the counter of the bar and go over to Tony at his work station. He glances at you before focusing on the data again. “How’s the head?”

“’S fine,” you mumble, tracing your eyes over his work. “Where is he?”

“Not too far,” Tony says, projecting the figures in the air. “About an hour’s flight away, in St. Mary’s.” He circles to a patch of rural area in Pennsylvania. “Being the man you claim him to be, he’d need quite a lot of space for his projects. Whether this is a headquarter checkpoint or just one of his manufacturing garages, I’ve deciphered that he’ll be in this building here.” He zooms in on the side of the warehouse. “It’s labeled as a self-storage unit, and it’s off the main road. It gives him the privacy he needs. The pathetic metal he wore is quite common, but it had a small coating of rhenium on the surface. I was able to trace him using that.”

You stare at the blinking red dot on the map, thinking about Maeve. You try to push away the thoughts of her being tortured in any way, but the intrusive thoughts keep forcing their way in. You rub your temple and grit your teeth.

“Save the address,” you growl. “Let’s get going.”

You don’t wait for either of them to answer before you start to make your way to the jet platform outside. You don’t know how much time Maeve has, and you don’t want to think about it. Tony and Natasha join you on the quinjet soon after, with Natasha being the designated driver. You’re completely silent as they come into view, your only thoughts being that of getting Maeve back safely. Natasha starts it up, then flies quickly in the direction of the compound.

“Wait, what are you doing?” you ask, getting up. You know this path. “Where are you going, Natasha?”

“To the compound,” she says. “And before you object, just know that we’ll need everyone for this. Out of necessity, and because they would come anyway. We’ll get there in time, _______. Trust me.”

“You better be right,” you scoff, shaking your head as you take your seat again. Natasha looks at you over your shoulder before pushing the quinjet to it’s maximum speed.

“Hang on,” she warns. It comes too late as you go flying to the side. You grip the straps of the seat belts at the bottom of the seats to keep yourself from sliding. Tony flawlessly contacts everyone at the compound about the situation, telling them to suit up and be ready for when they arrive. Once you find your seat again, you fasten yourself in and pray that everything will be okay.

With the insane speed that Natasha was flying at, you arrive back at the compound in two hours flat. You feel faint after arriving, but you shake it off and speed-walk inside the compound and upstairs to change into your suit. As you’re in the middle of pushing your arms through, there’s a knock at the door. You don’t bother to answer, since whoever it is, they’re not going to change your mind.

“_______?” It’s Bucky. You zip up the front of your suit securely, then begin to tie your hair up. He opens the door and walks inside.

“_______?” he calls again.

“I’m not listening to any complaints about me going,” you say, grabbing a ponytail from your dresser. “She’s my friend, and I’m going to get her back. No one can tell me otherwise.”

“I know,” he says gently. “We’re all going. I’m going.”

“No,” you say, snapping your head around to look at him. “You can’t come, Bucky. As much as I want you to, it’s too much of a risk. You can’t be seen.”

“Stark said she’s being kept in the middle of nowhere,” he counters, trying to reason with you. He lowers his voice when he sees the cut in your forehead. “No one is going to see me.”

“His men will,” you remark, grabbing your mask. “And I’m pretty sure they’d know damn well what the Winter Soldier looks like.”

“You think I’m going to let you go out there by yourself?”

“But I won’t be alone, Bucky,” you argue. “I’ll have Natasha and Wanda and Steve and Tony and Sam and Vision. There’s no reason why you need to put any unnecessary danger upon yourself.”

“And the rest of them aren’t?” he scoffs. “I’d be risking the same things they’d be risking. More on me I know, but I don’t want to be sitting here for hours on end worried the hell out of my mind, wondering if you’re alive or not.”

You drop your hands from your face after putting on your mask and sigh. You don’t want to have an argument before doing this mission. It would be a major distraction for yourself. You approach Bucky, and cup his face in your hands.

“I’m going,” you say softly. You put a finger to his lips to keep him from interrupting. “And you’re coming too, since you’d probably go anyway. But you have to promise me that you’ll stay in the jet. Otherwise I’ll have to strap you down here myself.”

Bucky knows he’s not going to get a better deal. He nods, agreeing with your terms, and kisses your forehead.

“I’ll stay put,” he confirms.

“Good,” you say. “Let’s get going.”

You grab your gun and slide it into your holster before leaving your room and heading down to the hangar to meet with everyone else. You assume they’ve all been relayed the message by Tony, since he said it himself. You don’t need to speak with any of them; you know they have your back.

As you walk down the stairs to the hangar and see everyone, you notice they’ve all geared up: Steve in his Captain America uniform carrying his shield, Sam has his wings, Tony in his Iron Man suit. You put on a brave face (though it can’t be seen), and take deep breaths as you approach them. Not much needs to be said; they’ve all made their decision to help you, because that’s what a family does.

God that really sounded like Steve.

You all board the jet in silence, except for Tony as he will be flying alongside you. You hear footsteps from behind you, so you look over your shoulder and see Bucky jogging to keep up. He’s dressed in what seems like a modified Winter Soldier outfit: it’s still all black attire, but with a vest instead of the intense strapping from his old one. He’s wearing his glove as well, but that doesn’t do much to cover the entirety of his arm. You wait for him, and silence everyone’s concerns with a glare.

“He’s staying on board,” you say simply. “He’s not leaving once we get there. End of story. Vision, you watch him and make sure he doesn’t leave. I don’t want him seen by anyone. Got it?”

“Understood,” Vision says, nodding in compliance. He motions for Bucky to have a seat next to him, and he does. You take a seat by yourself, not wanting to interact for a while, and to cool down a bit. This is the most stressful experience you’ve ever been in in your entire life. There’s only a handful outcomes that you can think of when all of this is over:

1. Maeve is saved, and Snyders and his men are killed and/or captured

2. Maeve is saved, but Snyders and his men get away

3. Maeve is killed, but Snyders and his men get away

4. Maeve is killed, along with Snyders and his men

5. Maeve is saved, and Snyders and his men are killed and/or captured, and someone on the team is killed

6. Maeve is saved, but Snyders and his men get away, and someone on the team is killed

7. Maeve is killed, but Snyders and his men get away and someone on the team is killed

8. Maeve is killed, along with Snyders and his men and someone on the team

Your head hurts from thinking about all of these scenarios. You support your face in your hands and lean your elbows on your knees. You do some breathing techniques to calm yourself down, and tap your foot on the floor. Steve recognizes that you want some alone time, but him being him, he knows that even though you may not realize it, you need someone to talk with you.

He gets out of his seat and settles down next to you. You don’t say anything to him, and he was expecting that. You’re not one to usually start a conversation, which Steve also knows, so he waits a minute or two before opening his mouth.

“How’re you holding up?” he asks quietly, glancing at you.

You close your eyes and breathe deeply before giving him an answer. “About as good as you can expect,” you reply, staring down at the floor. You dig your fingernails hardly into each other, and begin bouncing your knee. Your heart is racing, and you can’t focus. You’re afraid that you’re going to compromise this mission because of your mental state, and that one member, if not everyone, will tell you to stay behind. Steve’s not going to tell you that.

But that doesn’t mean he’s not going to be realistic and cautious about this.

“I can’t tell you that everything is going to go smoothly,” he starts, treading carefully. “But if it’s any consolation, if someone can pull this off, it’s you. You have the skill, the tenacity, and most importantly, the integrity. Complications are going to arise, and there’s no way to avoid that. But this is your mission, _______. You’re calling the shots. It’s going to be rough, but we’re here with you. We’ll get her back.”

Your eyes sting with tears at Steve’s small pep talk. The one hope everyone always has is that everything is going to be okay. But that’s not the case in all scenarios. Steve is Steve, and you’re grateful for his encouraging words. You lift your head, your eyes glassy, and nod in thanks, since he won’t be able to see your smile. He smiles back anyhow, and rubs your shoulder.

“All we need to do is win,” he says.

“Easier said than done,” comes your quiet reply. “But it’s the only option. And I’m not about to let Maeve down. Or any of you down, for that matter.”

“You won’t,” he reassures you. “We’ve seen you in the field. Just get in your zone, and you’ll be unstoppable. Just do what you gotta do.”

“And the same to you guys,” you agree.

Steve continues to speak with you for most of the three-hour flight to Pennsylvania. He wants to settle your nerves, and give you some confidence. He can see in your eyes the terror you’re experiencing, and there’s nothing more nerve-wracking than a person who doesn’t feel like themselves. The pressure and anxiety of rescuing someone close to you is like trying to carry around a stone of slab that weighs a ton. Steve knows exactly how that feels.

Along with you, he’s also worried about Bucky and how he’s going to deal with this entire situation. He originally wasn’t supposed to come, but given the fact that he wouldn’t let you go without him, Steve isn’t surprised that he was allowed to come along on one condition: that he stays in the quinjet. Taking that into consideration… Steve isn’t confident that Bucky is going to stand by that order. He can’t help but want to jump in and help. Especially when your safety is in jeopardy. Whatever happens, Steve hopes that you both come out of this alive.

As you’re nearing the designated location, you stand up and stare out the windshield. All you can see is grass upon grass upon grass, with a single warehouse planted in the middle of it. You wipe your clammy palms on your legs before pulling your gloves out of your pocket. You slide them on as Natasha lands the jet a few hundred meters away from the site. The air is tense, silent, and serious. Natasha opens the door, and you all step out onto the grass. You speak with Bucky before stepping off last.

“For the love of god, please stay here,” you tell him, clutching his hand. “Forget about being killed. HYDRA could get their hands on you again and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if that happened. So please, please promise me you’ll stay in the quinjet.”

Bucky hears the pleading in your voice, but he sees it the most in your eyes. He’s never heard you sound so afraid for him before. He squeezes your hand, and nods with hesitation. He still doesn’t know if he’ll be able to keep that promise.

“I promise,” he whispers, his eyes downcast.

“Okay,” you say. You close your eyes as he places a long, gentle kiss to your forehead. You hug him tightly after, glad that he’s going to listen to you.

“I’ll see you after,” you say, pulling away. You turn to Vision now. “Watch him. Please. Don’t let him slip through your fingers.”

“No need to worry, _______,” Vision says. “He won’t be joining you until you return.”

“Thank you, Vision. We’ll see you after, as well.”

And with that, you turn your back on them and walk out of the quinjet to join the others. You stare out in the field, the warehouse being a spec in the distance. You stand at the head of the group, and lead them towards the goal. Your head and heart race together, so much that it makes you feel dizzy again. But you absolutely cannot break focus. You’re here for Maeve, and you’re going to save her.

The warehouse gets bigger and bigger the closer you get, and you wonder just how massive this place is. You clench your fists in frustration and grit your teeth.

Shut up. Calm the fuck down. Thinking too much is going to screw everything up. You gotta stop doing this or you’re going to fuck everyone over.

You walk faster and take deeper breaths as your anger intensifies. Fighting gives you energy like you’ve never experienced, and you hope to god that it’ll give you the willpower you need to get through this day.

When you come within 50 metres of the place, a voice speaks over an intercom system.

“Take out your earpiece, leave your gun, and come in alone.”

You’d recognize that voice anywhere now. The team stops in place, and you narrow your eyes at the building. If that’s the way it has to be, then you have to do it. You have to comply if you want Maeve to come out of this alive.

“And if I don’t?” you question, curious to see what he’ll say.

“It’s very simple,” he says. “Your friend dies in the most horrible way possible, and then we kill all of you. So make your decision wisely.”

Sighing, you bring your hand to your right ear, and pull out the earpiece, dropping it on the ground. You do the same with your gun, and began walking towards the entrance.

“_______, wait!” Steve calls out, taking a step forward.

“I’m gonna do as he says, Steve,” you tell him, frowning over your shoulder. “If this is the way to save Maeve, then I’m going to do it.” You continue your way forward, but Steve reaches out and grabs your forearm.

“_______,” he pleads.

You tilt your head to the side, knowing he’s going to try and let him come with you, but you shake your head.

“No, Steve,” you say. You take your arm back and turn around to face him. “I’m going in alone. And if you can’t–“

“I’m not kidding around, _______,” Steve argues, his voice firm. “I’m not–“

“Didn’t you say that I’m calling the shots here?!” you yell. He flinches in surprise. He takes a step back and sighs. You huff, and begin backing away. “I am going in alone. And if I’m not out of there within thirty minutes, follow me. But look for Maeve first. She is the top priority, not me. Do whatever you can to get her out of there. That’s an order.”

Steve reluctantly lets you go, but he nods his head in affirmation. You turn your back on them once again, and begin your journey inside. It’s what you’d expect from a typical warehouse: shiny, cement floors, rows upon rows of orange shelving, fluorescent lighting, forklifts. But there’s not a soul in sight. The lights are dimmed, and you’re prepared to light some bastards up. You proceed with caution, walking on your toes and keeping your ears open to even the smallest of sounds. You saunter down an isle, wondering where the hell Snyders is. You know he wouldn’t just let you stroll in here unarmed without a plan in mind. But just because you’re unarmed, doesn’t mean you’re not.

You put your arm up, leveling it with your face. It’s no form of protection, but you can produce flames faster than you did before. You haven’t reached full-body production, but you’re still a work in progress. As you reach the end of the isle, you tentatively look left and right for any sign of human life, but there’s no one. You don’t hear, nor see, anyone.

They all must be in a di–

You hear the sounds of guns being locked and loaded simultaneously. You freeze in place, and look up. About a dozen men come out of their hiding places on the shelves, and point their weapons at you. You lower your arm, but not your guard. Your movements are slow, but careful as you turn around, looking for Snyders.

“Braaavaaa, braaavaaa.”

You whip your head around when you hear his voice and the sound of him clapping. He appears around the corner of the isle, stepping into view.

“I didn’t think you’d do it,” he comments, giving you a once-over. You notice he’s dressed like a normal civilian instead of the armour he was wearing when he took Maeve. And it seems as though he’s found himself a pretty clever makeup artist, since the burns on his face have all but disappeared. That scar on his neck is still painfully visible, though.

“Just one simple proposal and you drop everything to come in here? That’s fantastic!”

He begins a monologue, but you’re too weirded out by his strange behaviour. The unnerving smile, speaking with his hands, and the swagger he’s carrying… it feels like a completely different Marko Snyders than the one you met at the club. But a change in personality isn’t going to divert you from your objective.

“Where is she?” you demand.

He immediately stops talking when you ask for Maeve. His smile slowly falls from his face, and he lowers his arms, tucking his hands in his pockets. He takes a step forward, and you straighten up. You’re not afraid of him. You nearly killed him once; you’re not going to let that opportunity slide again.

“Come,” he says, wrapping an arm around you. “Let’s take a walk.”

Now you’re even more suspicious. You clench and unclench your fists to keep yourself under control as he leads you away from one part of the warehouse to another. He has a look of glory on his face, like he’s just had an epiphany. And you don’t like it at all. You’d rather kick his ass early, find Maeve, and be done with it. This whole ensemble seems fishy at best.

As you walk along with him, you get looks from his men whenever you pass them. The warehouse still looks like one, but the contents in this certain area is completely different. All the shelving is gone, and instead there’s projects placed everywhere on the floor. They all have their own work station, with a handful of men tending to each one. You feel like you’re being given a tour of the entire place, but you know that’s not what’s in Marko’s plan.

He leads you to an elevator, and presses a button for the very last floor, deep underground. You can tell by the old design of the elevator door that the next room you see is not going to be pretty. The silence between you and Marko is deafening, but you suppose that minimal conversation is the best course of action.

When you reach the sub basement of the warehouse, Marko steps out first, and you follow closely behind. The air is colder, mustier, and creepier. Pipes run along the high ends of the walls, and you can see water streaming through the cracks of the brick. It’s dark, dirty, and overall eerie. It makes the perfect place to hide a secret facility.

You can’t tell which way you’re going. Everything looks so similar, yet different at the same time. You don’t even know what half of the old machines do; they look like they were made in the 40s. And they probably were. You swallow the lump in your throat as you get a chill. This place doesn’t make you feel safe at all.

After turning left and right and being lead up and down staircases and corridors, Marko finally stops in front of a big, bulky door. He takes out an ID badge from his jacket, and swipes it in a keypad attached to the wall. He enters a code, his thumbprint, and a retina scan. The power light changes from red to green, and the door opens, welcoming Marko inside. He steps through, and you hesitate before doing the same.

The design is completely different.

It’s perfectly white all around, with glass doors and windows, with the brightest lighting. The people down here dress like they’re doctors, wearing white lab coats over their slacks and dress shirts. You can’t tell what each room is for. In some there’s just people sitting at a desk, staring at a computer and writing things down. But in others, you can only guess they’re doing experiments, given the small, handheld technology they’re using.

“This is where all the magic happens.”

The sound of Marko’s voice makes you jump, and he takes notice of that as he peers at you over his shoulder.

“Didn’t mean t’ scare ya,” he apologizes, giving you that unsettling smile again. “That’s for later.” That doesn’t calm you down any, but he continues on, strolling through his lab. “I’ve always been a fan of perfection and leaving little room for error and failure. I believe it’s the only acceptable form of success. Trial and error? If at first you don’t succeed, try again? Tsk tsk. Not uh. Not in my laboratory. See, I started out big. I was young and naïve, always aiming to make the biggest, most fantastical thing out there. The bigger the better, right? But in these past months, I realized how wrong I was. The perfection is in the detail, not how gigantically I can produce something. No, no, no. It has to be something no one will expect. That no one will see coming.”

After gathering your thoughts and swallowing your nervousness, you open your mouth to see if he’ll answer your question.

“And what’s that? What did you move on to?”

He stops in his tracks again, and hangs his head. Just by looking at his back gives you the vibe that he could snap, and jump you right then and there. You shift on your feet, balancing yourself if he tries anything. He turns around completely, and gives you a smug smile.

“Now why would I tell you that?” he asks curiously, tilting his head. “It would just spoil the surprise.”

His tone is what freaks you out this time. Not much can be read by a human face when three-quarters of it is shielded, but the eyes are said to be the window to the soul. And if you didn’t know any better, you’d say that Marko knows exactly the amount of terror and fear he’s making on you, just by glancing at your eyes.

“Let’s continue the tour, shall we?”

Standing up straight, he turns on his heel and begins walking down the hallway, then takes a left. You trail behind him, that specific encounter giving you a reason to be even more cautious of him. He gestures to certain areas, and announces their designated title: Science Research Unit, Records Management, a Culture Kit room, and even generic things such as a laundry room, the lavatories, and a break room. You have no idea why he would tell you this, but you guess that it’ll all be for nothing in the end.

But only if you let him have his way.

He comes to a door that’s guarded by two men, and just by that you can tell it’s an important room. He gets out his ID badge again, enters a code, does his thumbprint and retinal scan, then enters a longer code before the door clicks open. He beckons you inside when he sees you’re not following suit. You do as you’re told, and step inside. It’s impeccably clean and white like the rest of the place. It has one table and a single chair in the middle of the room, with a small control panel off to the side and bolted to the wall. Most of the room is cut in half by a floor-to-ceiling glass window, like an observation room. You hesitantly approach the glass, and squint to see if there’s anything there besides the blackness. Marko goes to the control panel, takes out a key, and unlocks it before flipping three switches. On the other side of the glass, the lights flicker on in unison, and your eyes widen in shock at what you see.

“Maeve? Maeve!”

You slam your hands on the glass, and call her name over and over, but she can’t hear you. She’s strapped down to a standing metal table, with clasps around her wrists and ankles together. Her shirt has been removed, and you can see bruising around her hips and arms. Her end of the room is just like yours: white floors, white walls, and a door to her right. She’s completely alone in there. She’s unconscious as well, and upon closer inspection, seems to be shining. Her hair looks damp, and she shivers. Both ends are soundproof, but that doesn’t mean you can’t see one another. Marko pushes a button, and two squares of the wall open up, revealing two powerful hoses. Maeve is then drenched in a mountain of freezing cold water; she struggles against her restraints, and spits out any water that forces its way in her mouth. You watch on in horror, once again helpless that you can’t do anything to help her.

“Stop it,” you whisper, making a fist against the glass.

“I’m sorry,” Marko says annoyingly. “I didn’t quite hear that. What did you–“

“I said stop it!” you scream, glowering at him in a rage. He nods his head once, then retracts the hoses to allow Maeve to calm down. You pound your fist on the glass, but it’s too thick to be heard on the other side.

“Maeve! Maeve!”

Finally, Maeve raises her head, and when she sees you, her heart sinks. You’re glad that she’s looking at you, but her expression makes your own falter. She doesn’t look happy to see you. in fact, she wishes you were anywhere but here.

“Go,” she says, even though she knows you can’t hear her. “Go, _______! Go!” Tears sting her eyes when you don’t leave. She hangs her head, her body shaking as she weeps. She’s telling you to go not because she hates you for what’s been done to her, but because she doesn’t want the same things to happen to you. Your anger reaches a boiling point when you see Maeve so distraught.

“Let her go,” you demand, glaring at Marko again.

“Thaaat I can’t do,” he replies.

“I said: Let. Her. Go!”

You lunge at Marko, intending to give him another pretty scar to the other side of his face, but he effortlessly moves to the side. His guards come in then, and take hold of you by both your arms. You instantly light up your arms, and they both let go, but one of them quickly grabs hold of your throat and yanks you backwards. You feel a sting in the side of your neck, and the last thing you see before becoming unconscious is Marko’s haughty expression.

When it’s been more than thirty minutes, Steve starts to get restless. He can’t stop jittering, and his hands are clammy under his gloves. He has the utmost confidence in you, but when he starts doubting the situation, he can’t just stand by and wait for something terrible to happen.

“She should have been out by now,” he says more to himself than the team. He looks at the building left and right, shaking his head. “We can’t wait any longer. We need to go in.”

“Shouldn’t we wait just a little bit more?” Sam suggests, even though he’s worried as well.

“She said if she’s not out in thirty minutes to go in,” Wanda reminds him. “I say we go in.”

“Alright people here’s the plan,” Tony speaks up, pulling his mask back. “Cap and Wilson will go after _______. Nat and Wanda will find her friend. I’ll do an aerial observation and scan the warehouse to be able to find both of them. I’ll lead you all to them once I find them. And if you know what’s good for you, none of you will tell Barnes. We don’t need any more deaths than we need.”

Everyone nods their head in agreement. They accept their given task, and will do whatever they can to complete it without any fatalities on their end. Staring down the building in determination, the team braces themselves for what’s to come, and commence their operation.

You feel extremely weak when you wake up. Your neck is stiff, and your eyes sting. You hiss when you move, as well. You’re absolutely freezing. As your vision clears, you realize you’ve been strapped down to a standing table, just like Maeve. You’ve been stripped of your suit, your mask included. You’re entirely vulnerable. The only thing you can be thankful for is that you’re alive.

And wearing boyshorts.

The room you’re in is bigger than Maeve’s, leaving lots more space for Marko to do whatever he wants with you. You’re getting irritated from all the white; it’s bugging with your eyes, and you try to pull your wrist free. But the clasps won’t budge. It’s made of stainless steel, and the only way you’re going to get out of it is if you melt it. But even you’re not sure you can do that. You still try to free yourself, pulling with all your might and shaking yourself side to side. You yell in frustration, but you stop struggling when you hear someone clapping.

“I can’t believe it,” comes Marko’s surprised voice. You look up, and see him standing behind a wall of glass. You’re trapped in the room, just like Maeve is, and you can bet that Marko has some even worse things lined up for you. He dons a lab coat now, and steps in front of the glass with his hands behind his back. He flips on a switch to turn up the volume on the intercom system. “You’re quite easy to capture, you know that? You’re incredibly impulsive, which makes you clumsy and distracted by all means. I’m perplexed as to why you didn’t try harder to save your friend. After all, she is pretty important to you… or is she?”

“Of course she is!” you bellow, grinding your teeth.

“Are you sure?” he counters. “Because, from the way I see it, she’s not all that significant. Otherwise you would have tried to burn the room down to get to her. But that’s not what happened, is it? You saw her, you panicked that you couldn’t save her, and let yourself be imprisoned. It’s pathetic, really. You’re definitely not the same woman I met all those months ago. Maybe I should just let her out of her misery now and save the best devices for you instead.”

“Don’t you fucking touch her!” you scream, pulling against your restraints again. You bring flames to your arms and try to melt them off, but Marko has other ideas.

“Ah ah ah,” he scolds, unlocking another control panel in front of him. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“And why’s t–“

You yell in surprise and pain as you feel an icy cold embrace around your wrists. You pant like you’ve just been punched in the stomach. Turning your head to glance at your wrist, your eyes widen in shock as you see a large chunk of ice forming on your wrist and up your forearm. It’s the same on the other side. You try thawing it out, but it’s too cold. It has to be at least -50. It makes your entire body jolt. You glare at Marko as he gives you the most satisfied of smiles.

“Instant frostbite,” he explains, pressing another button. It freezes your ankles this time, and you swear you’ve never felt a pain like this before. It’s so sharp and severe, you’re not sure you can counter it. Your entire body is littered in goosebumps, and you can’t stop trembling. Your teeth chatter, and you can’t bring yourself to speak.

“Quite useful, don’t you think?” he goes on, switching them both off. You’re provided a small relief, but the pain sticks with you. “Against a fire-type like you, anything cold and wet is your weakness. And those things are pretty easy to come by. I just take the local water supply, and convert it into ice. Simple as that. But getting it this cold takes some patience. I could freeze you to death if I wanted. But where’s the fun in that?”

Turning off communications, he turns to speak to one of his consultants, allowing him full access to the control panel. Marko himself strolls over to the right, and your heartbeat quickens when he enters the room with you. He keeps the door open as someone else wearing a hospital mask strolls in, pushing a rolling table with a sheet overtop. You can guess what’s underneath.

“Thank you, Connell,” Marko says to the man. Connell stops when the table is directly in front of you, then nods to Marko, and leaves, closing the door tightly behind him. Marko walks to the middle of the table, grasps the ends of the sheet, and glances up at you before pulling it away. Underneath is all but a single straight back knife. He picks it up, approaches you, and gingerly taps the tip of the knife against your stomach. It’s cold and sharp, and makes you shift uncomfortably. You don’t want that thing anywhere near you.

“It’s not so fancy, I know,” he says, twirling it around in his hand. “But that doesn’t matter. This type of knife is an all-purpose blade. Because the back is not sharp, it allows you to use your hand or fingers to apply additional pressure to increase the cutting force. Overall, it’s good for slicing and chopping. A little on the heavier side, but I have enough strength to complete my tasks.”

He presses it against your stomach again, but with more pressure. You look down in fear as your skin concaves around the knife, before finally piercing you. You groan in the back of your throat, and look away as he pulls the knife down. A small trickle of blood pours from your wound, and he retracts his hand.

“Ahhh,” he sighs, tapping the knife against you. “This is going to be so much fun. And look at that!” He kneels down somewhat to gaze at your leg. “What a wonderful scar I’ve left behind. That bullet wasn’t very nice to you, was it? Packs a punch from a close range.” He becomes suddenly fascinated, and can’t help but give you a few more scratches along your abdomen and legs. You restrict your voice, not wanting him to hear how much pain you’re in. Most of it is coming from the leftover ice, but having multiple stinging sensations in your stomach and legs isn’t any more pleasant.

“I have much planned for you,” he says, watching your blood slide down his knife. “The next installment of fun should be here any moment now. Until then–“

He gives you a good scrape along the length of your collarbone, quick and clean. You hiss in surprise, and find the strength to keep your voice down. He gives you a few more nicks on your arms before amping it up a bit. He digs deeper into your side, deep enough to produce a steady flow of blood, but not enough to kill you. He does the same to your hip and thigh, and is about you go for your stomach when the door opens again. Connell rolls in a smaller table this time, still with a single sheet covering the top. Marko smiles happily, and removes the sheet once more to reveal a small, handheld device. From your angle, it looks like a pen. But it’s thicker, and has a translucent point.

“Thank you again, Connell,” Marko says as Connell makes his way out again. Marko gingerly places the knife down on the table, and picks up the new device instead. He holds it out in front of you so you can see it. “Know what it is?” Even though it’s pointless to shake your head no, you do it anyway. “You look like a visual learner. I’ll give you a demonstration.”

He clicks the top, just like a pen, and the translucent end lights up in a metallic blue haze. You can’t see it, but there’s tiny electric currents flowing through it, indicating its power. Your chest palpitates just at the sight of it. You twist your body to the side when he draws it nearer to your abdomen, adjacent to a cut. As the tip of the device touches you, you can’t stop yourself from yelling in pain. Marko smiles like the sadist he is, and gives you several more pokes in different areas of your body, your screams music to his ears.

“Similar to shock therapy,” he explains, examining it with zeal. “But more powerful. Controlled. All of its energy condensed into this tiny little contraption. Deception is key. It could be labeled as a joke, a harmless prank. Different levels for different shock value. You could either zap someone like one of those cheap buzzer toys, or give a grown man a heart attack! It’s incredible! And since I want to keep you alive, I’ll be using the lowest settings for my convenience.”

You hardly heard anything he said. The searing pain is making it difficult for you to focus on one thing. Your thoughts are all over the place, and your body jerks involuntarily. You wonder if this is how Bucky felt when HYDRA induced shocks in him to activate the Winter Soldier. If it is… you can’t imagine how how got though it all. This is unbearable.

“Why… are you doing this?” you manage to ask, your voice trembling. You weakly raise your head to look at him for when he answers you. “Is this all because… I burnt your face off?”

Marko stops fanboying over his little toy to laugh out loud. He laughs so hard that he keels over and holds his stomach.

“Ohohooo sweetheart,” he coos. “Don’t be so self-centred. You see, I used to work at S.H.I.E.L.D. in the Weapons Development Department. Not exactly Project P.E.G.A.S.U.S., but I had my fair share of intelligence. As you can guess, I was a double-agent at the time. Making weapons for this agency, while also stealing from them and selling to members of the black market. They never suspected a thing. They’re like that, as you can see. Good ole Phil Coulson asked me to do a mock mission for a youngster. A newbie. Nothing too big. Infiltration, detention, end of that. The weapons were real, I made sure of it. I tend to get into my role, so shooting you in the leg was intentional, yet not at the same time.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” you question, raising your voice. You can’t believe what you’re hearing. He could be lying about all of this. S.H.I.E.L.D. wouldn’t play around like that… would they?

“It was all a façade, sweetheart,” he says. “Do I have to spell it out for you? Everyone was in on the project but you. Even agent Knox knew about it. We did all of that just to see what you were capable of. And it was a lot.” He touches his face then, grabs the corner of his forehead, and begins to peel off a facial prosthetic to reveal the scar tissue hidden underneath. “Coulson assured me that despite you not having a gun, you wouldn’t use your power to retaliate. That was the first strike. The second strike was him not reimbursing me for the favour I did for him. Broken promises and a disfigured face? Dick move there. And the third strike was being let go because my precision was slacking and I made more mistakes. Sooo, yeah. Don’t think this is all because of you, princess.”

“If it’s not all about me,” you challenge, “then why did you come after me and my friend?”

“For obvious reasons,” he says, gesturing to his face. “You think I’d let someone get away with ruining one of my best assets? I don’t think so.”

“How did you find me? How did you know where I’d be?” You try to distract him by explaining himself to gain time for yourself. Thawing through the ice is going to take a lot of heat, and it’s still too dangerous for you to start at a really high Kelvin rate. You need to built yourself up before letting it all out.

“I’m more than just a weapons developer,” he says, fiddling with the jolt inducer. You’re very much still wary of it; you don’t want to agitate him into using it again. “I wouldn’t have been working at S.H.I.E.L.D. if I wasn’t. I watched you, tracked you, determined where you’d be. You showed me your face. Do you know the kind of face-recognition hardware I own? Honestly. Finding you was easier than a needle in a haystack. All you gotta do is bring a magnet.”

“Why attack me when you did? Why wait this long to capture me?”

You can slowly feel the heat swirling around inside you, especially in your arms. The ice still has an unrelenting hold on you, but you power through the pain in order to break through it. Marko loves to talk about himself and his accomplishments. Hopefully another speech will buy you the time you need to free yourself.

“Opportunity, coincidence, I was getting tired of waiting,” he jeers, getting a little restless from all the talking. He needs to hear your screams again. “It doesn’t matter. I found you, I got you, and as a bonus, I got your friend as well. Two birds with one stone. Enough of all that. Now, I have to get back to work.”

He jolts you again before you can produce any kind of progress with your flames. You lose your concentration, along with the buildup of your combustion. You choke from being stunned in multiple places in such a quick succession. Clenching your fists, you glower at him fiercely, and when he’s close enough, you spit in his face. His initial shock makes you smirk, but the fury in his eyes makes your stomach churn. He calmly wipes away your saliva from his cheek before plunging the device into your abdomen, keeping it there for a solid ten seconds. He gives you a breather afterwards, and a sinister warning.

“Do anything like that again, and I’ll make sure the last thing your friend says before she dies is how much she loathes you.”

You purse your lips at him, but otherwise silently agree. Anything you do to him could inadvertently be affecting Maeve, or worse. You’d be damned if you let her suffer any more for your mistakes.

“Why don’t we check up on her, hmm?”

You whip your head up at the mention of seeing her again. You lick your lips apprehensively, and your heart thumps painfully hard as a screen lowers down from the ceiling. It flickers as it brings up a live-stream of Maeve’s holding cell. She looks the same from when you last saw her: dripping wet with bruises.

“Let’s see what happens when you think about testing my patience.”

He swings his finger in a circle, indicting to go ahead with whatever he has planned. You watch the feed with immense guilt; Maeve shouldn’t be here right now. She should be back in Toronto, laying on her bed with her papers strewn about. You wish you never had invited her out to the Tower today. But you can’t take that back now. The regret is still there, and there’s no getting rid of that.

A member of Marko’s organization approaches Maeve, directly inside her cell, and uses the same jolting device on her like Marko did you. You can’t hear her screams, but you can see the amount of pain she’s in. You look away in shame, but Marko orders you to look and see what you’ve done to her, not him. You watch on in humiliation. She’s shocked once, twice, three more times before the employee backs away. Maeve pants aggressively, and her body spasms. Marko swings his arm again, and the screen rises back up into the ceiling.

“You see?” he says gently, patting your cheek. “No more misdemeanours, and she won’t be punished. Understand?” You nod in compliance, and Marko takes it sincerely. “Good, good.” He catches you completely off-guard as he begins puncturing you twice as many times as Maeve was. “Because next time I won’t be so lenient.”

You scream and scream and scream, but you know no one can hear you.

Back outside in the quinjet, Bucky is pacing restlessly. He was worried when Tony notified them, he was worried before leaving, he was worried the flight here, but nothing can compare to the anxiety he’s feeling right now. He doesn’t know what to think, what to do. According to you, he’s not allowed to do anything. Not until you come back. He said he’d stay in the jet and wait, but he can’t take this excruciating mission anymore. He has to go in there. He must be able to help in some way. Making up his mind, he stops pacing, and begins to leave the jet.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Vision flies right in front of him, blocking his path. Bucky still has a hard time believing that Vision is a thing. He’s not sure he’s even spoken to him before. But that doesn’t matter right now. He can’t sit here and be a sitting duck while everyone else is in there looking for you.

“I’m going in there,” Bucky replies, walking around him.

“I believe miss _______ formally instructed you to remain here until the duration of the mission is complete,” Vision reminds him.

“That’s a promise I can’t keep,” Bucky confesses. “And you’re not going to stop me.”

“I will by any means necessary,” Vision chides. “I will not allow you to slip through my fingers, like _______ says. I believe she will be alright. Do you not?”

Bucky stops walking and sighs. He can’t be for sure what’ll happen to you, or what’s happening to you right now. He doesn’t know if you’re going to be okay. He knows you’re strong and determined to save Maeve, but carrying out a mission is anything but perfect. Something goes wrong nearly every time. And he’s not about to let anything happen to you.

“I love her,” he says quietly, biting his lip. “I can’t be sure about her well-being. I don’t know what’s going on in there right now. The others have gone in but… I’m not about to be useless. And I’m definitely not going to stand by while someone dies.”

“You don’t know if–“

“The possibility is always there,” Bucky interrupts harshly. He turns to face Vision, and pleads with him to let him go. “I’m not the same person I was a hundred years ago. And I never will be. But the amount of love and respect I have for someone important to me never changes. It will never falter. I have to do this. Otherwise I’ll beat myself up about it later. And if she ends up dead because I didn’t go in there after her… then I might as well be dead too.”

Vision can’t exactly comprehend where Bucky’s coming from, but the sincerity in Bucky’s voice lets him know that he is a hundred percent serious. Vision also has a protective feeling over the members of the team, and he knows it would pain him deeply if one of them got hurt because of him not being there for them when they needed him the most. Vision nods once, allowing Bucky to leave.

“Go,” he says. “But come back.”

“That’s a promise I can keep.”

And with that, Bucky goes sprinting outside and towards the warehouse, leaving Vision to be the remaining guard outside, and to wonder how this will all turn out in the end.

You nearly pass out from the pain of the jolt inducer. But you remain awake, alive and breathing. Just how Marko wants you. Conscious, but broken. He has so many other weapons he has lined up for you he doesn’t know where to start. You’re surprised you haven’t died from blood loss, but Marko targeted very specific parts of your body to produce the least amount of blood. You can’t imagine how bad of a shape you’re in right now.

By the feel of it, it isn’t good.

You try to at least control the temperature in the room, but you’re even too weak to do that. Marko’s rendered you utterly useless, unable to help yourself, and the team. There’s nothing you can do now. You either wait to die, or wait to unexpectedly live. Whatever happens, you just hope that Maeve gets out of here safe and sound.

You can barely lift your head as Marko begins explaining the capabilities of the new device he has in front of you.

“It can produce pain close to that of a thousand knives piercing you at once,” he says, staring at it in awe. “It’s shaped exactly like brass knuckles, and it’s even used in the same fashion. But no one will be able to expect just how rapidly the pain will course through you. A little tap here and there is like a pinprick to your finger. But when you put some force behind it, and punch with a purpose? Well. We all know what happens then. It’s only activated by this tiny button on the underside, here. If it’s not turned on, then you’re just using regular brass knuckles. Once it’s activated, you’re wielding an entirely different weapon.”

He does a demonstration, of course, using you as his test subject. He slides them over his fingers, gets into a fighting position, and gently punches your side. It’s just plain cold metal hitting you; no feeling of a thousand knives. He smiles proudly, before pushing the button and landing a more meaningful blow on your thigh. You shriek in pain, and thrash around as much as your body will allow from being pinned down. Marko cries with laughter, thoroughly enjoying his Torture Time.

“I seriously have no clue how you’re still conscious at this point,” he comments, pacing in front of you. “Losing blood, being shocked, instant frostbite, and now this? You’re one tough bitch. But you won’t be for long.” You blink long and hard to keep them open. You can’t fall under now. You’ve lasted this far, and you’ll make damn well sure you stay awake until the very end.

“You know,” he starts, looking around in wonder, “despite capturing you and torturing you to my heart’s content, I don’t know that much about you. I didn’t really care for those kinds of things. I just wanted to know where you were, and when would be the most opportune time to take you. However, there is one thing I know about you that you don’t want anyone else to know.”

Your eyes widen in fear when he tells you that. Something you don’t want anyone else to know? You can only think of one thing: Bucky. Outside of the team, no one in the world knows where Bucky is right now. People can make their assumptions and inferences, but they will never truly know. But you do, and now Marko does too. You’re not about to admit anything, so you wait for Marko to continue, praying that he’s talking about something else entirely.

“I’m sure the public are dying to know,” he says. “I was too. What is the one thing that the incredible Hellfire doesn’t want the world to find out? Well, not to brag or anything, but I found that out a long time ago.” You pant with your mouth closed, and shield your eyes from him. You don’t want him to see the defeated look on your face when he says Bucky’s name.

“The only thing in your life worth protecting,” he taunts. “I suppose it’s something that everyone would want to protect with their life, if they didn’t want anyone else knowing about it.”

“Yeah?” you call out. “And what’s that?”

Carefully, slowly, he walks right up to you and whispers in your face.

“Your identity.”

You wait until he turns around to sigh a breath of relief. As far as you’re concerned, he doesn’t know anything about Bucky. He might know and just not be mentioning it, but you’re not going to take the risk to ask.

“I know the identity of the newest Avengers’ member, Hellfire,” he sings. “Or should I say, _____ _______.”

You glare at him as he reveals your name, but honestly, you don’t care. Your identity doesn’t even compare to Bucky’s identity. You’d rather the world find out about who you really are instead of him. Marko seems to be waiting for some sort of reaction for you, like a person who just made a joke and is waiting for someone to laugh. But you don’t give him one. You just keep staring at him with your resting bitch face.

“Oh come oooon,” he pleads. “That’s all I get? A weak glare and silence? I was expecting more of a response like, writhing around or begging or something satisfying.”

“Well I’m not going to give it to you,” you tell him.

“You’re no fun,” he pouts. “I guess I could always just release it to the public and let them have their fun.”

“Snake,” you spit.

That comment earns you a forceful punch to the gut, and Marko gets the screech he wants. He smirks devilishly, and is about to give you another one when there’s an explosion. It’s a little far off so it’s difficult to hear, but nevertheless, it happened. Marko growls in anger and whips around to yell at his staff.

“What happened?!”

While Marko goes off, you try to find the will to keep your eyes open. An explosion could mean that there was an accident. Or that Steve finally decided that enough was enough. You cling to the hope that it’s the team making all this noise, but you’re succumbing to the pain now. As Marko storms out of the room to deal with the situation in a different area of the facility, you hang your head, and let yourself rest.

Steve and Sam are the ones who set off that particular explosion. They’re not exactly watching what they’re hitting, what they’re shooting at, or what they’re throwing people into. Sam is getting edgy about it, but Steve is just desperate to find you. Steve grabs each person he sees and demands to know where you are. When they don’t answer, he strikes them unconscious and moves on to the next one. Tony’s navigational signals have been pretty useful thus far, but being so deep underground is messing with the frequency. Multiple times Tony had to repeat what he said, or had to amp up the connection. Steve and Sam, along with Natasha and Wanda are headed on the right tracks. Natasha and Wanda have their fair share of fighting and swift interrogating, but they’re getting closer to Maeve than Steve and Sam are to you. They’re not far off, though. Natasha and Wanda may have taken an alternate route, but their position to Steve and Sam is only off by a few meters.

“Stark, how much closer are we?” Natasha asks, stunning two men at once.

“Just a–whoa!–about a hundred meters,” he replies. Even though Tony’s job can be handled perfectly well by him alone, it’s a bit more challenging while he’s being shot at.

It’s nothing he can’t handle, however. He wants to get this mission done as soon as possible. He counteracts easily to the firepower using his repulsor beams and propulsion high altitude jets. He asks F.R.I.D.A.Y. how much farther for both Steve and Natasha’s teams, and she relays the message to them separately. They all take their respective routes, and soon enough, Wanda is shouting into her earpiece.

“We found her friend!�� she says as Natasha knocks out the last staff member. Natasha uses a key she took from the employee and uses it to unlock the control panel. Wanda enters through the side door and holds Maeve up as Natasha releases the clasps around her wrists and ankles.

“What’s her state?” comes Steve’s voice.

Wanda presses her fingers against Maeve’s neck. “She’s alive,” she responds. “She’s unconscious but she’s okay.”

“Good. According to Stark we’re getting closer to _______. Bring Maeve back to the jet. Sam and I will keep looking.”

“Copy that.”

Wanda drags Maeve out of the room and joins Natasha on the journey back to the surface. Maeve begins to wake up again from all the wobbling around. Her voice is weak, and she can barely walk.

“Wha–What’s going on?” she asks, barely above a whisper.

“We’re getting you out of here,” Wanda replies, giving her a kind smile. Maeve glances at her, but her vision is too blurry to make out who it is. But her voice is gentle, so she’s going to trust in whatever she says. For her sake, she’ll try to stay awake and walk along with her. Natasha has a good enough memory to remember the way back, so she leads Wanda and Maeve in and out of the corridors and stairwells.

Meanwhile, Steve and Sam weren’t having much luck from asking personnel where you’re hidden. Some weren’t willing to talk, and others ran out of there when they saw who was coming their way. But by the thinnest stroke of luck, Steve manages to find someone to lead him and Sam to you. Sam takes care of any others who try to pick a fight with them. He’s surprised from the lack of firearms from the people that operate deep underground. When they reach the modern part of the facility, everyone has already scattered. Taking vital information and destroying the rest via Snyders' orders. After five minutes of speed-walking, the staff member brings Steve and Sam to your holding cell. Once he opens the door to the viewer’s room, Steve starts.

When Marko left you to see what was going on upstairs, the lights remained on. So Steve and Sam can see every little cut, bruise, and scar that Marko graciously gave you. You’re also sopping wet. Without being given orders, the members had some fun of their own and took turns hosing you down, even though you were unconscious. They wanted to see if you’d wake up at all.

You didn’t.

Steve and Sam don’t know how much blood you’ve lost, but they need to get you back to the jet before they begin to decipher what kind of medical treatment you’ll need.

“Open the door,” Steve demands. The member fiddles with the key before opening the panel and unlocking the door. Sam goes through, and lightly taps your face.

“Spyro?” he says. He holds his fingers to your neck. You’re ice cold. “She’s got a weak pulse, Cap! We need to get her out of here!”

“Remove her restraints.” The member continues to follow Steve’s orders in hopes of being kept alive. Sam catches you, but you don’t open your eyes. You’re breathing, and that’s all that matters. Steve marches up to the member and grips the front of his shirt. “What’s the fastest way out of here?”

“T-There’s a passage,” he stutters. “I-It leads to a secondary elevator that goes straight to the surface.”

“Take us there.”

Steve shoves him forward, following right behind him as Sam carries you in his arms. He keeps speaking to you in hopes that you’ll wake up or give him any kind of response. It scares him to see you so still. He’s so used to hear your laughs and listen to stories from your past. He starts sweating from how worried he is.

“Here we go, Spyro,” he says, keeping on Steve’s tail. “We’re gonna get you outta here. You’re gonna be alright. Old man Barnes is waiting for you back in the jet outside. He’s never going to leave your side when you’re getting patched up, when you’re in bed, or anywhere for that matter. He’s going to yell at us for all sorts of reasons, but it won’t matter because you’ll be okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

“How’s she doing, Sam?” Steve asks, voice hard.

“She’s freezing, Cap,” Sam replies, looking down at your face. He turns grim from the sight of you. “We’ve gotta hurry. I don’t know what they did to her, but it wasn’t good. I don't know how much longer she has.”

“She’s gonna make it, Sam,” Steve assures him, voice steady. “She has to.”

“We’re almost there,” the man announces, peeking behind him. Steve returns the look with an icy stare. Suddenly, all the red warning lights turn on, and a voice speaks overhead.

“Warning. Structural failure. Building compromised. Please find the nearest escape route. Warning. Structural failure. Building compromised. Please find the nearest escape route. Warning. Please find…”

The message repeats itself over and over as alarms go off with it. Steve knows there’s no time to waste and ushers the man along. They can all hear the sound of brick and stone crashing above them. The man speeds along, creating more space between him and Steve. He takes a left, and when Steve rounds the corner, he’s pointing an unknown weapon at him.

“I’m the only one getting out of here,” he says. His hands shake from nervousness, but he’s a hundred percent serious. Steve sees the door of the elevator at the very end of the hall, so there’s no need to keep this man around anymore. Whatever he’s got in his hands, Steve can counter it. He takes a step forward, but the man arms himself and raises the weapon higher.

“Don’t move,” he warns. “I’m not afraid to use this.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Steve tries. “We can all get out of this alive.”

“There’s no need for you to come along,” the man explains. “Killing America’s golden boy is sure to promote me generously. Truth be told, I don’t really want to trap you in here, but it’s the only choice. Besides.” He raises his arm a little more and stretches it out to Steve. “You and your little band of misfits won’t be able to sur–“

Just then, the man is body-slammed into the wall beside him, and slumps to the floor, the weapon falling from his grasp. Steve jumps a bit out of surprise, but it’s replaced by confusion when he sees who the saviour is.

“Bucky?”

Bucky stares down the now unconscious man before glancing up at Steve.

“Steve?”

“Barnes?”

“Sam?”

“Sam.”

“Steve.”

“Steve?”

Steve rolls his head in irritation and stops this name calling nonsense.

“What’re you doing down here, Bucky?” he asks. “You were supposed to stay in the quinjet.”

“You know I couldn’t do that,” Bucky replies. “I couldn’t stay in there while _______ was–“

Bucky stops himself when he sees you limp in Sam’s arms. His eyes go left and right and up and down, observing every inch of you. He sees the blood, the scars, the bruises, the water dripping from your hair; his throat closes up uncomfortably from seeing the state you’re in. He slowly approaches Sam, but Steve grabs his arm.

“Bucky, we have to get out of here first,” Steve urges him. But Bucky doesn’t listen. He rips his arm away from him and keeps his eyes on your face as he closes in on Sam. Sam doesn’t back away, nor does he rush Bucky to get it over with. He can guess what Bucky’s feeling right now, so there’s no point in trying to reason with him. It’s best to just let him have a moment.

Bucky’s heart contracts from seeing all of your injuries up-close. Your chest is rising and falling so faintly, Bucky wasn’t sure you were breathing. The bruising resembles hemorrhaging, but he isn’t sure. The immense purple bruises on your wrists is what worries him the most. So many thoughts are racing through his mind, he’s not sure what to do now except to hold you.

“Give her to me,” Bucky says, brushing his fingers along your cheek.

“I got her, Barnes,” Sam replies.

“Give her to me,” Bucky repeats, glaring at Sam. His tone leaves no room for argument, and he doesn’t want to start a fight about it. Sighing, Sam carefully hands you over to Bucky. Once it’s done, Steve beckons for Sam and Bucky to get a move on. Steve presses his hand to his ear, and listens to the message given to him by Natasha. He nods his head and walks with Sam to the elevator. Bucky kisses your forehead and moves your hair away from your face before following along.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

The three of them make it to the elevator, and take the floor all the way to the top. It’s nerve-wracking to be in there, since the closer they get to the surface, the louder the explosions and gunfire are.

“Her friend made it out,” Steve says. “Wanda and Natasha are treating her right now.”

It’s a weight off their shoulders, but the day isn’t over yet. Now it’s your turn. Suddenly the elevator jolts, and comes to a complete stop, two floors away from the top. The force of the movement causes you to groan and shift in Bucky’s arms. You try to move, but Bucky pulls you closely to his chest.

“Shh shh shh,” he hushes. You groan louder, causing Steve and Sam to turn their heads. You stretch your arm and open your eyes, even though it hurts. Your head pounds against your skull, and it takes a few seconds to realize who’s holding you.

“Bucky?” you say. You sound awful, like a new voice has found its way into you. Even Bucky doesn’t recognize it at first. But he smiles down at you anyway. You laugh without humour. “Why don’t you ever listen to me, huh?” you question.

“Bad habit,” he confesses. You turn your head, and feel relief wash over you as you see Sam and Steve.

“Hey,” you say to them.

“It’s good to you're your voice,” Sam says. “Even though you sound like shit.”

“Shut up,” you smile. You feel like falling under again, but you know you can’t. You need to help in any way you can, knowing that they’re alive. “Let me down, Bucky.”

“I can–“

“Just lemme down.”

Nodding, he gently lowers your legs to the floor, but keeps an arm around you for support. You need it anyhow. You can’t find much strength in any part of your body, but as long as you can walk, you’re not complaining.

“Welcome back,” Steve finally says, a small smile on his face. You nod in agreement, and pat his arm reassuringly. As you look in front of you and see how dusty and smoky it’s getting, you address it.

“So what the hell is going on here?”

“We’re leaving,” Steve says curtly. “Right now.”

You’d know Steve’s “final decision” voice anywhere. And it’s not like it needs to be said. You can now begin to hear just how much shit you four are in. Steve steps out first, then Sam, followed by you and Bucky. It hurts to walk and be dragged along at the same time, but there’s no room for complaints. You’re not getting crushed by a hundred tons of steel and brick. You can hear Steve shouting into his earpiece at Tony, telling him where to go. But his voice gets lost with all the stinging, white noise you feel inside your head. You know you’re not well, what with all that Marko did to you, but this is ridiculous. You feel as if you’ve just lost your hearing. You nearly fall over when Steve makes a sharp right turn, and develop vertigo from going up a single flight of stairs. Bucky’s hold on you tightens when you swing the other way.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Bucky asks as he watches you wobble around.

“N-No,” you reply honestly. “But I’m not about to–to slow you guys down. I’m fine.”

“But _______–“

“I said I’m fine!”

You use Bucky to yank yourself forward and keep yourself upright. You’ve never experienced vertigo before, and it’s really kicking you in the ass. Your left and right is all backwards, and your eyes have trouble focusing on anything, really. But you keep forcing your legs to move, in order to get out, and to see Maeve.

Oh my god. Maeve!

“Wait wait wait,” you call, leaning against a railing. You’re panting and sweating and shivering, and time is running out, but she comes first. “We need to go back for Maeve!”

“Maeve is fine, _______,” Steve says. “Natasha and Wanda got her out. She’s safe inside the jet. Now we need to get you there too.”

You nod, and begin running with them as your lungs burn and your legs tell you to stop. You don’t know if you feel dizzy again because of the blood loss, but you suppose it’s everything. You just hope Tony can fix it. After another minute of climbing stairs and running down halls, you finally come by a familiar path, the path that Marko took you on when going to the sub basement. But it’s in ruins.

There’s fires everywhere with collapsed walls and debris scattered around the floor. The heat of the flames diminishes how cold you are, but it’s a small comfort. You watch where you step, while still attempting to run your fastest. It’s a nightmare avoiding it all, but you’re almost at the exit. Getting around a few thousand pounds of stainless steel should be no problem.

But things don’t always go the way you want them to.

Another explosion goes off, and you’re sent flying in the opposite direction of Steve, Sam, and Bucky. You nearly miss being pierced by some broken metal, but instead, you’re thrown against the wall and land unceremoniously on a shattered shelf. Now you’re really not sure you can get up again. You feel an added pain to your left shoulder. As you glance down, you can see a thin metal rod stuck in your skin. You flinch when you try to move. The pain you can deal with (mostly). You just need to get out. And fast.

You scream as you push yourself up, and crawl through the openings you can find. You call for Sam, Steve, and Bucky. When you don’t hear a response, you keep trying. You call their names, and ask if they’re okay. You hear groaning, which is good enough for you. There’s a thick layer of smoke and dust, so you can’t see what’s ahead of you. You trip and stumble and power through the pain, but you don’t know how much longer you can hold out for. It’s getting increasingly difficult to move.

On the other side of the room, Steve, Sam, and Bucky are recovering from the explosion as well. They’re all okay, since they can endure more than you can, but they’re a little shaken too. They recuperate quickly, though, and begin calling out for you.

“_______!” Steve shouts. “_______, are you okay? Where are you?!”

You faintly hear Steve’s voice, but whether you actually heard it or not, you answer him.

“I’m fine!” you shout back. “Got a rod in my shoulder but I’m okay!”

“We’re gonna come get you!” Sam says.

“No!” you say. “You guys get out first! I can find my way!”

“_______, no!” Bucky yells. “We’re not leaving here without you!”

“And I’m telling you I’m fine!” Even though you’re not, you want them out first, knowing you’re right behind them. “I’m ordering you now to get out! And you better follow it!”

“But _______–!“

“James Buchanan fucking Barnes!” you scream. “Don’t give me that shit! Go! When I get out, I’m gonna punch you! Now fucking go!”

The tenacity and anger you give off is enough even to shake Steve. The three of them stare at all of the destruction, the smoke, the ash. You’re in there somewhere, and if you say you’ll be okay, then you’ll be okay. Bucky already went back on his word once. He doesn’t want to breach your trust again. Biting his lip, he regrettably turns his back and walks with Sam and Steve to the exit, leaving you inside.

You yell out of frustration and pain, but you fumble forward, determined to escape. You crawl, limp, stumble, and stagger, but you finally see the bright light outside where the exit is. Grabbing hold of debris, you propel yourself forward, yelling all the while to give yourself some strength and energy. Despite draining both, you’re almost there. You’re almost back to Steve, to Sam, Bucky, Tony, Vision, Natasha, Wanda, and Maeve.

Especially Maeve.

You’re going to give her the biggest apology you’ve ever given. You start mumbling to yourself about what you’re going to apologize for when you hear something ticking. You look all around, but you can’t see where the source is coming from. But it’s not good. You go faster and faster, but you’re only as fast as your body will allow. And it’s not fast enough.

Outside, Bucky is panicking. You said you’d be out after them, but it’s been too long. He hates following such a stupid order, but it’s an order you gave, and he doesn’t want to break it. He promised you he would stay in the jet. He didn’t. That was something he couldn’t obey. But he can’t do that twice. So he waits, waits for you to emerge from the warehouse so he can go running to you and bring you back himself. He can’t stand still. He’s too fidgety. He begins walking back again, but Steve grabs hold of him.

“Let go of me, Steve,” Bucky says, trying to shrug him off.

“She’ll come out alright,” Steve assures him. “You have to believe her.”

“Steve,” Bucky warns, scowling at him. “I’m not leaving her in there alone.” Steve’s grip lessens, but he tightens it again. He’s not about to lose two friends in one day.

“She gave us an order, Buck,” he tries. “We have to trust that she’ll be okay.”

“But she’s not okay, Steve!” Bucky barks, tearing his arm away. “Did you not hear her? She has a metal rod stuck in her shoulder! You call that ‘okay’?! I’m not about to let her bleed out and let her suffer alone in there while I’m standing out here, argu–“

Bucky’s worst fears come to life when the warehouse goes out in one final, gigantic explosion. The fire rises hundreds of feet in the air, the rubble flying in every direction. Bucky’s heart sinks into his stomach. He feels sick, and doesn’t know what to do. There’s a sharp ringing in his ears that he can’t get rid of. His legs almost give out, but Steve keeps him on his feet. Steve tries to talk to Bucky, but Bucky can’t hear him. The only thing his senses are focused on is the burning building fifty meters away, with you still trapped inside.

He moves forward, wanting to get to you, but Steve keeps him in place. He won’t let him go. Even when Bucky’s heart has been ripped from his chest, Steve still won’t leave him. There’s the smallest of chances that you survived, but even Steve doubts that. He knows he wouldn’t. He can’t say the same for you, but the possibility of survival is an absolute zero.

Bucky screams your name at the top of his lungs. It hurts Steve to hear Bucky sound so desperate, but he can’t let him go in there. No matter what, Bucky keeps running towards the warehouse, his arm stretched for you, but Steve holds him back.

“She’s gone, Buck,” Steve tells him. Steve doesn’t sound sure of himself, but it’s important for Bucky to hear. “She’s gone.”

“Don’t you, of all people, tell me that, Steve!” Bucky argues. “Don’t tell me that. Don’t–“

Bucky finally succumbs to his anguish, and kneels on the ground, Steve still holding him. The team looks on in horror and sadness. Inside the jet, Natasha, Wanda, Vision, and Maeve observe from the window. They saw as much as they did when they arrived. When they understand what’s happened, they begin their own grieving process. Maeve begins crying, and Natasha holds her to comfort her. Bucky’s cries can be heard from the outside, and it only causes Maeve to sob harder.

When Tony receives no further word as to what happened, he flies back down to the ground and joins everyone. He saw the explosion clear as day, but assumed nothing as to whether everyone was okay. When he returns, and sees Bucky having a breakdown, and Sam hanging his head. He doesn’t see you with them. Then everything starts to click.

“Cap, where’s _______?” he asks, trying to keep his voice stable.

Steve simply raises his head, and shakes it no. Tony’s heart lurches, and he looks towards the now incinerated warehouse.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., run a human vitals scan on the building,” Tony demands. F.R.I.D.A.Y. thoroughly investigates the entire building, including the sub basement, but she comes up with nothing.

“No vitals detected,” she says grimly.

“Check again,” Tony says.

“Sir–“

“Dammit, F.R.I.D.A.Y. just check again!”

She does a second run, but still has no results. Tony knows F.R.I.D.A.Y. doesn’t make a mistake. He doesn’t want to believe it. He doesn’t want to even think about the idea of you being dead. Not on his watch. Not under his care. He’s felt an incredible responsibility over you; after all, he’s part of the reason why you’re here. You were the youngest of the team, right beside Wanda, and saw potential in you. Potential that he got; but he also got snark, attitude, and an unyielding energy he’s not used to being around. The most liveliness he’s experienced is when–well, never. And now he’s lost you, just like everyone else. He won’t be able to hear your laughs, or be able to give you attitude right back when you poke and prod at him. No more embarrassing dancing videos, and no more smiles.

You’re gone.

Now everyone has to find a way to live with that.

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vuhjbooks · 7 years

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Bilan du big challenge 2016 !

Je n’ai pas trop trop fait attention à cette liste au cours de l’année, j’en arrive à 23 livres lus sur 100, certains que j’avais prévus, d’autres non et d’autres encore que j’avais prévus mais que finalement je n’ai pas lu. Et certains que je n’avais pas l’intention de lire ce sont retrouvé dans ma liste à lire. Les envies changent !

1. Le chant du Troll de Pierre Bottero 2. Univers Ewilan de Pierre Bottero 3. Univers Le Seigneur des anneaux de J.R.R. Tolkien 4. Saga Maybe de Colleen Hoover 5. Univers Fils-des-Brumes de Brandon Sanderson 6. Les âmes croisées de Pierre Bottero 7. Saga Meg Corbyn d'Anne Bishop 8. Ce qu'ils n'ont pas pu nous prendre de Ruta Sepetys 9. La couleur des sentiments de Kathryn Stockett 10. Univers Harry Potter de J.K. Rowling 11. Saga Maus d'Art Spiegelman 12. Ugly Love de Colleen Hoover 13. Saga Gardiens des Cités perdues de Shannon Messenger 14. Saga Le Passe-miroir de Christelle Dabos 15. Tes mots sur mes lèvres de Katja Millay 16. Avant toi de Jojo Moyes 17. La ligne verte de Stephen King 18. Saga Chronique du tueur de roi de Patrick Rothfuss 19. Univers Hunger Games de Suzanne Collins 20. Mille soleils splendides de Khaled Hosseini 21. Max de Sarah Cohen-Scali 22. Orgueil et préjugés de Jane Austen 23. Saga Princesse Sara d'Audrey Alwett 24. Deux petits pas sur le sable mouillé d'Anne-Dauphine Julliand 25. Meurtres pour rédemption de Karine Giebel 26. La Horde du Contrevent d'Alain Damasio 27. Aristote et Dante découvertent les secrets de l'univers de Benjamin Alire Saenz 28. Univers Chasseuse de la nuit de Jeanine Frost 29. Saga Le chardon et le tartan/Outlander de Diana Gabaldon 30. Juste avant le bonheur d'Agnès Ledig 31. Le faire ou mourir de Claire-Lise Marguier 32. Saga Eva Svärta de Sire Cédric 33. Saga Les Carnets de Cerise de Joris Chamblain et Aurélie Neyret 34. Wild de Cheryl Strayed 35. Saga Breathing de Rebecca Donovan 36. Nos faces cachées d'Amy Harmon 37. Univers Le prince de Motordu de Pef 38. Saga Le pouvoir des Lys de Maria V. Snyder 39. Saga Hopeless de Colleen Hoover 40. Le bleu est une couleur chaude de Julie Maroh 41. Saga Bride Stories de Kaoru Mori 42. Purgatoire des innocents de Karine Giebel 43. Les ailes d'émeraude d'Alexiane De Lys 44. Battle royale de Koushun Takami 45. Saga The Book of Ivy d'Amy Engel 46. Saga Ludivine Vancker/La conjuration primitive de Maxime Chattam 47. Saga Autant en emporte le vent de Margaret Mitchell 48. Les Cerf-volants de Kaboul de Khaled Hosseini 49. Simple de Marie-Aude Murail 50. Saga Les portes du secret de Maria V. Snyder 51. Saga Les Salauds Gentilshommes de Scott Lynch 52. La véritable histoire de Noël de Marko Leino 53. Saga Orange d'Ichigo Takano 54. Saga Lux de Jennifer L. Armentrout (2 tomes sur 5) => abandon 55. Saga Fullmetal Alchemist d'Hiromu Arakawa 56. Elle s'appelait Sarah de Tatiana de Rosnay 57. Geisha d'Arthur Golden 58. Frangine de Marion Brunet 59. Dix petits Nègres d'Agatha Christie 60. Druide d'Olivier Péru 61. Saga Entre chiens et loups de Malorie Blackman 62. Wonder de R.J. Palacio 63. La voleuse de livres de Markus Zusak 64. L'instant précis où les destins s'entremêlent d'Angélique Barbérat 65. Saga La Maîtresse de Rome de Kate Quinn 66. Saga In the After de Demitria Lunetta 67. Saga Callie & Kayden de Jessica Sorensen 68. Oh, boy ! de Marie-Aude Murail 69. Univers Divergent de Veronica Roth 70. Univers Percy Jackson de Rick Riordan 71. Saga Indécent de Colleen Hoover 72. Saga Blacksad de Juan Diaz Canales 73. Zouck de Pierre Bottero 74. Univers La cité des ténèbres de Cassandra Clare 75. L'ombre du vent de Carlos Ruiz Zafon 76. Saga Phobos de Victor Dixen 77. Univers Le trône de Fer de George R.R. Martin 78. Univers Kushiel de Jacqueline Carey 79. Coeur de pierre de Séverine Gauthier 80. Beignets de tomates vertes de Fannie Flagg 81. Saga Les Piliers de la terre de Ken Follett 82. La mort est mon métier de Robert Merle 83. Saga L'élite de Joelle Charbonneau 84. Saga Jeu de patience de Jennifer L. Armentrout 85. Saga A la croisée des mondes de Philip Pullman 86. Nos étoiles contraires de John Green 87. Jane Eyre de Charlotte Bronte 88. Saga Keleana de Sarah J. Maas 89. Boy’s dont cry de Malorie Blackman 90. Saga Death Note de Tsugumi Ohba 91. Saga Le pays des contes de Chris Colfer 92. Saga Switch Girl de Natsumi Aida 93. Si c'est un homme de Primo Lévi 94. Les raisins de la colère de John Steinbeck 95. Juste une ombre de Karine Giebel 96. Saga Chroniques de Zombieland de Gena Showalter 97. Les âmes vagabondes de Stephenie Meyer 98. Ne tirez pas sur l'oiseau moqueur d'Harper Lee 99. Des fleurs pour Algernon de Daniel Keyes 100. Saga Rebecca Kean de Cassandra O'Donnell

#challenge #2016

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the-chubbiest-dumpling · 7 years

Text

Endings and Beginnings: Chapter 10

Chapter Ten: Hellfire

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 8840

Warnings: Swearing. There will always be swearing.

A/N: Fight scenes are not my forte but I did my best 😅

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Epilogue

Tags: @shamvictoria11

A few hours later, the lights are back on, and Nat, Steve, Wanda, and Vision returned during that time. All the same questions and answers were given. "Why are the lights off?" "Sam and Bucky had a fight and they broke the electrical panel." Cue a disappointed dad look from Steve.

You're sitting in the kitchen like you usually do when you're bored, twirling your phone in your hands. Everyone is scattered about around the compound. Steve's either talking with Tony or Bucky and Sam. Natasha and Wanda are taking a shower, and Vision is... Somewhere. You're still in your battle uniform, because you were too lazy to change out of it. Plus, it's pretty comfortable.

Your ringer scares the life out of you, and you hastily answer the unknown number.

"Hello?"

"_______? It's Phil Coulson. We spoke earlier today."

"Oh. Hi. Um... How did you–"

"I have an assignment for you if you're interested."

"An assignment?"

"A solo assignment."

That catches your attention. A solo assignment already? Only after participating in one mission? They think you're ready for that? The thought scares you to death. You don't even have enough confidence in yourself to take on something alone. You need at least Natasha or Wanda or Steve. You need someone to help you out. You bite your lip at his offer.

"I'm not sure," you reply honestly. "I've only been on one mission. And it was with Steve and Natasha and Tony. I don't think I'm ready for a solo mission yet."

"I understand." It's hard to tell if he's disappointed or not. "Maybe think it over a little, and get back to me by eight o'clock tonight."

He hangs up without explaining any further. You stare at your phone as you process what just happened. An agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. just offered you an assignment, a solo assignment no less, and you turn it down? There's nothing bad about going alone. Make your own rules, no one to slow you down or trip you up. Not following Tony's pretentious orders. It sounds like a pretty good deal. The only thing holding you back is the mission itself.

Something unpredictable? Probably. Dangerous? Of course. A matter of life and death? No doubt. Complications? When are there not? Would you tell the team? Nope. You're a skilled liar. You can take their attention away from you.

This is an opportunity to prove yourself, as well. To the team, to S.H.I.E.L.D., and to yourself.

Could you do it? Of course. If you had more training. You can't simply say something cheesy like "believe in yourself" because one, it makes you cringe saying something like that out-loud, and two, it doesn't work. Not all the time. You'd rather be pessimistic 24/7, because then if something works out you can be happy about it.

You have an hour and a half to think things over. Which also means you have an hour and a half to have the anxiety kick in and suffer for that time. Might as well get started early. You make a bowl of fruit before sitting on the couch and mulling things over.

Turns out, you're braver than you thought you'd ever be.

You call agent Phil Coulson about an hour later, accepting his solo mission for you. You know you need to think of an excuse to tell everyone about why you're leaving so late. It's simple enough: you're going for a walk. Or a drive. And if you encounter anyone on the way out, you'll think of another lie. Your battle uniform will be under your clothes, so they shouldn't suspect anything. They know you're a weird one sometimes. It shouldn't be a problem.

"Shouldn't" being the operative word.

You make sure none of your suit is peeking out under your clothes, keeping your hands in your pockets and your head down. You take one last look in the mirror, and breathe in deeply. This is it. Your first solo mission, which is also only your second mission. Better late than never. Grabbing your lighter, you head out of your room and to the front entrance. Running into anyone else other than Tony would be a blessing. Tony would tell you to stay, no matter what you were going to do.

You speed-walk down the halls, and again, you're wondering where everyone is. During this time of night, they're usually holed up or their rooms or wandering around, looking for something to do. You can't worry about them right now. Right now, you just need to get out of the compound and drive to your meet-up destination with Phil. You cannot get distracted. Not tonight.

You skip down the steps to the foyer, and you can see the doors from where you are. You dig your nails into your palms and brace yourself. You keep up the speed-walk, and you reach out for the door handle when a voice stops you.

"Where do you think you're going?"

You retract your hand and turn around. Sam has a questioning look on his face. You smile, because Sam is easy to lie to and a little gullible at times.

"Going for a drive," you say confidently.

"Where?"

"Around."

"Where are you really going?"

You feign being caught and look at the floor in embarrassment.

"Late night McDonald's run. Want anything?"

He perks up at the sound of that, momentarily forgetting about his suspicion.

"20 nuggets with a rootbeer."

"You got it."

You give him a wave and walk out the doors. That was almost too easy.

Jumping in one of the cars in the driveway, you zoom out of there and head towards a mini mart a few miles down the road.

When you pull up in the parking lot, you can see a fancy looking van to your right. You stay in the car until you can see Phil lingering around, or any of his other agents. The car next to you rolls its window down, revealing Phil. You nod at him and get out of the car, locking it as you round the corner. You lean against the passenger door and stick your hands in your pockets as Phil emerges and hands you an iPad.

“This the mission?” you ask, unlocking it.

“Mostly,” he answers.

It’s a picture of a pretentious looking man. Coiffed hair, five-day stubble, structured face. You don’t like him already. And he also seems kind of brutish, but that’s only because there’s a nasty looking scar on his neck. You don’t want to know how it got there.

“Marko Snyders,” Phil explains, crossing his arms. “He’s been a bug in our side for a while. He’s gathered too much information on S.H.I.E.L.D. and has a fair interest in weapons of mass destruction.”

“That’s never good,” you comment as you flip through his surveillance pictures.

“There’s a whole list of things we can arrest him for,” Phil says.

“So you want me to capture him then?” you guess.

“Correct,” he affirms. “Infiltration comes first. You need to get him to trust you. Get close to him. He’ll have his bodyguards with him, so you’ll have to get past them. If worse comes to worst, you can use as much force as you want.”

“As much as I want?” you repeat, pulling a face at the photos of his bodyguards. They’re nearly as big as Steve.

“As much as you want. Within reason.”

“Of course. I’ll enjoy burning the place down and finding their bodies in the ashes.”

The smile you’re making is a little eerie to say the least, and Phil clears his throat to divert your attention back to him.

“We have something for you to wear,” he says. That immediately catches your attention.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” you ask, looking down at your black attire.

“The location you’re going to is a high-end club,” Phil clarifies.

“So that means low lights, alcohol, and lots of people mushed together?” you ponder.

“Exactly.”

“Then what I have on is fine, really. No one will even notice me dressed like this.”

“They will.”

“They won’t. Listen, how many girls have come up to this guy, dressed to the nines, and send him winks and flirtatious vibes? Dozens, probably. Maybe I can do things a little differently. Act like a normal person and ‘get to know him’ like you want me to.”

“You won’t get through the front door looking like that, _______. The club is named ‘Death Row’ for a reason. So trust me, I suggest you take the clothes we’ve arranged for you.”

You narrow your eyes at him, biting your cheek. Is he serious? If so, then Natasha is perfect for this mission. She’s done countless missions where she had to dress for the target and seduce them before breaking their neck. She hasn’t taught you how to act in these kinds of situations yet, so you’ll have to improvise. Sighing in defeat, you hand the iPad back to him and nod your head.

“Fine, I’ll wear whatever you got,” you agree. “It better be a goddamn dress.”

“It is,” he says quickly.

“And I’ll have you know that my flirting skills are in the negatives,” you comment, watching his reaction. He doesn’t budge. “So if something goes wrong, or is he suspects that something’s up, then I won’t hesitate to drag him out of there.”

“Understood,” Phil says. “We will be waiting on standby. Did you bring your gun?” You shake your head.

“Thought my power would be enough. Plus, if it’s crowded and dark, I don’t want to injure someone that isn’t the desired target. I can fight, I can tell you that. I can’t say that there won’t be complications, because there will be, since this is only my second mission. So, please bear with my eccentricities.”

“Already in progress,” he says. He opens his car door and tosses you a plastic bag. “Suit up.”

The dress they gave you isn't that bad. It's a strapless, deep red cocktail dress with ruffles along the bottom. You honestly like the dress, and will probably keep it afterwards if they ask for it back. Your lighter is tucked away in the boddess, and you pray that it stays there with whatever happens. It’s a disappointment that you had to leave your battle uniform in your car, but what must be done must be done. They even brought you simple black heels for the occasion (You don’t want to know how they got your shoe size). And, of course, they had to fix your hair and face. Some light curls, a little foundation, red lipstick, and you're good to go. You were able to get through the front door; it's not a "you're not on the list" type of club, which is pretty convenient, because you didn't know if you could flatter your way inside.

Right now you're sitting at the bar with a small glass of tequila in your hand, scoping out the place. Phil gave you an ear piece so he can give you directions and when things get too heated. You know you can't get too wasted, or else your movements will slack and lose effect. For now, one glass is enough.

You look up from the bar, and see Marko strolling in with his bodyguards, face serious as he looks around the room. His eyes land on you for a split second before going to the back corner of the club and sits on a loveseat.

That must be where he always sits.

You keep looking at him, in hopes at getting his attention. You cross your legs and raise your eyebrow, taking another sip of your tequila.

“I see him,” you say to Phil.

"Go to him," Phil instructs.

"Or how about I get him to come to me?" you counter.

You set your drink down on the bar and fix your body language, facing the bar completely. You look over your shoulder several times, smiling sweetly in hopes that Marko will look over. On your fifth attempt, he does.

You try to pull your best seductive look, and he responds by stretching his arms over the couch and spreading his legs, smirking all the while.

Fuckin' pervert.

You bite your bottom lip, and swing in your stool to face him. You nod your head to the side, silently asking him to come over. He gestures the empty spot next to him, but you don't back down. You cross your other leg over the other and lean on your thighs, squeezing your arms together so your chest pops out for him. You'd rather not be doing this for him, but you have to if you want to call this mission a success.

He licks his lips and leans forward in his seat. He looks like he's contemplating on whether or not to join you.

Take the bait, asshole.

You twirl a piece of your hair between your fingers and keep smiling like he wasn't the most disgusting thing in the world. He doesn't have an unfortunate face, which only peeves you off even more. He's not your type, but he's certainly everyone else's. After the longest minute of your life, he gets up from his chair and struts over to you, pushing his body guards away as he shamelessly eyes you up and down.

Gross.

You sit up straight as he plops down next to you and orders two shots of vodka. You raise an eyebrow at the order. Vodka? You treat vodka like a juice box, chugging it down no problem. You can't have too many of those, or else you're really going to lose it as the night goes on.

You decide not to open up with your name, so you make "friendly" conversation instead.

"What's a man like you doing in a place like this?" you ask, sipping down the last of your tequila.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he replies, downing his vodka as soon as the bartender slides it over. He gestures to yours with a raised eyebrow.

You pick it up, smiling kindly.

“Here’s to people like us.”

You toss is back, then slam the shot glass back on the bar. It burns your throat, but it’s actually kind of calming at the moment. You’re a lightweight, which makes you more verbal. And that is exactly what you need right now.

“Seriously though, what are you doing here?” he presses. “I’ve never seen you here before.”

Thinking of ways to kill you.

“Trying something new,” you respond, your smile faltering a little. You can see the scar on his neck without even directly looking at it; his bodyguards have their eyes on you both, hands folded in front of them, expressions serious. You gulp nervously. “I don’t get out much.”

“Such a shame for a pretty face like yours to be kept hiding,” he smirks, waving his hand at the bartender.

That is not what I want to hear from you.

“Keep the conversation going,” Phil says. “More talk means more trust. Get him outside if you can.”

“Got it,” you answer quietly.

You think back to all the movies you’ve watched in the past about seducing men in a crowded club like this one. The woman is dressed to lure the man in, getting him to order her a drink, they skip off to one of their apartments to hook up. But does that honestly happen in real life? And on specific missions like these? You’re skeptical about the Hollywood film industry and its plotlines, but you might as well take a shot, right? Literally and figuratively.

Phil said the club is called “Death Row” for a reason. A lot of murders must have occurred here. That’s the only reason you can think of for it’s particular name. The red glow of the lights really fits the theme.

Saving that question for another time, you clear your throat and pay attention to the situation at hand. You have a dangerous man sitting in front of you. And you need to get him to Phil.

“So what about you?” you ask curiously. “You seem to come here often enough to know that I’m a newcomer.”

Mark huffs a laugh and leans against the bar, cocking his head to the side.

“Yeah, I do come here often,” he replies without missing a beat. “Probably a little too much.”

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“I sort of have a reputation,” he explains, ordering another round. “Not the good kind.”

“Oooh you sound pretty dangerous then,” you coo, licking your lips. “Leading a dangerous life seems like your style, misterrr?”

“Snyders,” he replies, holding out his hand. “Marko Snyders.”

“Nice to meet your acquaintance, Mr. Snyders,” you reply, shaking his hand. “I’m _______.” You thought about using a different name, but you’re not sure that would’ve been a good idea. Might as well use the truth once in a while.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” he comments. You smile sweetly, despite wanting to punch the guy in the face.

“Thank you,” you reply shyly.

“No problem.”

It’s getting harder to figure out ways to get him outside. It’s too early on to invite him back to a hotel or to go to his place. There’s only one exit in the entire club, besides the entrance. And it just happens to be in the back corner, right beside Marko’s goons. Your eye twitches in annoyance. Of course. Out of all the places for an exit to be, it just had to be beside two men that could snap your neck faster than you could say “poptarts”.

Nevertheless, this mission is about keeping the clubbers out of the line of fire, and to get Marko in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s hands. That is all you’re here to do tonight. Hopefully you’ll come out of this unscathed.

But to do your job right, you’re going to have to bump up your game. Even if it means getting drunker and losing your sense of judgment and mobility. That’s what it means to be an Avenger. Or something like that.

You order another round of shots, and quickly slide them down your throat. The effect of the alcohol may not happen immediately, but knowing that it will assures you enough to open up more and smile. You also order a margarita to give your hand something to hold on to.

“So, Markoooo Snnnnnyders,” you slur, trying to act cute. He smirks and raises a playful brow. “Mr. Dangerous. Mysterious Man Sny. How did you come to find this place? And what makes you stay? It seems like any club I’ve seen lining the streets of the city.”

Not technically your best angle, but you’ve got to keep him talking to think of ways to get him out of here. Maybe if you act like you’re actually into him and not trying to dropkick his ass to Phil, you may have a chance of getting him to leave with you. It’s worth a shot; but you’ve got to get to know him first. You’re not an expert at reading facial expressions and body language, but you know enough. Wait for a moment for him to drop his guard. But even that may not even be enough. What would you threaten him with? Un-promised sex? He probably has men surrounding the place and a bomb placed underground to the city’s main electrical cables. God knows what else this man may have up his sleeve.

You just hope weapons of mass destruction are not on his list tonight.

He takes a sip of the Corolla he ordered earlier as he ponders his answer. You flit your eyes all around you, just as a precaution. You don’t know if you’ll need more space than you have to beat his ass.

“I built this place,” he finally responds, setting his beer down. You’re visibly shocked.

“You’re kidding,” you say, looking at him in complete surprise. Phil didn’t tell you that. Maybe it was to make your reactions more authentic. Smart strategy. Sneaky.

“’Fraid not, miss,” he replies, clearly enjoying your disbelief. “Back in ’89, I did that sort of stuff. It was my most proud work. It’s been through a few renovations since then. I’ve never stopped coming to this place because it’s my first establishment. It’s good to see that it’s still racking in the dough and customers. Its reputation is sketchy to say the least because of all that it’s been through. That may all be in the past, but people tend to not forget.”

“Wow. That’s… pretty awesome. The design is amazing, by the way. Everything is sleek and in style. Very impressive.”

“More pretty words from the pretty girl.”

Yikes.

Another sip of the margarita, please. Honestly, you don’t know how much longer you can keep this up. The whole of the mission has been making your body tremble, and the thought of getting shot, or someone being killed in your place is mortifying. But, the more you drink and let go, everything seems… actually calm and a little fun. It’s a little scary to be thinking like that, but you just can’t help yourself. The first thing to do was calm your nerves, and you did. The next step was getting Marko to do the same thing. You feel like you’re getting the tiniest bit closer, but you wouldn’t count on it. It all depends on how he reacts and what he says.

After a decent gulp of your drink, you slam it down on the bar and lick your lips. You stare at him with lidded eyes, solely focused on him. You tap your foot on the floor with the beat, and dare yourself to ask him to dance. Leaning back against your seat, you flick your hair to the side and cock your head as you look him up and down.

“Wanna dance?”

He smiles obnoxiously, and twists his beer on the bar. His eyes squint in caution, though. He gives you a once-over, wondering if he should. Phil hears silence, other than the loud music and thrush of the crowd.

“_______? _______? What’s going on?”

“So,” you start, after hearing Phil’s voice. “What will it be? Shall we have this dance, Mr. Snyders? Or shall I find myself a new partner?”

Coincidentally, being the dominant, alpha male he is, Marko frowns and his eyes narrow. The thought of another man having you to himself pisses him off. Just the mere sight of the men dancing behind you on the floor makes his stomach churn in discomfort. He’s not about to let another man’s hands on you. He gets out of his seat, straightens out his shirt, and takes your hand, dragging you to the dance floor. He grips your hand tightly as he spins you into him, just like in the movies.

Good god. I’d rather do this with Tony.

His face is inches from yours, but your line of sight is on his neck. He sees you eyeing it, and answers your question directly. Not like you had it in the first place.

“I got into a horrid knife fight a few years back,” he explains, swaying his body against yours. “And a nasty fight means nasty scars.”

“You don’t say,” you whisper, trailing your eyes back up to his face. This is way too close for your liking. You twirl yourself back out before he pulls you back in and places his hands on your waist. He squeezes, and you gasp.

That tickles, you prick.

However, he takes your reaction as permission to do it more, and to press himself against you. Swallowing your pride, you wrap your arms around his neck, and move your body in time with his. The beat of the music thumps in your ears and courses through your bones. You can hardly think straight. Now you’re sort of regretting drinking so much. You can feel your decisive mind waning as the alcohol spreads to your head. Here’s to hoping to a weak hangover in the morning.

Marko runs his hands along your body without a care. How indecent. And gross. You feel like you’re being molested. Your fingers tremble around his neck. No. You cannot let your nerves get the best of you. Thinking on your feet, you imagine it’s not Marko feeling you up like this, but Bucky.

It’s kind of shameful and creepy to be thinking of him like that in a situation like this, but desperate times call for drastic measures. Bucky is a much better person to be doing things like this, and you like the guy, so it’s not like you can help yourself. You close your eyes, and imagine it’s Bucky standing behind you, gently swaying your hips side-to-side, whispering sweet thoughts in your ear instead of having heavy, hot breath violating your neck. Your imagination seems to do the trick, because you relax against Marko and let the beat carry you.

Meanwhile, Phil and his team are outside in a black van, listening in to everything that they can hear. Unbeknownst to you, there is one more agent inside undercover. Phil thought about letting you know about her presence, but he stopped himself. He also stopped himself from telling you about the miniscule, hidden cameras as well. He wants to see what you’d do if you thought you were alone. A cruel tactic to see what you’re made of, but he trusts his judgments. And if things go downhill, he’ll make the call for his other agents to take action.

But for now, he and his team simply observe.

You take the time to pull yourself from your Bucky-induced thoughts to think of more ways to get Marko out of here without raising alarm. His bodyguards have got to be the first ones to go. But how would you do that? Their number one priority is the safety of Marko, and they can secure him pretty easily. It’d be two-against-one, and your odds of winning would be slim. A few months of training isn’t going to cut it against bulky meat suits like them. Natasha sure, Wanda definitely, since she can bring a man to his knees without even touching him. Unnecessary envy isn’t going to get you out of this right now, so you need to think of your options.

Option One: You flat-out ask Marko back to your apartment. Lead him to Phil. Job done. No causalities.

Option Two: Try to take down agents Meat and Meatier before Marko. If that goes well, threaten Marko with fire and lead him outside. No causalities.

Option Three: Pull off mission impossible and take down three men twice your size in a crowded club full of innocent civilians without any causalities.

Option Four: Call off the mission and let Phil do it himself. Professional and clean. No causalities.

When it all comes down to it, you can only take one path. So which is it going to be? Standard procedure, or go by the one less traveled by? There is no time to hesitate. You must choose. Otherwise this whole mission will turn out to be a failure and innocent blood will be on your hands, not to mention that–

“Wanna get outta here?”

Well. That certainly wasn’t an option you were expecting to arise. Your eyes fly open and you tilt your head up to face him. You can’t believe that this moron is getting you out of your own sticky situation. Luck must be on your side. Your lips quirk up into a flirty smile.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

You tuck your hair behind your ears and brush it to your back in attempt to cool yourself down a bit. Years of renovations and he didn’t have the money to put in some A/C? The heat coming from all the other people in the club makes you light-headed. Or maybe it’s the alcohol. Probably both. You look around again, just to make sure that everything is under control. Marko’s bodyguards slowly start making their way towards you. They probably won’t let Marko go with some random girl, always keeping a close eye on their boss. That’s fine by you. Three birds with one stone, job done.

Or so you thought.

As you turn your head, Marko looks back at you, and his eyes instantly narrow from seeing the earpiece you’ve been wearing. He’s not going to second-guess himself because he knows exactly what they look like, big and small. He stops walking, making you bump into him. You stumble a bit, but his now iron-tight grip keeps you from falling over. You look up at him in question.

“Marko? What’s–“

A second later, he has you turned around, with what you can only guess is a gun shoved against your back. You sober up as your heart beats a mile a minute in your chest. You feel like it could burst through your ribcage right now. You thought you were scared when you thought an intruder was in the compound when Bucky and Sam destroyed the electrical panel. This doesn’t even compare. The lives of you, and everyone else are at stake now. And all because of one clumsy move.

“Here’s how it’s going to go,” he whispers in your ear, pressing the gun hardly against you. No one else in the room seems to realize that Marko has pressed a gun against your back. They’re all too wrapped up in their own drunken stupors to notice your distress. Tremors course through your hands, and you can’t control how fast your throat is closing up.

“We’re going to take a little walk,” he continues, now making his way to his bodyguards. “And you’re not going to make a scene. You’re not going to call for help, and you’re not going to try and contact any of your other friends. Got it?”

You can’t speak; you can only nod. No matter what, you cannot let a single person get injured, or god forbid, killed, because of you being naïve and thoughtless. However, you cannot let yourself be captured so easily. You have to prove yourself that you are capable of thinking and acting on your own. Now would be the time to do it.

Forcing yourself to take deep breaths, you analyze the situation. The bodyguards don’t seem to be carrying guns. Though, they could be concealed under their jackets. Your lighter is tucked away in your chest, but you’d have to disarm Marko before dealing with his beef squad. Everything would be much easier if you had one more person with you. If only Phil was smart enough to bring another person inside so you wouldn’t be alone. You hear a click, and Marko comes to a stop. You can only guess that he’s ready to pull the trigger, and you shut your eyes tightly, ready to feel the blow in your back.

“Stand down or I’ll spill your brains.”

Your eyes shoot open at the new voice. You hesitantly look over your shoulder, and see a woman a few years older than you standing behind Marko.

Is she–?

She nods at you, which can only mean she’s on your side. You can’t sigh a breath of relief yet, since the situation can still go south. And you’d do anything to avoid a catastrophe on your first solo mission.

Let’s see. Three on two. She has a gun, and I have my lighter. These two puff pastries probably rely on their brute strength to keep Marko safe. I could take on those two, maybe while the other agent deals with Marko. But these people need to get out of here to avoid a gunfight. But I’m sure once they see what’s about to go down, they’ll find their way out. Fast, I hope. Think, _______. Think.

Shit.

I better not regret this.

There’s no time to second guess yourself. Seeing as Marko’s not holding on to you, you make your right hand into a fist and quickly elbow him in the neck (though you were aiming for his face). He stumbles to his left, but he doesn’t let go of his gun. He takes aim at you as you rush towards his bodyguards, but the other agent grabs hold of his wrist and points it upwards and makes him shoot the ceiling. The instant it fires, people are screaming and scrambling to get out of the club. The undercover agent wants to leave with the rest of the clubbers to secure their safety, but given the situation, it may not be necessary.

She elbows him in the ribs and chops his neck before kicking his feet out from under him. He falls to the floor, but it doesn’t end there. He’s had years upon years of training. He knows how to get himself out of a sticky situation.

Meanwhile, you’re up against two tank engines. You avoid using your lighter unless completely necessary. If you can’t subdue them by yourself, then you’ll rely on your power to get you out of this mess. The weak points are easy to go for, like the groin and face, but your personal favourite is punching people in the neck. And it’d work out perfectly if they weren’t so goddamn tall. Your defence training with Natasha has been sufficient, all things considered, so you might as well put it to the test.

You have no choice but to take down two people at once, as hard and fast as you can. You try giving him a right hook, but he easily stops it by grasping your fist. You grunt and do not hesitate to smash the end of your heel into his foot. Then comes the kick to the groin, and two knees to the face when he bends over. He groans in pain before you give the strongest kick you can muster to the side of his neck. He goes tumbling down the wall, giving you a single second to breathe before the second guard wraps his arm around your neck and starts squeezing.

Leverage.

You move your left leg back behind his right foot, making your hips behind his. You then open your left arm across his chest and use all the strength you can to force him backwards. He’s a big guy, but even big guys have weaknesses. You kick his Achilles’ tendon to make sure he goes down to the floor. He manages to keep a grip on you, and you go down with him; but that only gives you the chance to elbow him in the throat. Hard. While he strangles for breath, the first guard you took down pulls a gun attached to his ankle.

Line of fire.

You scramble off the ground, adrenaline coursing through you, and charge at him. You duck your head down and raise both your hands up, grabbing onto his wrists, and kick him in the groin again. His grip lessens on the gun and you tear it away from his hands. He tumbles backwards again and you point the gun at him.

“Don’t move! Stay where you are!” You look behind you at the ground, and see the second guard still struggling to catch his breath. You back up to get both of them in your line of sight, moving the gun left and right, finger hovering over the trigger in case they try something. You hear a yell from your left, and turn your attention there instead. Before you have time to process what happened, another gunshot goes off, and you feel a sting in your thigh. The force sends you to the floor, and you end up laying on your side, the gun flying from your hands. The adrenaline keeps the pain to a 5, on a scale from one to ten. You look up, and see Marko pointing his gun at the other agent on the floor.

Goddammit.

While they both look worse for wear, Marko got the better end of the beatings. There’s blood splattered along his forehead and cheek, and at least three good cuts on his arms. The agent, however, just has a bruise forming under her eye socket.

Men are pathetic.

Marko breathes hardly as he looks back at you with a careless expression. The gun is too far for you to grab; he would kill you before you fully outstretched your hand. So you stay where you are, and focus on breathing. Bullet wounds are a major punch to the tits.

“This was fun,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “But I still got business with the black market and international sellers. People would pay big bucks for an arm or a leg of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. But I prefer them alive and fresh. Makes for a better show.”

He pulls back the hammer on his semi-automatic, and keeps his gun trained on the agent. The agent has no line of defence; her only chance is you, or Phil, if he has the heart to come in and do something about this. He hasn’t said anything in a while. Not that it matters. It’s best not to have a distraction while you’re trying to save the life of yourself and another. Just to be sure, you take the earpiece out and toss it away. You try standing up, but your body is so shaky that you fall back to the ground. Marko looks back at you again as you try to push yourself off the floor. He laughs.

“You almost had me fooled,” he says, kneeling in front of you. He waves the gun around along with his hand movements as he speaks. “Do you know how many women have come up to me, batting their lashes and spreading their legs to get my attention? And because I’m the big man, you must think that I’m into that sort of thing. But you know what? It’s annoying as fuck. Same old game, same type of woman. But you. You. You seemed authentic and natural. A shy little girl trying to attract the alpha male in the room. Your game was so weak, I felt bad for you. So I came over, had a few drinks, and dealt with it.” He reaches forward and grabs your chin when you look away from him. “You had such a baby doll face that I couldn’t resist myself.”

That comment earns him a nasty glare. He raises a brow in amusement.

“Oh? Did I hit a nerve?”

“Don’t fucking call me that, scarface,” you spit.

He “hmph”’s and lets go of your chin. His eyes travel down, and he smirks. “What do we have here?” He extends his hand down the front of your dress; when you struggle, he points the gun at your head. “Don’t fucking move.” You comply and let him take the lighter out of your chest. He inspects it before standing back up and pacing the room. You grip your thigh in pain, but you power through it. You can’t slip unconscious just yet. Not until these bastards are dead or captured, and the agent is safe.

“Going through all that trouble to conceal a lighter? Must be special. What. Your daddy give this to you as a parting gift?”

“Go to hell,” you snarl, wincing from moving your leg. You look at it. Just the sight of it almost makes you throw up. You turn your head away and pay attention to Marko.

Go on. Open it. I dare you.

He twists and turns the lighter in his hand, wondering why you would hide such a thing. If he’s stupid enough to open it and pull down on the lever, then you won’t hesitate to take your chance. You’ll add a few more scars to the one he already had.

“Planning to blow up the place?” he muses aloud. He shakes his head and laughs without humour. “How naïve. I expect no less from a little girl.”

You shrug. “Gotta keep all the options open.”

You’re getting more and more dizzy. You’re never to drink again on a mission. If you live through this one, that is. Marko flicks the lid open, then closes it. Then opens it again, then closes it. He does this a few more times, and you’re getting tired of him not doing what you want.

Come ooon. Just do it. Light a flame.

“You know,” he starts, opening the lid again. “I could go for a smoke right now.” He lights a flame. “I qu–“

The moment you hear the familiar flick of the lever, you take control of the flame, increasing its size and temperature, and blow it up right in Marko’s face. You engulf the right side of his face and forearm. His gun and your lighter fall to the floor as he screams in agonizing pain. The agent takes this chance to grab his gun and point it at him as you extinguish the flames. Marko is on his knees, grunting and yelling in pain. He looks up at you and squints.

“What the fuck are you?”

You bend down and grab your lighter. You flip it open and make another flame, then surround it around his bodyguards. You spit at the floor and look him in the eyes.

“Hellfire.”

You help the agent stand while keeping the fire going. She keeps the gun on Marko as she presses her fingers against her ear.

“Sir? The situation is handled. Send them in.”

Neither of you lower your guards as agents come pouring in the club to arrest Marko and his goon squad; only then do you douse your flames again. Your legs shake, but you keep yourself upright. No need to embarrass yourself. Even if there is a bullet wedged in your thigh.

“That was exceptional work, _______,” the agent says, clapping a hand on your back. “You kept calm, read the situation, and acted accordingly. Not bad for a newbie.”

“Tha-Thanks,” you pant, pressing your hands on your thighs. You curse when the adrenaline starts to wear off and you can feel the real pain from the bullet start to course through you. You stand back up again when however, when you see Phil walk through the door, and Marko getting escorted out in handcuffs.

“Good work, _______, agent Knox,” he says, his hands tucked behind his back. You blow the hair away from your face and shake your head in disbelief.

“You couldn’t have told me that I wasn’t alone in there?” you ask, anger lacing your tone.

“I wanted to see what you were capable of without any outside help,” he explains. “Working as a team is admirable and truly effective, but an individual must have their own strengths. I wanted to draw out your potential. You managed to take down two two-hundred-pound men and keep a weapons developer in containment.”

You put your hands on your hips and shake your head again. Sure, it’s true. You managed fine on your own. But without the help of agent Knox, then you probably would’ve been injured further, or even killed. There are the pros and cons, but you’re just happy that you’re alive.

“I guess,” you finally answer. “But I got shot in the leg.”

“We’ll take care of that.”

“Good. ‘Cause I feel like I’m gonna pass out. And throw up.”

Two paramedics come to your side as you step into the cool night air. You immediately wrap your arms around their shoulders, and limp with them over to a different black van that has medical equipment inside. They’re about to hook you up to an IV when you remember something crucial.

“Wait!” you yell. “Coulson needs to take my back to the compound.” Phil looks over his shoulder when he hears his name called. He watches you argue with the paramedics.

“We can’t do that, miss,” one paramedic argues. “You’ve lost too much blood and we need to get you to–“

“Just give me some damn morphine and let Coulson take me back,” you demand, not in the mood to fight. “There’s doctors and surgeons back at the compound.” When neither of them do what you asked, you glare at them. “Do it. Now.” They reluctantly comply when Phil nods at them. You’re given a powerful dose of morphine for the pain, and they securely wrap white bandages around your thigh before letting you go. You wobble over to Phil, and blink a few times to make sure it’s him.

“LLLLeeeeet’ssss gooooo,” you slur, the morphine taking instant effect. “Weeee got a pit stop to make.” You laugh as you look at his shiny head, before stumbling over to the passenger’s side and hop in the seat. Phil sighs through his nose, knowing he’ll have a hell of a car ride. He has two of his agents drive your car back home, while he takes you to your desired destination.

It’s been four hours since you last left the compound. And Sam’s been up and about, waiting for your return. He tried calling you, but you left your phone in the car. Asking F.R.I.D.A.Y. or anyone else for that matter wouldn’t help either. They probably don’t know you’re out doing… whatever it is you were doing. Sam’s about to go out and look for you himself when he hears a commotion from downstairs. He asks F.R.I.D.A.Y. to pull up the feed for the front entrance, and he sees you literally being dragged in by two men in stealth suits. Another man leads them up the path to the doors, but they’re locked. Sam doesn’t need to see anymore. He rushes downstairs.

You try to tell Phil the passcode to get inside, but you can’t stop laughing at nothing and everything to give him a coherent answer. You’re crying from laughter when you see Sam skid to a stop from behind the doors.

“Saaaaaaam!” you cheer happily, letting go of Phil’s men to press yourself against the glass.

“_______?! What’re you doing out there? What happened to you?!”

You look down at yourself. There was no time to change back into your battle suit, so you were stuck with wearing your bloody, tattered cocktail dress. You’ve seen much better days. And so has Sam. You shrug indifferently.

“I got into a fiiiight,” you drawl, smiling stupidly at him. He opens the door and lets you fall against him. He sees the bandage around your thigh, and the blood seeping through it. He looks up at Phil, who is very surprisingly calm.

“She’s correct,” he says before Sam opens his mouth. “Her first solo assignment was a success. Please relay the message to Mr. Stark. I apologize for her return home. She wanted to pick something up first.”

You perk up when Phil says that. Of course! How could you forget? You push yourself off of Sam and let one of the men come forward and hand you something. You face Sam with the items behind your back. You smile widely at him before bringing them forward and presenting them to him.

“You thought I forgot, didn’t you?”

Sam has to huff a laugh. He can’t believe it. Out of everything you've been through tonight, and you still manage to think of him.

“My nuggets and drink,” he says quietly. “Goddammit, Spyro.”

He takes them and you happily clap your hands.

“Time to gooooo~ Bye bye Phyllis!” you call behind you as you limp inside. Sam watches you pathetically drag your wounded leg behind you. He turns to Phil, his serious demeanor returning.

“What the hell happened?”

“Complications arose, and we took care of them. The criminal is in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s hands now. She has proven herself to be very useful and quick witted. She’ll be just fine on her own.”

He turns around and is about to take his leave when he stops and says one more thing.

“For future reference, don’t tell her no when she wants all the toys,” he says.

Without giving him any other details, Phil leaves without another word. Sam looks down at the McDonald’s in his hands, still in disbelief that you actually got his order while looking like that. He manages to relax for a minute before he’s on high alert again; but only because you start shouting about your return home.

“Choo choo motherfuckers! Guess who’s hooooome!”

You managed to make it to the kitchen, despite the limp in your step. You’re so excited about being home that you want everyone to know. Sam comes running up behind you, and sets his late night dinner on the counter before covering your mouth.

“Quiet, Spyro!” he says. “Now’s not the time for this.”

You lick his palm to get him to uncover your mouth. He pulls away and wipes it on his shirt while you continue your own welcome home party.

“Steviiiiie! Wandooooo! Tonyyyyyy! Everyooooone! Come say hiiiiii! I feel lonely here with just Sammyyyyyy!”

Sam holds his face and shakes his head at your antics. This is not going to be pretty. Steve appears first, and he immediately shakes off his drowsiness when he sees the state you’re in. He rushes forward and looks from Sam to you.

“_______? What happened? Are you okay?”

“Awwww Steviiiiie. I’m okayyyy~ Look! I got shot in the leg!”

You pull up the bottom of your dress to reveal the bloodied bandage. You give Steve a dopey smile as he stares at you in concern and anger. You lean against the counter and nod your head repeatedly as he tries to gather his thoughts together.

“What happened to her?” he questions Sam.

“Look, I know about as much as you do,” Sam replies. “All I know is that she was in a fight and got shot in the leg. Nothing else.”

“How could this even happen?” Steve says aloud. He glances at you, but you’re too preoccupied with bouncing your head and swaying your shoulders to answer him. He sighs and shakes his head.

“It doesn’t matter right now. She needs to g–“

“The hell is this?”

Your head whips around when you hear the familiar tone of snark.

“Tooooonaaaayyyyy,” you say, swinging around to face him. “So kind of you to j-join u-us.” You start laughing again at the incredulous expression he’s wearing. Wanda, Vision, and Natasha emerge from their hiding places to see what’s going on so late at night. A whole flurry of conversations and emotions erupt before you, but everything sounds like white noise. You can’t understand what anyone is saying. All you can see are some pretty furious expressions. You stumble around a bit, making your way across to the living room. But a curious eye catches your attention.

Bucky is silently watching from behind the wall, arms crossed and brows furrowed. You make the same expression and stare at him. He doesn’t notice you’re looking until he glances to his right. You sputter a laugh when his face drastically changes from fuming to trepidation. He stands up straighter and uncrosses his arms as he gives you a once-over. You wave at him, but he can’t even raise a finger, let alone speak. He’s so shell-shocked that you look like this right now. Tattered, dirty, and wounded. He never thought he’d see you like this, and quite frankly, he’s outraged to see you in such a state.

“Y-You need to t-turn that f-frown upside d-down, mister,” you giggle, lazing your way over to him. “Frowns a-are not a-allowed. Y-You… y-you gotta… pffffffttttt!” You can’t even take him seriously. His usual gruff and grumpy behaviour seems a thousand times funnier to you right now. You point a shaky finger at him as you close the distance.

“Y-You got me outta t-that shitshow t-tonight, Mr. B-Barnes,” you continue. “So thank you f-for that. Y-You’re t–“

Before you have time to finish your sentence, you fall unconscious and land in Bucky’s arms. The morphine has taken its hold on you, so you won’t be waking up any time soon. He holds you carefully and delicately, moving the hair away from your face. You’re still breathing, which is good. But that bullet in your leg is not.

“Hey!” he shouts, gathering everyone’s attention. “She needs medical attention now.”

Bucky’s tone immediately grasps the likes of Tony; he stops his spat with Steve to get things rolling. He calls out to F.R.I.D.A.Y., telling the doctors and surgeons to be ready by the time he gets down there. He orders Bucky to follow him to the med lab, and he obeys. Everyone else follows close behind, worried out of their minds. Some more than others.

Bucky places you on the bed when he reaches the lab, and is then ushered out of the room. He stands behind the glass like the rest of the team, and watches on, hoping for your surgery and recovery to go well.

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