Captain Hydra X Oc - Tumblr Posts

The chronicles of the winter || Part IX

Part II  || Part III || Part IV || Part V || Part VI || Part VII || Parta VIII continuation of imagine

Summary: Steve’s mission went wrong… Very wrong.

Word Count: 2194

Warnings: Blood, injuries

Author: Beast

Since their common evening, Emily hasn’t spoken with Bucky at all.

He saw her few times. They passed each other like a ghosts at the corridors of the complex. Everytime when Bucky wanted to ask the woman, what exactly has changed between two of them that they couldn’t even talk for a while, Emily was simply passing him by, don’t even looking at him.

He easily could feel that everything has changed.

Deep inside he knew he shouldn’t have been doing that. He shouldn’t let her seduce him, it just couldn’t end well.

Bucky’s contact with Steve also has been restricted.

Their supervisors seemed to do everything to separate men from each other.

Bucky could also feel kind of a distance, which has built up between him and Steve.

Another week has passed and Bucky confirmed himself in a premonition that something was wrong.

While he was looking for Steve, he heard a conversation between two of the guards in canteen.

“… with her” one of them said simply, drinking coffee.

“I would give everything to be at his place at the moment” second man chuckled. “She’s pretty hot.” “Of course she’s” guard who was drinking the coffee stretched his back. “Rogers is a fucking lucky dude, isn’t he?”

“Don’t ya remember? He’s not Rogers anymore. They said he’s called Captain Hydra now” older guy shrugged.

Bucky frowned, listening to this little conversation. He realized that Steve has to be outside the complex. And… Was he with Emily? Have they had a mission? But Steve would tell him… Why he didn’t?

Bucky, however, felt a cold shrink in his heart.

EMILY. She also went away without farewell. Without single word. Why both of them were treating him like that?

He couldn’t find an answer.

One day, Bucky has been taken to the small room at one of the lowest levels of the complex.

There was three man awaiting at him. Two doctors and no one else but Aiden Black himself.

“Good morning, soldier” man in a suit smirked viciously.

Bucky didn’t say a word, he simply took a seat in front of the man.

“Why are you so silent, soldier?” Black pretended a concern.

“Where’s Steve?” Bucky simply asked.

Black raised his mouth corners in a haughty grin.

“He left. He has more important things to do instead sitting here with you” man said.

Bucky snapped his head to face Aiden Black again.

“Liar” Barnes gasped loudly. “Steve’s my friend. He wouldn’t…”

Black smirked again.

“Funny” Black mused with a sick smile, getting dangerously close to Bucky’s face, “wasn’t that exactly the same thing that you said the first time when Hydra found you?” he laughed harshly. “Face it, Barnes. Steve Rogers’ dead. Now he’s the Captain Hydra and he’s working for us and only for us” man in suit got up from his seat and walked slowly around the room. “Nothing can bring him back” Black finally stopped behind Bucky’s back and he put his large hands and Winter Soldier’s shoulders. Black also leaned down and whispered directly into Bucky’s ear. “And as I suppose he’s having a lot of fun with your Em.”

The last statement was like a sharp blade of a knife stabbed into Bucky’s chest.

Bucky responded with spitting in Black’s smirking face.

Of course, as always when he wasn’t behaving like they would wanted, he was greeted with violence, but that didn’t matter.

“Now, get some rest, soldier” Aiden growled slowly, wiping flecks of Bucky’ blood of off his hands. “We have work to do.”

When Black left the room, Bucky yelled aloud, hitting the table in front of him with his metal fist.

Evening had long since fallen, the chill of night picking at the edges of his meager jacket as he silently made his way through the quieting city. Captain Hydra was walking, passing closed shops and tracing streets he didn’t know.

He had a mission to do and he didn’t want to let his supervisors down. Steve had to kill a director of some organization named Robrax. It was kind of a pharmaceutical industry enterprise. Hydra was willing to do anything, just to overtake some researches results. Steve only knew they have wanted to make a new biological weapon.

He knew he should be careful, because, following the information he got, it seemed that other organization has wanted him for their own businesses.

Being in a deep thoughtfulness, he easily got at the terrain of the restricted area.

The building was oh so large. White walls and glazed doors were giving that real estate more dignity then he thought in a first moment. With a knife in his hand, he quietly slipped into a large building. He sneaked unheeded next to the guard’s place and he headed directly into the office number 10, located at the second floor.

Taking a staircase, he reached the floor and when he checked that no body’s there, he slowly stepped at the corridor. He went along it until he found a door with a gold numbers on them. Steve opened them and walked inside. Immediately he noticed the man he was looking for.

Dressed in a black suit, guy was sitting in the leather chair, making some notes. Fortunately for Steve, man was facing him with his back.

Captain Hydra walked over to his target and as quickly as he could, he put his palm at man’s mouth to cut over his throat in the next second. It didn’t take long for man to bleed out.

Steve, as soon as he made sure man’s dead, he left the room, putting his knife back into his pocket. He also easily managed to leave the building.

It was first time when he killed someone because of an order. Deep inside the last degraded ounce of his morality was trying to convince him that he was making a huge mistake. But he pushed those thoughts away.

He walked slowly along the street, heading to his apartment, which Hydra has rented for him. The barking of a dog jarred him from his thoughts, body suddenly tense and eyes, hard as steel and just as cold, scanning his surroundings for any threat as he stopped in his tracks. His knife was produced from his pocket, not as large but just as deadly in his capable hands. 

Another noise caught his attention. Footsteps, ten feet behind to the right. His mind was just methodical and calculating. Fingers tightened around the handle of the combat knife, although he showed no outward signs of realizing he was being approached; to any passersby it merely looked as if he was staring off into the jeweled skyline. The darkness would either be a great hindrance or a welcome advantage, but only time would tell..

Click. The sound of the safety switching off of a pistol was all the prompting Steve needed. Moving with a speed unexpected in his depleted state he spun around. A great blaze of light and concussive sound filled the street, the weapon discharging as Steve plunged his knife deep into the chest of his would-be assailant. In that quarter second of movement he had searched, located and struck, the metal blade deftly gliding between ribs and into a lung. The air filled with the sharp scent of copper and iron as blood poured from the wound.

Steve quickly realized it was one of the guards from Robrax.

The haphazard discharge of the weapon had blasted a round into the sidewalk, the sound of it no doubt alerting every person within a two block radius. I need to escape.

The man collapsing into a pool of his own blood, not dead but not quite alive.

If there was one there had to be more, he thought, and they had to be coming for him. He made it two steps before he heard the crack of a sniper rifle, echoing off some far-off building. The next few seconds blurred together, but he remembered being knocked off his feet, air forced from his lungs as he hit the brick wall of the building next to him, knife clamoring from his hand. Heat blossomed on his back, a burst of wet crimson that trickled down his spine as a bullet planted itself squarely into his right shoulder blade. The choking cry of surprise that escaped him startled him.

The pain hadn’t hit him yet, but his body felt like ice. His legs were sluggish underneath him as he struggled to his feet, bolting into an alleyway as he heard another bullet slam into the wall behind him. It’d been a low shot, as if for his leg. They want me alive. The thought filled him with a sick dread as he realized that they wanted to put him back on his leash, or worse, put him down so he couldn’t spill their secrets, although he had no secrets to tell. At least, not as he was now.

Shouts of men filled the street. “Down the alleyway!” and “He’s getting away!” among other things he couldn’t catch. The pain was starting to filter into his awareness, starting as an acidic heat that slowly built in on itself. His heart was pounding, lungs heaving, as he tried to lose the guard’s team in the maze of back alley streets. He needed to get to the apartment.

As he rounded a corner, two guardians spotted him, shouting loudly to others. A swear hissed under his breath, narrowly avoiding another bullet aimed for his legs. His reflexes were slowing, he could feel it, his strength draining from the wound the harder he pushed himself. A pistol was produced from his pocket, only two rounds fired with the same deadly precision he had used to change history numerous times. The first man dropped in a heap, not even getting the luxury to realize he had been hit. The other’s ribs popped wetly as the bullet tore open his side, letting out a ghastly cry as he tumbled to the ground and didn’t get back to his feet.

Without a moment’s hesitation the Steve was gone, vanishing into the darkness like the ghost he was before more of the guard’s team could arrive. Rain earlier in the day had slickened the streets, helping to hide his trail of blood as he snaked his way through the sleeping city. He had no idea how long he was running and barely had any recollection of where he was going, his body operating almost entirely on instinct by the time he reached that familiar building. His running had slowed to a staggering shamble, forcing his legs, which he lost feeling in about three minutes ago, to climb up the flight of stairs.

His breathing came with difficulty, his limbs heavy and blood like ice. The worn clothing he had been wearing was soaked through with his own blood, which still bubbled from the sniper’s bullet.

The door to the second floor apartment seemed like a nearly insurmountable obstacle. His glassed-over eyes darted from the knob to the floor, then to a small, out-of-place planter of tiny flowers. Barely a murmur of thought crossed his mind as he nudged it with his foot, exposing a key. He was too exhausted and in too much pain to question just why he believed there would have been a key there. The key was retrieved, clumsily inserted into the lock, and the door opened without protest; he could have kicked it open or picked the lock like last time, but he didn’t have the time or strength to attempt it.

With a soft clink of metal the key fell from his trembling fingers to the floor, shakily standing at the threshold taking great, heaving breaths. His vision was growing blurry and his hearing muffled, but after a moment of hesitation he stepped inside, pulling the door shut behind him, the click of the lock oddly comforting. Movement in front of him, down the narrow hall, and he knew he wasn’t alone. The pistol was still clutched in his left hand. He tried to take another step but his body had had enough; the pistol dropped to the floor, abandoned, as he tried to steady himself by pressing that palm to the wall.

Something was spoken to him but he didn’t catch it, gaze lifting to where he’d seen the movement earlier. Someone was standing a few yards away now. He didn’t need to hear to know who it was. Breath was inhaled sharply, words attempted but failed.

Emily Vandom. 

His whole body was shaking; it felt like the world was collapsing in on itself all around him. Underneath all the pain was a faint, lingering disappointment. Pain washed his thoughts away, a low whimper in his throat betraying the fact he was injured. He was going to go down, he felt it, and not a moment later did his right leg buckle, his whole body collapsing with it. He fell into something warm and yielding, not hard floor like he expected, but he had no time to ponder it as the darkness closed in on him.