Got Milk?
“I don’t trust him,” Bucky mutters to Steve. The two of them stand away from the rest of the team that is discussing the possible ways to track 003.
Steve sees the tendril of fear that skirts across Bucky’s face before vanishing. He remembers how long his friend was in hiding. And he remembers how any people still consider Bucky a monster.
“It’ll be okay, Buck.” The words feel hollow in his mouth, but he says them anyway. A weak attempt at soothing the barely tamed man beside him. Sure, James Buchanan Barnes still retains the part of who he was before Hydra got their hands on him… yet, he’s also got a darkness in him now. A feral ferocity that can’t be controlled (and everyone knows it). Bucky can paint on a smile and even offer up a convincing laugh, but Steve knows him better than that. Steve sees the way he assesses each person that walks in the room to determine how to best to neutralize them, and the way he checks his food and drink for poison before consuming anything. The trust that Bucky once possessed has been eliminated. He’s like a circus animal that’s been beaten for so long it flinches at the gentle touch and welcomes the sting of the whip. After all, the whip it can trust.
Bucky frowns and shakes his head. “Will it, Steve? Do you really believe that Fury is telling us everything? I don’t trust him.”
Neither do I, Steve thinks. He keeps that thought to himself though. No need to make Bucky even more skittish than he already is. “The best thing for this girl is if we help find her, that way no matter what happens we can make sure she’s safe. If we find her we can determine if she really is a danger or just misunderstood. Alright, Buck?”
Steve can see the thoughts churning behind Bucky’s eyes, yet even after knowing him for so long he has no idea what Bucky is thinking. Is he angry still? Worried? What does he see in Steve’s expression?
Slowly, Bucky nods. “Okay.”
Steve breathes out a soft sigh. One crisis averted, now to find the missing woman.
~
“You shouldn’t walk alone, (y/n).” Laura warns as she bounces Nate on her hip. “It’s getting late out and I can run to the store in the morning for milk.”
You adjust your jacket, zipping it all the way up. “I don’t mind, Laura. The older two are asleep and it looks like Nate is down for the count. I’ll be back in an hour tops. A nice brisk evening jog will do me good.”
Laura grabs your arm as you attempt to leave. “Just be careful.”
A smile stretches across your lips. “Don’t worry about me – the darkness feels like an old friend.”
It isn’t terribly dark yet. The sun is barely beginning to sink below the horizon and the shadows are long and lean as they stretch and wave in the sunset. This time of day has a magical quality to it. The way that the night and day seem to meet in the moment of sunset to form a beauty of its own. Sunrise is lovely, but sunset is magnificent. A wave of deep blue is overtaking the sky and chasing the warmth of pinks and oranges away as it drapes night over everything. Night embraces you. In the night you feel at peace.
It doesn’t take long to grab milk from the closest convenience store and dressed in your jogging clothes you make your way into the parking lot. That is when it happens.
First all you hear is the sound of drunken laughter and heavy footsteps, but you pause. Oh, foolish you, pause and turn toward the source of the noise. Three men all slightly drunk and with cruel smiles are stalking toward you with the look of violence in their gazes. They watch you with twisted sneers and clammy palms. As they get closer that’s when they begin to speak to you.
“Here kitty, kitty, kitty.” One croons as he beckons with a hand.
You blink at them and listen to the whispers of darkness that tell you their secrets. The deeds that make evil linger in their veins and bubble from their laughter. Those secrets about broken bodies, weeping women, and begging pleading children. No, these men aren’t good. No one will miss them when they’re gone. You know why they’re here though. Like attracts like, and no one has ever accused you of being good.
“She’s a pretty thing.” A hand reaches out to touch you and for a moment you allow it. The stench of alcohol burns your nose, but luring them in is easy as long as you’re silent and still. “A tad small in the tits department, but at least she’s got’em.”
They laugh and you blink.
Perhaps, you’ll offer mercy? It is not entirely foreign to you that sometimes humans change and repent for horrible deeds. Maybe these men will take salvation?
“You should let me go.” It is a onetime offer. A deal that will expire the moment the hand doesn’t move but is joined by another seeking to punish and cause pain.
The slap stings as your head slams to the side from the force. It should cause you to feel more rage than you do. Rage is an old friend. Fire and brimstone are glorious when unleashed, but these pathetic thugs don’t warrant that. No, all they will get is a flick of the wrist as you watch them choke on their own darkness.
“I warned you,” you murmur and then you strike.
The hand still on you is yanked off and twisted until it breaks. The crack of bone and wail of pain are akin to a symphony of angels singing to you. As you force the man to his knees, the shadows around you bind him down and begin to pull. Each second that passes cause the man’s body to come closer to the breaking point. That point where there is no escape and it accepts death. The body always reaches acceptance before the mind. Gazing down at a broken, ruined body and seeing the mind struggle to fight is your favorite part.
Once he is taking his final breath, you turn to the others. They are frozen in horror and that makes them easier, stupider prey (almost not worth your time). Instead of waiting for them to recover from the shock you decide to be kind and kill them. Clenching a fist, you proceed to pull the darkness from them. Reaching deep into their very souls you begin to purge it from their body and watch, amused, as they choke on it. It looks like black tar as it seeps from their noses and ears. Tears of thick, black, viscous ooze down their cheeks before you. Soon they are on their sides heaving, trying to get air into their tar filled lungs. Hope has passed for them and soon the primitive part of them realizes that and hopelessness fills their eyes.
You relish in their pain, and when you’re sure they are dead you let them melt into nothing but darkness before you. Darkness consumes. And they belonged to it – to you.
~
In the morning, Laura gives you a cheery smile as she pours milk on the kids’ cereal.