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amanda-teaches · 3 years

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It’ll Be Fun

Marvel Fanfic

Summary: You finally convince Bucky to attend one of Tony’s infamous parties at the compound, but things go south fast when invaders attack, leaving all of your lives in jeopardy. Bucky’s determined to do whatever he needs to do to keep you safe, even if that means putting his own life on the line.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3545

Warnings: Intense situations, shooting, mentions of blood/bodies, injury, suggestive content.

A/N: This is for @arrowsandmixtapes Better Love Story Than Twilight Challenge. I hope you enjoy this one, Nic! I also included the prompt “Before I do this, I need you to know that I have always loved you” which was requested by @adventureisoutthere98 for my Writer + Reader challenge (my last request to fill!).

There was nothing quite like a Tony Stark party.

You attended your first one not long after you started working at Avengers Tower. Tony had invited you himself, walking his charming self down to your office to introduce himself and extend an invite to a “small get-together” he was having for some of the staff. Of course, you were honored he invited you, but your first instinct had been to decline. You would have too if it wasn’t for the other doctors in your unit descending on you, regaling you with stories about Tony’s “small get-togethers” and how they were anything but small. They practically begged you to go, saying you absolutely couldn’t miss it.

You reluctantly agreed, but you hadn’t really believed them until you arrived at the party and saw Beyoncé was scheduled to sing right after David Copperfield performed.

You made sure you never missed a Tony party after that.

Over the ensuing years, you’d built real friendships with Tony and the rest of the team. You became one of their most trusted doctors, not only providing care at home but eventually venturing out into the field with them as well. When Bucky had been brought back to the newly-established Compound, you’d shifted gears, heading up his rehabilitation under Steve’s watchful eye. Bucky Barnes became your job.

It took a few good months to gain his trust and even more after that for him to start opening up to the others, but he didn’t open up much. It had been almost a year since he’d begun to call the compound his home, and he still spent the majority of his time with either you or Steve. You took it upon yourself to change that.

“Come on, Buck, it’s just a party.”

You plopped down on his bed, crossing your legs underneath you and staring expectantly at Bucky. He was standing with his back toward you, in front of his dresser with the top drawer open, but he stilled the moment you came in. His hands had stopped rifling around in the clothes when you spoke, and he paused, glancing over his shoulder at you. At the sight of you on his bed, he shook his head and laughed. “Yeah, sure, Y/N, come on in. Make yourself at home.”

“Oh, shush.” You admonished the sarcasm in his tone playfully, standing up and making your way to step in front of him, pressing your back up against the drawer to capture his view. “You act like I’m asking you to spend a night in jail.”

He raised his eyebrows, a teasing glint finding its way to his gaze. “A Stark party? Sounds like a form of capital punishment to me.”

“You’re so dramatic,” you laughed, pushing his chest with the flat of your hand, although it was about as effective as pushing a wall. “It’s not like it’ll kill you, Buck. All I’m asking for is one party. It’ll be fun.”

“Y/N…” You could hear the hesitation in his voice, so you cut him off at the knees.

“James Buchanan Barnes, I am your doctor, and I’m telling you, you’re going to this party. Don’t make me get Steve involved.”

He smirked, reaching one hand behind you to close the dresser drawer, his chest brushing against yours in the process. “Doctor’s orders?” he asked, his playful gaze remaining fixed on yours, the intensity in his eyes quickly accelerating your heart rate, not that you planned on letting him see that.

“Damn straight,” you directed, taking a breath and pushing him back again. This time he let you, moving back just enough for you to shimmy around him towards the door. You heard him chuckle behind you, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you smile in response. “7:30, Barnes. I expect you to be on your best behavior. And, for God’s sake, wear something nice. If you wear a tank top, I swear I’ll kick your ass.”

His deep laugh followed you all the way out the door.

To his credit, Bucky was trying his damndest to make it through this party without killing anyone.

He’d shown up at 7:30 on the dot, dressed in a nice suit you were pretty sure he’d borrowed from Steve, although you’d never call him on it. Taking his arm, you pulled him into the hanger Tony had converted into a party room more than rivaling the one he’d had back at the tower. Bucky stiffened when he saw all the people, but he kept his face neutral, although you knew it must’ve been killing him inside not to turn around and walk right out.

Applying gentle pressure on his arm, you smiled up at him, earning a smile right back. You guided him over to the bar that took up one wall, where Steve was waiting, drinks at the ready. Over the next hour, you watched Bucky resist the urge to grimace and squirm as guest after guest came over to talk with the three of you. Two world-renowned super soldiers were quite the attraction after all, and all of Tony’s high-profile friends were clamoring for a piece of the action. You knew Bucky hated every second.

You smiled and leaned into his side, dropping your voice so only he could hear. “You’re doing great.”

He returned your smile, his teeth gritting a little too hard as his metal arm snaked around your waist. “I’m this close to punching someone.”

“Just a little bit longer, Buck, and then the entertainment starts. Trust me, it’ll be worth it. I heard a rumor Tony’s got Cirque du Soleil lined up.”

“Dear God,” he groaned, his quiet laugh transforming his forced smile into a genuine one. “Nothing like our parties back in Brooklyn. You actually enjoy this stuff?”

“Oh, come on, it’s fun. Watching Tony’s friends? That’s some prime entertainment,” you teased back. “Besides, with these parties, you never know what crazy things will happen.”

He turned his head to look down at you, but whatever words he was going to utter next were lost to the sounds of a large blast from the other side of the room. Thinking it was part of the starting entertainment, you started to twist around, but Bucky grabbed you, hauling you up against him and dropping like a weight down to the floor.

“Buck, what the hell-” you screamed, but he was already moving, pulling you with him and yelling back over his shoulder. You were anchored securely to him, but you shifted your head to find Steve following close behind, his own back shielding you. It was only then that you registered the sound of gunshots echoing all around you and panic began to rise in your throat.

By the time you finally got your bearings, Bucky had dragged you behind the bar, kicking a stool out of the way to clear a space. He plunked you down with a loud thump and reached under the counter, pulling a pistol from its place taped underneath. “Steve, talk to me.”

Steve appeared on the other side of you like a ghost, yanking his own gun out from under the bar top. “I made at least 7, probably more. Came in the south side with a modified explosive device, loaded with semi-automatics.”

They exchanged a glance and raised up at the same time, firing three rounds over the bar top before dropping back down in unison to your side. Bucky glanced over at you. “You ok? You hurt?”

You shook your head slightly, still in shock. “I, I...Wait, how long have you had guns taped under here?”

He smiled at the way the spirit had returned to your voice, shaking his head right back. “Can we talk about that later?” He jumped back up, firing a few more rounds. “A little busy right now.”

Steve drew your attention then, calling Bucky’s name. “I’m going to flank around the back, try to clear the rest of the room, get out any civilians. You got her?”

Bucky nodded. “I’ll cover you.” He stood back up, firing into the open room as Steve ran past you, leaving the cover of the bar and speeding towards the other side of the room. When Bucky stopped firing, he dropped back down next to you, firmly grabbing your shoulder. “We gotta move. I’m out of bullets.”

“What, there aren’t any more secret weapons hidden somewhere?”

He smirked. “Not here. Come on, let’s move. Keep your head low.”

He grabbed your hand and suddenly you were running, trying not to trip in your heels as you all but flew across the room. You could see the carnage of broken furniture and a few fallen bodies behind you, but you shut your eyes tight against the sight, anchoring yourself to Bucky and trusting him to get you out of there. Feeling the shiver course through you, he swept you up against his side, lifting your feet from the ground without even slowing and carrying you the rest of the way.

He made a sharp right at the hallway, adjusting his grip so you were in front of him, shielded from any gunfire, and raced down the corridor, ducking into rooms every time he heard someone approaching. Not that anyone ever got close, because Bucky could practically hear them coming from a mile away. With no obstacles, you quickly made it back to his room where he shut and bolted the door, finally releasing you.

He moved towards the far wall without a word, opening the gun safe you knew he had hidden in a nightstand there. “Buck, what’re you doing? Who are those guys?”

“I don’t know,” he rushed out, pulling two guns out from the safe and tucking one into the back of his waistband. He stood back up and looked over at you, sighing heavily. “Stay here. Lock the door behind me and don’t let anyone in until I come back.”

He started to move past you but you grabbed his arm, holding him back. “Wait, you can’t go back out there. You have no idea what you’re up against. There’s too many of them, you could get yourself killed.”

“It’s my job, Y/N. There’s people out there who need my help. Steve is out there.”

“Buck…”

He transferred the gun to his metal hand, placing the back of his knuckles on your cheek. Gently, he wiped away the tear falling down it, letting his fingertips brush against your hair. Seeing the fear in your eyes, he gifted you with a smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back before you know it.”

You stepped closer, holding his gaze just as you had that morning, hating the resignation you saw there. “I’ll come with you. I can help.”

His face hardened at that suggestion, and he shook his head resolutely. “No, absolutely not.”

“Buck, I’m not some helpless damsel, I’m a doctor. I can help.”

“No,” he snapped, hard and fast. He closed his eyes at the sound of his own voice and softened his tone. “Please, Y/N. I can’t do this if I’m worried about protecting you. Stay here. Keep the door locked. Please.”

You knew he meant it, that he needed you to agree or he wouldn’t go, so you nodded, reaching out and taking his hand off your face, intertwining your fingers with his. “Be careful, okay?”

“Always am.” He smiled, letting your hand drop from his. He moved to open the door, placing his hand on the doorknob, but before he opened it, he hesitated. Turning back to you, he just stared for a moment, like he was drinking you in, trying to memorize every last detail. “Before I do this, I need you to know that...I have always loved you.”

And, then he was gone, just like that, without another word, leaving you alone and incredibly confused.

What the hell?

What was that supposed to mean, he loved you? Loved you like a friend, a pet dog, what? No, you knew what it meant. No one told you they loved you in the middle of gunfire unless it meant the real thing, the thing the two of you had been dancing around for months, the same all-consuming, heart-stopping love you’d felt for him since the moment he first came to the compound.

But, seriously, what the hell? Where did he get off telling you that and just leaving, making you stay behind? What were you supposed to do now?

You hadn’t realized you were pacing until you found yourself on the other side of the room, your fists clenched tightly against your sides. You closed your eyes, and all you could see was Bucky’s face, smiling at you as you cried your way through yet another Disney movie or comforting you when you lost a patient.

Damnit, he had no right to do this to you, not like this. You sure as hell weren’t going to let him tell you he loved you and then just go out there to die.

Lifting your foot, you tore one of your heels off, flinging it across the room with the other one following close behind. Stalking over to Bucky’s safe, you punched in the combo he’d taught you months ago for emergencies, pulling out the small .22 you knew he’d left inside. You tucked it into the palm of your hand and moved to open the door, stepping hesitantly out into the hallway, your gun at the ready.

Bucky had taught you how to shoot using a bunch of old cans on the edge of the forest a few months ago, so you felt pretty confident with the gun, but that didn’t exactly mean you were eager to run into anybody. You stayed close to the wall instead, moving slowly and carefully.

The building was all but deserted, and you didn’t see a soul in any of the first few hallways you walked through. That changed as you neared the east side of the compound, where a chorus of sounds and crashes echoed. You stopped with your back against a wall, using it as a shield as you peered around the corner, your grip tightening on the butt of your gun.

It was Bucky, of course. Who else would be crazy enough to be standing in the middle of chaos, one man up against four, all of them heavily armed. The others looked like they had him outmatched, but this was Bucky they were up against. You knew the real odds.

You pitied the others.

He made it look effortless, the way he went through them, as easy and routine as playing a video game. They went high, he dropped low. They came from the back, he spun around to cut them off at the knees. He took three of them down so fast, you almost missed it, but the fourth one got in a lucky hit, slashing him from the side with a knife before he could turn to block it.

“Bucky!” you screamed, and his head whipped around, his eyes making contact with yours and flashing with surprise just before the assailant raised his gun, slamming it down on the back of Bucky’s head. He crumbled, dropping to the floor, and you raised your gun with a shout, firing two shots that made contact with the attacker’s shoulder and neck, killing him instantly.

Rushing forward, you dropped to your knees by Bucky’s side, turning him over and feeling along his chest and stomach for any injuries. “Buck, Bucky!”

He groaned, a whispered string of swear words flying out of his mouth, and opened his eyes. When he turned his head and glared up at you, you realized he was going to be okay and your whole body sagged in relief. “I thought I told you to stay in my room,” he grumbled, blinking a few times to clear his head as he sat up into your waiting arms.

You smiled, taking the opportunity to unbutton his crisp, white shirt and slip your hand inside, feeling the area you’d watched the knife hit. “Yeah, well, I’ve never been great at listening.” Your hand landed on the long cut you’d been searching for and he winced, but you grinned. You knew instantly that the gash was narrow and shallow, easily fixable without needing stitches, especially with his healing ability. Another wave of relief washed over you.

“You really don’t, do you?” he laughed, shaking his head, but he stilled when your hand grazed the bottom of his chin, his breath drawing in with a sharp inhale. You ran your fingers up, tracing the curve of his lip with your thumb before resting the flat of your palm against the stubble of his cheek.

“I do listen to some things,” you whispered, letting the words linger in the air between the two of you. His eyes dropped to your lips, his breaths growing labored in response.

“We should, uh...” he stumbled through his response, clearly growing flustered, but he kept his voice low, gruff. “Find Steve, make sure the compound’s secure, see if anyone needs help.”

“Mhmm,” you muttered, darting your tongue out to lick your lips and relishing the moan you pulled from him in response. “We should.”

“Yeah…” His voice died out as he finally dragged his gaze away from your lips, swallowing hard. “But, later…”

You nodded, your breathing having sped up to match his labored pace. “We’ll talk. As soon as we get a chance.”

Unfortunately, that chance didn’t come for another three hours.

It was nearing midnight, and you were exhausted. You and Bucky had found Steve and quickly split up, with him to handle the security debrief and you to lead the triage effort in the medical suites. You’d been on your feet ever since.

You’d just dismissed the last of your staff and leaned against your desk to close your eyes when the door opened.

“Can I help…” you started, turning to find Bucky standing in the doorway. You smiled in response. “Oh, hey, how was your…”

You never got the chance to finish, because Bucky stalked across the room with four long steps, taking your face in his hands, kissing the air right out of you, and stealing your thoughts right along with it. His lips were gentle, but insistent, and when his tongue prodded at your lower lip, you opened to him, spurring him to lift you up onto your desk, the kiss turning more passionate and unbridled, your hands sweeping into his hair.

When he pulled back, your lips were swollen, your cheeks were flushed, and you were pretty sure if your legs weren’t wrapped around him, you would’ve fallen backwards off your desk. He grinned at the sight of you and ran his hands down your back to rest on your hips. “Shit, I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”

“Just all night?” you teased, your laugh echoing throughout the room. “Here I was thinking you’d been thinking about it for a lot longer than that.”

His face sobered instantly, turning serious as he studied you. “I meant what I said earlier. It’s not just physical for me.”

“Me neither,” you whispered, pulling him in for another kiss, this one leisurely and sweet. You remembered vividly what he’d told you earlier, in the midst of the attack, but you didn’t want to push him to say it again. You knew how strongly you felt about him, but you also knew this was very new for both of you, and he’d had a very long night. “You want to have dinner tomorrow night?”

His smirk came right back. “Like a date?”

For a man who’d just told you he loved you and kissed you with more passion than you’d ever felt in your life, he was being awfully cheeky. “Yes, like a date,” you laughed with a roll of your eyes.

Bucky leaned down, stealing one more kiss. “How about breakfast instead? I can’t wait a whole day to hold you again, sweetheart.”

Your heart leaped at the term of endearment, but even more at the sentiment behind it, and you nodded your agreement. Then, you thought of something you knew you had to tell him, just to see his reaction. “You know,” you mused aloud, “I heard Tony was planning another party for next weekend.”

Bucky’s whole face scrunched up in pain, and you tried really hard not to laugh. “Another party?”

You couldn’t resist teasing him. Running your hands up his chest, you pressed your lips against his throat with a smile. “It’ll be fun.”

“Yeah,” he scoffed, his body shuddering involuntarily at your touch, his voice cracking. “That’s what you said last time.”

“Mmm,” you hummed against his neck, feeling his arms tighten with a groan. “I happen to think tonight was very fun.”

“Oh, just wait until tomorrow, baby,” he groaned. “I’ll show you fun.”

“Hey, Buck?” you whispered, raising your head to gesture at the clock behind you. “It’s tomorrow.”

He growled and captured your lips again, picking you up and carrying you out of the room and down the hall.

Seemed like you’d have no problem keeping that breakfast date after all.

#betterthantwilightwc #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

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HASO “Leading the Witness.”

Alright guys, this is going on longer than I thought and way more detailed as well but its been interesting. Also I am sorry for the late update, my boss has me rolling quarters at work so I am trying to do that and write this in between.

Thank you to my discord member Eddi for the testing logs he wrote and that I am using as evidence in this story. He deserves all the credit for the well thought out and executed test logs.

WARNING: Graphic depictions of blood, gore, bodily mutilation and mentions of suicide. The Steel eye project development is very graphic, so if you wish to read, please skip the test logs, which will be bolded.

The room spun around him, and he took a few long, deep breaths hoping that it would stop.

He wast sure he could survive another few hours of this.

He wasn’t sure at all

He was sweating, and his body throbbed all over. Clammy hands gripped the sides of his chair as he sat straight backed in his seat. A line of cold sweat dripped down the back of his neck. Blood had long since drained from his face, and he wondered if he looked as sick as he felt half expecting the bailiff to walk over with a bucket or something. A part of him fancied he could feel every eye in the room staring at him. The prosecution was still talking, but he could barely hear them as his head spun around and around in circles, ears ringing.

The lights pulsed.

He jerked out of it as a hand came to rest on his shoulder. He looked up, confused for a moment as he tried to figure out where he was, the room was partially tilted and it took him a moment to realise that he was slumped slightly to the side. Waffles had her head in his lap whimpering very softly.

“Adam, adam are you ok, do you need to step out.”

He lifted his head and turned to look at Admiral Kelly, who now sat beside him, a hand on his shoulder.

His ears were still ringing but not enough to realise that the court had stopped.

The lead judge had held up a hand to the prosecution and was looking directly at him.

Well… at least now the blood was rushing back to his head, and he could feel his ears burning, “Is everything alright, council?” The judge asked, “Does your witness need to step out.”

The lawyers turned to look at him, hints of both concern and concealed annoyance on their faces.

They looked at him expectantly.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, “No your honor. My apologies.”

His voice was surprisingly strong for someone who felt like he was about to pass out. The judge didn’t seem too annoyed at him, and looked on with some measure of concern. They whispered something to the nearby bailiff and then motioned the council to continue.

Admiral Kelly didn’t move seats keeping one hand on his shoulder. The bailiff walked over after things had started up again and sat next to them for a moment, “If you need to step out.” He whispered, “Take the side door to your right and someone will let you back in.”

He nodded, “Ill be alright, but…. Thank you.”

The man nodded and stood returning to the front of the room.

“As you can see, their first attempts at creating a proper drug cocktail to dull the pain of direct neural interface, was a complete disaster. Dr. Gladstone, assuming you were forced to use drugs instead of subdermal implants, how would you have gone about this? What is the proper procedure dictated by ethical state law.”

“Drug trials can take months to years, we test them on animals, rats monkeys and even inject them into synthetically grown human tissues and tube grown organs before we even test on animals. Each phase of testing can take up to eighteen months in clinical trials, and if the drug proves to be wrong we start over again.”

“Have you ever done phased drug testing on human subjects.”

“No, certainly not.”

“But of course they continued. May the prosecution present Experimental log 32 for For consideration by the court.”

Experimental log #32:

Over the past experiments we have been testing multiple drug mixtures to try and reduce the pain induced by the Direct neural interface our most recent tests have involved morphine much to our resident doctors discouragement it is one of the few drugs we have found capable of suppressing the pain induced by the direct neural interface. This test involves the use of an automatic dispenser controlled by the pain sensors in the arm.

The subject, as before has been sedated for the implantation of the test augmetic. This time however the drug reservoir has a direct link to the bloodstream.

-recording break-

The subject seems to be stable and moving around without much interference, although slightly lethargic and a little dopy due to the drugs.

We made sure to remove the augmetic well before the drug reservoir ran out. This seems to be successful and stable Several more tests are to be made to confirm this before moving on to the next stage.

“Dr, do you happen to know the laws in relation to the regulation and use of morphine during testing?”

The doctor nodded, “Morphine is heavily regulated even on the research level owing to its additive properties. Only doctors are allowed to prescribe it, and even then, the morphine dosages are regulated and reviewed by an internal board of directors. There is a cutoff point for the amount of morphine allowed for personal use,and the amount of morphine allowed for medical use. This cap can be broken if the board of directors determines the patient is terminal and in extreme pain.”

“How about for research purposes.”

“You can’t research with morphine, and you certainly cannot give it to a patient with no prior history of injury, or other medical conditions.”

“Thank you doctor, the prosecution wishes to present experimental log 34 to consideration.”

Experiential log #34:

Our continued experimentation has lead to the conclusion that stronger chemicals may be required to reduce the pain, one subjects auto-dispensary caused an overdose When the subject spent some time prodding and poking at the implant site it caused excruciating pain that was responded to by the auto dispensary by flooding the body with over 500milligrams of morphine. A stronger painkiller would mean lower doses are required thus avoiding an overdose. Despite our team's medical advisors continuing protests.

Prosecution turned to the judges, “You see here your honor that instead of considering the ethical questionability of their actions, they determined to use more morphine despite the overdose and even extend the use to even more potent drugs. These are not the actions of scientists who were considering ethics, or even the value of human life.”

“Objection your honor on conjecture about the thoughts of my client.”

The judge waved a hand, “It may pass.”

The defence took a seat.

The prosecution adjusted her tie, “Three people died as a result of these tests your honor. Marvin Dess, William Moseratt and Angela Vilgrin. Not once were the tests paused or delayed. Instead, they moved onto the next phase of testing.”

Adam was starting to feel a little better now. He wasn’t sweating so much and he had finally managed to even out his breathing.

“The prosecution would like to present experimental log 28.”

Experimental log #28

Calibration of the arm mounted augmetic seemed to proceed without error or difficulty, The drugs delivered through the internal reservoir developed by Dr. Nkosi renders the subject inured against the supposed pain induced by the augmetic. The primary tests we will be administering are of the use of high strength servo motors to power the augmeitc, reducing its weight and increasing the power behind the subjects rapid motions.

-Recording break-

The Reaction of the servo motors and torsion cables was far too extreme delivering significant damage and trauma to the subject, Further testing will have to be done and fine tuning of the suits will be needed.

Adam knew what was coming and tried to close his eyes and block out the sounds as the next visual log was projected before him.

Audio-visual log transcript:

The subject appears bleary and unresponsive. The augmentic is mounted on their right arm, supposedly their dominant one according to the research notes. The subject is drawn to attention by the scientist administering light taping on their cheek. Upon raising their arm the subject appears a little shocked at the size of the augmetic and the fact it is connected directly to an external power source, questioning the scientist on this who confirms it is just an experimental version. The augmetic appears to only be active on the elbow joint. The scientist appears to be requesting the subject extend his arm in an attempt to punch an invisible foe. Upon doing so the augmetic appears to cause an extreme reaction of force, resulting in not only damage to the subjects musculature, but outright stripping the subjects muscle tissues away from the bones, the pins seem to be functioning as anchor points as the subjects skin and muscles are removed from the skeletal structure. Functionally stripping the flesh away from the skeleton in a manner that can only be described as ‘glove like’. It appears that this area also contained the drug delivery interface as part way through the emergency removal of the upper section of the augmetic, the subject seemed to come out of the semi stupor and begin to register the damage done to themselves, screaming and becoming violent. It was only after the subject was re-drugged with the remaining contents of the drug reservoir that they calmed down.

His attempts to block out the sound do not stop him from hearing the hydraulic hiss, the tight whirr, and the horrific cracking popping noise as flesh is torn from bone. The screaming echoed around in his head. His heart was beating at a million miles an hour. Sweat poured down his back and neck and in between his shoulder blades. Flashes of red sky cut before his vision, the sound of gunfire and the smell of ash.

Admiral kelly squeezed his shoulder hard bringing him back. The dog was halfway in his lap her head pressed against him, and the Bailiff from earlier was on his other side steadying him as his body seemed prone to leaning to one side.

He took a few very deep breaths.

A few of the judges were watching him, but they didn’t stop the proceedings this time. Most of them just looked like they wanted an excuse to look away.

“Your honors, this is not the last log in the series. Even after the catastrophic failure, they continue to implant the steel ee pieces onto test subjects without prior testing in a controlled environment. I believe we have been making realistic ballistic dummies for the past thousand years. I am sure there is something that could have been done.”

Adam was fading.

The lights were growing up in his vision, turning everything around him white.

The defence stood, “THe defence calls for recess, your honors.”

There was a pause, “Recess granted. You have thirty minutes.”

The room burst into a flurry of murmurs and movement. Admiral Kelly leaned forward hands on his arms, “Adam, you should get up, walk around a bit.”

He nodded and stood feeling the world tip around him as he did. With one hand he gripped heavily onto the back of the pews and staggered forward out of the room. Waffles followed after him whining and whimpering. He waved admiral Kelly off him as he wobbled his way down the hall and burst through the outside door and into open air. He took a deep long breath and leaned against the wall trying to choke down the bile that welled into his throat.

“You alright here buddy.”

Blinking owlishly, he turned to the side to see a man leaning against the wall on the other side of the door.

“You don’t look so good, Cigarette?” He asked offering a pack of the things towards him.

Adam waved a hand, “I don’t smoke but, thanks anyway.”

The man shrugged and lit up puffing a billow of smoke into the air, “You know breathing exercises.”

Adam blinked and nodded, “Yeah.”

“Don't forget to do them. It will help.”

Adam rubbed a hand across his forehead breathing slowly.

“You seem to know a lot about this. Am i that easy to see through?”

The man shook his head “I was a soldier during the panasian war, I know what PTSD looks like.”

“My father fought in the Panasian war.”

The man nodded, “Better get back inside while you still have some color, boy.”

He did as told. He didn’t know the man but something about his calm demeanor and understanding was nice, and he stepped back inside patting waffles on the head as he walked back towards the courtroom.

He sat down before anyone else was there just yet and rested his head in his hands breathing slowly and evenly. The room slowly filled up again, and before he really knew it, things were back in session.

“The prosecution would like to present Experimental log 31”

He closed his eyes and began to count slowly breathing in and out, in and out.”

Experimental log #31

This test is the first among the replacement for servo motors for hydraulics The system was far slower and makes use of a combination of fast extension pistons and slower extension ones for combination. The test is the same as before a simple arm extension in the guise of a punch. However the augmetic will also include the shoulder. We have increased the dosage of the painkiller as so to prevent the increased implantation volume from inducing a negative reaction in the subject. -Recording break-

The reaction from the hydraulics was stronger than expected, and the delay and stack up of orders has caused significant issues. A halt override taken directly from the nerve system needs to be implemented.

He squeezed his eyes tight shut

Audio-visual log transcript:

The subject appears to be only semi responsive, appearing to function at a 12 on the GCS, Only held there by the active responsiveness of their motor function. This appears to fade somewhat when the subject is given physical stimuli by the scientist in the form of a light slap on the cheek. Bringing the subject back to consciousness. The subject is then encouraged to make the punching action as prior experiments. The subject does so, the fast reaction of the piston seems to achieve the scientist's goal, However the long extension piston appeared to continue extending. This continued, dragging the subjects arm outwards, dislocating the subjects shoulder, then elbow as well as wrist. The subject appeared to be distressed at this, however not unduly in pain. The scientist having stepped back to observe the outcome of events. The extension of the piston continued beyond tolerable human limits. The piston continues to extend despite the protests of the subject and attempts at removing it. The extension continued forcefully separating the subjects limbs at both the elbow and shoulder joint, ripping tendon and muscle as well as ligament structures, fully separating the limb in to two parts and away from the body. It is at this point the subject began to scream in terror and panic till the researcher sedated the subject.

A door opened at the back of the courtroom as a few more people stepped out. Adam sat there on the bench, his head tilted back and staring at the ceiling breathing even and slowly as light and color swirled around them. He could what speaking, but didn’t really hear what was being said.

He just had to keep himself together.

“....Log 35 to the court.”

Experimental log #35

Continued experimentation indicates that a combination of servo motors, torsion cables and hydraulics are likely to result in the desired effect. Since the previous experiments a stop override has been implemented in to the systems. This prevents the hydraulics from continuing to extend despite the users body having ceased movement. This should result in the desired movement structures. We are moving on from the single arm testing considering the current functionality and strength amplification satisfactory. The current test is simply to get the two lower limb implants to function in tandem with walking. We have had to once again increase the level of drugs in the users system to prevent the reaction to the pain induced by the interfacing devices.

-Recording break-

While the system is capable of walking, the addition of hydraulics have caused the system to be heavier and more cumbersome than intended. Additional servo motors and possible leaf springs for artificial support tendons will have to be added to prevent the augmetics from lagging behind their users.

“Objection your honor…. The court has seen enough….. This is simply…”

“Objection denied council. The evidence stands. If you must you may leave the room.”

“But members of the audience…”

“Can step out if they need to.”

Audio-visual Log transcript:

The subject once again appears to be somewhat unresponsive. This ceases when the scientist provides a physical interaction with the subject, tapping them on the shoulder. The subject appears to be somewhat disoriented. Upon being prompted to walk the subject beings to walk without much in the way of impediment, though seeming to tug at the augments as if they are holding the subject back. The subject is then prompted to move at a might higher speed. Running if possible. The subject manages this for two steps before the continued pulling against the augmetic and movement against the interface needles appears to pull the subject’s leg free, removing large sections of the subjects muscle tissues and nerves along with it. The subject seems to be disturbed, if not in pain. Likely due to the drug reservoir and input mounted on the subjects arm. The subject however seems to be announcing that they can no longer move their legs as the researcher requested. The subject is then sedated and recording ends.

Adam is being held up again by Admiral kelly his body tilting widely sideways and he is having trouble finding the orientation of the room.”

“.... experimental log 38 as a demonstration of the scientists moving development far too quickly.”

Experimental Log #38

Increased response time in the legs combined with the introduction of support springs within the armour have reduced that movement restrictions of the armour and made it much harder for the user to ‘pull away’ from the armor, this combined with several additional straps and metal binding to keep the users legs attached directly to the augmetics have solved several of the most recent problems. The newest set of experiments are moving on to vertical movement, focusing on the subjects ability to jump and move around obstacle strewn environments.

-Recording break-

It appears the engineers did not calibrate the hydraulics and other systems to function as shock absorbers, but rather only as force amplification devices. Meaning that impact shock is taken fully by the users body, This would normally not be an issue, however with the additional force and weight provided by the augmetic seems to cause issues upon landing.

Audio-visual Log transcript:

The subject is suffering the same symptoms as prior subjects, low levels of function and unresponsiveness. Once the subject is roused from the stupor via an open handed impact to the cheek, delivered by the researcher, they are directed to attempt an obstacle course. The subject seems to have little trouble with the primary obstacles, clearing them with little effort, however their recovery from each obstacle appears to be ungainly and improper. The subject is then presented with a three meter high wall and instructed to go over it. Rather than scaling it as expected the subject simply jumped over the wall, exhibiting far more mobility and control than prior subjects in experiments. However upon landing the subjects legs appear to buckle and collapse under them, folding at several points that do not have joints. Indicating shattering of the bones. The subject seems unphased by the injury, Pointing it out to the researcher and asking if that is normal. This indicates that the drugs being used are of a high enough dosage and strength to suppress not only extreme pain but the shock reaction of the body.

He can feel another person holding him up from the other side, but mutters that he is ok when anyone asks. E just keeps counting and breathing counting and breathing knowing that it has to be over soon. He just needs to hold himself together

Experimental log #42

The final tests regarding midriff functionality have been completed, with shockingly low failure or complications compared to prior testing phases, we are putting this down to our own excellent ongoing improvements of the system. This final text is a sequential system test where a single subject will be required to use each individual part in sequence to ensure that no errors are likely to occur during the whole body testing or further complications are likely to occur.

-break in recording-

The subject suffered no ill effects due to the armour itself. However the subject seemed to become agitated and seemed to be suffering ill effects until they were returned to the augmetics. So long as prolonged exposure to the augmetics is not an ongoing factor we do not see an issue with this.

“These testings had immense costs and horrific side effects to those who participated. Many of these men and women seen here are not functional or alive to testify in court as to what happened, however, the prosecution would like to call Admiral Vir to the stand as a representative of those who could not be here today, and s a member of the steel eye operation himself to ive the court a little idea about what this experiment did to people even when fully operational.”

Adam was still feeling light headed but even then he still knew what this was. This is what he was here for. Thi was the moment he had come to be a part of, the moment that he was here to help all those soldiers and test subjects used by steel eye.

Admiral Kelly stood with him as he made it to his feet, but he brushed off her hand and walked towards the witness stand. The judge stopped him on his way up.

“Are you well enough to testify Admiral?”

“This is why I came, your honor. Even if I had to crawl through a field of glass to get here.”

The courtroom murmured as he was sworn in, and he sat down feeling the eyes of the entire room on him.

He was still sweating and light headed.

“State your name for the record.”

“Adam Allen Vir.”

“And what is your position in the UNSC.”

“I am Fleet admiral of the UNSC space armada on loan to the GA.”

“And what branch?”

“Originally the air division. I trained at the Aerial combat academy as a fighter and shuttle pilot before being a member of the crew on the enterprise.”

“And how did you end up on Anin.”

“The Enterprise was being decommissioned for some wok, so I offered to go to Anin and be part of the war effort against the Drev.”

“And as a fighter pilot, you didn’t see much time on the ground.”

“No ma’am, I was primarily air support at that time.”

His voice was strong and hard, and the longer he talked the straighter he sat. he had to do this for them. He would NOT fall apart now.

“How did you end up on the ground forces then, Admiral.”

“Volcanic activity, ma’am, they call it the dark season when ash chokes the ai miles into the sky. It isn’t safe to land a ship or fly a jet in such conditions, so my vehicle was grounded. By that time the war was going badly and they needed every man they could get.”

“Were you trained for ground combat, Admiral.”

“Yes at the academy we were trained in ground combat though not as extensively.”

“And you lost your leg to a Drev.”

He reached down hand to his leg remembering the screaming of a red sky above, “Yes, I did.”

“What happened after that?”

“I ended up in a triage tent in out forward operating base. There was no medicine because all our supplies had been used up.”

“Would you say that you were delirious during that time.”

The defence stood quickly “Objection your honor. Leading the witness.”

“Dismissed, council.” The judge said, waving a hand.

“There were no painkillers, ma’am, so maybe. If not delirious than I was at least not in a right state of mind. I remember floating halfway in between being conscious and unconscious. I was in so much pain its…. Had to describe.” His voice wavered before he had it back on track shoring it up and strengthening it with memories of the men and women waiting back at the rehabilitation center.

“And at this time you were approached by Admiral Ablemen about the steel eye project?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“And did he detail any specifics.”

He paused thought for a moment trying to remember back into memories that he really didn’t want to foster, “Not…. really. It's hard to remember but I…. I remember him saying that we could help him win the war. I remember him saying that when I woke up I would be a new man. He gave us the choice to go home or serve the UNSC one last time.”

“In your opinion, would you have said yes had you been more conscious.”

“Objection based on conjecture your honor.”

“Objection accepted.”

Adam paused and the mn let him continue, “Wat DO you remember about what happened to you.”

“I…. remember pain and….. Anger. I was never really all there during the steel eye project. I remember feeling invincible, like I could do anything but at the same time, hazy. I remember getting orders and going out, and then nothing after that.”

“Did they tell you there would be rugs involved.”

“No ma’am.”

“And after the war was over, what happened. How did all of this affect you?”

He paused and struggled to speak for a moment, opening his mouth and then closing, “I…. have never been so hopeless in my entire life. I tried to get help with the Veterans association but my claim was denied. I…. went through withdrawals…. Horrible horrible drug withdrawals where I. I was in so much pain, I just….”He paused then lifted his head to look up at th courtroom making eye contact with them. His voice was as strong as ever “I wanted to die, and I would have done it if I hadn’t had a good support system in my family. After a few months my brother got me in contact with a group of people who got ahold of my service dog, and I was able to heal.”

“Does what happened still affect you”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“In what ways.”

“I still have long term PTSD, and while it is controlled and I am no longer on medication, I still have bad days. Days where I can’t move or think, days where the quietest nosies send me into a panic.”

“Were you ever compensated for your injuries, Admiral.”

He paused again and shook his head, “No ma’am, I never received help.”

“Thank you admiral, you may be seated.”

He stood, his head was clear and his hands were dry. He stepped down from the podium with his chin raised and his back straight returning to his seat. He had done it. He had done what he needed to do and the only thing that was lft was to survive the rest of the trail.

He could do that.

He survived operation steel eye didn’t he?

So he could certainly survive this.

221 notes · View notes

wreckofawriter · 4 years

Text

Shadows

Pairing: Carl Grimes x reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Blood, gore, killing, fluff ending

Summary: You cant be in the prison, so you make stupid decisions and Carl camt stand it

A/n: I tried to write a request ended up with this instead. Idk why, but here we are, I re-write the ending 4 times and it's still cringy

You felt your heart pound against your chest, your hands were thick with sweat and blood. You held a knife so drenched in crimson you couldn’t see its original silver hue. Your arms ached as you plunged the weapon into another rotting skull. The walkers were never-ending. Their snarls echoed around you as you turned to run. A call pulled your attention and you turned hearing gunshots. Carl stumbled over a rut and tumbled backward firing his gun into the air. You screamed his name running towards him, but he only got further away as his yells continuted. You watched as a walker bit into his arm a scream ripping from his mouth.

You sat straight up in your bed with a whimper. Your face was sticky with tears and you were covered in a cold sweat. You took in a shaky breath rubbing your eyes and whipping your cheeks with the sleeve of your shirt. You tucked your feet from underneath the cot you were seated on, the cement floor cool through your socks. You grabbed a flannel from beside your bed that didn’t belong to you, slipping it on before grabbing a pair of leather boots, lacing them up. You moved from behind the sheet hiding your cell grabbing a knife and moving outside.

You didn’t wear a watch, but you guessed it to be just after midnight. The night air was chilled, you could see your short breaths in front of you. The moon was almost full, its light casting cold black shadows around you. You stopped, leaning your back to the fence and slipping your eyes closed. You could hear the far away groans of the dead at your gates. A shuffle of footsteps brought you from your thoughts, your eyes snapping open. You turned to peer through the chain links to find what was making the noise.

You swung, feeling a hand on your shoulder.

“Shit y/n!” Carl cussed ducking the knife.

You let out a breath, “Christ Carl, don’t sneak up on me.”

“Trust me I won’t do that again.” He mumbled standing beside you, wind rippling your clothes. It was quiet for a moment, the rustle of leaves in the cold air. “Can’t sleep?” Carl asked turning towards you.

You shrugged crossing your arms to fight the cold, “Dreams.” You said simply.

Carl paused his eyes still locked on you as you continuted to look out at the courtyard. You could feel goosebumps rising on your arms.

“You wanna talk about them?” He suggested scuffing his boots on the ground.

You shrugged again, “Not much to talk about.”

Carl bit his lip bringing his hand to his tousled hair. The wind picked up around you and he watched as you drew your arms closer around you, “I think I’ve watched you die seven times now.” he mumbled your eyes snapping to his own. “My dad around the same and Judith too many to count.” he paused, “I lost track of how many times I’ve shot my mom.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, still peering through the metal into the deep black, “It’s usually my parents.” you started, “They die in front of me over and over again, I just watch again and again already know what’s coming.” You stood silent for a breath, “It was you tonight.”

Carl nodded solemnly, his eyes on his feet.

“You tripped over a root. They pounced on you.” You whispered.

“I’m not dead.” Carl spoke confidently, “You shouldn’t worry about me.”

You chuckled lowly, “I could say the same to you.”

He turned back to meet you smiling, he narrowed his eyes a bit glancing down at your clothes. “Is that my shirt?”

“No.” You answered too quickly and he laughed, “Let’s go in, I’m freezing.”

The days were always easier than the nights. Lately, you started taking more and more shifts clearing the fences. You never felt like you were actually happy. You begged to go on runs with Daryl or Sasha but you were always shot down being told you were too young. So you started sneaking out through the tombs. You did it alone, you would just disappear. You were never gone for more than a day or two. You always came back with something, meds, food, water, seeds, you would go house to house in the suburbs just looking through cabinets and closets. You knew it was stupid and you knew you could die but maybe part of you wanted to. Carl hated it when you left. He would glare at you when you got back until he broke the next day and got over it. Rick told you to stop, so did Michonne and Maggie. You always smiled and nodded saying you would and the next day you would be gone, one of Carl’s flannels missing from his room and a note tucked into his hat.

You always came back okay, nothing more than a few cuts and bruises at the most. But this was different. You had been gone for almost a week. Carl had now experienced five and a half days of absolute torture, all he could imagine was you being torn apart by teeth or gagged and tied up in a basement. He had decided that once you were gone seven days he would go look for you.

You swore ducking behind a tree. Your knife was grasped in your hand as you pressed your back against the tree. Walkers groaned, stumbling past you as you shoved yourself as far back as you could your hand covering your mouth in hopes to muffle your breaths. You waited as the heard passed slowly and another fifteen minutes after they were out of view. Your heartbeat calmed, grip on your weapon loosening.

You struggled with the weight you carried. Your backpack weight more than you could manage, multiple ARs swung around your shoulders adding to the weight. Despite it all, you smiled widely. You had to backtrack to the road, you had left your wagon there to run from the dead. You couldn’t have been more than five miles out of the prison. As you made your way out of the forest you heard voices.

“Holy fuck! I can’t believe it!” A male voice shouted, “Guns just lying here.” he laughed.

“We should be careful the owner could be nearby.” Another hissed.

You cussed quietly snatching a semi-automatic and raising it to your shoulder. You flipped off the safety as you approached the road. You could see three men, the thought of taking them out from there flashed through your brain. You shook your head, the only had knives on them from the looks of it and you needed to act before they grabbed anything from the wagon.

“Step away from the guns!” You shouted.

Immediately one started towards them, you squeezed the trigger firing at his feet, he lept back to avoid the bullets.

“Now!” You yelled doing your best to sound intimidating.

You watched as they scanned the treeline one of them finding you a small smile finding his lips. He threw his hands in the air nodding for the others to do the same. “Alright sweetie, why don’t you come out?”

“Leave.” You responded not moving, “Leave or I will kill you.” None of them made a move, “A heard just passed by, the gunfire will have brought them back this way, go!”

Just as you finished your sentence the one furthest to the right leaped for the guns. You blew out his knees as he howled. The other two took the opertonuty one manging to grab a handgun and firing at you. You scrambled behind a tree as shots rung around you. You peeked from behind the truth when the bullets stopped as they struggled to reload. You shot twice and he dropped to the ground. You looked around for the last man only to find he had disappeared. You scanned the road, beginning towards it when you were suddenly tackled to the ground.

“Little bitch!” He shouted, the gun knocked from your hand, the others pinned behind your back. You screamed and he took a swing at you as you kneed him in the crotch. He let out a groan, his kife only catching your forehead. At that moment you reached for your own blade swinging it upwards. It connected with the bottom of his abdomen, you dragged it upwards his stomach opening and drenching you in his blood. He sputtered, blood from his mouth dripping onto your face. You shoved him off of you scrambling away and snatching your AR, you turned to put a bullet in his head as another gunshot rang out.

Your eyes met with sky blue through a haze of red. Carl held his Bretta over the man his eyes locked on you.

“What the fuck are you doing y/n?!” He shouted running at you and drawing you into his embrace. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he whispered into your ear. You stood stiff, Carl broke away from you, blood now soaking through his grey t-shirt.

“Sorry.” You mumbled shrugging.

Carl opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a groan from the man lying on the road. You walked up to him, sticking your knife into his head.

Carl glanced around at the bodies but said nothing.

“We have to hurry, there was a heard the gunshots will lead them back this way.” You mumbled swinging off your backpack and shoving in as many had guns as you could then stuffing two into your belt and boots. “Help me carry these we’re too slow with the wagon.”

Carl followed your actions, filling his own bag with guns and ammo, “Where did you find all this?”

“A gun collector about twenty miles out, there’s more, I took as much as I could.” You responded.

You set off at a slow jog wanting to put some distance between you and the gunfire, after about half a mile you were both exhausted from the weight and slowed to a walk.

“Don’t tell your dad about that.” You said, “I don’t want him to know.”

Carl didn’t say anything for a while, your shadows were getting longer, the light in the sky dulling. “Why do you go out here?” He finally asked.

You shrugged hands on the straps of your bag, “I like it.”

“You like walkers? You like running for your life? You like being covered in blood?” He seethed clearly furious with you.

You only glared back at him, “It’s better than being cooped up in a prison doing nothing.” you hissed. “I can’t stand it. Being in there all the time, it’s like I’m going crazy, I feel so useless. At least out here I actually feel like I’m living.”

Carl scoffed, “This isn’t living. This is surviving. Being behind those gates, growing food, hanging out with other kids, that’s living.”

You didn’t say anything else for the rest of the walk back. You reached the gates jogging past the walkers into the prison. Both of you getting looks as you were covered head to toe in blood and armed to the teeth.

Ricks jaw dropped when he saw you, you answered his concerns with tales of walker blood before helping him unpack your bags showing him on a map where you found them. Carl didn’t say anything just nodded along with you before escaping the first chance he got. You finished talking with Rick and headed for the showers.

You found Carl in his cell, he wouldn’t even look at you, instead of keeping his eyes peeled on his comic book. You sighed sitting on the end of the bed. “I’m not going to go out like that anymore.” You mumbled kicking your feet up to the top of the bed.

His eyes snapped towards you.

“I’m going to go on some runs, but I won’t go by myself anymore. You’re right, that’s not living. This is.” You finished.

He didn’t say anything for a while. You were about to give up and head to bed when he spoke up. “I thought he killed you when I first found you, he was lying over you, you were covered in blood. I thought he gutted you.”

You swallowed mouth feeling suddenly dry.

Carl sat up now leaning towards you, “I can’t live without you y/n. I just can’t”

You were frozen, your heart hammering in your chest, he was so close you could feel his breath fanning over the bridge of your nose.

“So don’t go out there and get yourself killed.” He whispered his hand grabbing at your own. “Please.” The desperation in his voice made the breath catch in your throat.

Your lips met slowly, your heart thudding so loudly you thought it might leap from you. Your eye fluttered shut, Carl’s grip on your hands tightening as he drew you closer to him.

You broke apart slowly, the dim candlelight casting your face into warm shadows. “You won’t lose me.”

Masterlist

#carl grimes x you #carl grimes imagines #carl grimes imagine #carl grimes #carl grimes x reader #twd #twd imagine #twd daryl #the walking dead fandom #the walking dead imagines #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead #carl grimes x y/n #the walking dead fanfiction #carl grimes fanfiction

425 notes · View notes

warriorofdragons · 3 years

Text

Love in Winter

Word Count: 7.7k

Warnings: Language, Violence, Blood and Injury

Note: {Russian is in these brackets}

You and Bucky both head down the hallway and round the corner.

Bucky plants his back against the wall and you plant your back against the wall to the right of Bucky.

You load a fresh magazine into your pistol.

Bucky glances at you and nods.

You nod back.

He then tilts his head towards the hallway the two of you just came down.

“Now,” he whispers.

Bucky leans around the corner and you crouch and lean around Bucky and both of you fire down the hallway. The approaching men fire back at you as they dart for cover around the corners at the opposite end of the hall. And between your’s and Bucky’s bullets you manage to take down three of the advancing Hydra agents.

You both retreat back behind your own cover as the agents return fire.

Your ears are ringing from the echoes of both your own and the enemy’s gunfire in the enclosed space, you breathe heavily and mentally tally the bullets you have left.

Bucky reloads his gun and takes a moment to lightly grip your left shoulder.

You nod at him without glancing up and wait for him to signal you.

The gunfire starts to die down from the other end of the hallway and the moment it ceases, Bucky pats your shoulder two times.

You spin in your crouched position and both of you fire at the armed men.

You down another one as he tries to retaliate and then an agent on the corner opposite him fires at you. Your arms drop suddenly and you manage to maintain your grip on your gun, but your shot goes wild, so you withdraw again.

There’s a blinding pain beginning in your right arm as you plant yourself firmly against the wall again. Bucky continues to return fire, presumably at the guy who just shot you and then ducks back behind the wall again as well.

He kneels down next to you as you clutch your right arm with your left.

“I’m ok,” you whisper.

His features are still etched with concern as his eyes survey you, and then his metal fingers gently pull down the torn fabric of your sleeve and he tsks.

Bucky then plants his back against the wall beside you and he reloads his gun.

He grips your thigh reassuringly, “We’ll make it out of this, Doll, promise.”

“Don’t we always?” you ask with a smile.

His hair falls in front of his face for a moment as he huffs and then he lifts his head to stare at you with his own wide smile.

The firing stops again and Bucky peeks around the corner.

He swiftly pulls his head and gun back and then glances around you at the space you’re currently occupying, obviously thinking. The alcove you’re in juts off from the hallway but is a dead end with no rooms to duck into or even windows. Bucky’s eyes scan down the hallway ahead of you that leads up a staircase not thirty feet from you both, but you won’t make it ten with the semi-automatic weapons held by the Hydra agents behind you.

It’s possible Bucky could make the distance with his Super Soldierness, but you definitely won’t, you could really use Sam and his shield right about now.

Which means you’re stuck in this spot until you either: come up with something else, backup arrives in the form of the aforementioned Sam, or…you whittle their numbers down. It seems you’re left with option C at the moment, but they still have numbers on their side, and a bomb downstairs that they stole from the Avengers weapons vault.

Hence why you’re in this mess in the first place.

It’s still quiet and you watch Bucky for any indication of what to do next.

He casts a confused glance at the wall behind him.

Please, don’t throw a grenade.

That’s the last thing you need right now, because then you’ll have to choose the dreaded staircase.

There’s a crackling over the building’s intercom system and the Main-Bad-Guy-In Charge’s voice can be heard through one of the speakers in the hallway ahead of you. You stare up at the speaker confused, because even though you can understand the words just fine, they don’t make any sense. It’s not even a coherent sentence just a bunch of random words in Russian.

A sharp intake of breath from Bucky beside you draws your attention.

You stare at him and he’s staring forward with his eyes as wide as saucers.

It can’t be…

“Bucky?!” you ask in alarm turning to him.

“It’s those words…” he mutters confirming your worst fears.

You let out a shaky gasp and holster your sidearm and grasp his face.

Bucky sets his gun down on the floor and you swing your leg over him and sit in his lap, turning his face to stare at yours.

As you meet his tear filled gaze you whisper, “No.”

He barely cups your face in his hands as though he’s suddenly afraid to touch you, “You need to go, I’ll hold them off, distract them, but you need to-“ Bucky begins frantically.

“No, no I’m not leaving you,” you state firmly shaking your head.

“Doll, you have to…I don’t want to hurt you,” Bucky says quietly a single tear slipping free.

Your lip quivers as you bury your fingers in his hair, “You won’t, and I’m not letting them take you,” you sob quietly.

Bucky wraps his arms around your middle and clutches you desperately to him.

“Don’t listen to them,” you whisper pressing your forehead to his, “Don’t listen to them, only listen to me, okay?”

You feel Bucky shakily nod.

And then there’s silence.

You can still hear Bucky’s breathing, can still feel him under your fingertips as your eyes are squeezed shut. And then that man’s voice can be heard from down the hall this time.

More silence.

And then Bucky’s arms loosen around you and he responds.

You open your eyes and pull back to stare at him, “{No…please don’t,}” you plead in Russian.

His eyes are dark as he looks up at you.

Then he begins to stand, unceremoniously dumping you onto the floor.

You scramble to your feet and to your relief he doesn’t retrieve the gun he had abandoned.

He also makes no move towards you, he just simply waits.

You stare at him in shock and horror.

The leader of the group of Hydra agents you had been fighting steps around the corner and fixes his gaze on Bucky and smiles.

The two men trailing behind him point their weapons at you.

“Soldier, search her,” the Hydra Leader says.

Bucky immediately steps towards you and roughly removes your pistol from your side holster and then he goes for the knife he knows you keep in your boot without even patting you down first.

He hands both of these to the Hydra agents.

You stare at the back of Bucky’s head as he faces away from you and towards the Hydra Leader.

You’ve never had him be so callous before, but you know this isn’t Bucky.

The Hydra Leader continues to smile and then he nods at you, “Bring her.”

Bucky…The Winter Soldier turns to you and grabs you by your left arm despite the fact that your right was closer to him and he starts to drag you along. You make it partway down the hall before you grip his hand attempting to pull him off of you.

“Stop!” you protest.

The Winter Soldier turns to you again, his brows creased.

“I’ll come with you, I promise,” you say.

The Winter Soldier stares at you for a moment and so does the Hydra Leader, but he releases you. Cautiously, you step in front of the Soldier and he follows behind as the group starts to move again. There are two Hydra agents now behind the Winter Soldier and another two in front of you including their leader. They lead you both back down the staircase you had initially run up and into the large room with vaulted ceilings and stone pillars. And also the same room they had set up shop with their stolen weapons crate they had been attempting to access.

The large crate bears a SHIELD logo and an Avenger’s access panel.

It had been locked in a vault for safekeeping until these assholes broke into said vault and stolen it. You, Bucky, Sam, and Sharon had come here to retrieve it before they could figure out a way past the security system in place and activate the bomb inside, detonating the building, and parts of the surrounding city, leaving nothing but a smoldering crater in it’s wake.

In other words it would be very bad if they got it to actually work.

“Soldier, enter the access code,” the Hydra Leader orders.

The Winter Soldier looks down at the computer they have hooked up to the access panel as part of their plan to override it and then blinks, and glances back up at his new handler.

You bite your lip to stifle a smile.

Even Bucky didn’t know the access code, he refused to learn any of them in fact. Insisted he would never need to know them under any circumstances, you now wonder if it was really for reasons such as this.

You on the other hand are a former SHIELD agent and a current Avenger and you know most of the items that were stored in the weapons vault and the codes to go with them.

“Soldier,” the Hydra Leader commands more firmly, “Enter the access code.”

The Winter Soldier continues to stare at his handler.

You remain silent and glance between the two.

And then the Hydra Leader’s eyes shift to you, “You, enter the access code.”

You snort, “Go to hell.”

The Hydra Leader steps towards you swiftly and strikes you across the face with his right hand. Your hair falls in front of your face as your head is knocked to one side and you see a heavy boot appear in your vision when you open your eyes.

You glance up quickly to see that the Winter Soldier has taken a step towards you.

You flinch backwards involuntarily, eyes wide, fearful that he’ll attack you.

The Winter Soldier fixes you with a hardened gaze and stops abruptly, his right foot extended in front of him.

“Soldier, at ease,” the Hydra Leader says.

There’s a moment of hesitation and then the Winter Soldier steps back into position and continues to stare at you.

You feel something wet trickle down your right cheek and judging by the stinging in your eye, you surmise it’s blood, you also note that the Winter Soldier’s eyes seem to be following it.

The Hydra Leader stares somewhere below your chin as you straighten your back and he reaches out a hand and grasps…your locket.

It had fallen out from where you had tucked it into your suit.

He opens it and stares at the photo of Bucky and smirks.

You swallow.

He glances up at you and then behind him at the Winter Soldier and lets go of your locket. You watch in horror as he approaches the Winter Soldier and draws his gun and points it directly at Bucky’s head.

The Winter Soldier doesn’t so much as flinch, his gaze still blankly fixed on you.

“Enter the access code,” the Hydra Leader orders you.

You stare into Bucky’s eyes and move to enter the access code.

When the lock clicks and the case opens up another Hydra agent moves forwards to rewire the computer to the bomb’s access panel and enter a detonation sequence. You back up from the bomb and the Hydra Leader approaches you and points the gun at your head instead.

“Thank you so much for your assistance,” the Hydra Leader says to you dispassionately, “But you’re usefulness has come to an end.”

You stare at the gun extended towards you, thinking of the best way to take it from him and fire it before his fellows can take you down.

Or before the Winter Soldier can stop you.

You won’t be able to stop him, not that you would want to anyways.

He would be forced to move in close without his firearm but he could easily close the distance and prevent you from firing a second shot.

You’ve never been a match for Bucky’s strength either.

“And the best part is he gets to watch you die,” the Hydra Leader says glancing over at the Winter Soldier.

“Bucky, I love you,” you say as you move to grab the gun while the man is distracted.

You twist it and wrench it out of the man’s hand and fire it into his chest twice.

An agent to your left raises his gun and you turn to fire another two shots, one landing square between his eyes. And out of your periphery you see the Winter Soldier move towards you with alarming speed, you spin to face him but you lower your weapon.

You can’t hurt Bucky, not even like this…you could never hurt him.

To your surprise he rushes past you and closes the distance between him and the third agent and pulls a knife from the man’s belt with his right and stabs him repeatedly in the chest. The Hydra agent only managing a yelp of shock before blood starts to pour from his mouth. The Winter Soldier then removes the blade from the man’s torso and turns towards you eyes filled with murderous intent and throws the knife and you squeeze your eyes shut.

There’s a choked gurgling sound and you open your eyes and turn to see the Hydra Leader standing behind you with a knife in his throat, who had stood up from the floor behind you.

You lock eyes with the Winter Soldier and turn towards the fourth and final Hydra agent who had been preparing the detonation sequence and just as you’re about to fire he shoots at you. A metal arm reaches around you and takes the blow of the bullets that were meant for you as you now instinctively duck behind Bucky.

He loops his right arm around your waist and spins you so that you’re now mostly behind him as he blocks the next volley of bullets.

When you finally get an opening you fire at the Hydra agent and kill him.

As everything falls silent you take a few breaths and survey the room around you.

The bullets you had fired at the Hydra Leader had hit directly in his bulletproof vest, figures.

You nudge him with your boot, yep he’s dead now.

The Winter Soldier releases you and you stare up at him, “Bucky?” you ask hesitantly.

His brows pinch together, but other than that there’s no response, he just continues to stare at you.

You swallow and wet your lips, “…Soldier?”

A slight tilt of his head.

“Ok,” you exhale.

You glance around you at the dead men on the floor, still unsure as to why you’re not among them right now. And then your eyes drift over to the bomb that’s ticking down.

The bomb.

Shit.

You rush over to it and try to enter the deactivation code.

An error message pops up on the screen.

You enter it again.

You’re aware of the Winter Soldier’s boots on the tiled floor as he steps towards you, something you only notice from having lived with him for so long. You enter the code again and again you see the same error message.

The Winter Soldier stops directly behind you and you freeze.

His left hand reaches forward and he points to where a stray bullet had broken the access panel on the bomb itself.

You stare at the broken access panel, “Fuck.”

Then you glance over your shoulder at the Winter Soldier.

His eyes focus on you and then on the bomb.

You let out an exasperated sigh and then move towards it.

You examine the bomb and try to figure out a way to get at the internal system.

“Bucky, uh…Soldier, help me open this plate so I can get to the wires,” you say.

The Winter Soldier steps forwards and digs his metal fingers into the plate and the metal groans as he bends it until it snaps and then he peels it back with both hands until you can clearly see the internal computer. He removes his hands and you crouch down and set the gun you were holding on the floor as you begin to examine it further.

You’re trying to remember the correct wires you need to cut.

You take a breath and pull a knife out of the belt of the nearby dead Hydra agent, and are pleasantly surprised to find out that it is actually Your knife they had confiscated. You cut two of the wires and the timer stops and starts blinking at twenty minutes and twenty four seconds and then it resets to five minutes. You let out another exasperated sigh and the Winter Soldier who is now crouched next to you, fixes you with a look of almost annoyance.

“Listen, I only vaguely remember how to diffuse this one,” you say.

The Winter Soldier silently looks back at the timer now ticking down again.

“Don’t give me that, remember that you’re the one who complained that there’s no reason for you to need to know this stuff,” you scold.

The Winter Soldier’s head pulls back slightly in surprise and then he glances to the left.

You start humming the little song you came up with to help you remember, “And how else, do you pull a weed except by it’s ROOTS! Holy shit, I think I’ve got it…I think.”

The Winter Soldier raises a brow at you.

“And if it doesn’t work, I’m sorry,” you say as you grab the red wire and cut it with your knife.

The timer blinks a few times and then goes out.

You sigh heavily, “Oh thank God.”

You take a moment to breathe and sheathe your knife again.

The Winter Soldier frowns and picks up the discarded handgun you left on the floor and aims it towards the main entry point.

You didn’t hear anything, but the Super Soldier’s hearing is much better than yours, so you’re not surprised.

“Soldier, don’t fire until I say,” you order.

There’s a swift nod from Bucky, or the Soldier.

You retrieve your own gun from the dead Hydra Leader and you and the Winter Soldier move quickly to cover.

You plant your back against a stone pillar and take a breath.

Peering around the corner carefully there’s a twinge of pain in your wounded arm, but you ignore it as you focus your eyes on any sign of movement. You see a brief flash of color from a familiar uniform. You duck behind cover and whistle the beginning to the chorus of the Star Spangled Man.

There’s a pause.

And then the returning whistle for the next part.

You sigh in relief, “Sam?”

“Yeah? You two doing alright? How are we looking?” Sam asks.

“All combatants are down, bomb’s disabled, and uh…there’s been some…complications,” you explain glancing over to the Winter Soldier who is hiding nearby and poised to strike like a snake, “Stand down, Soldier,” you order, “These are our friends.”

The Winter Soldier looks to you and nods and then lowers his weapon.

“What kind of complications?” Sam asks, his voice drawing nearer.

You step out from your cover, “Well it’s…complicated,” you say.

“How complicated?” Sam asks stepping into view finally along with Sharon Carter.

The Winter Soldier steps beside you and regards them both coolly.

They both freeze, having both met the Winter Soldier before.

Sam’s eyes scan Bucky for a moment and then he fixes you a questioning look.

You nod, “He’s not Bucky right now.”

Sharon sighs and shakes her head, her grip tightening on her gun, but keeping it fixed on the floor.

“But we’re all still friends here,” you say holding up your hands.

Sam glances over at Bucky again and then he glances to you, “Is he listening to you right now?”

“It would seem so, the guy who activated him is dead so…” you trail off glancing behind you.

“How does that work?” Sharon asks skeptical.

“I have no clue,” you state.

“What if he turns on you? I know he really likes you and all but,” Sharon presses.

You sigh and shake your head, “I don’t know, he’s already defended me a couple of times, so…I don’t know.”

The Winter Soldier stares at Sharon and then fixes his gaze on you, and seemingly is lost in thought, which is new.

“You’d never turn on me though would you, Buck?” you ask reaching your right arm to pat Bucky on his left shoulder but stopping short and wincing in pain.

“You alright?” Sam asks eyeing your face and your wounded arm.

“It’s not so bad,” you say quietly holstering your gun.

“She needs medical attention,” the Winter Soldier says abruptly.

“Thank you, Nurse Barnes, I’m aware,” you joke a smile forming on your face.

You lift your head to look at him and your smile drops at his completely frozen expression.

He blinks and his brows knit together, “I…I’m not a nurse,” the Winter Soldier states genuinely confused as he continues to stare at you.

“I know it’s…a nickname that I came up with for you after you patched me up on our first mission with just the two of us,” you explain.

He blinks and stares off into space for a moment, “What’s a…nickname?”

Oh boy.

“It’s…an affectionate, alternate name for a person,” you explain to the best of your ability.

The Winter Soldier is silent for another moment as everyone’s gaze is focused tensely on him.

He nods to himself, “Like a designation?”

“Kind of,” you say.

He seems to accept your answer and straightens, “Do you want me to patch you up?”

“Uh, yeah sure, but lets fall back to where the bomb is first,” you say.

The Winter Soldier nods and leads the way as the rest of you follow behind.

You enter the center of the room where all the dead men are spread out on the floor.

Sharon sighs, “This is a little too familiar for my liking.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Sam says, “Which one did the thing?” Sam tries to ask you discreetly pointing around at the dead Hydra agents.

You point to the leader and he nods, “Did he do that or you?”

You nod your head silently at the Winter Soldier.

Sam nods and exhales.

The Winter Soldier stops and holsters his gun and turns to face you.

You raise your brows at him as he approaches.

The Winter Soldier carefully takes a hold of your arm and rips open your sleeve a little more and discards some of it onto the floor. He inspects the wound briefly and then he reaches into his pockets and pulls out some bandages.

“Although the familiarity isn’t all bad,” Sharon says as she watches the Winter Soldier clean your wound as best he can.

You wince a little and the Winter Soldier lightens his touch.

It’s almost like Bucky is the one bandaging you up like he always does.

Sharon starts to inspect the bomb while Sam keeps his eye on the two of you.

“You need stitches,” the Winter Soldier states, “But it was a clean shot,” he adds softly.

You nod.

“I’m unable to do anything further,” the Winter Soldier continues.

“It’s alright, thank you,” you say as he wraps the bandage around your arm.

He pauses and then fastens the bandage.

You study his face for a moment and his eyes meet yours.

The Winter Soldier’s left hand reaches up towards your face and you close your right eye as his thumb brushes against your skin.

“He shouldn’t have hit you,” he says quietly.

You open your eye and stare at him and there’s an anger burning behind his eyes as he stares at your bruised face, “No, he shouldn’t have,” you agree.

He pulls his hand away slowly and you notice a smidge of blood on his thumb from the cut on your face. The Winter Soldier then fixes his cold gaze on the dead Hydra Leader on the floor with the knife still protruding from his throat.

You tuck your locket back under your suit and the movement catches the Winter Soldier’s attention, but he says nothing.

“We’re all good here, the bomb’s diffused. We just need to move it to a secure location, but our bomb guys can do that,” Sharon says stepping towards you.

You nod at her and then turn to the Winter Soldier, “Our mission is done, it’s time to return home.”

The Winter Soldier nods.

You all stick close together as you leave and you and the Winter Soldier head to the quinjet first and wait for Sam to catch up with you.

Better to keep the Winter Soldier from interacting with too many people afterall.

Sharon oversees the removal of the bomb and cleanup, and when Sam returns he places Bucky’s discarded weapons in his weapon locker on board the quinjet.

After that it’s a silent ride back to the compound.

You occasionally glance over at the Winter Soldier, but he remains calm and stiff.

A little too stiff for your liking, but he seems more relaxed than he was earlier.

If you can call it that.

It’s still silent as you begin to descend, but the Winter Soldier snaps to attention as soon as the wheels hit the landing pad. You undo your seatbelt first and he moves to follow you.

Sam finishes up the checks on the quinjet and follows the two of you out, “I’ll take care of his gear, if you can have him escort you to medbay?” he asks glancing from you to Bucky.

“Yeah, sure. Follow me, Soldier,” you say.

There’s a curt nod from the Winter Soldier as he begins to follow you.

“Oh and Barnes, take care of the lady will ya?” Sam calls.

There’s a huff from Bucky, “I always do, Wilson.”

You glance up at Bucky who has the tiniest bit of a smile on his face and then share a look with Sam.

He shouldn’t know Sam’s last name, you and Sharon had only ever referred to Sam by his first name, and a bit of his Brooklyn accent had bled through.

The Winter Soldier becomes stoic once more as he begins to follow you silently through the halls. You avoid any routes that would have you bump into lots of people, but you notice him on guard nonetheless.

It’s not the same tenseness from earlier with the Hydra agents and the bomb, but you get the feeling he still doesn’t recognize his surroundings.

Damn, you were hoping he would.

You’ve got photo albums and journals of his in your shared bedroom, perhaps those could help jog his memory?

You reach the medbay and are greeted by the familiar face of one of the medics who usually helps patch you up. It’s common to have a few medical professionals at the ready in the medbay when anyone is sent on a mission.

But since it was a smaller team today it’s just him in the lab.

He moves forward to grab your uninjured arm to help you further into the room, and the Winter Soldier moves to intercept him. There’s a look of wide-eyed surprise as the Winter Soldier grabs a hold of the man’s shirt collar with his left arm.

“Wait!” you shout.

The Winter Soldier stops, murderous glare still fixed on the medic.

“He’s just trying to help me, let him go,” you say grabbing the Winter Soldier’s right arm.

The Winter Soldier pauses and looks to you and then releases the man.

The medic looks to you and then at Bucky confused.

“He’s not himself right now,” you say.

The medic nods slowly and readjusts his glasses, clearly shaken.

The medic gestures for you to sit and you do, while he examines your injury and also glances over his shoulder every now and then at the Winter Soldier.

Bucky and this guy know each other.

Bucky always asks him how his wife and kids are doing, even seriously injured, Bucky would have never raised a hand to this man before.

And now the Winter Soldier is staring daggers at the back of this man’s head.

The medic removes the bandage and cuts away your sleeve so he can get to your bullet wound. You watch the Winter Soldier’s head follow the medic’s arm as he reaches for another tool.

Your wound is cleaned and then the medic begins stitching it.

You wince a little in pain and notice the Winter Soldier’s fists clench slowly.

You need to occupy him with something else.

“Hold my hand,” you say outstretching your left hand to him.

His eyes widen slightly and he hesitates.

“Please? It hurts,” you say.

The Winter Soldier is still very confused but he unclenches his fists and outstretches his right hand to you and you take it.

You squeeze his hand as you wince at the pain again and he takes a step closer.

You can feel his gaze on you and you look up at him.

His face is softer but very perplexed and…vulnerable.

He blinks and shifts his gaze downwards to your hand before squeezing your hand gently, and then he remains silent and still while the medic finishes with your stitches. The medic also cleans the cut near your eye and then leaves the two of you alone as he personally looks for someone else’s help with the Winter Soldier.

The Winter Soldier slowly lets go of your hand and then moves to pace about the room. You rest your hands in your lap and watch him for a couple paces until you realize he’s taken up another guard position.

“You don’t have to do that,” you say.

The Winter Soldier pauses to stare at you before resuming pacing.

“We’re both safe, we’re home,” you say.

The Winter Soldier doesn’t pause this time as he glances at the door instead.

And you wonder if the Winter Soldier doesn’t recognize this as home, or if it’s because home for the Winter Soldier was never safe.

He seems to grow dissatisfied with pacing and stops to stare at the door with his back to you.

You hope the medic doesn’t walk back through that door anytime soon.

You stare at the Winter Soldier’s back, feeling utterly useless to save the love of your life from this torment he’s been forced to relive.

The Winter Soldier clenches and unclenches his fists as he tilts his head in response to a noise you can’t hear. And then he tilts his head the other way and clenches his left fist. He then slowly curls and uncurls his fingers one by one and then the Winter Soldier glances down at his left hand and slowly raises it.

He glances over at you in silent question.

“You…lost your old arm and a friend of ours, Shuri, made you a new one. It’s much more durable than the last one,” you explain.

He nods slowly turning his attention back to his Vibranium arm as he turns it over and then he stares at the door again.

He doesn’t even remember his new arm.

It’s like the factory-reset button was hit on him, he doesn’t remember anything.

Not his life as an Avenger, not his new arm, and not even you.

Tears begin to form in your eyes and you’re unable to stop them.

You cover your mouth with your left hand as the tears fall down your cheeks and you try to stifle the quiet sob that leaves you. But the Winter Soldier hears it and turns his head swiftly to you and when he sees you in distress, he’s in front of you in an instant.

“Where does it hurt? Is it your arm?” he asks gingerly placing his left hand under your wound.

You shake your head, “…No, I’m just upset,” you cry.

The Winter Soldier stares at you and he looks visibly distraught as well.

You get the feeling he doesn’t know how to deal with pain that isn’t physical as he looks at you helplessly. Bucky would know what to say, Bucky always knows just what to say to calm you down. Words of: “It’s okay, Doll. I’m here, Doll. Don’t worry I got you, just let it all out, Sweetheart.”

But the Winter Soldier has no such words.

So you’re shocked when he takes your right hand in his left and holds it.

You cry harder and squeeze his hand and rest your forehead against his chest.

After a moment you feel his other hand on the back of your head, tentatively placed there. You pull out your locket with your left hand from under your suit and wrap your fingers around it.

You start to quiet down after a little while and you pull back from his chest, your eyes still closed. Then you take his metal hand and bring it to your cheek and cover it with both of yours. Your breath hitches when you feel his fingers from his right hand gently grip your locket.

You open your eyes and the Winter Soldier’s are fixed on your locket.

His eyes meet yours for a moment.

“It’s okay,” you say softly.

He opens the locket and inhales sharply.

He lets go of the locket as if it had burned him and you move his metal hand into your lap.

“Hey, what is it? Talk to me,” you plead.

“I…” he begins as he blinks rapidly.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” you soothe releasing his hand to rest one of yours on his cheek.

The Winter Soldier stills and then relaxes slightly when you rub his cheek with your thumb, as you continue his eyes close and he places his metal hand over yours.

You wonder if the Winter Soldier has ever known a gentle touch.

His lips tremble and more tears prick at your eyes.

“I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong,” you insist.

His eyes open and they’re watery, “It…hurts,” he manages.

“I know, I know,” you whisper, “It’ll be okay.”

“There’s too much,” he says his eyes moving upwards and shifting back and forth, “I can’t stop it.”

“Then don’t. Don’t fight it,” you say.

Tears slip past his eyes and down his cheeks.

“Just let it fall around you like rain, you remember what rain is don’t you?” you ask.

He gives a small nod.

“Just close your eyes,” you whisper leaning towards him and placing your other hand on his face as well.

He clutches onto you like a lifeline and does as you say.

“Let the memories fall around you and onto you like little raindrops, until they dampen your hair and skin and soak into your clothing,” you say rubbing your nose against his.

His breathing slows and then you feel him relax completely.

And then he pulls away slightly and presses a kiss to your forehead, “Doll? How’d we get here?”

You open your eyes and gasp and stare up at him, at Bucky.

He pulls back to stare around the room and then he catches your gaze and his eyes widen.

“Doll, what happened to you-” he begins but stops short as his metal thumb strokes near your eye and his eyes widen further in shock at the small smudge of dried blood on his thumb.

“You…you were-“ you begin.

His face scrunches up in horror and fear as he swiftly recoils from you, “No…” he gasps more tears forming in his eyes, “No…”

“Bucky, wait,” you say, but he quickly flees from you out of the room.

You stand to go after him, he has to know that he didn’t hurt you.

*******

He shuts the bedroom door behind him and presses his back to it as he slowly slumps to the floor.

Bucky buries his head in his hands and sobs.

How could he?

How could he have hurt her?

He removes his hands from his face and stares down at his shaking palms. When he spots the blood smear on his left thumb, he clenches his metal fist so hard the metal grinds. He jumps to his feet and throws his gear off and quickly disrobes as he heads for the bathroom.

He turns the water on as hot as it’ll go and steps under the spray.

Bucky reaches for his soap and lathers his hands and arms and frantically washes off the blood on his hands.

Her blood.

And when it’s gone he washes his hands again, and again, and again.

He closes his eyes as a sob wracks his body and he slumps against the shower wall and tilts his head back. He’s done the worst thing imaginable, he’s hurt the love of his life. He thought this was behind him, he thought this whole thing was behind him. But it’s clear that she’ll never be safe with him, and the best way to protect her now is to stay away from her.

He places his right hand over his eyes and chokes out another sob.

But he loves her.

He had hoped to spend the rest of his life with her, and had hoped she would become Mrs. Barnes someday, but that’s not going to happen now. She was always too good for him, he knew that from the beginning. But as much as it kills him to have to leave her, he can’t stay and risk hurting her again.

The bathroom door clicks closed and Bucky’s head jerks up.

He removes his hand from his face and watches the silhouette of her form through the frosted glass. Bucky swallows and pushes off the shower wall when he sees her move closer and stands under the showerhead facing away from her, letting the hot water coat the top of his head.

The shower door opens behind him and then closes.

She cautiously moves towards him and tries to slip her arms around his middle and yelps when the hot water makes contact with her skin.

Bucky swiftly reaches out with his metal hand and turns the water colder.

He knows she’s as stubborn as he is and would still try to hold him even with the water burning her skin. Her arms gingerly slip around his waist again as the water begins to cool, but Bucky makes no move to take her hands in his.

Her hands smooth across his stomach and up his torso, just like she usually does when he has a nightmare and can’t face her. And when he doesn’t relax like he usually does her right hand moves down his right arm, where it hangs limp at his side, and she threads her fingers through his and pulls it to his stomach. His fingers tighten around hers slightly as he tries to resist the comfort she brings him. She presses herself against his back next, her left cheek resting over his heart.

He opens his mouth to apologize but his voice cracks.

Her grip tightens around him.

“Doll…” he tries again, “I’m so sorry.”

She pulls back and tugs at his hand, indicating she wants him to turn.

Bucky reluctantly turns to face her.

“What are you sorry for?” she asks tears in her own eyes.

Bucky reaches his left hand towards her face and stops short afraid to touch her.

Her head tilts to the side and she exhales, “Bucky, you didn’t do this.”

“Then why was your blood on my hand?” Bucky demands quietly in disbelief.

“You don’t remember anything do you?” she asks softly.

He shakes his head, “I usually don’t,” he says his voice hoarse.

“Bucky, you helped me kill those guys, not once did you lay a single hand on me,” she explains.

As much as he wants to, Bucky is still struggling to believe her.

But he lets her reach towards his face and tilt his head down to rest against hers.

The water falls from the showerhead above like raindrops over both of them.

He closes his eyes as she thumbs his cheek and listens to her heartbeat.

“Bucky, I love you, so don’t you even think about telling me to leave you,” she says firmly.

Bucky’s heart leaps in his chest at her admission.

Neither of them have said it before, although he’s certain they’ve both felt it for some time, and of course she would know what he was thinking, she knows him so well.

Bucky smiles to himself, she loves him.

His smile drops as a memory flashes through his mind, of her standing in front of him as one of the Hydra agents holds a gun to her head.

“Bucky, I love you,” she says right before she makes a grab for the gun.

The moment she moves, he moves as well, following her lead in taking out their enemies, and when they are dispatched, he turns to her for his next command.

There’s fear in her eyes as she looks at him, but not of him, for him.

The Soldier doesn’t understand.

Nothing is wrong.

She disarms the bomb quickly enough with only a couple mistakes and the way she talks to him…there’s a fondness there. She gives him orders as any previous handler would, ordering him to stand down when she recognizes a secret code from their allies but…

The look on her face as she stares at him, and then she tells him about how he’s taken care of her in the past. Things he cannot remember but she does, so he trusts that it happened. Even if it doesn’t make sense to him that he would “scold” her.

They arrive back at their base without further incident and he feels a sense of camaraderie he can’t explain with the pilot, but then his focus is on her again.

When she’s being tended to, she asks to hold his hand, a strange request.

But nevertheless he complies, just as he always does.

Just like any good Soldier would, but…there’s something different…this time.

She clearly knows him from the way she speaks to him, referencing past missions. And he must know her though he cannot remember her from the last time he was needed, he seldom does afterall.

He moves to a sentry position in the room to protect her, when she makes an unexpected sound. He turns to her and is at her side in an instant, the medical personnel must have missed something, because she looks to be in a great deal of pain. But when she verbalizes that the pain is not physical, he’s at a loss.

He’s confused about how to help her, so he takes her hand like she showed him and she clutches to him like a lifeline.

There’s something familiar about this.

About this gesture of holding hands.

He remembers suddenly being small and holding the hands of a young man and woman in both of his much smaller ones as he crosses a street. He remembers pulling a small girl with the same eyes and hair as him to her feet after throwing a punch at the boy who had pushed her into a puddle. He remembers holding the hand of a badly wounded soldier in a dark tent and promising to write his family for him. He remembers catching the hand of the woman in front of him as she fell off the roof of a building and he also remembers how nervous he felt holding her hand while soft candlelight glowed around them. He remembers the same small hand he now holds in his being pressed to his face late at night when he’s covered in his own sweat, desperately trying to escape something plaguing him.

The Winter Soldier’s eyes catch sight of something metal around her neck and he reaches for it. She allows him to open it and he is surprised at the photo of himself inside of it.

Why would she need this photo?

There’s no purpose for it, she knows what he looks like, and there’s no cover.

Now memories flood his brain, memories of her, of her smile, of her laugh, of the taste of her skin as she lies beneath him.

Too many…

Too many memories…

She sees this internal struggle and…she soothes him, she allows him to clutch to her now, and he’s surprised and thankful.

Behavior such as this gets him refrozen, put back in his place, punished.

She doesn’t look like she wants to punish him and for that he’s also relieved, somehow he can’t imagine her hurting him.

The Winter Soldier does as she says and imagines the memories as raindrops soaking his hair and covering his skin, and then Bucky remembers.

As the final words are said she had told him, “Don’t listen to them, only listen to me okay?”

He had nodded.

She was the only person he ever wanted to listen to ever again.

Bucky blinks.

From moment one the Winter Soldier was taking orders from her over anyone else, she was simply not giving him orders yet. When the Hydra Leader struck her he stepped forward with the intent to kill him, but her gaze held him back.

He didn’t hit her.

He did not hurt her.

Bucky opens his mouth and lets out a shaky sigh of relief.

Her gaze meets his and he brings his left hand up to gently caress her face, a touch she leans into.

“He shouldn’t have hit you,” Bucky says furrowing his brows.

“No, he should not have,” she says shaking her head and smiling up at him.

“I love you,” Bucky says earnestly.

She smiles wide, “I love you too,” and kisses him.

Bucky smiles into the kiss as the water from the showerhead continues to pour over them both.

Oh yeah, she’s definitely the future Mrs. Barnes.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #marvel

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chiefnooniensingh · 4 years

Text

He is all and he is more (a joe/nicky one-shot)

Summary: Joe gets taken. Nicky goes after him. nicky-is-more-protective-headcanon.jpg

Inspired by @joenicky who requested something like this.

Rated: T Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, more testing

Also on: ao3

Joe sat back against the walls of his cell, schooling his expression into a relaxed, unimpressed expression. He felt blood trickle down the side of his face, even though the gash on his temple had healed nearly instantly. Within several years of the entire Merrick debacle, he was right back here again, trapped in a cage, not so much his life in danger as his sanity.

One good thing about this whole mess. Nicky hadn’t been with him for the whole affair, so at least his heart was safe. Joe could withstand anything as long as Nicky was safe.

“Mr. Al-Kaysani!” a voice echoed through his cell, and Joe looked up to see an awfully familiar face.

Joe barely let a grimace pass over his face before flashing his most charming smile. “Dr Kozak, what an unexpected surprise!”

“It’s a pleasure to see you again,” Dr Kozak smiled. She looked older than she had back then, her blonde hair a little paler, slight worry lines around her eyes. She wasn’t aging well, Joe was pettishly pleased to see.

Joe showed all his teeth, in a move that could barely be called a smile. “A pleasure to have my DNA in your possession again, you mean.”

“Well, in so many words…”

Joe looked straight into her hard, cold face, and knew that she didn’t see him as fully human. To her, he was a Nobel prize, an opportunity. A lab rat. “I can’t say it’s a pleasure to see you, on the other hand,” Joe said matter-of-factly. “The last time we met isn’t the warmest of memories, I have to admit.” He propped his arm up on his knee and looked coolly into the doctor’s face.

“We need you, Mr. Al-Kaysani. The world needs you,” Dr Kozak said, her eyes suddenly glowing maniacally. “Your DNA might hold the key to end death, and suffering.”

“Death, maybe. But trust me, whatever is in my DNA, it won’t end suffering.” Joe gestured with his shackled hands to the blood drying on his face.

Dr. Kozak had the audacity to smile, forgetting that it had been her goons who’d did that (admittedly minor) damage to his face. “That’s what we’re here to find out, Mr. Al-Kaysani. I won’t apologize for scientific progress.”

“You really should study your history more. You’d know you are on the wrong side of it.”

Dr Kozak blanched a little. “Take him,” she ordered, and immediately, Joe’s cell filled with several soldiers and with an eyeroll, Joe let himself be manhandled out of his cell. Just for his own savage pleasure, he headbutted one of the guys in the crotch. The punch he got in the stomach was a fine price to pay.

And then he was back again, in a place he loathed more than anything. A medical chair, strapped to it like a common criminal. He saw Dr. Kozak bring in several intense-looking medical devices and Joe knew it was going to be a long couple of days.

“Take a guy to dinner first, Dr. Kozak,” Joe said, his voice steady, but his flexing fingers betraying his nervousness. He kept his eyes on the instruments, as Dr. Kozak prepped a frighteningly long needle.

“Maybe after I’ve won the Nobel prize, Mr. Al-Kaysani,” Dr. Kozak murmured, right before she stuck the needle torturously slowly in his side. The pain exploded immediately, his entire body seizing up in protest, and he ground his teeth as he tried not to scream. Closing his eyes, he tried to picture Nicky’s face to drown out some of the pain. His nerves screamed as the needle kept sliding deeper into his body. The skin around the needle fought hard to close, increasing the pain. Nicky’s face flickered and faded, and as the pain reached its breaking point, he opened his mouth and screamed.

----

Nicky hadn’t told the others where he was going. He’d contacted Booker without any of their knowledge and asked him to help track down Joe. Dr. Kozak left a blazing trail to follow, and thus was easy to track. It only took Book an hour, an hour which ingratiated himself with Nicky considerably. Nicky was driving the fastest car he’d been able to jack, ignoring any and all speed limits and traffic lights. There was only one thing on his mind, and the world would bend to his will.

Nicky had always been extremely determined. Others would underestimate him for his smaller stature, his unassuming and unthreatening smile, and the fact that Joe always jumped in front of him with his bravery and violence. But harm his love and be prepared to lose everything. When it came to the people he loved, he was prepared to do anything. When it came to Joe, anything became a laughing matter.

Parking the car a street away, he jumped out and pulled out his sports bag. From anyone looking at him, he looked like an average man heading to the gym. But Nicky was heading to battle, his sword tucked underneath his jacket and his bag filled with an assortment of weaponry.

Nicky entered the building which he knew held Dr. Kozak’s new lab and approached the security desk. Without saying a word, he passed through the metal detector, which immediately blasted warnings. Two guards immediately jumped up and approached him both sides, their hands on their holsters. “Sir, put down the bag!” yelled one.

Breathing in and out once, Nicky centred himself. Then, in a flash, faster than the guards could blink, he drew his sword and with two quick swipes, dropped the first guard and pressed the second to the wall. He felt the blood spatter on the side of his face, but barely registered it as he breathed evenly while the other guard panted. “Where is Dr. Kozak?” Nicky asked quietly.

“I don’t…”

“Listen to me very carefully. I have asked a question. I will not ask it again.”

The guard must’ve noticed something in Nicky’s eyes, because he turned very white and stuttered the answer. “D-downstairs. Minus 15th floor. P-please.”

“Much obliged,” Nicky said evenly, before slicing the man’s throat. He would feel guilty about it later. Sheathing his sword, he continued to the elevator, unzipping his bag, and unloading it on the elevator floor. After the doors closed, he pressed the stop button, forced the door open and braced it with his semi-automatic. He restarted the elevator, then picked up his explosives. At ever floor he passed, he pressed two bricks on the outer doors, then pulled his semi-automatic free and shouldered his bag. The elevator dinged, he raised his gun in front of him, and ducked out of the way before the doors opened. When the world didn’t explode in gunfire, he locked the elevator doors in the open position and turned into the room beyond.

It was deserted. With methodical efficiency, Nicky moved through the floor, opening doors, and clearing rooms until he came to the very hand of the hall, where a large, armoured door stood slightly ajar. Nicky smiled a half-smile, but it vanished quickly when a nearly inhuman scream erupted from beyond the door. Nicky knew immediately it was his Joe. His hair stood on end, and his entire being seemed to erupt with hellfire. Swearing under his breath, he rushed forward, opened the door, and went in with his gun raised.

It was an eerily familiar scene. A very sterile, white lab where several medical beds were stationed. Frightening instruments were spread around the lab, and there were already several medical jars with a worrying amount of samples.

Dr. Kozak was bent over one of the medical beds, and Nicky immediately saw his Joe was strapped to it. The screams were unbearable.

“Step away, Dr. Kozak,” Nicky said, his voice scarily steady, his gun trained on the aged doctor. With a start, she jumped backwards, extracting a long device from Joe’s thigh. Without even taking the time to recover, Joe raised his head and let out a throaty laugh when he saw Nicky.

“Ti sei preso il tuo tempo, Nicolo,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

“Scuci, amore. We are short a tracker, so it took a little longer.”

“Mr. Di Genova,” Dr. Kozak said, her hands raising in the air, Joe’s blood still on her blue gloves. “I was hoping I’d see you again.”

“Nicky!” Joe yelled and Nicky immediately ducked down, narrowly avoiding getting shot in the head, instead taking one in the shoulder. Without hesitating one second, Nicky rolled onto his back and fired his gun at the soldiers storming the lab. It wasn’t a long fight at all. The soldiers hadn’t been well prepared.

“Stai bene?” Joe asked, and Nicky nodded, turning back to Dr. Kozak.

“Untie him,” he ordered. She looked slightly pale, but eyeing the gun trained straight between her eyes, she started to do what he ordered. “Who are you working for this time, doctor?”

Her fingers were shaking as she undid the straps around Joe’s legs. “Humanity,” she said. Both Joe and Nicky scoffed. “You gentlemen have a gift. You are keeping that gift from the world!” Before Joe was fully seated upright, she grabbed a scalpel and pressed it to his throat. “I can’t let you leave!”

Joe looked wholly unimpressed and Nicky loved him all the more in this moment. “For someone who is so focussed on our immortality, you forget awfully quick what immortality means.” And then he grabbed her arm, causing the scalpel to slip and slice a sizable cut into his throat. Nicky closed his eyes, after all this time still unable to watch Joe die. Dr. Kozak screamed when he dropped to the floor and Nicky immediately opened his eyes and put a bullet in her knee, causing her to crumple.

“You could’ve changed the world!” she moaned, as Nicky dropped his empty semi and pulled out his Barretta.

Nicky looked down at her as he trained the gun meticulously at her head. Remembering the big wall in Copley’s house, he smiled a half-smile. “We already do.” And then he fired, ending Dr. Kozak’s life.

Without blinking at what he’d done, he immediately went down on his knees next to Joe. “Yusuf, per favore, destarsi,” Nicky whispered, grabbing his Joe by the should and turning him. With a sigh he noticed that his neck was already healing. “Yusuf, mi amor…”

Joe’s eyes fluttered, and his hand closed around Nicky’s bicep. Nicky let out a breath. “Sono qui,” Joe said, immediately collapsing into a coughing fit. Nicky helped him sit up. They touched their foreheads briefly. “Thank you, Nicky,” Joe said, with a smile as dazzling as the rising sun. Joe was always better at poetry, but watching his face now, Nicky could wax poetic about his Joe’s face for hours. Then his watch beeped. No time.

“Joe, we need to leave. Now.” Without further ado, he pulled Joe to his feet and handed him the Barretta, while he himself yanked a semi from one of the fallen soldiers.

“What did you do?” Joe asked as they quickly and quietly made their way across the floor towards the elevator.

Nicky didn’t answer, instead choosing to drop his bag to the floor and take out one final brick of explosive. Joe burst out laughing. “Holy shit, Nicky!”

Nicky merely flashed a grin, slammed the final brick on the wall next to the elevator door, flicked the stop button and then the elevator started to rise. “We have five minutes after the elevator doors open to get the hell away from this place.”

“Is the team here?”

“No,” Nicky said simply, and he saw Joe frown. “This was between me and Dr. Kozak,” he added with a fierce look in his eye that told Joe all he needed to know. Joe pressed a kiss to Nicky’s temple, which caused Nicky to smile. The elevator neared the ground floor and Nicky checked his watch. “Get ready to run, Joe.”

“As long as you’re right there with me,” Joe said, grabbing Nicky’s hand.

Nicky rolled his eyes affectionately, just as the elevator dinged. “You’re an incurable romantic.”

“It’s why you love me,” Joe said, as the door opened and revealed the two bodies Nicky had left behind. The two of them broke into a run, passing security, causing the metal detector to set off again, but they ignored it and kept running. They didn’t let go of each other until they were at the car, at which point Nicky’s watch beeped for a final time and the ground shook as the explosives inside the building went off. And kept going off. Nicky ignored it completely as he got in the driver’s seat, but Joe looked back in complete awe.

“Joe, get in!” Nicky shouted as he started the car.

Joe got in, a disbelieving smile on his face. “You rigged every floor?”

Nicky threw the car into gear and sped off, a look of complete calm on his face. “We cannot have any of that evidence remain untouched.”

Laughing wildly, letting out the adrenaline of the past few days, he leaned in to kiss Nicky square on the mouth, not caring about traffic and safety. “God, I love you,” he exclaimed, and Nicky laughed too, because it’s all he could do after having seen the love of his life killed in front of him once again and having walked out together once again.

“Next up, explaining this shit to Andy,” Nicky said after a while, startling Joe, who had been dozing off.

Joe grabbed Nicky’s hand, and settled back into the comfortable seat. “Good luck with that, darling.”

Nicky rolled his eyes with a fond smile. “Next time I’ll leave you where you are.”

“Ma certo, Nicolo.”

#the old guard #joe x nicky #yusuf al-kaysani #nicolo di genova #joe x nicky fanfics #my fanfics #my joe x nicky fics

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sagechanoafterdark · 5 years

Text

The Devil Is A Handsome Man

Deal With The Devil AU

Pairing: Steve x Reader Word Count: 10,444 Warnings: language, cannon violence, demons, blood pacts, playful banter, oral, fingering, and a deserved dicking down Synopsis: You work in records, an office worker. You sit behind a desk all day! So, what the hell are you doing on a mission to retrieve a magic hammer? And with a demon, you barely know!

Note: This is for the Fall Into You Challenge hosted by none other than the fabulous @sherrybaby14. My line was “They’re coming for you Y/N.” I hope you enjoy!

Read Deal With The Devil with demon!Bucky here.

I am wild, I am lost I am sick, I am damned But I am holding redemption in the palm of my hand So I tighten my fist And sharpen my teeth It's a promise I made It's secret I keep Woke Up a Rebel by Reuben and the Dark

How exactly you got here was a testament to your very patience with the universe and its infinite capability of making you suffer. Crouched down behind a stack of crates with the echoing sounds of semi-automatic gunfire all around you. You weren't a soldier, you were an office worker! A paper pusher. You read books for a living and researched spells! This wasn’t your life, not anymore!

Wide worried blue eyes looked down at you, grasping your shoulders he was speaking to you but you couldn't hear him over the pounding of your heart and the sound of bullets slamming into the wooden crate at your back. He shook you slightly trying to get you to come back to your senses. But you couldn’t you were sure that this was all just a horrible dream, a nightmare that you would wake up from and it would be fine.

His grip changed and he leaned down pressing a kiss to your lips that worked perfectly. You found yourself returning it with equal vigor because what fool doesn't return a kiss? He pulled back with an audible lip smack. Those sinfully plush pouty lips stretching into an impish grin. "Come on Ollie. Snap to."

"Don't. Call. Me. Ollie."

Archives was a peaceful place. The quiet shuffle of papers and thumping of ancient tomes on desktops was only ever broken by the occasional uptight bossy field agent bursting through the doors demanding a reference. That was as exciting as it ever got down here and you were perfectly content.

Currently, you were pouring over a Da Vinci journal with a telltale irritated crease in your brow. You were researching how to effectively neutralize The Golden Fleece, the agency’s most recent acquisition and it was times like this you wished you had at least one actual God on your side to help.

After your fourth cup of stale coffee that morning, the one person you never thought you'd see came knocking on your door.

The demon Bucky stood knuckles rapping on the edge of your door, he dressed casually compared to the other agents. Always in fitted jeans, t-shirts and an occasional sweater. You supposed it was his prerogative after being wearing Armani for so long as Hydras dog, "Knock knock."

Glancing up you did a double-take, he was rarely anywhere without Nightshade right beside him these days but your friend was mysteriously absent, "Can I help you?"

He smiled. "Maybe. You're wanted in room 863."

Brow shooting high your jaw dropped open a little, "863? That's cold storage."

He shrugged, "I'll walk down with you. Shade is already there with Nat."

With a heavy sigh, you stood, closing your door and feeling the eyes of your colleagues on you as you left. Being the head of the archives and research department had its perks. But being best friends with Agent Nightshade, the first human to form a Sencturi pact in centuries, made you part of the rumor mill.

You genuinely liked Bucky, you could see that he was good for Shade in ways that the other men in her life had never been. Shed grown softer in the last year, the coldness shed perfected slipping away much easier and giving way to light laughter. Bucky was good for her, it didn’t hurt that he was easy on the eyes too.

She had initially pitched him as an asset to you and Natasha. The demon knew things about the royals and Hydra that the Antiquarians could only speculate on before. He’d weeded out traitors in your own organization, helped get artifacts back and also made one hell of a spaghetti carbonara.

The two of you made it all the way down to cold storage your breath escaping in white puffs of condensed air, you hated coming down here. The cold never really suiting you. Plus with the high stacked crates and warded rooms, it was a grab bag for what exactly could be down here. Bucky threw open the door and you glanced inside surprised that it was actually empty save for both Natasha and Shade. Smiling at the two women you walked inside, the three of you were thick as thieves, so it shouldn’t surprise you that whatever they’d cooked up it was together.

“Hey, Ollie,” Shade greeted with a waggle of her fingers and a wide smile.

You frowned, the three people in this room were the only ones to ever get away with calling you by the nickname and Bucky only got to start doing it recently.

Glancing at the floor you saw a summoning circle already set up, runes drawn and lines put in with chalk, you should have been more suspicious the second you saw it. Bucky shut the door behind you with a resounding thud.

“What are you two scheming now?” You couldn’t help but ask with a quirk of your lips.

“We have a problem,” Natasha said, handing you a manila file folder. With a frown, you flipped it open recognizing the object immediately. “The royals are on to us, it seems we haven’t weeded out all of the Hydra operatives yet and someone is feeding them information. They plan on moving it tomorrow.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, flipping through the pages you saw images and fact sheets, you’d created about the mythical Mjölnir, hammer of Thor, the God of thunder, God of lightning, the Asgardian tasked with the protection of mankind and various other things. “So why am I here?”

“You’re the expert,” Nat said, shifting her gaze over to Shade briefly. “And the only one we can trust. You know the spell needed to wield the hammer for a short time, surpassing its limitations of worthiness.”

A heavy sigh escaped you and you shut the folder looking between the three of them, “We’re not sure that it even works Nat, it’s just a theory at this point.”

“Hydra knows about it,” Shade said, breaking in with a biting tone of finality. “They know about the incantation and they think that they can bypass the limitations. We need to act on this before they move the hammer and we’re stuck fighting someone with actual god-like abilities.”

Swearing under your breath you looked down at the floor, “So, what’s with the circle?”

“We’re summoning someone that can help.”

“It’s not Thor is it?” You asked with a wince, thinking back on it every instance that Thor ever showed up on Earth in stories and tales seemed to equate him with being a raucous party animal prone to mischief, debauchery and messy endings.

“No,” Bucky laughed, his expression turning a bit more nostalgic. “It’s an old friend. He’s familiar with Mjölnir and has wielded it before, it’s been a long time but I’ve seen him do it. He will act as a backup plan if the incantation doesn’t work.”

Natasha cleared her throat, arms crossed over her chest and her stance casual, “We’ve got to get the hammer before Hydra can move it or worse have an actual god on their side. Bucky’s insisted that this is one of the best moves we can make giving us an ace in the hole.”

Now you were suspicious, “And who’s summoning said demon?” They were all quiet, looking at you expectantly. Your stomach dropped. “Oh come on you guys.”

“He’s strong,” Bucky stated in a matter of fact way. “Stronger than most demons and it will take someone with the right kind of spark to work with him.”

Scoffing you shifted your weight, putting your hand on your hip in annoyance. “So you’re saying, he's like you then? No thanks.” You could hear a pin drop in the room now, feeling the blush creep up your face at your tiny outburst. You hadn’t meant it like that.

“No, he’s not like me,” he breathed with a half sigh, his gaze dropped to the floor flicking over the runes drawn with chalk. “He’s better.”

Silence stretched in the small room as you watched all three of them, Shade had taken hold of Bucky’s hand and you didn’t miss the small comforting gesture. “You were friends.” You said, watching him nod his head slightly.

“A long time ago.”

A hum of understanding went through you and you looked down at the circle drawn across the floor, recognizing some of the runes but not all of them. “Then this is just temporary right? I’m not binding myself to him.”

“No,” Natasha said clearing her throat and drawing your attention. “It’s only for this operation and then you can banish him back to Otherworld if you want.”

Swallowing hard you looked at the runes. So its pal around with a demon for a couple days or let Hydra make their own super demon. Handing the folder back to Natasha you nodded, “Alright, I’ll do it. But if he tries something I’m sending him back immediately. No ifs no buts no coconuts.”

Both women smirked at the tiny quip while Bucky gave you a puzzled look.

“I’ll leave you to it, Bucky and Shade know the operation logistics so they can fill you in.” The redhead said with a wave of her hand and a quirking grin. “I have a hot date.”

A snort left you, you’d consider a night with Clint anything but a hot date since you knew it was mostly them doing target practice and running drills into the wee hours of the morning. The door shut firmly behind her and you swallowed hard walking around the circle and picking up the stray piece of chalk waiting for you to draw your own protection wards. Cautiously you looked up at both of them, “I haven’t done this in a long time Shade.”

“I know, Oleander. You’ll do fine,” she assured, giving you a tense smile and thumbs up from across the room that makes you roll your eyes.

As soon as you began to chant the room turned frigid, the seal on the floor began to glow yellow with your increased power but it wasn’t working right. Pushing more of your magic into the chant and circle you watched as it flared brighter; both Shade and Bucky shielding their eyes. Your voice taking on a harder edge instead of speaking under your breath, power surging and singing through you. Clear and precise words pouring from you and you watched the figure rise from the center, white misty fog accompanied him and upon finishing the last syllable vanished leaving behind the tall figure.

His eyes met your own, in a bleary almost half-asleep haze and all you could think about was how normal he looked, just like Bucky. He fell to his knees a hand going to his eyes and rubbing hard as a shiver ran through him. It shook his shoulders, blonde hair stuck to his forehead and his teeth clicking together slightly. The tattered clothes he wore were soaking wet, the red white and blue uniform clung to him and made him stick out like a sore thumb just as much as the star-emblazoned on his chest did.

Blinking a couple times, you recognized that uniform. “Your demon friend is Captain America!?” You half shrieked looking at Bucky but stopped when you saw his expression.

Bucky looked utterly distraught. His face was ashen, mouth hanging open slightly and were those tears in his eyes. Shade noticed at the same time you did, turning her attention to the demon and forcibly turning his face to look at her while cooing softly to him.

“Where am I?” He rasped, teeth chattering together as he tried to stand and failed.

“New York,” you said, leaving the protection ward and stepping towards him. Reaching forward your hand touched his shoulder and you swore under your breath, “Your freezing.”

A chant whispered past your lips as you grasped his head in your glowing hands, pushing your power through him as the spell warmed him from the inside out. Another shudder ran through him as his head lifted to look at you, soft blue eyes were framed by the longest lashes you’d ever seen, mouth parted with a pouty bottom lip you just wanted to bite. Wait, what?

Before you could think too much about your Freudian slip he surged forward, grabbing you and holding you tight. A blush heated up your face as he pressed his own into the crux of your neck with a contented sigh, you prayed it was because of the warming spell. “Is-is that better?” You asked, winding your arms around him, hands still glowing with the casting.

He hummed, burying his face against your neck briefly before muttering, “Better than chicken soup.”

Hoo boy. Slowly the tremors in his body lessened and you felt the muscles relax as he let you go. Pulling away with what looked like a blush dusting his cheeks, “What year is it?”

A stuttered response left your lips, already too enamored with the legendary fighter to think past what it would mean to him. His expression looked sullen at the response; how long had he been gone?

A throat cleared behind you and you both turned. Shade stood pushing Bucky forward a little bit and you didn’t miss how the man before you stiffened, his shoulders straightening and a look of pain, anguish and finally shock etching across his face. “Bucky?”

“Good to see you again Cap,” Bucky said with the quirk of his lips and a small huffed laugh.

On his feet, before you could so much as move you watched as he threw his arms around the other man, the pair embracing each other tightly. Looking at you for a brief moment, Bucky’s eyes closed before burying himself a little deeper into the embrace. The blonde leaned away, holding tight to the other man's head. “I thought you were dead,” he whispered repeatedly.

His gaze dropped, drifting down Bucky’s metal arm in partial horror as a sad smile spread across the demon's lips. “Not dead,” Bucky said, voice thick. “Not yet.”

Beside him Shade placed a comforting hand against his back that slid down and into his flesh hand, you could see Cap’s blue eyes shift over to her, taking in the situation then down to their intertwined hands.

He released the man, swiping at his eyes briefly. “The Sencturi pact,” he whispered, the smallest of smiles pulled at the edge of his mouth. “Felicitări sunt în ordine. Sunt mândru de tine Buck.”

“Thanks...Cap.”

You didn’t miss the brief pause as if Bucky was unsure what to call him. Cap turned, his eyes falling to you once more and your breath hitched in your throat. Tall and imposing he held himself high and strong, just like in the posters you’d seen in records with a narrow waist and broad shoulders. It was one hell of a combination, but the angular jaw and plush lips pulled into a friendly smile and threw you off. Demons weren’t supposed to smile like that were they?

“You must be the intended,” he said holding his hand out. “It's good to meet you. Call me Cap.”

“Agent Oleander,” you greeted in return, shaking his hand and finding it surprisingly gentle. “Welcome to Antiquarians.”

A few hours later the four of you sat in the cockpit of the jet as Shade engaged the autopilot. You’d lobbied for taking a transporter gate to London, it would be easier and far faster but Cap so helpfully pointed out it could also tip off Hydra that you were coming.

Shade was quick to pull you away after the greeting and Bucky did the same with Cap, now all four of you were wearing the needed stealth suits for the mission. You pulled down the zipper at your neck, trying and failing to avoid glancing over at your temporary partner.

The dark blue operations suit Bucky gave him fit the man like a gove. Tight in all the right places, shaking your head you tried to clear the thoughts. Cap managed to ask what he’d missed in recent years, his wide blue eyes looking all around the complex and intricate cockpit full of switches and dials. What he missed actually consisted of the last six decades, give or take a year.

“You’ll get used to it,” Bucky said with a smirk while Shade openly laughed at him.

With a soft smile, you glanced down at your fidgeting hands, you were happy for Shade. Even though she was bound by blood it seemed that whatever agreement she and Bucky had formed worked out for them. The layer of domesticality you’d seen at their shared apartment was encouraging and put an exclamation point on your life.

“Feel free to roam about the cabin kiddos,” Shade said, flipping a switch and unbuckling her belt she wandered towards the back of the plane followed by Bucky to prep for necessary extraction.

Fingers fighting with the belt at your waist you were surprised when Cap took it in his hands and unclipped it releasing you from the tight hold. “First time flying?”

“No,” you said in a half-whisper clearing your throat. “But it still makes me nervous. I haven't done this in a long time."

“What is it that you do?”

“I’m the head of archives and acquisitions.” You said with a forced half-smile. “We catalog and study whatever the Antiquarians bring back and research spells, runes, and demons.”

“Sounds, lonely. It doesn’t leave much time for anything else does it?”

You blinked a couple of times, “No, not particularly.”

“That’s a shame,” he said nodding his head a little, his eyes darting down to his hands for a brief moment then back up to your own. “A dame as pretty as you should get out more often.”

The breath caught in your throat, did he actually just say that? His eyes watched you calculating and gauging you, the eerie inner glow of his eyes highlighting the fact that he wasn't human. It was enough to make you squirm.

“Meeting time,” Shade called from the back of the plane, startling you and making you jump before standing and walking to the back of the plane in front of Cap.

Clearing his throat Bucky took point giving the debrief as quickly as he could, “We have to get the hammer before it’s put on the plane and the wards are activated. Once it’s on the plane the royals can take it anywhere and we’re screwed.” He continued talking, with Shade interrupting a couple of times to make valid points while Cap listened intently.

Standing off to the side you weren’t quite paying attention, your mind racing a mile a minute reciting the invocation you would have to use in a matter of hours. If one word was wrong you’d be either dead or begging for someone to put you out of your misery.

“You’re pretty quiet,” Cap said glancing over at you.

Gnawing on your bottom lip, your gaze was unfocused. Cap nudged you and you looked up meeting three sets of worried eyes. “What?”

“I said you’re being quiet,” he repeated again brow furrowed and mouth turned down in a frown. “Something on your mind?”

Cheeks heating red you snorted, crossing your arms over your chest. Classic deflection and you ignored Shade’s smirking mouth. “No, I’m just not sure what help I can be discussing strategy.” Caps eyebrows shot high, he hadn’t expected that. “I'm records and rare objects. My craft isn’t used for much more than castings on magical objects and keeping my coffee warm nowadays. I’m here to say the spell and get the hammer back.”

“Is this your first,” he paused thinking about what to call what they were doing.

“Mission,” you supplied, eyes glancing over at Shade, her mouth pulled down in a frown and eyes unreadable. “No. But I’m only a part of this operation because I know how to make the hammer usable despite its restrictions.”

A tiny teasing smirk quirked the man’s lips, “Wielding the hammer means you’re king, do you think you’re worthy to rule all of Asgard?”

“I don't know, do you?”

His smile fell for a brief moment, but the mischievous glint in his eyes was enough to set you on edge and make your thighs clench. First of all, were all demons insanely attractive? Secondly what was wrong with you?

Clearing his throat Bucky continued giving both of you the rundown of the operation. There were only a handful of humans at the facility at any time, the rest were demon operatives. Hydra liked to run with a tight ship of hired help and that included anyone from warlocks and witches to demons. Nightshade and Bucky would be your backup and extraction, hanging back until they were needed over the secure coms.

Landing the plane way outside of London the four of you drove to the wharf where an empty cargo plane sat, engine running and waiting for the magical Mjölnir.

“Wonder what that’s for,” Cap quirked looking over the top of the boxes, eyes narrowed and calculating. He had slid a cowl on over his face before you left Shade and Bucky behind, looking every part the hero of the war and not helping with your attraction to him in the slightest.

“It’s in a crate,” you whispered, peaking around the edge. “You’ll know it when you see it.”

Unstrapping the shield from his arm he slid it into the harness at his back. When you had asked about weapons while on the plane you didn’t think he was serious as he showed you the round object. Cap gestured to you, “Stay behind me. We’re going for the hanger if we’re lucky we can intercept before it gets out in the open.”

Rolling your eyes you followed him, never making a sound as you both snuck through the back entrance to the aircraft hanger, a long steady hall greeting you, its taupe walls and red carpet reminding you of an 80s horror flick.

Halfway down there was a gurgle and clicking noise, Cap grabbed your arm and shoved you none too gently into the confines of a utility closet and stepped in behind you, closing the door and listening as a group of guards walked by, stopping close to the door. Their words were in a demon language you'd never heard before, it was rough and guttural sounding.

You wiggled uncomfortably against his chest, turning your head and looking at his soft blue eyes with a half glare, “Can’t you make yourself smaller or something?”

“I’m not that kind of demon.” You wiggled again, this time feeling his erection pressing prominently against your ass and you blushed bright red. “I don't think you want that anyway.”

Shuffling your feet around you faced him in the small space. The shield on his back pushing his chest out, your hand pressed against him to try and put some space between you. Instead, your fingers trailed against the fabric of his suit. He was close enough to kiss. At least that's what you thought and his half-lidded gaze wasn't helping your stray imagination. Before you could stop yourself you began leaning towards him. He was the same, breath ghosting over your lips before there was a bump against the door behind you.

Eyes snapping open, when had you even closed them, both of you held your breath. Whoever it was outside wandered off, a door at the end of the hall opening and closing heavily. The two of you breathed a sigh of relief and Cap opened the door slowly, peaking out. All clear.

The two of you made your way into the hanger. The smell of smoke and cinders stung your nose as you both darted behind a stack of crates. “I have to get close enough to secure it.”

“The goal isn’t to secure it,” Cap said in a half whisper, eyes glowing dimly behind the cowl watching the dark figures flitting around. “We’re giving it back.”

You stared at him dumbfounded, “Excuse me what?”

He silenced you with a finger to his lips, pointing at the enormous wooden crate being pushed by a small group of demons. It was emblazoned with of all things the Nazi insignia and Cap gave you a withering look, “I’ll know it when I see it?”

A snorting giggle escaped you and you smothered it with a hand when a screech sounded from overhead, there was a rattling noise and more screeching along with another guttural grind of language. Peaking around the edge of the crate you saw at least fifteen human figures, black as night, with glittering eyes and crepey skin. Familiars, no wonder the place smelled like ash.

Another squawk sounded, this time in alarm as Cap ducked back behind the container. "Shit," he openly cursed.

There was a clicking noise you recognized as a clip being loaded into a gun before bullets began to rain down on your position and you covered your ears at the sound. Wonderful you were now in a firefight with no weapons of any kind. Crouched down behind a stack of crates the echoing sounds of semi-automatic gunfire rattling in your ears and you started to hyperventilate.

Wide worried blue eyes looked down at you, grasping your shoulders Cap was speaking to you but you couldn't hear him over the pounding of your heart and the sound of bullets slamming into the wooden crate at your back. Cap shook you slightly trying to get you to come back to your senses. But you couldn’t, you were sure that this was all just a horrible dream, a nightmare like those before, you would wake up alone in your apartment and it would be fine.

His grip changed and he leaned down pressing a kiss to your lips. Shock made you gasp against him but you gave yourself over to it immediately. His tongue brushing against your lips briefly before you pressed back against him wanting more. He pulled back suddenly, that plush bottom lip stretching into an impish grin. "Come on Ollie. Snap to."

Blinking a couple of times you realized what had just happened your nose wrinkling as a familiar rush took over. Cobwebs cleared from your mind and an all too familiar clarity hit. "Don't. Call. Me. Ollie." A stray bullet ricocheted near you, landing in the splintered wood beside your head as Cap yanked you out of the way.

“Oh, fuck this!” You snarled under your breath. Grabbing hold of Caps arm you felt your magic take over you, the yellow glow emanating from your fingertips as you chanted under your breath, arm stretched out and slashed through the air. All of the men you were able to discern from your position vanishing in puffs of ash. Dead.

Using your power like this again felt like sliding on an old pair of gloves, welcoming and fit just right; it sang a sickening lullaby through your blood and made your body ache for more, this wasn't a good idea. Why couldn't Shade have just have given you a gun.

A guttural cry erupted through the hanger cutting your reunion with your core magic short, the crate rumbled against the floor rolling away farther and faster than ever as the demons pushing it began to run. There was a chatter of demon language, rasping and hissing then boots stomped across the pavement, coming closer. “They’re coming for you Ollie.”

“Stop calling me that,” you growled, readying your fists and mumbling castings under your breath, slapping your hands together you formed a shield against your left arm.

"Copy cat," Cap admonished with a quirk of his lips.

Cracking a grin of your own as more bullets started to shower you. Stepping out from behind the crate you shielded your body while swiping a hand through the air chants and spells falling from your lips. Demons fell and your turned looking at Cap’s stunned expression, “Get to the hammer!”

Cap took off sprinting across the concrete hanger reaching just as it was pushed onto the tarmac, guns going off left and right as you took down demon after demon. One hand splayed out in front of you holding back a few demons before clenching your fist and dropping them. Your magic sang through your body, giving you that incredible high you’d been craving since you’d taken the office job.

Sweeping your arm you cleared away five from the catwalk above before they could aim at Cap. Glancing over you saw him in hand to hand combat fighting off the other familiars. The shield on his arm ricocheting off demons and boxes, back to his hand as he threw down hit after hit some of the familiars turning into ash they were struck with the shield.

Cap was knocked back by a hard kick, slamming into the crate, knocking it over and busting a hole in the side. From where you stood you could see the hammer shining in the moonlight. Swishing your arm through the air and saying one last curse, the demons fighting you gasped as they dropped to the concrete.

You ran. Feet slamming the ground as you whispered the incantation under your breath, gathering your energy in your hand and you reached inside the crate grasping the handle and giving a firm yank.

Mjölnir glowed yellow for a brief moment, imbued with your energy and you pulled it free. A shaky laugh leaving your throat at the prospect of the spell you’d been studying for the last ten years working. But the second Mjölnir left the box it dropped to the ground again as if pulled by gravity itself.

Trying to lift it, the thing wouldn't move. Even after you said the incantation again. “Fuck!” You swore aloud, frantic eyes turning towards your compatriot. “Cap!”

He was beside you in a second, pushing you down to the ground and holding up the shield as a hail of bullets came down. When you felt his warm fingers wrap around your own you looked up at him. Mischievous blue eyes twinkled as a small smile spread across his lips. “Allow me.”

Letting go Cap gripped the handle and to your shock, it lifted easily from the ground, sparks of energy popped around him for a brief moment as he stood quickly thrusting it into the air and then back down towards the ground. Lighting erupted from the sky, striking down a few of the remaining demons. Winding his arm back Cap threw the hammer, it soared through the air crashing into the four remaining familiars before returning to his hand.

Breathing heavily you blinked a couple of times, looking up at him with dumbfounded awe. He gave you a brief quirk of his lips before running to the edge of the hanger looking up at the cloudy skies.

“Thor!” Cap called, raising the hammer above his head and lightning flashed and thunder rumbling through the sky. He shouted again this time in a language you hadn't ever heard before. As if answering lightning cracked the sky and a bright beam of multicolored light struck the ground a few feet away from Cap.

Vanishing as quickly as it came in its place stood a man. His cape billowing out behind him, long blonde hair and a partially braided beard. There was a look of utter determination on his face as he strode forward towards Cap. Obvious intent in his gait, this was the mighty Thor.

Cap stood his ground, hammer in hand. They stopped a few feet away from one another, each one regarding the other for a brief moment when to your utter shock they both hugged. Thor clapping Cap on the back and laughing.

Your jaw dropped open as you watched them. When they stepped apart again Cap held Mjölnir out to him, “I find this again I’m keeping it.” He said with a quirk of his mouth.

The god took the hammer with a booming hearty laugh. “Thank you, my friend,” Thor said clapping Cap on the shoulder giving the man a sad smile. “It’s been good to see you. But I must go.” Raising his arm in the air, a beam of light dropped down out of the sky again with a thunderous noise, and he was once again gone. Mjölnir taken with him.

Silence echoed around you making your ears ring, crickets chirping in the distance and you laughed as you came to your feet. Cap started walking towards you and you laughed harder out of sheer shock. Looking around yourself, you felt insane. This was crazy, nothing like this had happened in years and oh hell Shade was going to be pissed. What a mess. What an absolute. Cap pushed you, slamming into your body and knocking you back to the ground in a heap.

Bang!

The shot rang out through the hanger, Cap stood stock still, looking down at the hole ripped through him as blood pouring from his chest. Shouting out a curse you watched as the demon across the hanger exploded in a puff of ash, the gun in his hand dropping to the ground with a clatter.

Cap dropped to his knees as you crawled over to him, grasping his shoulders and helping him to lay back, your hands covering the wound as best you could.

“No. No. No. No,” you chanted over and over again while the red hot sticky liquid poured from him. His hand reached up pushing the cowl up and off his head it rolled aside, the eerie glow in his blue eyes lessening as his power drained.

"Shade, Buck I'm hit," he ground out after pressing the comm in his ear. "Come get Ollie."

There was an answer but you didn't hear it, your heart pounding in your ears as you pressed your palms against the wound.

“Banish me,” came the gasped breath as he grasped your arm. “Banish me and I can heal faster in Otherworld. The hammer is safe, it’s gone. We did it.”

Tears blurred your vision as you looked down at Cap, blood staining his mouth and you glanced around you at all of the demons around you, slowly turning to ash. Oh god, the very thought had escaped you, demons turned to ash when they died. You couldn’t bear the thought of seeing him turn to ash.

“It’s okay Ollie,” he soothed, a hand cupping against your cheek. “You did good. It's okay. Just banish me and I’ll be fine I swear.”

“Cap no,” you pleaded, hands covering the gaping wound on his chest. The shield laid a short distance away. “I can’t send you back, if-if they summon you. If Hydra...”

“They won't Ollie, only Buck knows how,” he winced trying to hold back a cough, then color slowly draining away from his face. “Just do it little flower, it’ll be okay. I promise.”

A wracking sob rattled out of your lungs, you swore under your breath, pushing harder on his chest as the blood squelched around your fingers. You tried to focus, just focus your energy and do it. Just send him back. “I’m gonna miss you,” he whispered head lolling back against the concrete.

Quietly you touched his cheek and muttered the banishment spell you’d learned the second day you discovered your powers. His body blurred for a moment and blipped out of existence, the only evidence he’d been there at all the dark black pool of blood your hands now rested in and the dark blue cowl a few feet away. The blood was still warm as a wracking sob escaped your throat and another set of hands tried to pull you up.

The city lights streaked past you quickly, sorrow was a heavy stone in your chest. The mission was a success only in the eyes of those in the car. It had never been the goal for the Antiquarians to have Mjölnir; it was those two demon knuckleheads idea to get rid of it altogether. Who knew your planet was like a lost and found box for the gods.

The ride back to the plane was going to be long and exhausting, neither Shade or Bucky said anything to you when they’d found you crying over a puddle of blood with no Cap anywhere.

Bucky had picked you up, carrying you away before security could come as Shade chanted a few spells to clean up the space. The demon had set you in the back seat with a gentleness you didn’t expect, his face solemn and Shade drove, weaving in and out of the horrendous early morning London traffic.

“I banished him,” you whispered in the car. Bucky’s head whipped around in the passenger's seat to look at you, his eyes glowing with the same eerie light Caps had. “He saved my life and I banished him.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, instead, he turned back around leaving you to cry quietly in the back seat. Looking down at your blood-stained hands.

Three days later you were sitting in your office, the same book sitting on your desk. The same stale burned coffee. The same whispers behind hands. But you weren’t the same. Nothing felt the same.

Glancing up as Bucky came strolling into your office, giving a polite knock. Before leaning in the frame of your door. Everyone of your bookish colleagues looking scandalized to see the demon anywhere near your department again so soon, especially with your listless attitude the last few days.

“How you holding up, Ollie?”

Glancing up from the text on your desk you didn’t bother hiding your displeasure. “Fine.”

He snorted, uncrossing his arms and entering the office. “Humans are such terrible liars.” He shut the door behind him, “Tell me the truth Oleander.”

“It is the truth,” you said furrowing your brow.and swallowing hard.

Bucky threw himself in the chair opposite of you, rolling back and forth in the swivel for a brief moment. His eye brows high, “Really because I think your lying to us and yourself, doll.”

Dropping your pen you looked at him, pinning him back with a pointed glare, “Look Bucky, I don't know what you think is going on but I don't have the time for this. I was a field agent for years, my skills were second only to Nat and Shade and I got sloppy. People died. So I chose to be put here.” You ranted, looking at the now wide-eyed demon.

“I was content Bucky.” You continued, blinking back the tears that were threatening to fall. “I was fine sitting here in this office with my boring as hell colleagues and researching documents and texts for shitty ass field agents that think they're more important.” Your hand slammed the book in front of you closed making Bucky jump in the chair a little.

“Then my best friends demon boyfriend comes along and has me sumon his demonic super hot, amazing, war hero best friend. A demon who in the little interaction we had, made me like him like the absolute fool I am. All the while I’m being used as a tool in a game put on by these two demon boys who had no intention of bringing back Mjölnir in the first place.”

The tears had started to fall early in your rant but you couldn’t stop them now, “And now I don't know if the person that saved my life turned to ash the second I banished him to an unforgiving hellscape or if I’ll ever get to see him again to just say thank you.”

Leaning forward Bucky placed his hand on top of your own, “I’m sorry Ollie. I didn’t mean to overstep and I can’t change what happened. I saw the report though, Thor doesn’t just drop out of nowhere so I know you lied and I know the reason why.” The breath caught in your throat as you leaned back wiping away the tears that stained your cheeks and sniffling. “Which is why I brought you this.”

Reaching into his pocket he produced a sheet of lined paper.

Snatching it away you unfolded it to see a set of runes you’d only ever seen once before.

“Is this a joke?”

“No, no joke. I know what you’re wanting to do and I figured it would be easier if I just gave it to you.”

You weren’t quite sure how he’d known or how he figured it out. But they were the runes you needed, the ones you’d been feverishly researching for the last three days and getting nowhere.

“Do it tonight,” he said his tone warning as he walked to the door again grasping the knob and turning back towards you briefly. “If you decide to that is. Otherwise, you’ll have to wait until the next lunar cycle. Take a risk, try to be happy for once. Maybe stop glaring a hole in the back of my head all the time.”

He threw open the door and your colleagues scrambled from their position outside your door. “Oh, and try to get out from behind the desk once in a while Oleander. You're one hell of an agent.”

You blushed at the compliment, unsure if he meant it that way or not. But as he left you pocketed the sheet of paper and gnawed on your bottom lip. This was absolute madness.

That night you’d sat mulling over a bowl of raisin bran if you should go through with it. Eyes studying the sheet of paper Bucky had given you, weighing your options.

You were pretty sure you were going to burn a hole through it if you stared much longer.

Snatching up the paper you left the bowl sitting on the counter and walked back into the guest room of your apartment.

The circle had been set and you were ready, drawing the last few runes feverishly you looked down at your work. With trembling hands, pulling a knife from the table you pricked your finger, dropping blood on each of the points of the star. Then smearing it over your palm pressed a perfect print in the center.

Already you could feel the circle pulsing with magic.

Your magic.

Blood magic.

Unsure of yourself you ran a hand through your hair one last time, letting loose a shaky breath. “Okay, okay. Just, take a deep breath and do it. He can leave if he wants to after this, it’s not binding until we both leave the circles.”

So standing in your own circle, you swallowed hard. Finger touched to thumb, teeth on edge you began to chant, the runes on the floor starting to pulse and glow with your magic. Lighting up yellow in the darkened guest room. Just as before from the center a figure began to rise in the white misty fog that dissipated with the last words.

Blinking at you a couple of times, Cap stood in the center of his circle; he was still wearing the suit, blood staining the already dark fabric around the tear but the hole in his chest was gone replaced by smooth skin. He looked down around himself briefly before looking back up at you. “Hi,” he said with a smile.

It was the lamest most stupid thing you’d ever heard, “Hi.”

“I didn’t expect you to summon me again,” he took a hesitant step forward his foot just inside the circle.

“Stop!” You shouted holding your bloody hand up, you saw him flinch at the sight and look puzzled as he looked at the ring around him more carefully. “If you leave the circle you’ll be accepting the Sencturi.”

His boots scratched against the chalk grit as his brows drew together. “You summoned me through the Sencturi?”

“Yes.” You confessed hands shaking as your power spiked, the runes on the floor glowing brighter and Cap took a step back from the edge flinching. “I’m sorry. It was the only thing I could think of.”

“You’re draining your power keeping this open like this,” he said looking at the yellow glowing runes.

“It will come back, it always does.” You whispered swallowing against the lump in your throat. “I summoned you with the Sencturi initially because I think you’d be a good asset. Seeing what you could do, knowing what you are capable of doing, the way you inspire others despite being a demon. It’s invaluable. But I want you to have a choice and according to Bucky that's something demons never get."

You paused watching how his face studied you, just as it did on the plane. It set you on edge, but you were ready now, "It would be a lie if I said this was just for the greater good. The Sencturi is for eternity. The royals, Hydra they’ll crumble into dust before this spell ever wears off. I know my faults, I’m a lonely person, I’m stubborn as hell and I’m as reckless as they come. But the thought of eternity. Eternity scares me, Capitan. It scares me to my core this future that I don’t know. So, I’m asking you. If you’re willing to do this with me. Not for the greater good, but for me."

“Eternity should scare you. Being human your life ends eventually, but the Sencturi you’ll be living decades maybe centuries beyond a natural human life,” his voice was firm, blue eyes never leaving your own.

“I am aware of the sacrifices,” you whispered, voice wavering. “I’m also ready to accept them. If I wasn’t, the spell never would have worked.”

He cocked his head, mulling your words over, blue eyes narrowing as you bite your lip. “You don’t want to be alone?”

Shaking your head, you held back a sob. “You saved my life, you didn't have to do that for someone like me.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

“Because more than sixty years told me that I don't want to be alone either,” he breathed, his foot passing over the barrier and onto the pristine hardwood floor. A gasp left your lips as his booted feet came to a stop in front of you. “You are an incredible human being Ollie. Your power shines through you like the sun and it’s not just magic. I know you’re scared. The royals need to be stopped and Hydra needs to be shut down. We can worry about the future later. It’s going to be tough, but we can do this. Together.”

His hand reached out for you, waiting for you to either take it or reject him. You stared at his outstretched hand, then shifted back to his pensive face, "You're not a normal demon are you?"

"I was human once," he said, swallowing hard his blue eyes pleading with yours now. If you didn’t take the deal he’d be banished back to the Akasak plane, not just to Otherworld, ensuring that he could never be summoned by you again. "I understand Ollie, more than most demons ever could."

"Together?" Your voice sounded small to your own ears.

“Together.”

Your hand broke the barrier before the rest of you did, bypassing his hand and wrapping your arms around his chest in a fierce hug that knocked the wind from him but he wrapped his arms around you all the same. Limbs circling you as you breathed in his scent, crisp and musky before you knew it he was tilting your chin up and pushing his lips against your own, his grip firm but gentle against your cheek.

He pulled away briefly, peppering your tear-stained face with kisses. “I want to tell you Ollie. I don't know why, but I know I can trust you to know it.” He said, holding your hand in his own and pressing a few kisses to the palm. “My true name,” he whispered. “Is Steve Rogers.”

Blinking up at him your brain tried to process what he just said to you, “Steve?” He nodded, a small smile quirking the corner of his mouth. His name, his true name. “Mine is Y/N,” you replied with your own smile.

He sighed your name out as if it was the most wonderful thing he’d ever heard. Saying it over and over again as he placed kisses along your jaw to your ear and down your neck and back to your lips.

Chaste kisses were never your style and you pressed up a little firmer, sliding your tongue against his bottom lip, enjoying his answering growl a little too much. Cap kissed you like a man starved. Teeth and tongue crashing against your own as you ground your body against him a little harder.

He pushed you against the wall between the dresser and bed, covering your body with is own as lips and teeth caressed against the curve of your neck, making you arch as he slid further down. Pressing kiss after kiss against you, hand palming your breasts through the shirt and bra you wore.

"Want to taste you," he rasped against your chest. His hands tugging your pants down, "I bet you taste amazing Y/N."

A shiver wound its way through you, the deep timbre of his voice making your core clench. He peeled your pants off leaving you standing in just a pair of panties. "You're soaked," he commented with a smirk. Before you could be remotely embarrassed he buried his face against you breathing deep and placing soft kisses against your clothed heat. “Need to taste you, Ollie.”

Your hips bucked forward out of instinct, “Don’t call me that, Capitan.”

Steves's fingers hooked into the top of your panties pulling them down all at once as a gasp escaped you, “I’ll call you whatever I want to Y/N.” His grip turned a little firmer as he grasped your knee, lifting your leg over his shoulder, hot breath caressing over your folds.

Swallowing down a moan, your hand went down against the dresser beside you, holding yourself steady. You weren’t sure you’d ever be ready for what was about to happen, but looking down into the bright blue eyes of the demon knelt before you stirred a desire you’d never really felt before.

He leaned forward, tongue swiping along your slit; tip teasing your swollen clit and pulling a mewling noise from your mouth. Your hand tangled into his hair, grasping it tight at the root; with a groan he buried his face into you, fingers spreading your lips apart, mouth working magic against you.

Hips working against him as you rode his face, you felt a finger at your entrance as it pushed in slowly. “Fuck your tight,” he growled against you, curling the digit against your walls. Moaning loud your head thumped against the wall behind you as the sound spurred him on. Lips closing over your swollen clit as one finger turned to two, curling and pressing inside of you.

With a gasp, your hips thrust forward harder than before, “Fuck Steve, don’t tease me.”

“You’re the tease, Ollie.” He mumbled, fingers thrusting in and out of you faster and harder than before. Pulling moan after sinful moan from you. “You’ve got to be looser than this if you want my cock.” The breath hitched in your throat and you actually felt him grin against you, “You want that? You want my cock in you?”

“Yes,” you rasped. Thrusting your hips down against him breathing out a long string of curses, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck I’m going to cum.”

Spurred on Steve's eyes flared brighter, his tongue flicking over your clit as he added another finger, three now thrusting in and out of you harder and faster. A deep growl vibrating against you and pushing you over the edge. The coil in your belly snapped with a loud guttural moan. Hips thrusting down hard as you pushed against Steve's face feeling a wet gush and the appreciative moan from between your legs as he continued to lap at you.

Coming down from the high your breathing was uneven, panting heavy your body tingling; you couldn’t remember having an orgasm like that before.

“You’re delicious Y/N,” he said dropping your leg from his shoulder and coming back up to you, one hand swiping over his face. He leaned down peppering your throat with more kisses before coming to your mouth, “Why don’t you have a taste?”

He kissed you, thrusting his tongue into your mouth. The heady taste of your release still on his lips, you moaned feeling him palm your ass and lift you up to wrap your legs around his waist. The blue tactical suit rubbing roughly against your bare flesh, pulling away your hands grasped the fabric. “Take this off,” you whispered, plucking against the fabric. “Now.”

Hands squeezed your ass one last time before he dropped you back to the floor. Steve stepped away, pulling the top half of the suit away and over his head tossing the lightweight armor away, his hands unbuckling the fly of the pants and dropping them with a clunk. Steve's erection stood proudly away from his body, you found yourself licking your lips in anticipation.

The demon laughed, toeing off the boots he wore and kicking them and the pants aside. “I can see what you’re thinking sweetheart. There will be time for that later.”

Sliding away from the wall your hands caressed against the hard planes of his chest. Up along the curve of his face, thumb sliding under his eye affectionately as you leaned up pressing a soft kiss to his lips. His hands ghosting over the back of your arms before you deepened the kiss. Teeth catching hold of his swollen bottom lip, you letting go with a shark like grin before pulling your shirt off over your head, unclasping your bra and dropping it to the floor.

Steve leaned down, pressing a firm kiss against your lips again. Tongue sliding against your own in a sloppy fumbled lip lock that pulled a giggle from your throat. The two of you stumbling backward he turned you, falling onto the dusty duvet covering the bed but not breaking the kiss between you. His cock pressed against your belly while one of his hands slid down pressing against your clit and earning a gasp from you.

With a little maneuvering, Steve settled between your legs, his warm calloused hands sliding up and down your flesh. Stroking the fire in your belly as small sighs of pleasure left you; feeling his cock press against your wet slick you froze. Breaking away you looked down, seeing him poised to enter you, one hand grasping his cock; teasing your opening with just the head.

“Fuck your tight,” he growled out into your throat.

A shuddered gasp escaped you as he pushed a little firmer into you, his cock burning as it stretched you. You were by no means a virgin, but with a cock like his, you might as well have been. Wincing you shifted your hips feeling your clit begging for attention, friction, anything at all. Steve started a slow pace, hips thrusting and grinding against your own easily; his mouth sucking bruises along your collarbone you’d be sure to have for at least a few days.

Leaning on his elbows his thrusts turned a little harder and longer, pulling almost all the way out before thrusting his cock back into you. Your eyes flared every time, widening at the sheer size of him; a flush running through your body as he looked down at you.

“More,” you moaned, a shiver of pleasure running through you as you pulled him down against your lips again. Kissing him fervently as his hips rocked into you, creating a slow building friction you couldn’t stand. “Take more, Steve.”

“More Ollie?” He panted against your ear, long fingers wrapping around your jaw and exposing your neck to his hungry mouth.

“Yes,” you whispered, hips pushing against his to accentuate your point. Steve pulled away, his hips rutting into yours with a powerful flex.

The headboard banging against the wall hard with each thrust and grunt; your body erupting in goosebumps at the snarl on his lips and feral look in his eyes as he thrust into you. Pushing your leg to the side further, opening you more to him; you could see him beginning to lose himself, eyes half lidded, mouth parted in gasping growls.

His hand clasped around your throat and you gasped, eyes going wide in surprise and catching his. Pupils were blown wide and a smile tweaking the edge of his lips. But it fell as quickly as it came to realize what he’d done and he pulled the hand away, his thrusts slowing slightly. The offending hand dropping back to your hips and holding you tight.

Grasping his wrist you moved his hand back to your throat, your hips bucking against him. “It’s okay,” you said, shifting your head a little more against the covers. “Give it to me.”

Blue eyes glowing brighter for a brief moment, boring into your own; his hand slipped from your throat for a brief moment pulling both of your legs up, wrapping them around his waist. His cock slid deeper into you at the position, your hips pressed tightly together.

“Fuck your so wet sweetheart,” he grunted with a hard thrust. Drawing a gasp from you and his hand wrapped around your throat again, pressing you tight into the covers. The pressure and pleasure increasing with each thrust of his hips; pushing you higher and closer to orgasm.

“Steve,” you croaked, a hand around his wrist while the other dug into the flesh of his bicep. “Harder fuck, harder I’m going to cum.”

A rumbling moan burst from his lips as he leant down laying sloppy kisses against your lips, hand still tight against your neck. Suddenly it was too tight, the air trapped in your lungs as his cock pounded into you; vision going spotty and black on the edges. You could feel the spike in your magic wanting to protect you, the bright yellow magic snaking along his forearm, wrapping him tight and pulling a stinging hiss from his lips. His hand lessened against your throat but didn’t let go and you pulled in a gasping breath, your hips jerking up against his in time with the thrusts.

Blinking heavily above you Steve looked absolutely wrecked. His body covered with a light sweat, damp hair sticking to his forehead, plush bottom lip caught between his teeth; the sound of his cock fucking in and out of you loud in the silent apartment.

Your fingers trailed down to your clit, rubbing in a hard and fast circle and you moaned, pussy clenching around him as he fucked in and out. A snarl left his lips, hips pumping, fingers tightening against the flesh of your hip and around your neck; sure to leave bruises.

“Mine,” he growled out, his eyes glowing brightly. “You’re mine Y/N.”

Your response was a loud cry as the coil in your belly snapped once more. The scream tearing from your throat, back arching off of the bed and against the demon above you. Steve came with a literal roar, his hand releasing your throat and cradling your body against his own as his cock pulsed inside of you. You were a whimpering sweaty mess as Steve sighed heavily into your hair and pulled out of you.

He began kissing you softly anywhere his lips could touch as you caught your breath. “My little flower,” he sighed into your hair. Pulling you to roll against his chest, pressing your skin as close as possible in the cool air of the guest bedroom.

Hazy in post sex bliss a long contented sigh rushed from your lungs, a lazy smile pulling up at the corners of your mouth. Arms wrapping around his torso, fingering the light colored flesh where he’d taken the bullet for you just days ago. It wasn’t long before you could feel his hard length press against your leg once again.

“Really,” you said with a half-laugh, still feeling the ache between your legs.

Steve laughed, rolling over on top of you; a Cheshire cat grin on his face. “I’ve got a few centuries of frustration to work out here sweetheart. Bare with me?”

A laugh escaped you as you ran a hand through his hair, brushing it back from his eyes. “We have eternity together, I think you’ll be okay to slow your pace down a little.”

The demon smiled, kissing along your jaw and neck; warm hands cupping your breasts as his mouth slipped lower. “Eternity sounds good to me,” he growled before capturing a nipple in his mouth making you arch into him. “Now lets see how many more delicious sounds you can make for me, little flower.”

The next morning, you were laying in bed when the irritating ring of your cell phone woke you from one of the best nights sleeps you’d had in a while. Blearily you reached for it, Shades smiling face lighting up the screen, with a grumbled, “Hello?”

“Ollie? Hey, I didn’t mean to wake you up it’s after ten,” Shades worried voice echoed over the line. You cracked one eye open to look at the digital clock on the nightstand. “I just wanted to check in and see if you were okay.”

Beside you there was a stirring that had your hackles up for a brief moment before a hand snaked over your bare tummy, pulling your body closer and Steve's face peeked out from under the duvet of your bed. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Eyes heavy with sleep he pulled you flush against his chest, laying soft kisses over your shoulder.

“Well, Buck said I should call and check up on you,” she sounded kind of sad about the aspect of her boyfriend telling her to call instead of picking up on it as your best friend. “I’ve been worried ever since what happened with the hammer. Thought I’d come over and we could go to the market together.”

Steves warm hands caressed against your belly and up to your breasts, holding each in a hand and fingers tweaking the sensitive nipples earning a gasp from you.

“Ollie?”

“I-I’ve got to go,” you whispered, hurriedly into the phone, tipping your head back as his lips began to suck a spot into your collar bone. “Everything’s fine, don’t come over.”

Hurriedly you hung up the phone as Steve down right giggled against your shoulder. “You’re the devil himself you know that?”

“Devil is as devil does, sweetheart.”

End.

#steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #stever rogers/you #stever rogers/reader #steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #captain america x you #captain america x reader #captain america/you #captain america/reader #mcu #avengers #steve rogers x reader smut #marvel #sherry's fall into you challenge #demon steve rogers #demon captain america

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zcphyras · 4 years

Text

where: the docks when: july 12th, 12:05pm who: @shadowcrowncd

Make noise, they’d said. Attract a scene, draw a crowd - turn the eyes of the city on you. And so she takes her orders, and she plays her part. It won’t be long until the vultures descend on the carcasses that have already begun to float in the harbor - the human variety of vultures, those damned ambulance chasers, like carrion crows that dared to call themselves journalists. Sofia’s grown to hate the sound of gunfire the older she gets, for the ringing in her ear lingers now, where not even adrenaline can force the echo away. But still, she executes her orders with precision, like the good obedient soldier that she is.

One, two, three, four, five, six. Reload. Some other members of the gang might use a pistol, something semi-automatic at least, but she’ll keep her 686, thank you. Six shots, 5 dead and 1 down. Reload. Breathe, Sofia, breathe. You must not forget that you must breathe too. “Shotgun!” she shouts, her arm reaching to her left to feel for Russo - or was it Leclair or Sokolov? Doesn’t matter. “GET DOWN!” The splintering of the wooden crate above her head follows only a fraction of a second later, and with a glint of steel in her eyes, Sofia blind-fires onetwothree shots at their advancing opponent, downing him before she finishes the job with a fourth. “You alright?”

#[ interactions ]#[ interactions / shadow ]#writing action scenes is Difficult #[ mentions / supernova ]#[ mentions / spitfire ]#violence tw #gun tw #death tw #[ threads / a social call ]

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erintoknow · 5 years

Text

Cat

Fallen Hero: Rebirth Fanfiction ~ 4.1k words (wtf?) Sidestep-era. No animals harmed. [ao3]

–––

It started with a soft sound at the door Friday night. November, and it’s finally starting to get cold at night. Close the eyes, get a feel, try not to let your heart get away from you. This house is abandoned, boarded up –mostly– there shouldn’t be anyone else here. The traps you’ve set out ought to dissuade any like-minded lookers, too many close calls in the past year.

Can still remember the hands. Should have broken more than a nose.

But no – focus. A soft sound, something scratching at the door. Not human. Good? Bad? Animal. Probably harmless? But then what about that goat? …You don’t think it’s a goat. One day you’ll ‘forget’ to turn in your gun back to the Ranger’s armory, and you’ll instantly feel a 100% more safe.

Human or not, first priority is to make sure you’re fully dressed, shirt pulled down, tights and shorts haven’t suddenly vanished. Even without a light, nothing’s truly dark in this city. Ground light always. Grab your knife, hold it ready. You take up position to the side of the door, holding your breath as you slowly turn the knob, crack it open.

It happens before you realize what’s happening.

Something small squeezes through the door before it’s even an eighth of the way open. Rubs it’s side up against your leg, and you almost drop the knife. “Oh.” You laugh, tension draining out of you. “It’s– It’s just a cat.”

The cat purrs, that weird vibrating not-noise. Just a cat. You’re fine. You’re safe, or – no, not safe, how did a cat get in here? Then you remember, the other bedroom on the second floor; the broken window by the tree.

Huh.

Alright.

Well, you can board that up, or cut back the branch maybe. You slide down against the wall, run your hand through its fur. Thanks cat.

Saturday evening, you come back to the room and the cat is sitting on the bed. Ears alert, eyes immediately zeroing in on you as you open the door. “Uh… h–h–hi?” The cat makes a chirping noise and leaps off the bed. You’re still a little buzzed from drinking with Ortega. Voice a little sore. Can feel yourself coming off the adrenaline high hard. Can’t believe you did that. What on earth where you thinking? But.. Ortega needed… you don’t know. She needed something, hopefully tonight had been an acceptable substitute. Not knowing what she’s thinking means you have to work so much harder; really pay attention. Are you guessing right? How do you check your work on something like that?

You unsling the bass guitar, prop it up against the dresser, drop your backpack on the floor next to it. The cat keeps rubbing against your leg, making its little purring noises.

Should you… should you feed it? What do cats eat? Tuna fish or something, right? You’ll figure it out later. It’s not like you have any food on you right now, and you’re tired, and not thinking straight. Flop on to your bed, face-first into the pillow. Before you can roll over, there’s a noise and then four little paw-fulls of knives land on your back. The cat settles into place, sitting on the small of your back.

Guess this is your life now.

–––

You’ve been at this house for a coming on half a year now, and it’s past time you pack your things and find a new place to squat. You’ve spied a couple suits poking around now. The hack job you did hooking back up the water and power wasn’t going to go unnoticed forever. You knew that.

Would have been nice to have had more time.

Cat chirps insistently at you, rubbing your leg. You wince. “R–right. Sorry, Cat.” You stop rolling up clothes and dig out a can of cat food from a side pocket in your backpack. Pull the tab back, then it’s grabbing Cat’s dish bowl and tapping the contents out.

Cat stares up at you expectantly the whole time. Once the bowl is back on the ground, they chirp again and lick the food, once, twice, before wandering away. You shake your head and go back to folding clothes. Cat will come back when they’re good and ready.

You already scoped out a new place this morning. You should be all set to move in. Except–

Cat is back, they’ve decided they’re hungry after all.

–You hadn’t really planned on it but… you’ve gotten used to having Cat around. Days where they don’t show always end up leaving you a little tense. Not that Cat can’t handle themself but…

When you’re all packed and Cat is done eating, you sling your backpack and guitar over your arms. Adjust to make sure nothing’ll slip and then scoop up Cat before they wander too far away. “Alright you,” You hoist Cat up, press them close to your chest. “H–how do you feel about new digs?”

–––

A month later and you’re at her apartment. Ortega is trying to teach you how to make ‘real’ salsa when the call comes over the phone, slicing the conversation in half. Catastrofiend.

“Shit.” You hiss, putting the knife down.

Ortega gives you a grim look, as she hangs up. “So much for an evening off.”

“Where are we headed this time?”

Ortega side-eyes you as she quickly washes her hands. “Stough Canyon. That’s not far from your usual haunts. You familiar with the area?”

“Ah– Uh, a little.” You lie.

You’ve kept your skinsuit on under your clothes, so changing is just a matter of getting out your mask and jacket from your backpack while Ortega changes in her bedroom. Ortega makes more phone calls on her brick of a cellphone as the two of you rush down the stairs.

Riding on the back of Ortega’s motorcycle is never not a jarring experience. Helmet on, cling to her for dear life. Traffic laws? That’s for other people. The Marshal has places to be. It’s no surprise, then, when the two of you are first on the scene.

The scene being: the multiarmed nightmare of the Catastrofiend tearing through a group of men unloading semi-automatic rifles on it to little effect. Five men– no, four now as one of the Catastrofiend’s bladed arms bisects the nearest gunner.

“Are those guys Wolfpack?” Ortega puts a foot down on the asphalt to hold balance as the two of you assess the situation from a safe distance.

You squint, loosening your grip around Ortega’s middle. Should have gone for googles, could have included a magnification element. “I… think so? What could possibly compel them to attack like that?” You don’t dare reach your mind out to them, less the collection of poisoned razors the Catastrofiend calls a psyche sends you into a panic attack. Again.

“Hollow Ground…” Ortega growls.

“You still on that?” You sigh, take a quick glance around. This fight is taking uncomfortably close to your place. Worry for Cat enters your head and you have to shake it out of your mind. “Come on, no sense letting them die, gangsters or no.”

Ortega hunches her shoulders, you can see her grin in the sideview mirror. “Let’s show them how the Rangers get things done.” She revs the engine.

“Wait– what–” is all you manage to get out before Ortega takes off again and you have to cling on for dear life, motorcycle speeding straight at the mess.

The gunfire stops and the Catastrofiend turns to face you, raising one bladed arm. You pull Ortega hard to the left and the two of you swerve past, bloodied metal slicing the air where the motorcycle should have been. Ortega whoops at the top of her lungs, puts the kickstand down and fist pumps the air.

You clamber off the bike, “Are you f–f–freaking crazy!?”

Ortega looks back at you with a manic grin. “Got her attention didn’t we?”

The Catastrofiend stalks towards the two of you, it’s bottom two blade arms click-clacking against the asphalt in tandem with its legs.

“Yes!” You glance about, where did the those wolfpack gangsters go? “Good work! N–n–now what you asshole!?”

Ortega readies her gun, “Keep her from running before the rest of the team gets here.” She lines up a shot and fires. The Catastrofiend’s shoulder jerks back as the bullet ricochets off a metal limb.

“I– I don’t have a gun on me!”

“Plenty here, then!” Ortega fires off another shot as the Catastrofiend picks up speed.

Cursing Ortega under your breath, you zero in on the nearest body. Blood pooling in the street. Shit. No coming back from that. Dash over, try not to look as you pry the rifle from still warm fingers. “Sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Look back up, and Ortega has broken into a run, the Catastrofiend giving chase. Tension vibrates through you like a chord. Half expected her to try fist-fighting. Thank god not even Ortega is that reckless.

Line up the sights, breath in, lead the shot. Squeeze and breath out. The banging rings in your ears and the Catastrofiend stumbles, stops. Did you hit her? She turns to face you. A low guttural growl rolls out across the street and your stomach drops out from under you. Oh. “Fuck.”

It sprints back down the street at you. “Fuck!” Toss the gun to the ground and jump a fence to duck past two houses. Behind you, you can hear Ortega yell something, the report of her gun. The Catastrofiend stays focused on you, can feel rusty metal at the edge of your awareness. Behind and getting closer.

You’ve got one advantage here:

You know this neighborhood. Jump fences, swing around trees. Heart in your throat. Where the hell even is Ortega at this point? You risk a few precious seconds to reach down and grab a rock. Next turn you make, you risk a few more precious seconds to throw it. The rock bounces harmlessly off the Catastrofiend’s chest. She doesn’t slow down.

Well. Had to make sure she was still motivated to kill you. Motivation confirmed.

Take off running again, and you can feel the burn in your lungs, legs. Run another block and realize: that’s your place at the end of the street. Damn. How far have you run?

–Wait, the plasma caster. You had the plasma caster stored in your room. Fuck. Yes. That’ll fix this thing. Push yourself harder, not much farther to go. When you hear the echo of a motorcycle bouncing off the houses a prayer of thanks is in order to whomever might be listening.

You duck to the side to give Ortega a clear shot and the rapport of her gun rings out. The Catastrofiend lets out a furious hiss and turns, but not in time to avoid being slammed broadside with Ortega’s motorcycle as the Marshal dives clear. Monster and machine crumble into a mess of metal and limbs and slide across the street for a few feet.

You slow to a stop, gasping for air. Find Ortega, getting up off the ground, checking her hands for burns. “Is… is that– is that it…?”

Ortega gives you a thumbs up, “See? Easy as burning years of my salary.”

“Sorry about the bike.”

“Worth it.”

A spike of anger pokes through your song and you drop into a defensive stance. “Shit.”

Ortega tenses up upon seeing you. “What? What?”

Metal limbs curl up, slicing through the twisted remains of Ortega’s motorcycle.

“Oh, mierda. Not cool!” Ortega stamps her foot and quickly starts reloading her gun as the Catastrofiend pulls herself to her feet again. Its gurgling voice is thick and distorted and barely human.

f̵̧̛̠͚̫̫͈̓͊͊̀̀̏̈́̀̇͛́͂͜͝͠o̷̢̞̙͖̖̲͈̭͌̿̈́̋̉͐͋͑͠o̴̜̥̥͍͚̼̖̦͚̙͋͂̈́l̸̠̣̥͔̍́͜į̵̙͇̰͎̯͙̫̎š̸̢̛͇͍͎̱̠͇̳̼͚̰͌̍̇̋̊̑̏̇ͅh̶̩͎͔̖͖͈̔̀̎

Oh.

Fuck.

Back to plan Plasma Caster it was then.

“Ortega!” You yell back to her as you start running again, “Keep it busy!”

“Yeah, that’s the idea!”

At the house, run around to the back door. Turn knob pull up on the door then out and finally push back in and the door swings up. Jump over the tack paper booby trap, around the stringwire alarm can system, and up the stairs. Cat meows at you in greeting as you tear into the room. Stop a moment, have to acknowledge Cat with a pat. “H–hi Cat.”

They rub up against you as you slide down on your knees, “R–r–really not the time right now!” You gently push them away and reach for the box under your bed. Ortega’s going to be pissed with you when she realizes. Hopefully saving her life is apology enough.

Look out the window and… Ortega is fist-fighting with the Catastrofiend. Goddamnit. If you opened the window and kicked out the screen, you’d have a decent angle from here. Clear shot, no cover.

Cat chirps and rubs your leg again. You are back so it must be dinner time, right?

“N–not–not now, Cat.” You hiss. “S–sorry! I’ll make it u–up to you. Promise.” You can’t shoot from here. Can’t risk putting Cat in harm’s way. Damnit. Give Cat a scratch behind the ears and then you’re off again. Down the stairs, out of the house. Flick off the safety, dial up the power.

Ground level and the dance between woman and nightmare has only picked up in speed. You need a clear shot, you need a clear shot, you need–

It’s like everything moves in slow motion. Ortega dives right to avoid one arm, but the Catastrofiend has caught on, bringing a bladed limb in sharp and low. It buries itself into her gut. Someone screams, and it might be you.

B̷̨̤̺̗͓̘͎̭̰̀͛̚͝ę̷̼̜̖̜̹̞͉͕̥̠͖̃̅̿͆̿̐͂́͜ğ̷̼͕̱̤͚͚̹̳̼̺̫͍̑́͒̇͒̐͒̋̈́̇̌͘̚͜ ̸̢̧͇̘̩̗̳͍̫̤̲͙͛͒ͅf̷̢̤̬̺̥͎̭̰̹̩̱̼̰̔̔͂o̶̢̯̭̖̙͛̍̑͘ŗ̴͖̲̞͙͖̦̻̗̺͈̟͕̜̊̌̒̾̽͊̈̍̿̍̔̚͝͝͠ ̷̪͙́̽̀́̕̚ṁ̶̨̛̩͓͔͕̜̬͓̐̍̔̓̀̊̚͜͜ȩ̸̥͇̃r̷̨̧̲̹͕͉̯̝̐͛̒��̸̢̠̘͍̜̙̥̤͙͗̑̐̑ͅy̵̨͈̩̤̝̯̗̲̬̰̙̝̬͂͑́͌̔̂͘͘͘͝.̸̡͉͍͈͒͐̒́.̶̨̨̨̥͔̝̞͇͇̜̞̜̔͘͠ͅ.̵̡̜̣͎̞̥̲̩̪̻̗̹̇̓̈́̅̃͐̐́͊̓̚̕

Ortega coughs blood, laughs as she grabs the blade in her abdomen, slowing forcing it back out. The Catastrofiend raises another arm, ready to strike.

No!

No. No. No.

You cast out with your mind, any pretension to music abandoned and grab hard on the pile of rusty nails that make up the Castrofiend’s mind. You can feel the headache already threatening but that’s not important. Forget Ortega. Ortega’s not important. Look at you. You’re the threat here. Just. Stop.

The arm jitters in place as if held there. Enough time to line up the shot. Fire. Flash of green and the bolt hits the Catastrofiend square in the chest, singed flesh curling smoke. And… now her focus is squarely on you. Fuck. Shit. Damnit. Step backward and fire off another shot. This time it blocks with an arm, metal joints glow red and melt together. It makes this ungodly screeching noise, like nails on chalkboard giving feedback into a microphone and you trip; fall backwards on your ass.

The monster races towards you and toss your gun to the side and roll in the opposite direction as three metal points penetrate the earth where you had just been. The fourth catches you with the flat of the blade, buffeting you against the wall of a house and knocking the breath from your lungs.

This is it. This is it. Couldn’t even save Ortega.

Fuck.

Fuck…?

Something yowls and there’s a hissing noise. Open your eyes. Cat is sitting in the windowsill, hackles raised and hissing at the Catastrofiend. She stops, arms still raised and turns her head to stare at Cat. When she hisses back, Cat yowls and scrambles off the windowsill, running for cover.

There’s a deep-throated noise coming from the monster as it turns back to you. Is it… is she laughing?

B̸̨̛̘͉̠̳͕̪̹̪̹̪́̈́̆̅͜͝ḛ̴̮̠̎̄̀g̷̛̥̫̜̺͍̹̤̭̐̒̉́͆

You flinch.

A sharp burst of wind and a flash of heat wash over you, open your eyes and see the monster struggle to stay upright.

Turn your head to in the direction of the source; Sentinel and Sunstream are running towards you. The Catastrofiend screeches again and Sunstream pulls a laser down from a nearby streetlight, carving a line down the face. Can’t be worse than a weak sunburn but it must be bad enough because it drives the Catastrofiend back.

Still running towards you, Sentinel summons another burst of wind and the Catastrofiend screeches. …Frustrated? She backs up further before turning tail and running.

Sentinel drops down by your side, offering a hand to get you back to your feet. “You okay, Sidestep?”

“Yeah– wait, no, Ortega!” Stumble to your feet and out of Sentinal’s hand. “Charge is hurt!” You dash across the street. “Ortega– Charge!”

Please be okay.

Sunstream is propping Ortega up. Too much blood, has to try to hold the wound shut.

No. No. No. “Ortega!?”

Sunstream gives you a fearful look, you can feel the worry shooting through her mind. “She’s hurt pretty bad.”

“Ambulance!?”

She shakes her head. “Already on it’s way, but it’s a drive to the nearest hospital.”

You spin on your heel as Sentinel gets near. “Can you fly her?”

He nods, “That’s normally the plan but…” He looks over you, at Ortega’s prone form. “We need to do something to staunch the bleeding or moving her is going to make things worse.”

You hug yourself, shaking. Ortega isn’t going to die. You refuse to let this happen.

Wait.

Your space. Medical supplies. Field surgery kits.

“Sentinel, Sunstream. Keep an eye on Ortega, I’ll be right back.” You don’t wait for a response before taking off. Back to the house, back to your room, don’t bother closing the doors. Take the steps two at a time. Grab the medkit, anything else? You can see the glint of Cat’s eyes under the bed. Hiding? “I’m s–sorry.” You manage to choke out and then it’s running again. Three steps at time down, back to the street, back to Ortega.

Sunstream and Sentinel are debating the merits of trying to use Sunstream’s power to cauterize the wound. Push Sentinel aside as you drop to the ground beside Ortega, pop open the first-aid kit. “I’ve got it, this’ll help.”

You grab the can from the top of the bag and give it a hard shake. Should still be enough.

You can feel Sentinel’s surprise from behind you. “Biofoam? Sidestep, that’s military grade, where you did get that?”

Try to hold back your frustration. “Does it really freaking matter right now!?” You really don’t have it in you to argue the ethics of theft in this moment. You stick the nozzle of the can close to Ortega’s wound. “Hey– hey, Julia? This is gonna fucking hurt.” Ortega groans something.

Good enough.

You press down on the nozzle and a pale pinkish foam pours out with a hiss, quickly expanding into and over the open wound in Ortega’s abdomen. Sunstream gives you a worried look as she holds onto Ortega’s shoulders, doesn’t let her turn over as she groans.

When you finish applying the foam you fall back on your legs. You feel dizzy. Nauesous. “S–s–she still lost a lot of blood.” You say, stating the obvious.

“Still,” Sunstream is looking straight at you. You have to look away. “You might have just saved her life with that.”

You try to keep your hands from tensing up. “I… not saving wasn’t an option.” Glance back and up at Sentinel. “Can carry her now?”

Sentinel nods, face grim as he stoops down. “Oof, our Marshal is a little heavier than I remember.” He adjusts his hold on her as he stands back up. “All that mod work adds up.”

A spike of fear shoots through you. “Can you still do it?”

“Yeah.” Sentinel nods, squares his shoulders, gives you a look. “Anything else isn’t an option.” The wind gathers around him and you and Sunstream watch him slowly lift off the ground. “Closest hospital is the Pacifica?”

You glance at Sunstream for confirmation. She nods.

“Right,” He nods back. “See you kids there.” The wind whips around you as Sentinel takes into the sky.

You let go of your breath and collapse, falling backwards against the pavement.

“Sidestep!?” Sunstream moves towards you, and you hold up a hand.

“I’m… I’m okay. I think?” You laugh. Oh god. That could have gone real bad. “Orte– Charge will be okay now, right?”

“Yeah. Of course.” Sunstream says, but you can feel the doubt in her head. Ah. Fuck. Sunstream shuffles over to look at your first aid kit. You want to tell her off for it, but– “This is pretty well stocked.”

“Yeah.”

“How’d you know this would be around here?”

“Ah– W–w–well…”

This is bad. You can already feel the logic chain assembling in her head when something rubs up against your shoulder. Turn your head, “Cat?”

Sunstream looks over to you, and her thoughts are instantly derailed. “Oh! Kitty!”

Cat hops on top of you, absolutely no thought to your comfort in mind and they walk across your chest. As usual. “Hi Cat.”

Sunstream kneels down next to you and scoops Cat up in her arms. “Hey you, what are you doing here? It’s dangerous.” Cat chirps in protest, legs outstretched.

You prop yourself up on your elbows. “You like cats?”

“Like? I’m allergic!” Sunstream fakes a laugh. “Who’s your owner cutie-pie?” She shifts Cat in her arms to get a better hold. “No collar huh?”

“There’s… uh, a lot of strays these days.” You cautiously put out there.

“Yeah, but look how healthy he is! Somebody has been taking care of this little angel, huh?” Cat chirps again. Does this lady have any food? No?

“Maybe they’re local.”

“To this half empty neighborhood? I doubt it.” Sunstream runs a hand down Cat’s back, gently pulling the skin. “Should at least have an RFID chip. I can get that scanned and we’ll see this sweetie gets home safe. Tomorrow, I guess.”

This is getting out of hand. “Um– I can– I can do it.”

“Sidestep?”

“You said you’re allergic, right? So… I can take Cat. Uh, the cat.” Your heart is pounding as heavy as it was while fighting the Catastrofiend.

Sunstream gives you a curious look. “Oh? You don’t mind watching the cat? Okay.”

“We can… –tomorrow, we can meet up at the Ranger HQ, get Cat – uh, the cat – checked and then maybe… visit Ortega?” You’ll have to make sure you have enough money to pay for a pet license and for one of those chips. Cat saved your life tonight. Ortega’s life. Both your lives.

Might as well make it official.

Sunstream gives you a tired smile. “Sounds good to me, Sidestep.”

The plan would have worked perfectly except–

Cat has a chip. When the Vet called the registered number, You could hear the ecstatic screaming on the phone from across the counter. It only got louder when the woman told them who had come in with their cat.

You thought you’d wait there at the Vet office with Sunstream, meet the lucky family. Cat curled up on your lap, purring as you stroked their fur. But– you feel a little sick. Face hurts. It wasn’t fair. You don’t want to give Cat back. Can’t stand everyone stealing glances in your direction.

“Sunstream?”

“Sidestep?”

“C–c–can you hold onto Ca– Dorothy for me? I’m.. going to t–take a walk.”

That gets a note of concern from her. “You okay there, Sidestep?”

“I’m fine.” You gently pour Cat into her lap. “I–I–I just need to c–clear my head.” You get to your feet and rock back and forth on your heels. “Maybe I’ll see you at the Hospital.”

“Alright…” Sunstream frowns, “If you’re sure?”

“Y–yeah.” You ruffle Cat’s ears. Listen to them purr in Sunstream’s lap. “Bye, Cat.” You whisper, and then make a quick exit. You’re not crying. And anyway, your mask in on, so no one could ever tell even if you were. Which you aren’t.

–––

You dim the lights in Ortega’s hospital room, close the door behind you. Still out, like the nurse warned you.

You pull a chair over to her bed, sit on it backwards so you can rest your head on the back. “Glad y–you’re okay.” You whisper. She had needed a blood transfusion last night. Was absurdly lucky not to have injured any major organs. Would she had made it if you hadn’t used the last of that biofoam? It wasn’t clear. The wound was stitched shut now in any case. Was probably going to leave a god awful scar, even with Ortega’s ‘top-rate’ healthcare.

Breath in. Breath out. “I’m really glad.” You run a hand across your upper leg, tracing patterns. “Th–that’s again I’ve saved your butt, Sparkles. Stop sca–scaring me like this.”

You chew your lip.

“Actually… You’ll n–never believe who saved both our butts…” You can feel yourself smile. “S–see, like, in November, I–I–I found this cat…”

#fallen hero #fallen hero: rebirth #fhr #fallen hero fanfic #fanfiction #wlw fanfic #fhr/Ariadne #mc #ortega #sunstream #sentinel #catastrofiend #cat

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dizzypinwheel · 5 years

Text

Identify Yourself

Chapter 6: The Case

While we’re at it, Merry Christmas! Have a link to the previous five chapters.

As they walked down the basement steps towards the evidence rooms, Hank tried to pilfer a glance at the curious folder tucked firmly under Fowler’s arm. No dice. Jesus, this whole situation was suspicious. His first day back and Fowler was entrusting him with this? Homicide had been his forte for ages, pretty much all he knew. When he really thought about it, his last big assignment had been that red-ice sting, and that was years ago. He massaged a stubborn knot in his neck as they reached the end of the staircase, trying to alleviate tendrils of tension crawling through his entire body.

Why me? What’s the catch?

Hank shuddered and rubbed his arms. The basement could get chilly, especially when there was rough weather afoot.

Think of something warm, like a fireplace or a hot toddy.

“So enlighten me,” He said aloud. “What’s so special about this case?”

“For starters, it’s a joint investigation between the DPD and FBI. Wait until we get into the evidence room -- I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

“The FBI?”

Shit. Perkins.

Hank ground his teeth in discomfort. He recalled the day he lost his badge, how it all boiled down to giving that smarmy weasel of an agent a well earned knuckle sandwich. What had he called him again? Ah, yes. A fucking cocksucker. He wondered if their paths might cross again. What an absolute joy that would be.

So Tumblr on mobile is an asshole and likes to crowd the text. You can continue reading this chapter at AO3 for a clean read if you are on mobile. Grrrr.

Hank fell into step with Fowler, their footsteps echoing as they walked. They were greeted by a sliding glass door emblazoned with an etched emblem of the DPD. Just beyond it stood a false numbered wall, guarded by a softly lit password panel.

Fowler fished out his access card and pressed it against a projection of a glowing key scanner embedded in the glass. It beeped. The door slid apart with a soft hiss and granted them passage to the enclosure within.

Both of them approached the password panel. Hank stared politely at the ceiling while Fowler interfaced with it, scanning his palm and punching in his password. The screen glowed green as it acknowledged his credentials. It triggered a command to unlock one room in particular: enclosure 07. Somewhere in the distance, they could hear gears grind, a barrier retract. They turned down a lengthy hallway to the right flanked with numbered panels on either side, towards the source of light that emitted from their destination.

By the time they reached room 07, the evidence was on full display, ready to be picked apart and analyzed. Hank stepped inside and approached the wall. He scratched his beard as he walked past each item and scrutinized them with a watchful eye. A cluster of cubby holes stored all sorts of fragile evidence: several translucent tablets, presumably incriminating footage and eyewitness testimony, a peculiar orb-like contraption equipped with an on/off switch, and a sleek black handgun. His eyes travelled left to examine the remaining objects, all hung on a wall. There wasn’t much other than a couple articles of clothing: an android armband and a--

Hank froze.

“What the fuck?”

On a hook hung a rumpled semi-formal gray jacket, fashioned with details he knew all too well. The once glowing holographic triangle stitched below the lapel, now a dull, lifeless blue. The crisp string of letters and numbers that signified its task and purpose: RK800. Connor’s coat.

He absently ran his fingers over the soiled fabric.

The android used to fuss over this damn jacket all the time.

“This is about the assassination attempt near Hart Plaza, isn’t it?” he murmured. “He’s involved.”

Fowler stepped next to Hank, hands behind his back.

“That seems to be the case.”

Goddamnit, Connor.

Hank closed his eyes and shook his head, clenching a fistful of fabric before letting it fall from his grasp. He could kick himself. Of course, Connor was involved... it was only his fucking mission. At that point, Hank realized he never told Fowler about what happened on the rooftop. That would have to be rectified. He made a mental note to spare no detail; it would be important to the investigation.

“All right, debrief me,” he said, his voice level and professional. “What do we know?”

“Officers were able to respond to the scene immediately,” Fowler said. “They were patrolling the area during the speech and went in as soon as shit hit the fan. They were able to do some damage control and collect some evidence.”

“Like this gun?” Hank looked at Fowler. “I assume it was found at the crime scene.”

“Yes, we recovered it near the stage.”

After Fowler gave him a nod of silent consent, Hank reached for the gun and turned it over in his hand, careful to inspect every angle. An untrained eye might assume the weapon was just a simple standard issue semi-automatic pistol. Careful scrutiny proved otherwise.

“Huh… there’s no serial numbers,” Hank remarked.

“No fingerprints either. It’s one of the first things we checked.”

“Well, that’s a bitch,” Hank said as he returned the gun to its rightful place. “How about eyewitnesses? Were you able to take any statements?”

“Actually, yes,” Fowler said. He reached for a tablet nestled in a cubby-hole beneath the gun display and handed it to Hank. “We questioned an android who was on stage during the incident. Says that she saw everything.”

Hank unlocked the tablet screen with a swipe of a finger. It revealed a paused video which displayed a still image of a tense female android. She sat stoically in an interrogation room, hands rooted to her lap. Her visage was equally beautiful and fierce, as fiery as her plaited auburn hair. Hank knitted his eyebrows. Her appearance struck him as familiar, as if he had seen her model before, perhaps in an advertisement or the Eden Club warehouse.

“Who did the interview?”

“Tina,” Fowler replied. “And let me tell you, she was quite the asset.

She was the only officer the android trusted -- wouldn’t speak with anyone else.”

Hank pressed play and watched the video unfold. Tina was first to speak. Only her voice could be heard; the rest of her was hidden behind screen.

“All right, we’re rolling. Whenever you’re ready, please look at the camera and state your full name.”

The android cocked her head in bemusement. She stifled what appeared to be a smirk.

“North. Just North.”

Given the context, Hank supposed the question came across as asinine. After all, what android had a surname? When Tina spoke again, she sounded slightly sheepish.

“Thank you, North. I know the question might seem silly, but it’s protocol. In your own words, can you describe what happened last night, around 12:01 a.m.?”

North threaded her fingers together. She closed her eyes as she spoke, sifting through her memories with a fine-toothed comb.

“At midnight… I was on stage next to Markus. He was giving a speech. Everyone had lost so much and he wanted to lift them up.”

“I caught some of his speech on TV and thought it was powerful. Markus seems like a gifted speaker.”

North kept her eyes trained to the floor. She tapped the table with her fingers, jaw set, posture rigid. By contrast, her voice was soft, barely audible. She swallowed before speaking.

“He is.”

At that moment, she swore beneath her breath and looked away. She sniffled. The back of her hand swiped away any tears that threatened to fall. A chair creaked behind screen as Tina stood to retrieve a box of tissues, which were gently placed in front of North. North sighed and crossed her arms in response. The tissues were left untouched.

Tina remained calm and professional, addressing North with patience and sympathy.

“What about after the speech? What happened next?”

North re-closed her eyes.

“There was this little moment of silence after he stopped talking, as if everyone was still processing what he said. And then it got loud… so loud. Everyone was cheering. I started to scan the crowd -- I wanted to see their faces, their hope.”

“When you looked at the crowd, did you notice anything unusual or suspicious?”

“Not at first, but as I looked around, an android caught my eye. It was like seeing a ghost.”

“How so?”

“That android, he was a prototype, not mass produced like the rest of us… and I saw him die.”

She shook her head as she re-lived grim memories of gunfire and death, hands clenched into tight, shaking fists. The next words she spat out were stony barbs of anger and resentment.

“He was shot by soldiers at Jericho. He sacrificed himself to help us escape.”

“And this android, you saw him again in the crowd?”

“Yes, but he wasn’t the same. Someone took his spark and he seemed cold, almost lifeless. And when I looked down, I saw he had a gun.”

North looked at Tina with a look Hank could only describe as helpless.

“He was aiming it at Markus.”

“I can’t imagine how you must have felt. Do you remember else about this android, his name, model, anything like that?”

“Not much, just bits and pieces. I learned about him from the news, that he was a detective programmed to investigate deviant cases.”

Tina reacted with surprise.

“Connor? You’re referring to Connor.”

“Yes, you know him?”

“You could say that. He was assigned to this precinct. My partner wasn’t very fond of him.”

North raised an eyebrow, unamused.

“Who, that short man with a scar across his face?”

“Yes, Gavin.”

“He looks like he wouldn’t be fond of anyone.”

“And she’d be right,” Hank snarked.

“Just watch the video,” Fowler said.

Tina was next to reply.

“He’s... complicated.”

“Codeword for asshole,” Hank said.

“Hank,” Fowler warned.

“Sorry.”

“‘North, let’s talk about the gun. When you saw it, what did you do?”

“That whole part is a bit of a blur.”

“That’s all right… just close your eyes and describe what you can remember. Every bit helps. ”

North nodded. She closed her eyes and leaned forward with a measured breath, hands laced together as if in prayer. Her forehead rested against the palm of her hand.

“I remember screaming someone had a gun… and then I shoved Markus to the ground and shielded him with my body. I refused to let him get up... I was so scared he would get shot.”

“Did you see anything else?”

North shook her head.

“No, nothing. I was face down. My eyes were on Markus the whole time. His safety was my primary focus and I lost track of what happened after that.”

“North, I think that’s about it. Again, I want to thank you for your cooperation. You’ve been beyond helpful. Before we end the interview, is there anything else on your mind? I want to make sure we cover all our bases.”

North twisted in her seat, turning to face Tina.

“Yes, there’s one thing... I’m not sure this is Connor’s fault.”

“Really? You think someone else might be involved?”

“Absolutely. Connor cared about us, defended us. He never would have thought about harming Markus, let alone killing him. When he died, something happened to him. Someone programmed him to act like that.”

“Do you have any idea who would want to do something like this?”

North shrugged, her voice weary.

“Someone who hates us. My point is regular androids don’t have free will; they simply do as they’re told. Try to remember that when you find him. He might be innocent.”

Hank paused the video. His mind churned through a flurry of thoughts. Connor was a stone’s throw away from the stage and he didn’t take the shot? He hesitated.

How the hell did Connor go from a stone cold rooftop sniper to a timid coward? Throughout their previous investigations, Connor had shown nothing but reckless bravery, unafraid to risk life and limb to apprehend a suspect, whether it be throwing himself into high-speed traffic or sliding from a rooftop onto a moving train. Fuck, he even used his body as a human shield, protecting Hank from a spray of bullets at Stratford Tower. Self-preservation had never been a priority…

But he ran. He fucking ran.

A thought bolted through his brain like an abrupt thunderclap, remnants of an old investigation with Connor, brief banter they had shared on a gray, bleary day.

Hank shivered as icy raindrops trickled down his neck and soaked into his shirt. If only his coat was thicker. Connor had been droning on about the possible whereabouts of a fugitive they were after, a deviant AX400, and how its motivations were presumably driven by fear. Hank was skeptical.

“Androids don’t feel fear,” Hank said dismissively.

“Deviants do,” Connor insisted. “They get overwhelmed by their emotions and make irrational decisions.”

If the witness was indeed reliable, Connor was a deviant… and likely a loose cannon: emotional unstable, desperate, reckless, unpredictable. Despite how pissed he was, Hank couldn’t help but feel a flicker of worry.

At that moment, he flinched as Fowler snapped his fingers loudly right next to his ear. Hank responded with an unseemly scowl and swiped Fowler’s hand away.

“For fucks sake, Jeffrey,” he snarled. “Knock it off.”

“I asked you a question and you zoned out.”

“Next time, try tappin’ me on the shoulder like a normal person,” Hank said as as he rubbed his ear. “Anyways, what’d you say?”

“I asked you about the witness. What do you think?”

“She seems credible, but I’m not sure I buy what she said about Connor. Do you think she’s right, that he might be innocent?”

“We have our suspicions but nothing conclusive just yet. Let’s just say we take her claims seriously and have made the matter a part of our investigation.”

Hank gazed at Fowler curiously but decided to not press the issue any further. “You didn’t happen to dig up any extra evidence, did you? Something to substantiate her claims?”

“As a matter of fact, we did. We were able to verify Connor’s location through the timestamps and GPS coordinates in his tracker history. It all matches up.”

“Well, shit, isn’t that handy? How’d you manage to get your hands on that kind of information?”

“With a tracking device CyberLife gave the station the day Connor arrived. They wanted us to be able to monitor his whereabouts while he was in our possession. It was a precautionary measure.”

“And the jacket?”

“Found at the scene of what was initially thought to be an unrelated crime. A security guard from Hart Plaza Station had reported an incident of theft and vandalism.”

“Theft and vandalism,” Hank repeated. “Who was the perp?”

“Take a wild guess.”

Hank almost snorted. Mr. Straight-Laced, Hank-

Why-Are-You-Making-An-Illegal-Bet-Detective, racking up a criminal record? Preposterous.

“He hacked a kiosk, stole a pass, and took the final evening train before anyone could detain him,” Fowler said. “If you want, you can review the surveillance footage later.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. Is there anything else you feel like tellin’ me while we’re down here?”

“Yes, there’s a bit more,” Fowler said.

He reached for the classified folder that had been tucked under his arm, opened it, and pulled out a single page document.

“The one concerns an unusual detail we learned about the jacket,” Fowler continued, handing the paper to Hank. “And the possibility of new suspects in the case. In particular, the final three lines on the page.”

Hanks moved the document away from his face and began to study the impossibly small print. The first thing he noticed was the letterhead: the word CYBERLIFE on the far right corner of the page, stamped in a bold, crisp font. As for the document itself, it was like trying to make sense of an unfamiliar language. He understood bits and pieces, that it was an itemized list. At Fowler’s request, he concentrated on the very bottom of the page and silently read the strings of numbers and letters that appeared before him:

8.15.38 RK800 #313-248-317 - 51: DESTROYED

11.8.38 RK800 #313-248-317 - 52: DESTROYED

11.9.38 RK800 #313-248-317 - 53: DEACTIVATED

“What am I lookin’ at, Jeffrey?”

“An inventory list of every Connor model CyberLife has assembled and activated.”

“And they handed it over,” Hank said as he raised a suspicious eyebrow. “Just like that?”

“They were surprisingly compliant. What do you think of those numbers? Do they mean anything to you?”

“Not the ones in the middle, but I’m guessin’ you know. Care to enlighten me?”

“So the first nine numbers are serial numbers identical for every Connor model, printed on every jacket.”

“And what about the digits at the end, the ones that go from one to fifty-three? What do they represent?”

“The body count.”

“But there’s fifty-three…” Hank gaped. “Fuck me… so, what, the numbers are some kind of death counter?”

He glanced at the document again and scanned down the status column of the page. He noted the fate of every model before August 15th had been sealed, annotated simply as [REDACTED]. He wondered what might have happened to them; perhaps they’d been like lab rats, tested, stressed, poked and prodded, tweaked until they reached a baseline for perfection and were finally deemed fit for deployment. But still… the thought of experiencing death fifty-three times made Hank shudder. Once was plenty.

“Christ, that’s morbid.”

“CyberLife seems to think otherwise,” Fowler replied. “Those numbers are apparently how they aggregate data, and they’ve been using it to log the status of every Connor model in their possession.”

“So how is this data relevant to the investigation?”

“We’re getting to that now. Read the last entry at the bottom of the page, the number of the final Connor model activated.”

“Three-one-three, two-four-eight, three-one-seven dash fifty-three.”

“Now check the jacket.”

Hank looked at Fowler curiously as he stepped closer to the jacket, squinting to properly read the fine print.

“Three-one-three, two-four-eight, three-one-seven dash fifty--”

Hank faltered midspeech as his eyes flitted from the jacket to the list. “Fifty-four.” He flipped the document over, only to find it blank. “You sure this list is up-to-date?”

“According to CyberLife, it’s the most recent list they have on file.”

“All right, well, anyone can tamper with a document...but how about the physical inventory? Maybe they had some extras lyin’ around.”

“You don’t think we haven’t already tried that route? CyberLife gave us complete access to their warehouse and we scoured every floor, top to bottom. We weren’t able to find a single Connor model, not one trace.”

Hank clenched the document tightly as he paced the floor, his nerves like live wires, inflamed with irritation.

“They’re lying through their teeth,” he seethed. “What the hell are they tryin’ to hide?”

“Whatever it is, it’s big,” Fowler said. “And they’re trying to control the narrative any way they can.”

Hank shook his head. His fingers ran through his hair. “So what’s next?”

“We’ve organized a manhunt and issued an APB. Connor’s considered a fugitive and we intend to capture him by any means possible.”

“But he’s got no connections,” Hank gestured. “No friends or family, no previous job or address. Where would we even start?”

“Near Hamtramck Station, where he was last seen. The main goal is to apprehend him intact. His testimony could prove invaluable,and if he dies, so does our best chance of connecting CyberLife to this case.”

“You’re talkin’ like he could croak anytime. Just how much danger is he in?”

“If Cyberife’s tying up loose ends, plenty. Connor knows too much and that puts him at risk. That’s why time is of the essence. It’s imperative we find him first.”

Hank crossed his arms as he spoke. “And if we find him and he refuses to comply, what then?”

“Use your negotiating skills -- make him see reason. You built a rapport with him. He might not trust a stranger, but we think he’ll trust you. Use that to your advantage.”

“And if that fails?” Hank asked. He felt a fraught moment of self-doubt, unsure he deserved the faith Fowler had placed in him.

“Then we incapacitate him and arrest him by force. Keep in mind, he’s still our primary suspect and his detainment is non-negotiable. One way or another, he comes with us.”

“Fair enough. Anything else I should know before we finish up?”

“Take a few minutes to get acquainted with the rest of the files,” Fowler said, handing the folder over, “then find Ben. He’ll accompany you to the field and can answer any additional questions you might have about the case.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

As Fowler walked away, Hank relished this unexpected stroke of luck. Ben Collins was a seasoned officer who actually cared about his work. Hell, they’d been desk buddies for years, enabling their mutual unhealthy eating habits with shared boxes of donuts and candy. They would work together just fine.

And he wasn’t Gavin.

A huge perk, indeed.

Once Hank was sure he had the room to himself, he flipped open the folder and began to examine the remaining documents, intent on committing them to memory. He knew this case would be difficult but he was determined to do his best, not allow sentimental feelings to get in the way.

“You’re not the only one with a mission,” he muttered.

With that, he doubled down on his concentration and prepared for the task that laid ahead, one he planned to accomplish at all costs: track down the person he had once called friend… and bring him to justice.

I owe so much to @silenceindetroit. I know I sound like a broken record, but she is a wonderful, encouraging beta and has truly helped me grow as a writer. I love you.

If you made it to the end, thank you for reading. I lost count of how many hours I put into this chapter and I hope it brings joy to everyone. The next chapter will be from Connor’s perspectives. A lot of blocks have been set up and I look forward to knocking them down.

P.S. Likes and reblogs make me feel warm and fuzzy... if you liked the chapter, please consider doing so!

Tagging the following:

@asunachinadoll // @malanoches // @negotiator-on-site // @spirit--fox // @kaylaproductions // @fizzabel // @windyfiend

#dbh #detroit become human #connor #connor dbh #hank #hank anderson #hank dbh #Identify Yourself #dbh fanfic #dbh fanfiction

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