Rusted
My whole body ached. My head was spinning ever since I had woken up and my ankle had a heartbeat. My throat still felt restricted, likely swelling and bruising had formed like a dirty necklace. I had opened my eyes but hadn't moved a muscle in fear that something was hurt more than I thought.
The room I lay in was completely dark, with no peepholes or windows nor did sound seem to be a thing. Perhaps I have gone blind? Perhaps I have gone deaf? But I knew better than the latter, I could hear my breath leaving my lips and my eyelids when I blinked.
I decided then that I should probably move, if they had any water I would need some soon. I had no idea how long I was asleep and I didn’t need to be near death when Steve got here.
I rolled onto my side, groaning at the effort and the sickening spin of my head. My hands shook uncontrollably as I moved my arms onto the ground, lifting myself up. My stomach clenched and rolled, threatening to make me dry heave again. I dragged my legs underneath my body painfully slow, my ankle’s heartbeat got more prominent and I realized it was unnaturally tight. I thought about the fall I took when he dropped me, realizing I most likely sprained it. I pushed up, keeping my legs beneath me, pain shooting up and down my ankle and foot. I bit my lip, groaning in pain as I moved to fully stand up. My body swayed and threatened to fall over, I held my arms out searching for any sort of wall or stable object near me. When I found none, I tried to take a step, but the weight I bore on my ankle was too much. I collapsed into a heap onto the floor, my arms wound up tight around my head to protect it from the anticipated contact.
I groaned loudly, curling my body into a ball, and silently started sobbing again.
I hope Steve’s getting here soon.
I was finally able to put some weight onto my ankle now, although it was still tender. The area I was kept in consisted of a bucket of water, a very uncomfortable mat like the ones in the barracks back at camp, an empty bucket, and a door. The door was cold to the touch, leading me to believe it was steel, and that was the reason for my lack of sound.
No one had come into my ‘room’ yet, although I technically didn’t see that as a terrible thing. But I also hadn’t been fed for the time I’ve been here, and my body was taking the change very hard. Every time I stood up my head spun and I’ve fallen over two times now, along with the growling and pain in my stomach that never seemed to end.
I was sitting on the edge of my bed, muttering the song And Her Tears Flowed Like Wine by Stan Kenton and Anita O’Day, when there was a loud creaking that filled the room. I jumped to stand up, my body protesting at the movement, forcing me to lay a hand on the wall next to me to keep me steady.
I had to squint my eyes against the light that made my head pound. Steps echoed into the room, and then a man appeared. A young man with jet black hair and a jagged scar cutting down his lip making him permanently smile on one side. He wore something like a button-up top and slacks but had a grayish jacket with an octopus patch on its sleeve.
I recognized it as the hydra symbol, that would make sense I guess. But that would mean, my eyes widened, hydras in the system.
The man was watching me, not saying a word as I swayed and kept my tender ankle slightly off the ground.
We stared at each other for a few beats until he finally chose to speak, “Do you know why you’re here, Arabella?”
My heart clenched at the use of my name. I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to hear it the same as I did before. My ears were ringing at the sound, causing me to flinch at the pain that erupted in my head.
“No. Am I supposed to?” I shook my head but stopped when I swayed again.
He smiled again and took a step towards me, “Captain America,” I took a step back and stopped when my knees hit the mattress, “you and him were- are close, yes?”
I had heard this question before, in the jeep. The ginger had asked, and at the time, I thought it weird, but now it all made sense. They wanted to use me to get to him. I wanted to admit it was a smart move, but what they didn’t know was that when Steve came to save me, they would be either running away or captured for questioning.
“He’s going to save me,” I mumbled.
I had said the thing he wanted to hear, apparently, because he grinned eagerly.
“That’s what we want,” he said proudly, like he just won a contest, “and we’re going to have some fun until he does.”
My stomach rolled and I clenched my jaw hard. My chest felt like there was a weight on it as I took short, hollow breaths.
He grinned and there was a glimmer of something in his eye, humor. He was entertained by my fear, like the boogeyman.
Suddenly, he just turned around, mumbled something to someone else, and left. The was left open behind him, but I didn’t dare move towards it. A thought crossed my mind that that’s what they might be counting on, me moving to the door and trying to escape. But then the thought was a double-edged sword: what if they didn’t want me to move?
I took a shaky breath, breathing in as deeply as I could manage at the moment. I took a step towards the door, wincing at the pain that shot up the inside of my calf. I walked slowly, mindful of the sounds of my step, being barefoot had helped with this. I stepped right next to the back of the door and listened. There were no noticeable sounds, so I peeked my head around, eyes squinting and straining to see through the bright, flickering lights.
It was a wide room with a few doorways leading out. The room was empty with gray, concrete walls and only 4 hanging lights, the floor was brown-red tile. Dead center of this odd room was a table. It resembled a rickety dining table that had been in storage for most of its existence. Next to the table were 2 chairs, they were elegant chairs, but one of them had metal hanging from the arms like chains. And underneath the table was a silver plate in the ground with holes drilled into it, like a strainer.
I stepped further into the doorway and took one last look through the room. This time, I saw a soldier who was wearing a mask. The mask was black and had two jutting plastic pieces, with plastic over the eyes as well. I held my breath waiting for him to react to me being out of my containment, but he didn’t. Instead, he just stood still and stared forward as if he was having a staring competition.
I took another step and froze, blood pounding in my ears. Still no response.
I looked forward and walked into the room silently. As I walked towards one of the doorways, there was a loud clanging noise behind me, causing me to whirl around. The guard had shut the door to where I just was, leaving me in the table room. I froze as another sound filled the room. The sound of keys unlocking a metal door.
I whirled back around listening as footsteps approached. The footsteps were heavy, clomping on the ground like a horse on brick. There was labored breathing with the footsteps, breathing somewhat like a rottweiler.
The steps stopped as a man stopped in the doorway. He was a stout man with some muscle, his hair was greasy black and he smelled foul. Like he had gone swimming in shit and rust and decided that was a bath.
My lungs tightened, and I stopped breathing entirely.
“Good morning, Arabella,” Landon’s rough voice echoed through the room, and he was grinning ear to ear.
I moved backward, back to my door where I now sought safety, but something hit my body a lot sooner than I thought. Arms shoved me forward harshly, forcing me to take quick steps in an attempt to catch myself. I landed on the side of the table but was able to keep myself upright.
I stood up straight and held myself up to not fall over due to the spinning in my head.
I looked up to Landon, who was moving towards the table. I moved away from him and towards the chair with metal on it.
His eyes twinkled with entertainment when he met my eyes, “I don’t bite, dove.”
“Somehow, I highly doubt that,” my throat felt like sandpaper as I spoke, causing me to swallow hard.
I then realized he was carrying a silver platter with a top lid. I watched as he set it down in the center of the table, and held the handle teasingly. When he finally lifted it, a sweet, salty aroma filled the room. Saliva filled my mouth as I smelled the food that sat on the platter. It was some sort of poultry with green beans and mashed potatoes on the side with gravy on top.
My knees almost buckled at the sight of it, my stomach growled in hunger and all I wanted to do was shovel that food in my mouth.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Landon move around the table and place himself in the chair across from where I stood. My eyes never left the tray, too afraid it would disappear if they did.
“Sit,” his rough voice ordered.
I glared, still looking at the food, but sat down. If anything, this man would use whatever he could to get me to listen, and I would rather it were food than fear.
“Are ya just going to stare at it or are you going to eat it?”
I finally looked at him, then launched forward to grab the platter. When my fingers made contact with the silver, a sharp burning pain shot through my forearm. Blood pooled under my arm and leaked from the wound that a silver knife had caused.
The silver knife had stuck right in between the bones of my right arm and was held down by Landon’s hand. A raw scream ripped through my throat and I tried to yank my arm away in pure instinct, causing even more pain to shoot up my arm.
“Here’s how this is going to go, dove,” his head tilted to the side, “you are going to do exactly as I say, at all times, no questions, and you can eat.”
I groaned and if I were hydrated, I’d probably be crying right now.
“I fucking hate you,” I managed to spit out.
Landon tsked and sighed, wrapping a hand around my clenched bloody one, “That wasn’t very nice, dove. And when you aren’t nice,” he began turning my hand, the bones in my arm crossing over one another and scraping against the steel until they got stuck, I screamed louder and my whole arm burned, “there are going to be consequences.”
My bones felt like they were being torn apart, a red-hot pain tore through my forearm to my neck and chest as he kept twisting my hand.
He stopped twisting it, and I forced my eyes open to look at him. There was blood all over the table, staining the wood and dripping off onto the red floor. The food was still as delicious as ever, but the thought of eating now has left my mind.
Finally, I met his eyes. He was studying me, waiting for something. My breathing was heavy and ragged, and his breathing matched as he grinned. Beads of sweat covered his brow and he licked his dry lips, letting his eyes rove my body.
The world spun around me and I felt like I was about to topple over. His upper lip curled as he stared hungrily at me, more so intently as I had stared at the food moments earlier.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” his smile faltered as he lifted his eyes from my chest back up to meet my eyes.
Then he twisted my hand, a sickening crack sound and sensation coming from my forearm. A scream was ringing in the air but all my brain focused on was the pain in my arm. The hand let go of my hand, leaving me sobbing and reaching for the knife to wretch it free from my arm.
Before I could get it fully out, a hand gripped both my wrists, holding me down and forcing my head into the hard wooden table. I whined as I was shoved forward onto the table, only my legs hanging off the edge. I felt touching all over my waist and my legs but I was so dizzy I couldn’t respond. My body lolled but I was finally able to move my wrists and get the fucking knife out of my arm.
There was talking behind me but I felt like I was under boiling hot water, I couldn’t hear anything and my whole body burned. I gripped the knife and launched my head backward, landing its mark on his face, another sickening crack filling the air.
He fell back, hand on his nose as it bled profusely. I looked down and saw my ruined pants were still intact and on my body. I sighed in brief relief but was back when I saw Landon heading straight for me, yelling a string of profanities at me.
I readied the knife and positioned it to stab, but Landon hit it out of my hand, the knife skidding away on the red tile floor that was beginning to make more and more sense to me. A hand grabbed my ankle and I screamed, splaying my fingers to grab anything around me to keep me away.
My body was flipped over and I was met with the sight of a bloodied, angry face. My stomach lurched as he reached for my throat yet again, I groaned at the effort when I hooked my leg around his and tried to trip him. He instead grabbed my hair and threw me so I slid on the hard ground, then slammed into the wall.
When I opened my eyes, there were three of him, all of whom moved towards me and turned to the side to grab something from his pocket, but I launched a kick right into the side of his knee.
He howled in pain as he lurched forward onto the ground, grabbing onto his knee painfully. I stood up slowly, gingerly keeping my right arm away from anything, and stumbling to grab the knife from the ground. I missed the knife, then reached for the other one I saw with my double vision, and finally made contact.
I stumbled back to him, seeing him struggling to stand up, and raised the knife above my head.
I felt someone else grab me, and haul me back, I screamed and fought, but the pressure on my broken bones was too much. I saw as the young man from earlier stood over Landon, and tilted his head down at him, then towards me.
He smiled, “Looks like she’s a feisty one, Landon.”
Landon only grunted in response, earning a frown from the man.
That was all I saw before I was thrown onto the ground of my cell, and they closed me in complete darkness.
I scrambled to get up, but the dizziness and the lack of adrenaline gripped me, causing me to fall over again. I vomited onto the ground underneath me and started shaking violently, sobbing and laughing all at the same time.
My arm was numb but was burning like it was in lava all at the same time. My head spun and I saw stars around me, momentarily remembering and picturing the stars from the book I had gotten from someone.
Who was it?
I thought and thought, but I couldn’t remember. And that’s when I really started sobbing, I wasn’t sure how long I was here but I already couldn’t picture my boys and I couldn’t recall small details.
I sat there for what felt like an eternity before unconsciousness pulled me under.
January 1945
Steve, Bucky, and his squad of soldiers all stood together on a snowy cliffside. They were all dressed warm, Steve still donning his ‘A’ protective helmet and shield.
Above them, a rope hung connected from one cliff to another, hanging over a ravine and railroad tracks. Bucky looked warily over the side, imagining the drop-off and what it would feel like. He shuddered and took a step back towards Steve.
The last month had been hard for both of them. Arabella had been missing for a month now and they’d had no such luck finding her, or even getting a word out of captured Hydra agents. No one was talking about her, radio silence from Hydra and not an utter from anyone at the camp.
Yesterday was the first time that they had heard anything. They’d been listening in on Hydra’s radio broadcasts and heard that Dr. Zola was on a train with vital personnel. They had come here for two reasons: Dr Zola and that slim chance that Arabella was on that train, alive.
Steve was exhausted, to say the least. He’d been up for a few days, choosing not to go to sleep in any chance that they had found Arabella and he needed to respond. But that hadn’t happened and now he was just tired, hungry, and frustrated at the whole situation. Bucky wasn’t any better; he had gotten sleep, but he would wake up every so often at the dreams of Ara being tortured. He knew they were just in his head, at least he hoped it was. He lost focus now and then and didn’t join the rest of the troops in goofing off or drinking after a successful mission.
At the edge of that cliff, one soldier moved forward with a pair of binoculars and watched, while two others listened in on a broadcast, hoping for any confirmation. Steve stepped in front of Bucky and watched the snowfall over the cliff.
Bucky took a step to be behind him and studied the rope, “Remember when I made you ride the Cyclone at Coney Island?”
Steve’s face was pinched and redding at the winter’s bite of freezing wind, “Yeah and I threw up?”
“This isn’t payback is it?” Bucky glanced down into the ravine again.
Steve turned, looking over Bucky at the rope, “Now why would I do that?”
Bucky shook his head and offered a smile.
“We were right,” Both Bucky and Steve turned around, a glimmer of hope shining in their chests, “Dr. Zola’s on the train. Hydra dispatcher gave him permission to open up the throttle. Wherever he’s going, they must need him bad.”
Bucky shared a look with Steve and frowned slightly, Steve shook his head lightly in response, sadness showing in his eyes.
He buckled his helmet and walked towards the rope, all the other soldiers followed.
The man with the binoculars took them off, “Let’s get going,” in his thick accent, “because they’re moving like the devil.”
“We only got about a ten-second window. You miss that window,” he shrugged, “we’re bugs on a windshield.”
The binocular man smiled, “Mind the gap.”
“Better get moving, bugs!” Another soldier directly behind Steve said.
Steve readied his position, ready to leap down the zipline at any moment's notice. A man kept his hand raised to his right, telling them to wait.
Steve’s heart was pounding in his throat and he had tunnel vision on his destination.
The man suddenly yelled in French, and pointed, letting Steve know to go. Suddenly, Steve was flying through the air on a zipline, heading towards train tracks rumbled at the weight and movement of the train behind him. He heard the Frenchman behind him continuing to yell, letting the soldiers go at 4-second intervals.
Steve landed on the bullet train, Bucky right behind him. They ran, crouched, on top of the train, mindful of the ice that coated it. Once he reached an entrance, Steve carefully guided himself onto the ladder and began to climb down. Bucky and Steve had gotten inside the train while they left the other soldier to guard the outside.
Bucky slid the door shut behind him and readied his gun. They were both breathing hard as they snuck through the room around boxes and cylinders. They watched for any sign of movement and strained their ears for any sound.
Steve got to the door first and looked back at Bucky questioningly. There weren't any guards whatsoever, and that was worrying.
He continued on, Bucky looking around making sure they weren’t getting ambushed. When Steve entered the next room, the doors between them closed.
They both ran to the doors and slammed into them, trying to open it. Bucky turned around at the sound of the other door opening and began to open fire.
Steve watched, panicked and blood thrumming in his ears. He couldn’t lose Bucky too, not now.
The door behind Steve opened, he whipped around and shot at the person, but quickly realized no damage was being done.
The person wore a full metal suit and what looked like a vest with huge guns connected to it. The vest shined a bright blue and the guns whirred, powering up. Three blue blasts shot out of the guns, barely missing Steve.
Steve popped out from behind a chest, and shot a few more times, before lifting his shield to block the oncoming blasts. When the last blast came, Steve took the chance and ran toward him.
Whirring filled the room as the gun was powering up, and Steve ran, jumping off the wall and grabbing a part of the ceiling that slid. He glided across the room, blocking a sudden blast from his gun with his shield, and knocked him down. He hit him in the back with his shield, knocking him down completely.
He crouched next to the body, lifted his gun, and blasted the door that blocked him from Bucky open.
He stood up and sprinted into the next compartment, still behind one of the doors. He looked in and saw Bucky looking at his gun, out of breath and sweat glimmering on his upper lip.
He looked defeated, his shoulders were hunched and his head was down.
Steve opened the door, and lifted his handgun up, tossing it to him. He suddenly yelled, and threw his body weight into the chests in the middle, sending one of them flying towards the man. The man moved to the side and Bucky took the shot, killing him instantly.
Bucky stood, and moved to Steve, “I had him on the ropes.”
“I know you did,” Steve said quickly.
Suddenly, whirring filled the room and Steve threw Bucky behind him. The blast bounced off Steve’s shield and put a huge hole into the side of the train.
Bucky, who was next to the gaping hole, grabbed Steve’s shield and quickly moved to stand up, shielding himself while he shot at the man.
The guns whirred again and took one blast. The force was powerful enough to send Bucky flying out the hole, into the wall that was flying in the wind.
Steve’s heart dropped, his breathing stopped and he moved faster than ever to save his best friend. He sprinted towards the laying shield, and threw it like a frisbee, sending the machine flying back instantly.
Steve spun around before the man hit the ground, ripping off his helmet and running for where Bucky went.
“Bucky!” He threw his helmet and started scaling the train wall without a second thought.
He was going to do whatever it took to save him, he couldn’t lose him.
“Hang on!” He was climbing on the metal railing on the door as quickly as he could. It was lucky he was wearing gloves or his sweaty hands would’ve been his downfall.
The railing Bucky was attached to creaked, ripping from the wall, “grab my hand!”
Suddenly, there was screaming ripping through Bucky’s throat and he was falling. Steve realized he was screaming too. His eyes were burning and his world was spinning. He looked at his hand and opened and closed it, Bucky’s hand missing from his grip.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop screaming and watching as Bucky fell helplessly through the sky into the ravine until he was a dot then gone.
He blinked and he was now in a bar, drinking. Alone. Utterly alone and he couldn’t fix that. His heart was in pain and he felt like he couldn’t do anything ever again. He felt like if he laid down, he would die. And he kind of wanted to, until Peggy walked in.