[PT.2]

Pairings:

Bucky Barnes x ReaderSam Wilson x Reader (implied)John Walker x Reader (implied)

Warnings:

ViolenceNon-consensual use of a tranquilizer (sleep dart)Forced captureBetrayalStrong languageImplied tension and conflictPossible mild injuries (gunshot, tranquilizer dart)

Word Count:
Approx. 600 words

The damp dew clung to your hands as you walked through the thick underbrush of the forest. The air was heavy with the scent of earth and decay, each step crunching on the dry leaves underfoot. You didn't care that you were in unfamiliar territory, on foreign ground that had the potential to kill you if it had the chance. Your destination loomed ahead: an old HYDRA base, long abandoned but still holding a haunting presence.

You'd come here for answers. Maybe it was madness. Or maybe it was the only place left where the truth could be found.

The chill in the air matched the cold determination in your chest. The whispers of the past and the ghosts of your own choices had led you here, and nothing would stop you now. Even if you were walking straight into the lion's den.

You had to find out which HYDRA scumbag had sent your parents a notice, and you were here, far, far away from home, to do just that. The weight of your mission pressed down on you, but it was a weight you were familiar with. Your hands brushed the damp dew clinging to the leaves as you pushed through the dense forest, the familiar sense of danger lingering in the air.

The old HYDRA base was somewhere ahead—hidden among the trees, waiting for you to uncover its secrets. The quiet was oppressive, like the forest itself was holding its breath, and you didn't care that you were out of your element, walking on ground that would just as soon kill you as look at you.

But it didn't matter. You were so far from home now, and the answers you sought were closer than ever. Every step brought you closer to the truth, to the scum responsible for tearing your family apart.

You felt a sharp, whistling sound above your head, followed by a flash of red, blue, and white. The iconic shield of Captain America embedded itself into the trunk of a pine tree just inches from your face. You froze, your breath catching in your throat. As you slowly lifted your gaze, your eyes met the blonde, smiling face of Steve Rogers, a man whose legacy was as heavy as the shield he carried.

A low, dangerous growl rumbled in your chest. "The Imposter," you snarled under your breath, blue-hot flame flickering around your fingertips, heat pulsing from your skin.

John Walker's voice sliced through the tension. His smirk was insufferable. "So, you're the one who put Bucky and Sam in chains," he drawled, his tone laced with mockery. "How interesting. I thought it'd be a man."

Your eyes narrowed, the flames around you intensifying as the rage bubbled just beneath the surface. This wasn't just about them anymore. It was personal.

You felt the heat of your anger flare as you lunged forward, one of your daggers flashing in the air. The blade embedded itself into John Walker's chest, forcing him to stumble back and crash into a tree.

"Never underestimate a princess, little Captain," you snarled, voice dripping with venom.

You whipped your other dagger around, slashing at his chiseled jaw. But before you could strike again, a heavy weight crashed into you. Strong hands grabbed you, pulling you down the pine-needle-covered ground. You struggled, twisting beneath him, trying to break free.

"Ah, ah," the dark-skinned man holding you growled, pressing you into the dirt. "You don't hurt Captain America."

"He's not Captain America," you spat, twisting your hips to free your legs. With a sharp kick to his abdomen, you sent him flying off of you, landing hard on the ground.

You stood, your daggers at the ready, breathing heavily. "I knew Steve Rogers," you said, pointing at John, who was desperately trying to pull your dagger from his shoulder. "And you," you sneered, "are not him."

John coughed, his voice thick with a smug grin. "Well, no, of course not. But I'm still Captain America."

He swung his shield at you again, but you caught it mid-air without flinching, holding it steady as it vibrated in your grip.

"No," was all you said, the word laced with cold finality.

Without hesitation, you summoned your magic, and with a flick of your wrist, you hurled him into a tree, his body crashing hard against the trunk. His partner wasn't spared either, as the force of the magic sent both men flying.

"Captain America never tried to kill his victims," you snarled, advancing toward them. "And you twisted his arm, John's comrade."

You twisted John's leg, making him scream in pain.

"Captain America never tried to mock a lady," you added, your voice sharp as you watched him writhe.

Suddenly, something nicked your shoulder, and you spun around, seeing a red-lit drone hovering above you. You tilted your head slightly, an eyebrow raised. "Hmm..."

With swift precision, you flung the dagger at its lens. The drone, anticipating the attack, twisted out of the way. You smirked, watching it narrowly avoid your strike.

With a quick glance, you saw that John and Lemar were both panting hard, their focus still on you as you turned your attention back to the drone. You let them go, allowing them to regroup, but your full attention was now on the hovering threat.

You were deep in the woods, the trees towering over you, their thick trunks casting long shadows in the twilight. The air felt thick, heavy with anticipation, and your senses were on edge, as if the very forest itself was holding its breath. You had been walking cautiously, your hand instinctively reaching for your weapon, when suddenly—crack—a sound from above.

A shadow shifted swiftly through the branches, and before you could react, you saw the silhouette of two figures. The Falcon and the Winter Soldier—Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes. The very last people you'd expect to run into here. Your heart skipped a beat, your eyes narrowing, and you couldn't help but let out a bitter chuckle. "You two again?" you called out, the words dripping with frustration.

Before they could reply, a sleek drone—one of their familiar surveillance devices—whirred into sight, its mechanical buzz cutting through the otherwise still air. It locked onto you immediately, its red eye glowing menacingly. Without hesitation, it fired. You barely flinched as the shot hit you square in the shoulder, the sting of the bullet sharp and quick. You growled softly in pain but kept your stance, your body already beginning to heal.

Bucky and Sam dropped down from their perch, landing with the precision of trained soldiers. Bucky gave you a small, almost rueful smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Hey," he said simply, as if that was enough to explain everything.

"We, uh... just wanted to finish what we started," Sam added, his tone apologetic but firm. His words hung in the air, thick with unspoken tension, the kind that could only come from unfinished business and unresolved conflict.

Your eyes darted between them, their expressions unreadable. Despite the sting of the drone's attack and the way your muscles screamed in protest, you couldn't help but feel a sense of reluctant respect for them. They weren't here for some petty fight—they had a goal, one that had brought them deep into these woods, into your path. And that only made this encounter even more complicated.

You looked at John and Lemar, a smirk creeping onto your face as you waved a dismissive hand. They were standing a few feet away, clearly trying to project some sort of authority—John with his usual cocky confidence, and Lemar... well, he had that look on his face that screamed, I'm the strong silent type. But you knew better. You'd dealt with characters like them before.

"Like those two?" you said with a raised eyebrow, mocking the way they squared their shoulders and puffed out their chests. You mimicked their stiff postures, rolling your eyes as you exaggerated their movements. Your hand flicked through the air with a flourish, as if conjuring up some invisible force to make your point. "Yeah, very likely story, mortals," you muttered under your breath, letting the sarcasm drip from your words.

John glanced over at Lemar, both of them looking like they were about to burst out in frustration or try to retort, but you weren't done. You didn't really care if they tried to intimidate you—those posturing moves weren't nearly as impressive as they thought.

"You really think that's going to impress me?" you added, narrowing your eyes as you tilted your head to one side, like you were studying them. "I've dealt with bigger threats than you two combined." Your hand casually hovered near your side, where your weapon rested, ready to remind them that they were just another set of obstacles in your path.

As they took in your words, you could almost feel the air grow heavier. They weren't just here to talk. They had unfinished business. And so did you.

Bucky hesitated for a moment before he extended his hand, trying to soften the tension in the air. "Look, we all want Cap's shield to belong to someone who's truly worthy of it," he said, his voice steady but filled with urgency. The words hung between you and the two of them, their meaning heavier than you'd expected.

You couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp and cold in the air. "Cap's shield?" you scoffed, eyes narrowing in disbelief. "That's what this is about? I thought you were about to bring me to my mother and father for a family reunion," you mocked, the sarcasm heavy in your tone.

You took a deep breath and stood straighter, your body tense with frustration. Slowly, you bent down and placed the shield at your feet. "For all I care, take it," you spat, your voice laced with indifference. "I don't care about the shield, or your noble cause." You were done with this—done with the endless tug-of-war over the shield, done with the questions, the politics, the old ghosts.

With a deliberate motion, you turned away, your pace quickening as you started to walk off. There were far more pressing matters at hand, ones that didn't involve whatever this mess had become. Your thoughts were consumed with the mission that mattered most to you: uncovering the mole. Someone had dared to expose you to your parents, and that betrayal was what you needed to resolve.

But before you could get far, the sound of the drone hummed in the air once more, its sharp buzz cutting through the quiet. It fired, the shot barely missing you but still grazing the edge of your coat. You spun around, irritation bubbling up inside you.

"You're not going anywhere this time, princess," Sam's voice rang out, low and threatening. His words felt like a trap, the tension in his tone unmistakable. He stood with his arms crossed, and his gaze was unwavering, locking you in place.

You glared at him, not bothering to respond at first, but your fingers curled into fists. "You think this is going to stop me?" you shot back, your voice cold. "I have more important things to do than play games with you two."

This time, John and Lemar didn't hesitate. They moved in quickly, stepping forward, their presence looming as they approached you from both sides. John—who had been quiet up until now—reached down and scooped up the shield from where you'd left it, gripping it with an air of finality. His eyes met yours, hard and unyielding.

"Sorry, but Falcon's right," John said, his voice filled with authority, but there was something almost forced in his words, as if he wasn't entirely convinced of what he was doing. "You're coming with us. You've done some... unsavory things to the government."

You paused, an icy chill creeping down your spine at his words. The weight of their accusation settled in, but you didn't flinch. Instead, you let out a bitter laugh, your gaze flickering from John to Lemar, and then back to Sam, still standing nearby, with the drone hovering just above them.

"You think I'm going with you?" you asked, your voice dripping with incredulity. "Just like that?"

Lemar stepped forward, his expression unreadable, but there was a shift in his stance. He wasn't entirely comfortable with this either, but the mission was clear. Bring you in. "This isn't personal," Lemar said quietly, as if trying to soften the blow. "We're just doing what we've been ordered to do. You've caused enough damage. It's time to answer for it."

You couldn't help but chuckle darkly. "You all think you have the upper hand, don't you?" You looked down at the shield in John's hand, the symbol of a past that felt so far removed from you now. "But you're mistaken."

John tightened his grip on the shield, stepping closer. "You can make this easier on yourself. Just come with us."

Your eyes narrowed, calculating the distance, the way they were circling you, trying to box you in. The tension in the air was thick, the sense of inevitable confrontation almost palpable.

"Make it easy?" you said, a low growl in your voice. "I don't do easy."

With one last glance, you reached for your weapon, prepared to make your next move—whatever it took to break free. But for a moment, everything seemed to freeze, your heart racing in the face of the ultimatum they'd just thrown at you.

A sharp sting pierced your neck, a sudden, blinding pain that made your vision blur for a split second. Instinctively, you reached up, your fingers brushing the cool metal of the dart embedded in your skin. Your eyes widened in horror as you realized what it was. It was a tranquilizer—a sleeping dart.

Before you could react, your body began to feel heavy, your muscles weakening, and your vision started to swim. The world tilted, and you heard a soft, almost apologetic voice behind you.

"Sorry."

You glanced up through blurred vision, just in time to see Bucky standing there, his weapon in hand—an air gun, the barrel still smoking faintly. His expression was grim, his jaw set, but there was no malice in his eyes, just an unbearable weight of regret. He hadn't wanted this to happen, but he had done it anyway.

Everything was starting to go dark. Your knees buckled, and you felt yourself tipping forward, too weak to hold yourself up. The last thing you saw before the darkness consumed you was Bucky, his eyes filled with a strange mix of apology and determination.

The world went silent, then still.

You slumped over, the warmth of sleep overtaking you as your mind shut down, the faces of John, Lemar, Sam, and Bucky fading into nothingness.