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

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.