Furnace
The air was hot around me, my skin blistering cold from the ice. An oxygen mask was pushed up to my face, forcing my body to take in air that burned my lungs at the unfamiliarity. I coughed a fit but still didn’t open my eyes or move my body.
My muscles were stiff from keeping still for so long and my eyes felt as if they were glued shut. Once I was able to take deep, even breaths, I could hear people talking around me to each other.
They were speaking in hushed tones, then stopped once new footsteps entered the room. I cracked my eyes open, the light blinding me and causing a shooting pain through my head. I blinked a few times to let my vision clear and focus.
There was a team of white coats in the room, a few acting busy, but the others watching and analyzing. There were tables with papers littering them, scattered in no order, and a lot of tech I didn’t recognize. I hadn’t recognized most of the white coats either, but I knew the man in the center.
He had dark black hair and hazel eyes that looked black. His skin was pale as if he were afraid of the sun and he was wearing black dress pants and a matching jacket with a white dress shirt underneath, and had shiny dress shoes on his feet.
When my eyes finally focused, he smiled fondly, “Hello my siren, I’m so glad you’re finally awake. I’ve missed you.”
Robert Morison looked different compared to when I last saw him. He had aged quite a bit and seemed to have taken his father's role considerably well.
He strutted up to the capsule I stood in, and grabbed my hand, telling me to step out. I forced my frozen muscles to respond, stepping down and onto the white tile. He rubbed his thumb on my jaw, moving some of my blonde hair out of my face and behind my ear. His eyes were filled with endearment, watching me stand still in front of him. His eyes hardened and he nodded, moving to the doors he had just entered. I followed him a few paces behind, the skin beneath my tight leggings and compression shirt itching from the difference in temperature.
We eventually reached a door with the number seventeen printed on it. Robert pushed the door open, the sound of movement and talking escaping through it.
My eyes adjusted to the dimmer lights in the room, allowing me to begin my survey of the room. There were 4 white coats circling the room, managing different things, as well as 10 armed soldiers who were positioned in every corner of the room and every potential doorway or escape. There were 3 steel tables in the room, each having papers and tools on them. The one in the center had a black book and a metal circular contraption on it, both items I was very familiar with. Across from the center was a metal contraption; it was built like a chair, parts of the machine hanging overhead, connected to plates of metal. There were armrests and separate legrests on the machine, with metal bits sticking out of the wrist and ankle areas.
“Go sit in the chair, dear siren,” Robert ordered me from his place in front of the table with the book on it.
I complied, moving to the contraption and sitting in it. I placed my hands onto the armrests and the metal snapped over my wrists, the cold burning my heating skin. The same thing happened to my ankles, keeping my whole body restrained to the metal.
“Prep her for the mission with the Winter Soldier,” Robert started, tearing his gaze from me to look at a young woman in a white coat on his right, “and make sure to add a limiter, we don’t want her to kill them. Just to have a little fun.”
“How much power should we give her, sir?”
He looked back at me, “45%. Give them a fighting chance I suppose.”
The young white-coated woman to his right nodded hurriedly and moved towards a table behind her to grab a metal contraption. She clicked a few buttons on the computer connected to it and moved to my right side, steering clear of my left hand. She placed the thing around my throat and the device beeped once, a sharp pain sliced through my neck, shooting down my body as it pumped the weakening agent into my veins. I ground my teeth together and straightened my back as my body and power began to weaken.
Robert nodded, and moved away, turning around and grabbing the book behind him. He leafed through the pages, “Right, let’s begin.”
I closed my eyes as he began to read out words, my mind feeling like it was being lulled to sleep.
Her eyes snapped open, and she looked to the man across from her for orders.
“Soldier?” The man snapped the book shut, watching the person still unnaturally. He tilted his head as he set the book down on the table behind him, waiting for a reply.
“Ready to comply.” She spoke in Russian. She was wholly unaware that she spoke a different language when she did.
“Perfect,” Her boss transitioned into speaking Russian smoothly, “Soldier, you are going on a mission with the Winter Soldier. Your mission is to combat the three combatants by any means necessary.”
Her steel blue eyes met his brown, letting him know she understood.
He nodded, studying her; her blonde hair was knotted in the back, hanging shorter than it usually did, and her eyes were round and blue. She had a sharp jawline, a rounded, short nose, and pale skin.
The boss nodded, again, in silent approval, “Good. Jones, take her to the armory.”
An armed soldier nodded, and walked out of the room, expecting to be followed. And she was; the asset followed a few paces back, although she could’ve gone herself since she knew the place like the back of her hand.
Once they reached the armory, she moved to the people who waited for her. She stood on a slightly elevated step, and the people got to work. They changed her clothing and Dutch braided her hair into 8 separate sections and braided them together at the end.
As she was prepped, the soldier, Jones, opened a folder and read to her the mission in specific detail. She was to stop the three combatants by any means necessary, besides death, she was only to immobilize them. Catch them.
When they stepped away from her, she was dressed well for the action. She wore black pants with many pockets and harnesses on each of her thighs, which were loaded with 9mm pistols. She was also supplied with combat boots that held about 2 knives each, and a belt that held ammo and 2 more knives. Her undershirt was now clean, black, and tight against her, and over that was a leather long-sleeve jacket and combat vest that was stocked with an M4A1 and more knives. A mask was placed over her mouth and nose, hiding most of her identity, although it wasn’t needed.
Once they were done, Jones led her out of the room and into a room a few doors down. The man stood in front of a crowd, ordering around a group of lesser soldiers, along with the Winter Soldier who stood next to the man. The blonde soldier moved to stand on the other side of the man, studying the Winter Soldier as she walked over there.
His left arm was completely metal, a red star painted on the outside of the shoulder, showing who owned him. His dirty, brown hair hung to his shoulders and his blue eyes stared forward, although she knew he was watching her as well. Once the man was done speaking, he ordered them to follow the lesser soldiers out the door and load up in the jeep.
A man next to the girl stared at her while she was looking forward. He had short, black hair that was spiked up purposely and wore a black outfit with protective gear on, a lot more protective gear than either of the soldiers. The winter soldier now donned a pair of red goggles, hiding his eyes from sight. He stared at the man for the soldier out of the corner of his eye, not showing any sign of anger, but it simmered underneath his skin anyway.
The man narrowed his eyes at the soldier, “You won’t mess up this time will you?” he said in Russian.
Neither of the assets responded and he scoffed at the lack of response.
A few beats passed as they drove, silently following a car, a few cars back to not be spotted. The car was weaving in between cars but drove like any other New Yorker rushing to get to their job, but this one wasn’t going to their job. This specific car held a man with very important information regarding hydra, and we had to cut it off before it became infected. With him in the car were three others, the woman was told to stop them by any means necessary, but not to kill them, only catch them, like a cat playing with its meal.
Once we got close enough to the vehicle, the soldier beside the woman opened his window and pulled himself out of it smoothly, grappling to get on top of the roof of their moving vehicle. He suddenly leaped on top of the car, causing it to swerve slightly, then he used his left arm, breaking one of the windows and ripping the infected limb out of the car, straight into an oncoming semi-truck.
The car came to a screeching halt, causing Winter to be launched off of the roof and catch himself, sliding on the asphalt as his metal arm dug deep to help stop him. When he came to a full stop, the car seemed to hold its breath as he ripped his hand from the road, the arm rippling as the metal moved apart and then back together, adjusting to the muscle use. The van the woman sat in continued moving behind the car, and ended up ramming itself into the back of the car. The driver of the automobile pushed hard on the brakes but it served no use, smoke and the smell of burnt rubber filled the air as it got closer to the Winter Soldier. The soldier began to run towards the car, flipping himself mid-air to land on his stomach on the top of the car, ripping his fingers into the windshield to hold on to the vehicle.
The car swerved, trying to get the soldier off of their car, but he just ripped the steering wheel out of the driver's hand, causing the car to swerve uncontrollably. The Winter Soldier jumped to the van while the car went completely sideways and ended up flipping. As the car turned sideways, the three combatants managed to escape the vehicle by ripping the passenger door off its hinges and using it as a sled against the asphalt.
The van came to a screeching halt, and the man who sat next to the woman opened his door, stepping out with a small grenade launcher. The Winter Soldier jumped off the top of their jeep, grabbing the launcher the man was handing him. He set the butt of the gun in the nock of his shoulder, taking aim at the blonde and the redhead that stood in the middle of the street together.
The soldier’s body jerked as he pulled the trigger, a grenade shooting from the barrel straight to the couple. The blast was more powerful than a grenade, it was more like a mini-missile in the way that when it came in contact with the man’s shield, he was thrown over the edge of the overpass.
The redhead he had next to him was shoved to the side, scrambling to pick herself up and join the other man in hiding behind stalled cars.
The man with short, black hair moved to the door and opened the door, immediately stepping back as if she were a rabid animal. She calmly stepped out of the vehicle, upholstering the M4A1 from her back.
She notched the butt of the gun in her right shoulder, her right finger hooking onto the trigger and her left metal hand placing comfortably underneath the barrel, holding it still.
The Winter Soldier waited until she caught up to his side, keeping his launcher relaxed in his hold which seemed to be more threatening than holding it properly. Once she reached his side, they both began stalking forward, like a herd of lions hunting a gazelle. Four soldiers were behind them, pointing in different directions to secure the location.
As they stalked forward, the four men behind the soldiers began shooting, bullets flying into cars, windows, and people who were desperately hiding; although none of them hit their mark.
A redhead of hair popped up from behind a car, struggling to remain hidden while she did so. She lifted her small handgun and attempted to shoot the soldiers and their dogs, she grazed one of the lesser ones but they kept moving.
The blonde soldier moved her gun in tune with her body, aiming for the woman, shooting to immobilize her.
The redhead ducked, then leaped over the wall in between overpasses, rolling onto the road with a trail of bullets behind her. She rolled again, moving to barely miss the black car that was swerving towards her, the driver with a bullet hole in his shoulder.
She stopped rolling, launching herself upwards and into a dead sprint, running behind stalled cars to use them as shields.
As she sprinted, the Winter Soldier lifted his launcher, aiming for a blue car she was about to reach. His body shifted to take the impact of the gun as he pulled the trigger. The missile danced in the air, twirling in a straight line, leaving a tail of smoke behind it. When it made contact with the car, the redhead was sent over the wall of the overpass, not unlike the blonde just a few minutes before.
The blonde soldier hopped over the wall of the overpass onto where the woman just was, strutting to the other wall that led to a drop-off. As she moved, she began humming a simple tune she couldn’t remember, nevertheless. it was stuck in her head. Not seeing the woman or any sign of blood, she looks to the Winter Soldier.
The soldier understood, moving to the opposite edge of the overpass. He traded guns with one of their dogs, taking an automatic from him and pointing it over the wall of the road towards where the woman would run out of.
They waited for a few beats, the blonde soldier hearing movement to her left. She turned her head, lifting the gun up again and holding it as a precaution. She walked silently, but continued to hum, looking underneath and around cars as she went.
The sound of soft breathing was heard a few cars away, but no other sound. She stopped humming, choosing to silently sneak up on the person.
She reached the end of the car, lifting her gun in an aim as she slowly rounded it.
Gunshots to her left caused her to snap her head to the side, locating the commotion with her eyes.
The Winter Soldier was crouched behind the wall, ripping his now-cracked goggles off of his face. Anger was rippling through his body as he stood and began shooting without thought at the road beneath him.
The blonde soldier looked back around the far, but there was no longer any sound of breathing around her. She dismissed the hunting and moved quickly back over to the Winter Soldier, pushing herself over the barrier and rounding the many vehicles in her way.
When she reached the soldier, he lifted the gun up, watching the woman run behind one of the semi-trucks.
He barely spared the soldier next to him a glance as he spoke in Russian, “I have her. Find him.”
She stepped away and threw her automatic at a lesser soldier as he leaped over the barrier, landing onto a car below, crushing the roof in on itself.
The lesser soldiers planted hooks into vehicles, beginning to lower themselves over the bridge. Another large jeep appeared, braking to a halt as more soldiers jumped out of the vehicle, running with grabbles ready.
The blonde soldier tensed as dark mists of shadow sprouted out of the middle of her shoulder blades. The shadows stretched out as if awaking after a deep slumber, molding into the shape of wings. The wings were dark and leathery, the meeting point of each of the spines of her wings meeting up into a joint that was slightly higher than the others, like a knuckle. The wings seemed like something of a dragon, or a demon; each wing had a length of about 3 feet long, making her wingspan close to six to seven feet.
She spread apart her legs and beat her wings once, shooting off into the sky as the dogs on the ground began shooting at the bus that the man with a shield had been hiding in. The man was now taking out each of the lesser soldiers one by one, proving themselves useless against the man.
He took out the last man, who was using a machine gun, stopping to listen to the guy on the bridge.
“Wings!” The man was yelling.
The blonde pinched his eyebrows together in confusion until a loud crashing noise made him jump, whirling around back to the bus.
The blonde soldier lifted herself up from her crouched position, folding her wings to her back. The bus now had a slight crumpled depression from her landing on it, causing the few intact windows to shatter.
“Wings,” the blonde man mumbled to himself, watching the wings dissipate like they were only his imagination.
The soldier jumped off of the bus, landing into a crouch on the ground. She snaked her hand into her boot, pulling out a knife and flipping it upside down in her palm, hiding it from view.
She slowly stood back up, the blonde watching her with his shield slightly lowered from his shock. Using his surprise as an advantage, she quickly flicked the knife to him, but he moved to the side. The knife buried itself into the concrete pillar behind him, cracking the stone around it. He stared in wonder for a few seconds, then turned around as she came barreling towards him. He put his shield up as she punched his shield with her metal hand, sending vibrations through both their bodies and him flying back into the pillar due to his unprepared stance. The cement pillar cracked, and he caught himself on his knees with one hand on the ground, the other holding the shield.
He looked up as she sent her knee flying to his face, launching his body quickly to the side causing her to drive her knee into the concrete, the cement’s cracks spreading like vines.
The man moved his leg between the woman’s, hooking his foot on her ankle. He kicked her leg out from under her, causing her to fall and roll on the ground.
She caught herself, facing away from the man who moved to attack again. She flipped over, stomach up, and planted her right hand into the ground, digging hard as she lifted herself up. Her legs launched off the ground, her left one staying close to the ground, preparing to catch her, and the other kicked up into the air, flying towards the underside of his arm.
The hook of her ankle made contact, and he let out a gasp of air as he flew to the side. The woman caught herself and shot up quickly, catching sight of his shining shield as it clattered to the ground with a ringing noise.
She jumped into action, running to grab the shield as the man was starting to stand up and stagger back to her.
The soldier's hand snaked underneath the shield and she spun herself around, gaining momentum. She launched the shield at the man, but he leaned back, the shield only grazing his abdomen. The shield lodged in the wall behind him and he moved to grab it before the soldier upholstered her handgun, taking aim at him.
He took off running in the opposite direction, hiding behind cars as he went. The woman unclipped the magazine, following him at a steady walk, humming as she reloaded the gun and pushed the magazine back in. She cocked the gun, setting both hands on the handle and holding it slightly up, pointing at the ground.
As she moved, she listened for his breathing, his heartbeat, his footsteps, but none seemed to reveal itself. She looked over, hearing gravel crunching to her left, behind a car.
She stopped humming, moving into a defensive stance, and lifted the gun up more, moving silently to round the car. When she got to the other side of the car, there was a sharp intake of breath and a collection of whimpers.
A brown-haired woman with green eyes had blood caked in her hair, some still dripping underneath her hair where a laceration was. She wore a striped light blue and white t-shirt with dark jeans cuffed at the bottom with cream-colored lace-up slip-ons. Hanging from her wrist was a gold chain with a heart locket, the type to hold a picture in the shape of the heart.
In her shaking arms were two children, twins. They were about three years old, maybe four. They were identical in every way; the same shining blue eyes with brown hair that matched their mothers, as well as matching light overalls with white shirts underneath.
One of the twin’s arms hung at an odd ankle at the elbow, broken. The mother held her hands over both of the twins' mouths, tear streaks evident on her dirty, bloody hand.
The soldier stilled, hesitating with her finger on the trigger.
The woman broke down, “Please,” she began to plead, “pleasedon’t hurt us, I’ll give you whatever you want.”
Tears cleaned the dirt on her cheeks, and the soldier- no - I lowered my gun down. My mouth twisted into a pained expression but she immediately went back to a blank expression, lifting the gun up again.
Her head swarmed as she stared at the woman, images of a woman that looked exactly like her flashed in the back of my mind. She blinked away the thought immediately, trying to make her hand stop shaking.
The woman with the twins noticed the fight behind her eyes, “You don’t have to do this,” She loosened her grip on the twins, telling them to stay where they were. The two of them jumped into a hug, a whine erupted from their throats.
The soldier flinched, lifting the gun up higher, the woman stood slowly, holding her hands up. The soldier knew she was supposed to shoot her, but she wasn’t able to pull the trigger and she didn’t know why.
Why was she so jumpy?
“Put the gun down,” she stepped toward the soldier, hands trembling as she reached out for the weapon, “Let me help you, dear.”
The soldier snapped out of her trance, lifting the gun so the barrel pointed right between the woman’s eyes, and began to pull the trigger. The woman’s face morphed into fear and anguish in slow motion, her quaking hands retracting to her face to protect herself.
Just as she applied pressure to the trigger, a hard object hit her side, a sickening crack reverberating in the air. The bullet flew past the mother as she ducked and ran for her kids.
The soldier landed on her side in a heap, and she felt her shadows swarm to her side, pulling the displaced ribs back into their correct space, and causing another cracking sound.
“RUN! NOW!” The blonde man had gotten his shield back, she had been so distracted by the woman, too busy hesitating, that she had let the man get his weapon back and attack her with it.
She stood up, anger blemishing her face as she swirled around to look at him. Her handgun had been discarded onto the road, underneath one of the cars when she was taken out by the man's shield.
The man stood not too far away, watching the soldier on top of a red car, his shield protectively set in front of him, readying for her to attack.
She ran up to him, jumping off of one of the cars, sending her leg to his side, he blocked it with his shield, a metal ringing filling the air.
She reached down and grabbed his shield arm, curling herself to flip over him, pulling him with her by his arm. He flies into the orange car behind him, the alarm of the car echoing in the street.
He stood up quickly as she ran to him, knife in hand, and swiped at his arm. He lifted his shield, blocking the knife, and kicked out his leg into her side so that the shadows held her ribs together. She groaned and her knees buckled as his leg completely tore apart her ribs.
The man watched as she crumpled, beginning to move away to help the redhead, but the soldier sent her leg flying to his thigh, intending to kick it out from under him. But he grabbed it and threw her to the side, right through the cracked pillar. The pillar crumpled, bringing more cement and stone down on her from the overpass.
She looked up, seeing the overpass crumbling, and caving inwards toward her. Her wings sprouted from her back as she used them to shield her from the debris before being completely covered.
The blonde man hesitated leaving her but heard the red-head yelling something, and took off sprinting in that direction.
The soldier's body was burning, tingling being sent down her limbs as if they were falling asleep. She groaned as she pushed against the ground, extending her wings as best as she could to lift up the cement.
The cement moved, pinching her wings as some of it got stuck between the rocks, and her ribs burning and throbbing as she breathed harshly and unevenly. Her legs gave out beneath her, causing her to fall onto her knees, the cement feeling heavier than it had before.
She screamed as she pushed up more, her head spinning with the lack of breath and power that was held in her body and lungs. Her body burned from the snapped, grinding bones and the weakening agent that flooded her system, rendering her shadows useless to heal or to help her lift the rubble.
Her wings twitched as the last of her power was being spent, ripping against the cement above her.
Her lungs craved the oxygen that was running out in her cave, she felt like she couldn’t get a full breath in, her splintered bones keeping it from fully expanding.
The rubble above her began to move and she was able to stand up more, light and oxygen peaking through the gaps. She moved her hand up, shadows wrapping up her shoulder and around her elbow and wrist, supporting her limbs to keep them from giving out. Vines of shadows wrapped on her knees, as well, keeping them from buckling again.
She screamed as her wings stretched out and her legs dug into the ground, creating craters underneath her. Light filled the small cave as pieces of rubble rolled off her, falling away from their resting place of keeping her still.
Her arms fell to her sides in exhaustion, her legs wobbling beneath her as they threatened to give out at any moment. Her wings drooped onto the ground, lacking the energy to put them away or to hold them up from the ground.
She held her eyes closed for a second before becoming dizzy and realizing she would fall over. She struggled to begin walking, her legs shaking like a newborn deer. When she finally was able to walk, it was a slow walk, as if she was trying to replicate a snail or a turtle. Her breaths were short and painful, causing shooting pains up her chest and through her lungs and heart, which was at a low, bounding pulse.
The edges of her vision darkened, forcing her into tunnel vision of where the Winter Soldier had led off to.
When she got there, a swarm of shield vehicles and soldiers were surrounding the blonde man who was missing his shield, the other man that she had lost sight of earlier, and the redhead the Winter Soldier was hunting earlier.
The Winter Soldier stood in a defensive position across from the blonde man, whose face morphed into confusion and hope.
The man’s offensive stance dropped, his eyes swimming with emotion, “Bucky?”
The Winter Soldier relaxed his stance slightly due to the soldiers walking toward them, “Who the hell is Bucky?”
The name felt oddly familiar, a twisting in the woman’s gut had told her that much. She pinched her face together in discomfort at the feeling, watching as the Winter Soldier continued to stare at the man for a few seconds as the soldiers yelled for the man to kneel with his arms up.
The Winter Soldier turned around, realizing he was still standing there, catching sight of the blonde soldier behind him.
He quickly analyzed her as he walked, catching sight of the lack of weight on her right side, struggling to breathe with a light blue hue to her lips, and the exhausted shadow that had taken over her character. Her wings hung low, dragging on the ground, and her shoulders were rolled forward in bad posture.
When he reached her, he stopped, watching her lurch to the side and then desperately catch herself, her eyes cringing at the pressure she placed on the right side of her body.
He moved to her side, grabbing her underneath her shoulders and her knees, and picked her up. He rearranged her wings as best as he could, folding them to her back so they didn’t drag on the ground and get a splinter or a rock lodged in it.
He walked on, heading to where they had planned for them to be picked up at. The girl groaned in his arms, tensing at his touch. He walked carefully, stepping over debris and moving around things warily, determined to make this a pain-free walk for her.
The girl faded out of consciousness, but woke up again, flinching at the touch between them as if she wasn’t all there.
The soldier kept his heavy steps and his heavy breathing light, forcing himself to take short, shallow breaths. As they walked, his mind swirled with thoughts of the man he had just fought. He was familiar, his short blonde hair and his steel blue eyes that matched the girls in his arms currently. He swore he had known him, but he couldn’t figure out why or how. Had he seen him on a mission? No, it was more than that. Deeper than that.
He could feel it in the gut, the way it twisted and his stomach churned when he had said that name; Bucky.
Why had that name made him freeze, staring at the man like a puzzle. The name had erupted a painful squeezing in his gut.
The Winter Soldier continued to swim in those thoughts as the girl in his arms had a pool full of her own, but questioned the same thing. Who was Bucky? And why was that name so familiar?
Why had she hesitated on that bridge?
There’s only been a few instances where she had, but she thought she had learned her lesson. Turns out she hadn’t, and there were likely to be consequences.
A low rumble was heard behind them, the Winter Soldier tensing up in preparation to fight again. He turned, glancing at the vehicle that pulled up next to him.
It was a blue-gray Jeep with the number nine printed on the bottom right of the front passenger door. The vehicle came up to a screeching halt, the back door opening to reveal an empty back seat bench where the soldiers were meant to go.
The Winter Soldier climbed into the seat, keeping the girl’s head on his lap. The girl was out like a light now, her lips were even more blue and her face was pale. He moved his arms around her protectively, holding her body still as the vehicle sped forward, sending them both forward. He kept his flesh hand beneath her head, keeping it from moving to the side.
The shadows wrapped tighter around her ribcage, desperately holding them in place, trying to fuse them back together.
When they finally got back to base, the white coats swarmed him, clawing to try and reach the girl. He stepped out of the car and almost growled at them, trying to keep them away from her. She was in enough pain as it is, they didn’t need to cause her more pain.
He didn’t want their dirty hands anywhere near her.
A man dressed in a dark gray suit, with yellow hair thinning with age and wrinkles weighing down around his mouth and forehead, stepped out of a black Honda, raising his eyebrows at the situation.
The man was Alexander Pierce, he was at the top of the caste system at Hydra, and Robert Morison was just below him.
Robert absolutely hated him, he had taken the role of leader out from under him and had told him he wasn’t fit to lead, especially with his violent tendencies regarding the woman that the Winter Soldier was currently possessive of.
Pierce dusted off imaginary dirt from his suit, and stuffed his hands into his pockets, watching the scene unfold for a second then walking towards the protective asset.
“Soldier,” he said gruffly, the soldier turned and met his eyes, “Let the medics have her.”
The soldier stared at him, hesitating at the act. Pierce frowned, this was the reason he kept the Winter Soldier and the woman so separated, whenever they got hurt in front of one another or threatened in any way, the other got protective and possessive and attacked the person causing the harm. It wasn’t a rare occasion when it happened, it happened once or twice before the guards learned to hold their tongues and hands when the soldiers were together. But it happened once or twice every time they were together, not once or twice in total.
“Now,” Pierce growled at the soldier. The soldier had never attacked him, if he had even gotten the thought of doing it, he would be put in that damned chair.
The soldier complied begrudgingly, setting the blonde soldier down on a gurney and watching as the medics put the railing up and moved her along into the building.
Pierce looked over at another group of white coats, “Take him to room seventeen. Wait for me there.”
The leader nodded, and looked to the soldier, telling him to follow him, speaking in Russian. The soldier followed orders, trailing behind the man as he went through the same doors that the blonde soldier had gone through moments before.
Morison walked out of the same door, glancing back at the soldier, then looking back at Pierce, his eyes wary of the anger in the older man’s face.
Pierce glared at him, if looks could kill, Morison would be dead again and again, “What did you do?”
It was a rhetorical question, of course, Pierce already knew what he did. He had let the soldier out of her cryo and sent her to a mission without even letting her train beforehand.
Morison knew he shouldn’t have, he should have kept her away, he’s risked too much letting her out. But he had thought that she would be able to take care of the problem, that she would be the solution to the downfall they were leading to.
He cleared his throat, “I understand that I made a mistake-”
“A mistake?!” Pierce roared, “No, this wasn’t a mistake, not a miscalculation. This was your deathbed.”
Morison straightened his spine, “To be frank, sir-”
“No, I'm not done talking yet,” Pierce walked past him, expecting to be followed, “You let her out of her containment for no reason and now, in the middle of one of his most important missions, the soldier is already not complying as he should due to her being there.”
“Sir-”
“And, she’s now not only a danger to him but to all of us,” He sent a sharp glare over his shoulder at the man, “Do you know why that is, Morsion?”
Morison stayed silent.
“Because she’s been fighting our words for the past few missions she’s been on. Making her a hazard to all of us and what we stand for,” two lesser soldiers appeared beside Pierce, “And you are the reason for that hazard.”
Pierce waved a hand to the soldiers beside him, and they blocked Morison from following him any further.
When I woke up, I kept my eyes shut for a while. Listening to the sound of footsteps and breathing near me. The light clinging of metal tools hitting each other and the buzzing of the bright overhead lights. The whirring from my left hand and my spine, which I never really noticed anymore.
The pain in my side had gone down exponentially but still irritated me. I could feel the tightness of the skin due to swelling and the heat of inflammation steaming off my colder skin. My wings were gone, they had probably dissipated if they had used the weakening agent to fix my ribs.
I finally opened my eyes, blinking against the bright lights that were shining above. I glanced around but saw only a white coat in the corner of the room, unaware that I was awake. My wrists and ankles were strapped down with metal braces that were attached to the metal chair I sat in, but there was no limiter on me. I could feel my powers in my veins, pumping me full of energy.
I tugged against the straps but a sharp pain erupted in my ribs and shot through my body. I bit my tongue and slammed my head back into the chair, groaning at the pain.
The door made a swoosh sound as it slid open, and footsteps came closer to me.
A white coat stood next to me, analyzing me then looked up at Pierce and Morison, who had just walked into the room.
Pierce took a seat in front of me and Morison chose to stand behind him as he watched the white coat turn to the machine behind him, setting it up.
I looked toward Pierce who was waiting for me to hold his eye contact. When I did, he began speaking, “You’re going out for another mission.”
I watched him, my powers twitching underneath the surface, excitement coursing through my veins. Morison watched me, tilting his head down slightly, then looked at Pierce in frustration.
“You and the Winter Soldier are going to protect the helicarriers from being disabled. But you and the soldier are to be separated to ensure this goes smoothly. Understood?”
I said nothing and he nodded, looking back at Morison who had fixed his face but anger was still simmering beneath the surface, “You’re off the mission. I’m in charge, if you try to change the plan, you’re gone.”
With that, he stood and walked out of the door, leaving Morison behind, glaring after him. He turned back to me, contemplated for a second, then turned to the white coat, “Unstrap her from the table.”
The white coat spluttered, “But, But-”
“That’s an order, Doctor.”
The white coat swallowed hard and nodded, moving to the side of my table, “Right, right…”
I watched as Morison moved his gaze towards me, and tilted his head to the white coat, entertainment dancing in his eyes. I moved my gaze back to the white coat as he turned to the computer, tapping a few buttons that released my wrists and ankles from the chair. Once I was free, I lifted my metal hand, extending my fingers and stretching them out as if it had fallen asleep.
I stretched my fingers once, sitting up straighter in the chair, causing my ribs to burn and ache. I shot my hand to the white coat and wrapped it around his throat tightly, closing his airways, and lifted him upwards into the air.
I tilted my head, watching him as he kicked his feet out, “It’s been a bit bland here at the base, wouldn’t you agree, маленькая сирена?” Morsion said, moving away from his place at the wall, “And you, doctor, have been getting on my nerves. Our little siren here needed a treat, and you’re it.”
The white coat’s face was turning purple and blue from the lack of oxygen, and his eyes were red and beginning to protrude from his skull, turning to try and track where Morison stood
His tongue got abnormally fat and moved as he tried to talk but only saliva dribbled out of his mouth onto my hand.
I watched as he squirmed in my grip, gasping for breath that I knew his lungs craved. My heart pulsed strongly, enjoying the thought of his lungs not fully expanding and his organs slowly shutting down, his brain failing all because my hand was wrapped around his neck like a necklace.
I craved the feeling of his heartbeat underneath my fingertips, the metal of them causing each bound to vibrate up my arm and to pulse with my own.
I squeezed his throat harder, fingertips ripping through his aged skin like plastic wrap. Blood seeped down my metal hand and down my forearm, over the scars that welded metal to flesh.
Morison cleared his throat, “We have places to be.”
I held eye contact with him as I gripped the white coat's carotid artery and spine, yanking it forward in one sickening crack and squelch. Blood splattered onto my face and my chest, dripping down my stomach like splattered paint. I dropped him onto the ground, blood pooling around him and dripping from my fingertips like molasses.
Morison nodded in approval and walked away, expecting me to follow. I trailed behind him, walking past the room where Winter stood, being talked to by Pierce about the mission we were about to take on.
We continued on, going through a maze of hallways and past a series of doors, the numbers climbing until we reached door number seventeen.
He pushed the door open, holding it open as I walked in behind him. There was a team of white coats positioned at different computers, one of them caught sight of the blood on my arm and swallowed thickly.
I walked to the metal contraption without being told, knowing what was about to happen. I sat in the chair, resting my legs on the armrests and my legs on their rests. The white coat next to me clicked a button and the metal snapped into place, holding me down.
I looked up to Morison, questions swirling in my mind.
“You hesitated out there,” he moved to stand right in front of me, “you need to be perfect, little siren, you cannot hesitate.”
His eyes narrowed and I swallowed, understanding. If I failed, it would be his ass on the line, not mine.
He nodded again and looked away, “Proceed. Refresh her on how she’s supposed to act.”
The chair underneath me reclined and the parts of the machine above me moved downward. The white coat made me bite down on a mouth guard and the others moved around to other computers.
I took a few deep, painful breaths, then tensed as I felt electricity shooting through my spine and down my limbs, my nerves felt like they were on fire.