Chapter FiveFionna

I sniffed around the building we were in, trying to pick up any scent that seemed out of place. Bucky and Sam stayed close, their footsteps barely audible as we moved. It didn't take long to catch it—the tangy, electric whiff of serum running through someone's veins. It was like Bucky's scent, though his was always a bit softer, more familiar. This one was harsher, metallic, like a warning.

"I found them," I muttered, a low sneer creeping into my voice.

Bucky and Sam drew their guns, tense and alert, while I felt the prickling of my own instincts flare up, muscles coiling as if braced for a fight. "Stay here," I commanded, but before I could take another step, Bucky's hand clamped around the back of my neck, grounding me with a firm grip that made me release a quiet growl.

"You're not going anywhere, Fiona," he murmured, voice low and unyielding. "Not without us."

I met his gaze, the defiance flashing in my eyes tempered by the steel in his. There was no arguing with him on this.

"He's right," Sam said, nodding at me with a steady gaze. "If they see you, they'll run. They know exactly who you are."

I could feel the weight of his words settle over me, the truth in them undeniable. I was a threat, a force they'd recognize in an instant. If I went in alone, I'd tip them off before we had the chance to close in.

Bucky's grip on my neck relaxed slightly, a silent reassurance, but his eyes held firm. They weren't letting me face this one on my own.

I looked up as the soldiers shifted, catching the faintest whiff of something out of place. My infrared sense kicked in, honing in on a source of heat tucked somewhere just out of sight.

"They're smuggling someone," I said, curling my claws in, feeling the edge of tension spark through me. "Just how low will these soldiers go?"

Bucky's jaw clenched, and Sam's eyes darkened. We'd seen them push boundaries before, but this was different. Whoever they were hiding, it wasn't just cargo—it was a target, a pawn in whatever twisted game they were playing.

The two trucks started pulling away, and I shot a quick nod to Bucky and Sam, not waiting for their approval before bolting forward, my scales shimmering as I blended into the surroundings.

"Oh, come on!" I heard Sam call out behind me, followed by the hum of his Falcon suit powering up and the steady thud of Bucky's boots on the concrete as they took off after me.

I caught up with the truck in seconds, tearing the back door right off its hinges and hurling it onto the road. I leapt inside, and the sharp, sterile sting of medicine filled my nose, making me bristle.

"They're smuggling medical supplies, too," I muttered, low and disgusted.

Then I heard a small sound, a shuffling, and spotted a young girl with curly red hair and a dusting of freckles crouched behind a crate, wide eyes staring back at me in fear.

"Hey," I said, softening my voice, trying to keep it steady even though it came out a little scratchy. "I'm not here to hurt you, you know. I'm here to help."

The girl held her gaze on me, unflinching. "You can talk," she whispered, eyes wide but steady. "We heard the last of you a while back, Indoraptor."

I shifted, feeling a twinge of guilt. "I... I know. I'm sorry," I mumbled, the words awkward on my tongue.

"Fiona, what's she talking about?" Bucky's voice cut in as he climbed into the back of the truck. He cast me a questioning look, and I tensed up, but before I could respond, the girl smiled slyly and snapped her fingers in Bucky's direction.

I snarled, low and warning. "Hey, that wasn't necessary."

"Sorry," she shrugged, unfazed. "But he'd be less of a burden if he knew what you really were."

I shot Bucky a look, feeling the weight of her words settle in, hoping he didn't catch the full meaning—but I knew the truth was simmering just under the surface.

Rage coursed through my veins as I lunged forward, a feral hiss escaping my throat. But the girl was faster than I'd anticipated. Her fist connected with my jaw in a brutal arc, the impact sending stars exploding behind my eyes. The world spun as I was thrown clear of the truck, my body twisting helplessly through the air before crashing against unforgiving asphalt. Pain lanced through my ribcage, forcing a strangled grunt from my lips.

"Fiona!" Bucky's desperate cry echoed from the truck as it lurched forward, wheels grinding against pavement, leaving me sprawled and broken in its wake.

I lay there, dazed, when suddenly a voice cut through the fog of pain. "Over here!" Strong fingers gripped my scruff, hauling me upward. "We got you, Indoraptor."

Pure instinct took over – I snarled and thrashed against the restraining grip, muscles coiling to strike. Then I froze, my eyes finally focusing on familiar colors: blue and white and red.

Steve? The name floated through my mind as I winced, the pain in my ribs making itself known again. The sight of Captain America himself was enough to make me question if the blow to my head had done more damage than I'd thought.

Then a sickening wave of chemicals and proud hate washed over my senses. My snarl deepened with realization. Not Steve. With lightning speed, I lashed out, catching metal under that jaw, my claws leaving a lean stripe of crimson against silver.

"You bastard!" he snapped, voice twisted with fury. His grip transformed into a violent throw, slamming me against the ground. Fresh agony sparked through my already-battered ribcage, stealing my breath.

The imposter wore the colors, but his scent betrayed him – all wrong, all artificial, like pride and chemicals and something else, something that made my hackles rise.

Pain shot lightning-bright through my body as I struggled to rise, muscles trembling with the effort. A heavy boot suddenly crashed down on my spine, pinning me to the cold asphalt. My breath hitched, claws scraping uselessly against the ground.

"No, John, let her get up." The new voice dripped with dark amusement, its owner stepping into view. "Let her fight us." Something about his tone made my blood run cold – the voice of a man who enjoyed the hunt far too much, who savored every moment of his prey's suffering.

The pressure on my spine remained steady, a cruel reminder of my vulnerability. The night air carried the scent of their anticipation, their eagerness for violence. This wasn't a capture mission – this was sport to them.

Like a dark angel of vengeance, Sam swooped down from above, his wings a blur of motion. His boots connected with the star-spangled imposter's head with devastating precision, sending the man crumpling to the ground in an unconscious heap. Without missing a beat, Sam pivoted, taking down the dark-skinned attacker with equal efficiency.

Bucky materialized at my side, his metal arm gentle as he helped me to my feet. "You alright, Fiona?" Concern colored his voice, a stark contrast to his usual stoic demeanor.

"I-I am," I managed, spitting out a clot of blood. The metallic taste lingered on my tongue, a copper reminder of the fight.

Bucky's growl rumbled low and dangerous, his eyes fixed on my attackers. "I'll hand this guy's ass to him for hurting you." His metal fingers flexed, the plates recalibrating with deadly promise.

I stood up on shaky talons, my body still throbbing from the earlier pain, and lapped at my batted jaw. The wound would take time to heal, but nothing like electrical shocks or pain would keep me from moving. I had to keep going, no matter what. The mansion loomed in the distance, a silent reminder of everything I was running from.

I glanced back at the two soldiers, now struggling beneath Sam's wings, the force of his blow leaving them winded and slow to rise.

"Let me up," I said, my voice sharp as I stepped back, giving them room to breathe. Sam moved aside, allowing me the space to study them. They were both groaning, shaking off the hit, but their eyes were wide with a mix of fear and disbelief.

The blonde one looked up at me, still gasping for air. "Oh..." he muttered. "You're the new Captain America, huh?"

I stared at him for a long moment, my claws digging into the dirt. His tone was dripping with judgment, but I didn't flinch. Instead, I focused on his words, the weight of them hanging in the air.

"Yeah," I said, my voice rough. "I am."

The blonde nodded slowly, but the look on his face quickly shifted from confusion to disdain. "What's that got to do with you, monster?" he sneered, his eyes narrowing in distaste.

I felt my hackles rise, a growl bubbling in my chest. I lashed my tail, my eyes flashing red with a sudden surge of anger. "I'm no monster," I snarled, stepping closer, my voice like a whip in the air. "You don't get to call me that."

The air between us grew thick with tension, the soldier's face contorting in fear, but I didn't care. I wasn't about to let anyone reduce me to some creature or weapon. Not anymore.

The man, John, sneered at me, his lips curling into a cruel smile. "You look like one," he muttered, his voice low and dismissive.

I clenched my jaw, a growl threatening to escape, but before I could respond, Bucky stepped forward, his eyes blazing with protective anger. He glared down at John, his voice a cold, hard warning. "Don't talk to her like that," he snapped. "She's not a monster."

John faltered, his expression shifting from cocky to uncertain, but Bucky didn't back down. I felt a flash of warmth at his words, even as the anger inside me still simmered.

Sam, hovering nearby, kept his eyes on the situation but didn't intervene. This was between Bucky and John now, and I could feel the weight of his silent support.

I looked at Bucky, still bristling, but his steady presence beside me grounded me in a way I hadn't expected. I wasn't alone in this anymore. And that—more than anything—was enough to hold back the urge to lash out.

I turned to John's friend, my gaze narrowing as I tried to process his words. "Now why are you here, and who the hell are you?" I asked, my voice rough but steady, the tension still hanging in the air.

The man smiled, a confident, almost casual grin. "I'm Lemar," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Battlestar. John's partner. We ran ops together. We're the new Captain America's superteam."

His words hung there for a moment, and the weight of them hit harder than I expected. Superteam. That didn't sound like something I'd signed up for. It sounded like a mission—something that put more eyes on us than I wanted.

Sam had already told me about them, but hearing it from Lemar, hearing them call themselves a "superteam" with John as Captain America... it felt strange. I looked back at Bucky for a moment, waiting for his reaction, but he remained quiet, his eyes calculating.

"Superteam, huh?" I muttered, a bit of skepticism creeping into my voice. I could feel Fiona's low rumble of discontent at my side, her claws scraping lightly against the ground. It was like she could sense the shift in the air too.

Lemar nodded, his expression serious now. "That's right. We're here to help. Things are heating up, and we're ready to take action."

I took a deep breath, the weight of everything settling over me. The last thing I wanted was to play into whatever this new Captain America was trying to build, but I knew I couldn't keep running forever.

"Alright," I said, my voice steady despite the uncertainty gnawing at me. "Let's see what you've got."