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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐞𝐧: 𝐓𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐲.

Samuel Wilson's Apartment

Washington D.C, United States of America

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Trickery's eyes narrowed at the word that slipped past Steve's lips, internally debating how a word that she knew to be foreign could seem so familiar to her. How someone that she had only ever read about, could evoke such a feeling of familiarity.

"You know this witch?" Sam said as his mouth dropped open and his eyes went wide in shock.

"Allie?" Steve called out again.

The mere sound of that word sent Trickery's mind spiraling. The word triggered something in her, bringing a feeling that she hadn't experienced in a very long time to the surface. It was if a single neuron in her brain had been stimulated, a neuron that had laid dormant for too long. But it awoke, releasing a barrage of neurotransmitters to rouse the rest of her brain, to awaken the memories buried deep down. To allow her to connect the dots, to find out what the word 'Allie' really meant to her. But somehow the neurotransmitters got lost, leaving her with only a feeling but no memory. Nothing to allow her to distinguish what was going on or why the word felt so familiar.

But despite the lack of memory, the feeling that Steve had awoken was strong. So strong that the feeling of déjà vu left Trickery frozen to the spot, absolutely immobile. All because of a single feeling. A powerful feeling.

"Man, can't your friends just stay dead!" Sam exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air exasperatedly. Steve quickly turned and gave his friend a brief glare, prompting Sam to groan. "I'm being serious!"

But before any of the three could utter another word, an onslaught of pain harpooned through Trickery's body. White-hot electricity pulsated through every one of her nerves, making her writhe in pure agony. She immediately fell onto her knees, her body convulsing from the unforgiving pain. A pain so unadulterated that the room almost shook from the sheer force of her inarticulate screams that poured past her cracked lips.

"Allie!" Steve yelled, instantly running to her side. He had barely even touched her before his own hand was involuntarily sent jerking away, a reflex that his body had used to protect him from the electricity running through Trickery's own body.

Horror seized the warmth from Steve's body as he gazed down at his old friend. Here she was, laying on the ground in front of him with hot tears trickling from her dark eyes and he had no idea how to help her. No idea how to stop the pain that had overcome Trickery.

But the origin of her pain was the metal contraption that resided around her neck. The same metal contraption that always shocked her. The contraption controlled by her handlers at HYDRA.

Trickery's hands shakily enclosed around the machine but her body had been leeched of all its strength. No matter how much she pulled and pulled at the metal, it did not budge, leaving her to suffer through the barbaric torture.

Thankfully, Sam noticed Trickery''s minuscule movements. "Steve, it's the collar around her neck!" He said, having to scream for Steve to hear. And even then, it didn't match the sheer intensity of Trickery's own cries.

Steve hastily jumped into action, wrapping his hands around the contraption and pulling with all his might. He ignored the shocks of electricity that pulsated up his arm from the action. Instead, choosing to focus on his friend that was still suffering in agonizing pain.

Within a few seconds, the collar began to falter under Steve's grip, inciting a feeling of hope. Steve began to pull harder and harder at the machine until it finally broke. Without hesitation, Steve ripped the broken contraption from Trickery's neck and hurled it across the room with such a force that it shattered against the wall.

And Trickery had never been more grateful in her life.

Relishing in the fact that she could finally breathe, Trickery closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the cool hardwood floors. Her trembling hands gently wrapped themselves around the purple bruise on her neck, wincing at the pain that it caused. The physical reminder of the pain that she just endured.

As her breaths began to even out, her sobs reigned back in and the thundering beat of her heart abated. But sometime during her paralyzing electrocution, Trickery had bit down on her bottom lip, hard enough that the all too familiar taste of blood drowned her mouth. The ruby-red substance dripped from both her nose and mouth, splattering onto the ground.

And the sight haunted Steve.

Guilt clawed at his insides, leaving cuts that he knew he wouldn't forget. Because there in front of him, laid his once best friend, saturated in her own blood and cloaked in bruises. Blood that he had beaten to the surface. Bruises that had arisen from his own hand.

And just when he thought the guilt couldn't feel worse, Trickery looked up at him with petrifying fear in her eyes. She resembled a deer caught in the headlights, watching as the car hurtled towards her with no plan of getting out of the way. Rendered immobile as her inevitable death raced towards her, lacking the ability to try and save her life.

The previously cold and unforgiving Trickery had retreated back into its shell. Leaving behind the fragile and fearful side of herself that she kept restrained. The side that HYDRA forced her to bury deep down inside.

Trickery hastily scrambled up to her feet, ignoring the spasms of pain that throbbed through her body. She struggled to maintain her upright position due to her trembling, an after effect from the onslaught of electricity that had been previously pulsating through her body. Her hand immediately darted out and grasped ahold of the wall in a vain attempt to support her emaciated frame. Because all it would take would be a slight wind and she would be tumbling towards the ground.

Steve too was instantly at his feet, reaching out to aid his friend who had suddenly been zapped off all her strength. He was horrified that all it had taken was a few moments of electricity and she had been rendered completely weak. But he knew that would have been HYDRA's doing. Their way of keeping Trickery docile.

Noticing Trickery's absence of energy, Steve moved towards his friend. Ready to catch her if needed. But Trickery took his offer of help as a sign of attack.

She swiftly moved out of arms reach and her silver orbs returned once again, burning with bright ferocity as she stared down Steve.

"Hey, it's alright! I'm not going to hurt you." Steve pleaded, holding his hands in the air to show her he meant no harm.

But Trickery didn't know what to do. Her entire time at HYDRA she had always had someone to make the decisions for her, someone to tell her what to do. On every single mission she had been on, she always had someone by her side instructing her on what to do. She always had Mikael.

But everyone was dead or unconscious. Trickery couldn't hear the cadenced thumps of her Commander's heart nor could she feel his brain emitting any neural waves. And the same went for all the other guards, with some being luckier than most and having faintly beating hearts.

So she was alone, standing in front of her target and the man she was told not to engage with.

Her mind was in an emergency state of confusion, with half of her brain telling her to get the hell out of there. But she had nowhere to go. Their rendezvous point was supposed to be the van but she doesn't know where to go once she makes it there. She would be left aimlessly wondering Washington until someone found her, whether that be HYDRA or S.H.I.E.L.D.

But the other side of her brain told her to listen to Steve. She didn't have a clue why it was begging her to stay. To stay with the people that she was supposed to kill. But the reason was on the tip of her tongue, aching for her to remember. Urging her to stay and understand.

But she couldn't. She couldn't remember a damn thing.

"It's me, Steve! We fought in World War 2 together." Steve begged. "C'mon, it's me Allie."

"My name is not Allie." Trickery managed to croak, her voice hoarse from all the damage sustained on her neck.

And the parallels nearly made Steve give up right there. He had lost another friend. Another one of his friends that had succumbed to HYDRA because he failed to save them. All because of him.

But this time he wasn't going to make the same mistakes. He was going to save Allie if it was the last thing that he would do. What he didn't do for Bucky, he would do for Allie.

"Your name is Alexandra Williams! You fought in World War 2 with me, Bucky and the Howling Com—"

"My name is Trickery!" She growled, watching as the man who on countless occasions has saved the world, plead for her to stay and believe him.

But Steve wouldn't stop. Not now when she was in arms reach. "You met Bucky at HYDRA and you saved him! You loved him!"

"Who the hell is Bucky?" Trickery nearly roared, frustrated by all these words that sounded familiar but evoked no memories.

"See, this is where shit gets out of hand." Sam groaned, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "I did not just get kidnapped to go through all of this again."

But Steve ignored Sam's whines.

"Just come with me and I will help you. I can help you remember!" He begged, trying to ignore the glaring similarities.

Because if he acknowledged those parallels between Bucky and Allie, then he knew how this story would end. He didn't want their stories to be similar. He didn't want to lose her like he lost Bucky. He wanted to save her. To at least be able to save one of the people that mattered to him.

But Sam didn't share the same views.

"No." He proclaimed. "Oh hell no. She just tried to kill us! We are not doing the whole 'he is the kind you save thing' again. No sir."

"Sam, shut the hell up." Steve turned, glaring daggers at his other, more painfully annoying, friend. But Sam just shrugged his shoulders, scowling as he watched a nightmare unfold in front of him.

He couldn't even wrap his mind around it. The woman who played tricks on his mind, casting illusions, to get information about Steve was his long lost best friend. No scratch that, second long lost best friend. But if you counted Peggy, then technically third.

And what do you know, she also worked for HYDRA, just like Bucky. And she didn't know who she was, just like Bucky. And she had killed a lot of people, just like Bucky.  And she was a villain, just like Bucky.

So she may as well have been the girl version of Bucky.

And there was no way he would try to help the person who just kidnapped and tortured him. Absolutely no way in hell.

So Sam maintained Steve's harsh glare, trying to telepathically communicate all of the consequences that will follow if he tries to save Allie. Pushing him to learn from what happened with Bucky. That not all people are the kind you save. And Allie, she's the kind you stop.

But instead of Steve getting the message, it seemed that Trickery got it instead.

Because while the two men were busy scowling at each other like children, Trickery made her decision on what to do. Her distrustful nature prevailed, and she chose to only trust herself. If Steve and Sam were who HYDRA says they were, then she couldn't stay. She wasn't going to put her life in the hands of people that she didn't know.

And if no one else was going to come and save her, then she will save herself. She will find her way back to HYDRA. She will find Mikael.

So she ran.

Using all the energy that she had left, she propelled her body forward. And with a giant leap, she flew through the previously broken window and out into Sam's backyard. She ran with an elegance that very few possessed, with springing steps that left many in her wake. Her feet barely kissed the ground before they were bounding again, leading her towards her escape.

And Steve and Sam's shock gave her a headstart that would prove hard to overcome.

They only realized what she was doing when she was halfway out the window, giving her plenty of time to plot her escape. But it didn't take long before the two men were chasing after her, trying to make up for the few seconds that they stood gaping at the window in which she flew through with relative ease.

"Allie!" Steve called as he catapulted himself through the window, praying that he hadn't just let her get away.

But while Steve chased after Trickery, Sam stood glaring at the spot where she once stood. "Wonderful." He groaned before he too followed after Trickery.

But they were both too late.

Because when they rounded the corner, approaching the front of Sam's house, Trickery was gone.

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Trickery would describe Washington as an elaborate labyrinth of pristine streets and avenues. Despite the fact that it was nearing 8 o'clock in the evening, there were people everywhere.

The city was overflowing with tourists. They congregated in packs, finding safety in numbers, and bustled down the sidewalks speaking to each other in their native tongues, many of which Trickery understood. They navigated through the concrete city like swarms of ants, filling every corner, shop, and niche in sight.

And Trickery was forced to move with the packs, or risk the chance of being trampled on by the hordes of people. Well, at least she tried to. It was a difficult task given the fact that she was trying to uphold her invisibility illusion as well. If people saw what she looked like at the moment, they would freak out and cause an onslaught of unwanted attention. So she made herself invisible, which proved to be straining as she had to maintain an illusion on hundreds of people at once.

And her struggle was further exacerbated by the overwhelming sounds and aromas that made it hard to walk through the bustling streets. She also had to try not to get trampled on by overzealous tourists as well, which was a difficult task to avoid.

But despite all of that, Trickery still managed to recognize the allure of Washington. Everything was so pristine, so perfectly designed that it made you feel like you were living in a dream. The streets of upmarket stores, smooth black and glass exteriors, fancy names in fancier lettering gave off false senses of opulence. Buildings like the White House, Capitol Building and Lincoln Memorial, all places that have been featured in many beloved movies. Places in which people had all dreamt of visiting.

Washington was truly beautiful. But even the most beautiful things hide ugliness deep down for very few to see.

And that ugliness was the sudden increase of ground police along the streets of Washington. The second that she saw the increase of security, she knew what it was for. All of a sudden police were walking along the streets, holding an excessive amount of firearms that would never be used on a typical day. They resembled men going off to fight a war, not law enforcement protecting a city.

But what truly gave it away, was the stolen walkie-talkie tucked into Trickery's clothes. The police were searching for an unidentified female, a female who was wanted for multiple felonies across the world. A female who was currently the FBI's most wanted criminal.

She was the ugliness, what Washington was trying to hide.

So she did what she does best, become a ghost.

The second that she escaped the herd of tourists, Trickery made her way into the closest clothing shop. She needed to be able to fit in with the crowd because there was no way she would be able to maintain her illusions for much longer. Maintaining an illusion on so many people was hard work, especially when there were constantly more people she had to cast it on. And she had been maintaining this illusion for at least an hour already. So to say that she had an excruciating headache would be a drastic understatement.

Hence she needed a break, and that meant blending in normally.

So she walked into the small shop, grateful that there were only a few other people that were inside with her. The store was only relatively small, with a few different aisles of clothes and other items. The woman at the register was sitting down, picking at her nails with a disinterested look on her face. Not at all watching what was going on in her store, which left an abundance of clothes at Trickery's disposal, all of different colors, textures, and materials.

But Trickery didn't know what to choose. She didn't know what was fashionable, what would make her 'fit in'. For all she knew, lime green silk suits could have been the new trend.

So she gazed back over to the cashier who was wearing dark denim jeans, and a loose-fitting maroon top. The woman's clothes looked decent and it didn't garner any unwanted attention. No one spared her a second glance and that was exactly what Trickery desired.

So she rifled through the store's aisles until she found what she needed. She grabbed the first maroon shirt that she saw, which was a plain button up that was slightly too big for her small frame. She then pulled out a pair of navy blue jeans and a small backpack.

Once she had everything she needed, she rushed into the dressing rooms at the back of the store. Without hesitation, she peeled her catsuit from her body. At first, she struggled to get the suit off as it clung so tightly to her body. And the awkward positions she put herself in to get the suit off didn't help either. Instead, it made her sore body ache in protest. But eventually, she got it off and shoved it in the black backpack she had taken.

But when she stood back up, she almost grimaced at the state of her body.

Her stomach and back resembled an expressionistic art piece. Splotches of dark bruises covered the two areas, looking grotesque against her porcelain skin. Her nose was still swollen and oozing scarlet blood, reminding her that she would probably have to reset the bone herself. The skin of her neck was littered with more bruises that were unnaturally purple from the high voltage of electricity that she had endured.

She resembled a survivor of domestic abuse, with scars that lingered both on the surface of her skin and deep below. But unlike other survivors, there was nothing domestic about her situation.

But at least she knew her physical scars were healing, thanks to whatever HYDRA had done to her. She knew she healed at an exceptional rate, a rate that has kept her from dying on many occasions. In a few hours, the bruises on her body would be nonexistent, as if they had never even been there in the first place. The coloring on her neck would disappear and the previously broken nose would only be a memory.

She knew that she would be fine.

And without a second thought of her highly discolored body, she buttoned up her maroon top and pulled on her new jeans. She slipped back on the dark boots that came with her catsuit and hitched the backpack over her shoulders. Knowing that she had to do something with her face, she threw her dark tresses back into a low ponytail and attempted to ride her face off all the blood and grime.

Glancing back in the mirror, she was surprised at the person she saw. Surprised at the lack of effort it took to become someone entirely different.

The person standing in front of the mirror looked like someone you would pass walking down the street. She didn't seem different or unusual. There was no defining feature that would make people glance at her for more than a second. No feature that deserved any attention.

She looked normal.

Satisfied with her appearance, Trickery made her way out of the dressing room, not bothering to recast her invisibility illusion. She walked down an empty aisle and spotted a black cap that she swiftly threw atop of her grimy hair.  She also grabbed a pair of sunglasses that she sat on her puffy nose, grimacing at the flash of pain that it caused.

Eventually happy with her haul, Trickery went to exit the store. But not before the lady at the register finally decided to look up from her painted nails.

"Hey! You didn't pay for those!" The woman shouted, but Trickery paid no mind.

Instead, she stalked out of the shop and rejoined the hoard of people outside, expertly losing the woman in the mass of tourists. And just as expected, she fitted right in. Nobody even bothered to give her a second glance. She was just another tourist exploring the wonders of nighttime Washington D.C.

But unlike all those other tourists, Trickery didn't have a hotel to retire to. She didn't have a warm bed to spend the night in. She had nowhere to go. She was homeless.

Trickery contemplated the idea of stealing a hotel room for the night, but if she got caught then she would be in big trouble. The cops would be called and then they would be onto her and it would become a big mess. There were just too many risks.

Instead, she chose to walk back into one of the residential areas of the city. But with no real sense of direction, the task proved to be slightly difficult.

Luckily for Trickery, the few turns she had taken somehow had led her to an area that she deemed to be suitable for the night. She had found a small alley behind some of the houses on the street that seemed to be quiet and safe. Well, as safe as sleeping outside could be.

So she situated herself against a sturdy, white fence underneath a tall oak tree, grunting as her bruised back came into contact with the rough fence. She knew that she was utterly exposed sitting in this alley. But she had no other options at this point, there was nowhere else she could go.

With nothing but her backpack to use as a pillow, and one of her many guns and knives hidden beneath said pillow, Trickery attempted to go to sleep.

The streets weren't too noisy and she didn't find herself feeling too cold which made it easy for her body to relax. She didn't find much cold anymore. Nothing could compare to the cold she felt when she was awoken.

And for the first time in what had felt like decades, Trickery actually slept. Her mind finally succumbed to the drowsiness, becoming slowly entwined with a blissful ignorance that she hadn't achieved for many years. Her consciousness ebbed, and she yielded to the oblivion that was sleep.

Albeit that it was only for an hour before she was awoken by a barking dog.

The dog was growling at Trickery through the wooden fence, swiftly pulling her from her dreamless state. It howled and howled at her, pushing up against the fence with such a force that she heard it crack.

Trickery swiftly pushed herself up to her feet, slipping her gun into her jeans and clutching her knives in her hands. Unfortunately, Trickery's abilities didn't extend to animals which meant if this dog did somehow attack her, she would have to resort to other measures to survive. But she didn't want that to be the case.

However, just as Trickery got up to find a new spot in the alley, a woman slammed open her backdoor and entered into the alleyway.

"What do you think you're doing?" The lady screamed at Trickery, pointing a baseball bat towards her.

Thankfully, the woman didn't see the glint of Trickery's knives in the moonlight as she was too fixated on threatening Trickery with her bat. The woman didn't seem that old, maybe mid to late '40s. And despite her placid appearance in pink velvet pajamas, the look of anger in her eyes made Trickery wary. The fact that she was also waving a baseball bat around showed that she meant business.

But she obviously didn't know who she was threatening.

"Go you filthy piece of trash!" The woman shouted as Trickery looked at her boredly.

Trickery tossed up what to do with this woman. Should she put an end to her life or use her tricks? Surely this woman deserved it. All Trickery was doing was trying to sleep. And she wasn't even sleeping on the lady's property which meant she had no right to threaten her.

But Trickery wasn't here on a mission to execute this woman. She was here to avoid detection by the police and murdering a woman probably wouldn't be a good way to hide.

"Move it!"

So Trickery did as she said. She slung her backpack over her back and with a final glare, she turned and walked away from the alley. Now she would have to find a new place to stay for the night, preferably without aggressive residents who don't want the FBI's most wanted killer sleeping against their back fence.

"Absolutely disgusting." The woman murmured as she retreated back into her backyard. Those spiteful words made Trickery whip back around, and glare at the woman with almost unrivaled hatred. All she was doing was trying to find somewhere to sleep where she wouldn't be robbed or murdered. And Trickery didn't believe that that was 'absolutely disgusting'.

Holding back a snarl, Trickery let her eyes flash sterling silver. She focused in on the woman's brain waves, ready to make her regret the words she just uttered.

But before she had the chance to do any harm, a needle punctured through the skin of Trickery's neck and she was immediately hit with a wave of drowsiness. Her once clear thoughts became a jumbled, unintelligible mess. Her vision grew hazy and she felt her body fall, but she didn't hit the ground like usual.

Instead, she felt a pair of arms wrap around her semi-conscious body. And the last thing that she saw before she faded into oblivion, was a single, metallic arm hoisting her into a cradle hold.

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Hey everyone!!!!

Sorry about the cliffhanger but it was too hard not to do it.... :)

Now I'm actually going to keep this A/N short for once (I know, hard to believe right!)

I'm actually pretty proud of this chapter and hopefully, you guys won't have to wait long for the next one since I have written the dialogue already!! I've actually written the dialogue for the next 3 chapters sooo *insert pat on the back emoji?*

aNYWAY... Onto the questions!!

1. What did you think of this chapter?

2. What do you want to see happen next?

3. What other fandoms are you in?

4. IF(!) I wrote another fanfic, would u rather read a Peter Parker one, or a Dick Grayson one? (I'm highkey in love with Titans!)

Until next time my loves!

- Grace xx