Drown
- Brunski was hired by Hydra many years before he worked in Beacon Hills, but after a former agent tried to run from Hydra, he was assigned to follow. The escapee led him to the small, small town in California, but instead of apprehending them, he was ordered to sit. And to wait.
And apparently, there was no better place to wait then Eichen House.
It’s no secret that Brunski was a sadistic, evil man. After all, why else would Hydra want him? Once Eichen House hired him, it changed. The nickname of Echo House came to light. And he was proud of it. It wasn’t until fourteen years later that he realized what exactly his purpose in Beacon Hills.
Stiles Stilinski.
That little shit. The moment he stepped foot into Eichen House, he was on Brunski’s radar. In all honesty, he had no exact idea of what Hydra wanted with the kid, but he really didn't care. It was just another patient under his ‘care’. You can imagine his surprise when he went to the Quiet Room, only to find the door broken and the room void of a certain seventeen year old.
He had thought he lost the kid (which means he’d probably lose his job...or his life) until he had found the bodies in the basement. Malia Tate and Oliver Johnson. Both weird, weird, weird teenagers that were under the care of Eichen House. Both brutally killed. The only person missing was Stiles.
Brunski had looked at the camera that was hidden in the corner of the room, a smile growing on his face. He’d save that footage for later. For now, he had his employers to call.
-
The sound of Stiles' breathing was equivalent to the sound of sandpaper against wood. His chest was heaving with every inhale, but he couldn't stop running. The duffel bag bounced against his hip, weighing him own as he ran. But he couldn’t stop running.
Fortunately, the rain didn't start back up, so Stiles' stolen attire was still nice and dry- no running from nazis in soaking wet clothing. At least one thing was good about this. It's been about five minutes since he had heard the shouts from the Hydra members from behind him, and he wasn't really sure if that was comforting or not.
He's heard things about Hydra even before their files were released by Captain America, and the more he learned, the more he feared the organization. If they caught him, who knows what hell he would be put through. Stiles was starting to regret his escape from S.H.I.E.L.D. The bottom of his shoes crunched against frozen patches of dirt and dead leaves as he attempted to bypass the slippery areas.
He lost track of where he was a while ago, considering the fact that he was just running. Hell, he could be running straight back to the headquarters he escaped from. His mind was running faster than his feet, his paranoia cutting into him like a knife. Stiles desperately wanted to take a break from his constant sprint, but his nerves told him that even if he paused for a few seconds to catch his breath, he'd be caught.
With a quick glance behind him, Stiles was struck with the terrifying realization that there was now a black van speeding down the road towards him. The only reason the shouts were dispersed was because the threat was only growing.
With a nervous gulp, Stiles instantaneously swerved into the path of trees that trailed the side of the road he was running on. Small gasps of shock left his mouth as the icy branches of the leafless trees cut against his face and tried to tear open the fabric on the sleeves of his hoodie.
The adrenaline that was fueling his run only grew as he heard the engine of the black van rev from somewhere around him, making him even more uncomfortable with the fact that now he had no idea where they were.
Maybe running into the trees wasn't that good of an idea.
Stiles swerved, cutting into new lines of trees and paths full of bushes- anything to get away from his followers. The length of his steps grew shorter as he found himself moving downhill. Now he was forced to actually watch where he was going, doing anything and everything to not trip over a rock that could potentially send him rolling down.
With another speedy step, Stiles yelped as he was suddenly yanked backwards. His first thought was that they had caught him, but when he wasn't pulled back any further, he turned his head to investigate. The strap of the duffel bag that wasn't connected to his shoulder was caught on a tree branch. Normally, that wouldn't have been that big of an issue, but instead of the strap just being caught on top of the branch, it was impaled by the sharpness of the wood.
"Of course." He sneered under his breath as he yanked the cloth strap from the branch, stumbling backwards slightly before he spun back around to keep running. Apparently his balance wasn't exactly one hundred percent, because one moment, Stiles was running, and the next thing he knew, he was fumbling over his own feet only to be sent tumbling down, rolling down the hill.
In any other circumstances, Stiles would deny his high pitched yelps as he rolled downhill, but right now, he was practically screaming. Branches and rocks cut at him, and he couldn't even attempt to stop himself because he was using his arms to protect his face. In the mask of his panic to bring his arms towards his face, he lost the duffel, the black bag abandoned in the mix of his fall.
Stiles' eyes were squeezed shut, his head throbbing from the way the world was forcibly spinning around him. He felt helpless- there was nothing for him to grab onto or any way he could stop on his own. A pained cry left his mouth as a sharp rock jabbed into his side as he rolled over it, successfully scratching into his skin.
Stiles opened his eyes slightly, in hopes that by some miracle, he would come across something- anything- that he could use to stop his escapade. Unfortunately, right as he opened his eyes, he found himself barreling right at a thick tree stump- and he was too late. There was no time to adjust his arms to cover his forehead because it was only a split second before his skull came into contact with the stump, and the world went dark.
-
In a way, hiding out in a community center was a smart move.
It seemed so obvious, yet so discreet. S.H.I.E.L.D wouldn't have even thought to look there if it wasn't for the surveillance footage they received from the parking lot across the street. And while the grainy camera footage didn't exactly reveal Stiles Stilinski as the person who supposedly leapt off the roof, it was enough to get the team down on an investigation.
At first look, the front door seemed unbothered, urging both Clint and Natasha to go around back. A smart move made by to spies, especially considering the beaten in door, and- with further inspection- a small, little blood stain on door frame. Originally, they were led to believe that Stiles was the cause of the splintered door, but if that was the case, there would be no explanation for the blood.
Natasha ruled out the original reasoning, the redhead standing outside the door as she tried to look at the evidence from a new angle. Slowly, she ran her fingers across the smooth, golden metal, suddenly noticing the way the door knob was scuffed around the edges and on the top.
In a swift, skillful movement, Natasha was balancing on the doorknob on one foot, uncaring towards the fact that the door was halfway off its hinges. She gripped the sides of the door as she realized that slight grooves, a sign that someone had done the same.
She looked up, her forehead almost at the top of door. Even if she wasn't quite tall enough to hit her head on it, it was obvious that someone else had. Natasha jumped off the doorknob, stepping away from the door, scanning it with analytical eyes. Her eyebrows furrowed as she noticed how patches on the door seemed to be scuffed and dirty, and yes, while that might have been because of the way the door was splintered and halfway off the hinges, it still hinted to how Stiles might have gotten into the establishment.
"He went in through that window," She called out to Coulson, who was standing near her. "I'm pretty sure he stood on the door handle to pull himself through," She then gestured to the mark on the edge towards the top, "And I'm guessing it didn't work out very well."
Natasha pursed her lips as both Coulson and Clint got closer to her. "Then that means that Stiles wasn't the one who broke the door." Clint spoke what they were all thinking.
"Which means someone else broke in," The assassin nodded.
"But who would want to break into a children's center in the middle of the night?" Clint questioned.
"So that means someone else didn't just break in, they were after Stiles." Coulson concluded.
As if on cue, a junior agent poked her head out from around the corner, her eyes urgent, "Boss, you're gonna wanna see this." She stated.
The three S.H.I.E.L.D operatives quickly abandoned the back door, following the agent through the maze of hallways.
"We believe that he stole clothes from one of the lockers, considering that one of them is open, but that's not why I brought you over here." The agent turned around, her eyes widening with surprise as she noticed Natasha and Clint. While she did see them conversing with Coulson, she wasn't expecting the skilled assassins to follow her as well.
Keeping a serious composure, Junior Agent Lopez led them to the door that led to the flights of stairs. "You see this?" She pointed to the sizable hole in the wall. "The door was closed when we found it, but the hole is exactly where the doorknob is on the door, which means that the door was slammed open hard enough to make the dent and then close again. Whoever broke in was after Stiles, and it seemed pretty serious."
Phil nodded, looking back up to the agent, "Good work." He knew that Lopez was a detective before she came to work for S.H.I.E.L.D and it was obvious her skills were very helpful.
"Thank you," She nodded. "There's more, however." Lopez opened the door, leading them up the first flight of stairs and towards another door, this one open. "The same thing happened in here, but the door is stuck in the wall. I'm assuming whoever was after him was determined to catch up."
The four walked up the next flight of stairs where the door to the roof was. It was still dark outside, considering that it wasn't even four in the morning yet. Lopez led them to the edge of rooftop, where the camera showed Stiles disappear from.
"A few of the other agents think that he might've jumped to the next rooftop or even to the ground, but I don't think so." She stated, looking over the edge. "Even with only a two story drop, he'd break something, especially since there's only concrete down there. Instead of jumping, I think he slid down this." Lopez pointed towards the metal gutter that trailed down the side of the building.
"Now, the question is," She continued, "Who else is after him?"
"Did anything show up on the footage?" Coulson questioned.
"Nothing clear enough. Whoever's on the footage is way too blurry to be able to make them out." She answered.
"Well, thank you. That'll be all for now." He nodded at her, waiting until she walked off before turning back to Clint and Natasha.
"What kind of community center doesn't have security cameras?" The archer questioned.
"According to the owner, this center is for troubled kids. Apparently cameras make them uncomfortable." Agent Coulson answered.
"How consequential." Natasha mumbled. "Well, Stiles was definitely here, and he was running from someone-"
"And I have a few ideas on who he was running from," A new voice said from behind them, causing the three to turn.
Matching a face to the voice, Tony Stark stood in front of them with a StarkPad in his hands. "Actually, just one." He turned his tablet towards them.
The footage from the camera across the street was playing on the screen, except this time, it wasn't grainy. Ah, the work of Tony Stark. They watched in curiosity as Stiles ran out onto the roof only the crossover to the edge. He spent a couple of seconds looking over the edge before he backed up, as if he was going to jump over the edge.
He was centimeters from jumping he seemingly noticed the gutter to the side of him. In a split second, he was climbed down the top so he could slide down. It wasn't long after that the door slammed open again. Stiles disappeared from the image as several uniformed men ran out into the pavement. With the cleaned up image, it wasn't hard to miss the emblem on the arms of their uniforms.
"It's Hydra." Natasha announced.
-
Teams were in every direction, all searching for Stiles Stilinski. There was no telling what Hydra would do if they found him, even if they still weren't one hundred percent sure that Stiles wasn't one of them. Of course, the Avengers were rounded up as a team, the group trudging across the dirty snow in hopes of finding footprints.
It wasn't easy, however, considering the fact that winter in New York was always a little bit of a mystery in a way, because you never knew when it would snow again. It would be a miracle if snowflakes haven't covered his tracks, if there even was any.
The Avengers were currently located on the side of the road, all of them spread out in search of foot prints. Captain America was walking along the edge, his eyes trained on the ground for any indents in the snow.
His eyes widened slowly as footprints appeared, as if the culprit had suddenly went off road. "There's footprints over here!" He called out, walking into the snow, careful not to jar Stiles' tracks.
One by one, his teammates joined him in his trek along the path. Steve noted how the footprints were close together, a sure sign that Stiles was running. They followed the tracks as they swerved quickly into the woods, making the trail tricky to follow but the team managed. It was messy, but every couple steps they'd find a lone footprint indented into the muddy snow.
All of the sudden, however, the footsteps were gone. Just gone. Right out of nowhere. There was no indication on where he went, or any other sets a tracks that might have told them if HYDRA got to him.
Steve's eyebrows furrowed as he looked downhill, a black lump near the bottom. He jogged down the hill, his feet moving quickly to keep accelerating so he wouldn't slip and fall. His teammates followed his lead until they reached the black object, only to find it to be an abandoned duffel bag.
Slowly, Steve unzipped the top, his confusion growing even more when he found that the bag was full of clothes. Realization dawned on him as he noticed the red hoodie in the mix of clothing, the same hoodie Stiles had been wearing in the interrogation room.
"He fell down the hill." Bruce stated. Despite his anger issue, the scientist joined their escapade in hopes of finding Stiles before HYDRA did.
"Maybe he's down there," Clint stated. "Kid might've knocked himself out."
"I don't think so," Their attention was directed towards Sam, the black male standing next to a tree stump.
The rest of their team made their way to him, all of them surprised to see the blood coating the wood. Sam pointed towards the footprints leading towards the tree and away from.
"I think they caught up to him."
-
When Stiles opened his eyes, for a split second, he thought he was dead. His head ached and his side burned, and the bright light he was welcomed with wasn't helping, so yeah, he thought that he was dead. Upon further analysis, and a little more consciousness, Stiles found himself sitting in uncomfortable seat, surrounded by men in black uniforms.
He furrowed his eyebrows for a second before his mind caught up, the memories of what happens coming back to him. He tried to bring his hairs up to his head, only to realize they were tied to the rails under seat. Great.
Stiles looked around, trying desperately to figure out where he was. It didn't take long for him to spot the windows lining the wall in front of him, and judging by the way the sky seemed to be moving outside of them and how the clouds were leveled, he concluded that he was in some sort of aircraft. (Or maybe he wasn’t stupid and could tell what a plane was)
His eyes trailed to the side, landing on one of the men who was staring at him. In an awkward movement, Stiles grinned unenthusiastically, trying to wave his hands even though they couldn’t be seen, "Uh, hi," He stated. "How's your day going?"
The man stayed silent, a cue Stiles usually took to keep talking, "Mine's going fantastic." He said sarcastically, "I was actually planning on going down to Central Park and seeing the big ole Christmas tree, so if you could take the-"
He was cut off but a slap to the face, his head whipping to the side as he was caught off guard. However, instead of yelping from the pain he felt, Stiles' nostrils flared in annoyance. "Nice talk." He sneered.
The guard raised his hand, obviously ready to land another blow on Stiles' vulnerable face, when another male stepped up. "Enough Victor," He stated, his German accent heavy.
Stiles looked at him, raising an eyebrow, "Yeah," He said offhandedly to the guard who assaulted him, "Enough Victor." He smirked.
"Ah," A hand grabbed the sides of his mouth, yanking his face to the side as he forced to be face to face with the other man. "You have quite a mouth on you, don't you, Mieczysław? Never know when to stop and respect your elders."
"I respect people who deserve to be respected." His words were garbled.
"I see," The man let go of his face, patting his cheek with more force than necessary. "Soon, you will show respect for anyone I say."
Stiles narrowed his eyes at him, "Who are you and what do you want from me?"
The man stared at him for a moment before backing up, crossing his arms. "You will soon find out my name." He stated. "As for what I want," He gave Stiles a devilish look. "You have special abilities, no?"
Stiles stayed silent, giving the elder man a hard stare.
"And you are smart, like Anthony Stark. You will help me infiltrate S.H.I.E.L.D."
Stiles opened his mouth to protest, only for the supposed leader to nod towards 'Victor', the guard decking Stiles swiftly in the mouth.
Gagging on the metallic taste of blood, Stiles glared at the two Hydra agents.
"Soon, you will do as I say. No more backtalk." Victor's boss grinned. "You will be the perfect asset."
Stiles pursed his lips together, ignoring the red liquid dripping down his chin. "Go to hell." He snarled, spitting blood into the male's face.
In a split second, Stiles' head was slammed against the wall behind him, a knife pressing into his cheek. His captor's blood splattered face inches away from his. "You will regret that." He sneered, swiping the blade down his cheek, successfully leaving a sizable cut.
Stiles' foot twitched at the pain, but he otherwise made no indication that he was bothered. There was no way he was going to give this bastard the joy of seeing his pain.
"And you'll regret that." He scoffed before taking a huge risk by slamming his head against his captor's. Stiles hissed as the gash on his forehead connected with the man's skin, but it was worth it. He kicked his feet out, grateful they were tied to the chair, meeting the man’s knees and knocking him to the ground.
Right now, he had two options- the first one was to fight his way off of whatever he was being held captive on while he was strapped to a chair, and the second one was to drain every ounce of power from the air craft. And only one of those was something that Stiles might actually be able to do.
Stiles gripped the rails of the chair, squeezing his eyes shut, ignoring the yelling of the Hydra agents and the swift punch to the jaw that he received. No matter how much pain he was in, he had to do this. He couldn’t let Hydra win.
Ignoring reality, Stiles focused on sucking the electricity from the air craft. He had no idea what they were currently flying over, but he prayed to God that it wasn't somewhere people lived. Stiles knew the dangers of what he was doing, he knew that he could potentially be killing himself as he let the plane go down from lack of energy. But right now, he was ready to die if it meant taking these Hydra members with him.
The blows to his body deteriorated as the air was suddenly filled with frantic shouts. Once again, Stiles felt a buzz run through his veins, one filled with energy and power.
He opened his eyes, watching as the men panicked as the plane went down, but he wasn’t worried about them. He pulled at his wrists, trying futility to get his hands out of the handcuffs. “Come on, come on, come on,” He mumbled, yanking up. He closed his eyes, trying to remember what his Dad had taught him.
Stiles paused, turning his left hand, trying to cup his thumb in his palm. He was running out of time, pulling up his hand. It took a little twisting and yanking, but soon his left hand was free. But it was too late because the moment he started to try and free his right hand, Stiles was thrown backwards by the impact the plane made on the surface.
It didn't end there, however. Apparently, they didn't crash on the solid ground, no, the plane they were currently inhabiting smashed against the ice of a lake, the exterior of the craft breaking apart as it came into contact with the thick ice.
Stiles yelped as icy water began to filter through the broken parts of the plane, coming into contact with his skin. “Nonononono,” He shook his head, his panic getting the better of him as he yanked his arm in attempts to get free.
He whimpered as the water came in faster and faster as the plane sunk. This was it, wasn’t it? He stood, shivering as the water was at his chest now, trying to find any way to get his arm free.
But nothing worked. The water was too high now and his hand was still trapped. Stiles wanted so badly to open his mouth and let the water in, the pain in his head so unbearable that he wanted nothing more but for it to go away.
As time ticked on, his body slowly went limp, unable to free himself from the handcuff. He had lost. And suddenly, his mouth was open and for the second time that day, the world went dark.