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Hello I had a question kinda dumb but is the binder supposed to be equivalent to a bra in the game? I chose no binder for funsies thinking I'm letting my girl be free and I was playing the updated chapter and it got to that part of you know after protecting someone and I just imagined my Fmc with her tits out exposed getting patched up and it just made me laugh đ
Sorry if this is confusing I'm trying to be vague as to not have spoilers but I imagine people would be like wut is going on after reading this
If it's not clear I really enjoyed this new chapter though I like the personal moments with the characters specifically August and Jasper now I'm just waiting for T to come home to my MC
Hey! I added the binder option specifically with trans/gnc characters in mind, as a customization option, but it's available for any reason! Though if you don't pick it your fmc is probably still wearing normal undergarments lol(but hey, you can imagine!)
Thank you though! T will be having their moment in the upcoming chapters, don't worry...
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 5/?
Fandom: X-Men - All Media Types
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Remy LeBeau/Logan (X-Men)
Characters: Logan (X-Men), Remy LeBeau, Rogue (X-Men)
Additional Tags: Unwilling Roommate AU, Your Injury Was My Fault So Please Don't Sue Me, injured logan, School Janitor Logan, Unemployed Musician Remy, Anna Marie is a Good Bro, And she's fed up with Remy, Awkwardness, Angst, domestic AU, Nurse Remy, Patient Logan, Sponge Baths, Showers, Recovery, eventual cuddling, VERY AGGRESSIVE CUDDLING, Hurt/Comfort
Summary:
Remy is a hot mess. Adulting isn't his strong suit. Neither is paying his half of the rent he and his roommate Anna share while he waits for his next music gig. (It's out there. He can almost taste it.)
But when he causes his gruff neighbor - who already HATES him - to injure himself, leaving him laid up for weeks, well. It's time for Remy to step up.
Provided Remy and Logan don't kill each other first...
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Word Count: 7.920
Song Choice: That Which You Seek Finds You - Zack Hemsey; Teachings of a Ronin - Zack Hemsey
Special a/n: the first Song Choice is for the second part; the ; finally things are getting interesting! Make sure to leave a comment :) Thank you, sweetie, for your marvelous translation into Russian, @aoimidzu! :D
Wakanda was a mess. After âa mysterious attacker slaughtered over a dozen of palace guards, a failed attempt at assassinating the kingâ, how the journalists put it, the conference was cancelled, of course. No one really knew what was going on, if maybe something else would happen, if people would be safe here anymore. Some were transferred to Birnin Djata, but the majority was sent back into their home countries right away.
The three Avengers had been placed in the medical ward by royal order, all of them injured from their nightly fight with the intruder. Lomawu had made sure they were all safe and then, flown off with a promise to get this situation figured out. To come back with a name belonging to the intruder.
Out of all three of them, Wanda was probably the most affected, not physically, but psychologically. Clint kept an eye on her, guiding her through nightmares like he did with his own children, staying up with her to offer comfort. She was incredibly frustrated she hadnât been able to protect Barnes and she blamed herself for that more than she should. But no matter how bad he thought was with words, for her, he found the right ones. Soon, regret and shame turned into determination. Cap would be proud, Clint thought when he watched Wanda exercise in the gym. Then, all of the sudden, the simple silence was interrupted by doors slamming into walls and footsteps crashing against the floor. Scott barged into the room, immediately picked up by a red streak of energy and pushed into a wall.
âScott!â, Wanda shrieked and brought him down.
âItâs Lomawu!â, Scott whispered. âHeâs the Hydra mole!â
âShit. Theyâre gonna kill Capâ, Clint cursed.
âHow do you know that, Scott?â, Wanda yelped as they were running through the compound. Where they were headed - she had no idea. The man that could shrink to the size of an ant had rushed out of the gym and now, he had Wanda and Clint on his tail.
He stopped all of the sudden and immediately had Wanda crashing into him. Scott sent quick looks to both sides, he looked very confused, then frowned.
âWhat is it, Scott?â
âI still have no idea which hallway weâre on. What!? This palace is huge and every level looks the same!â
âOh Godâ, Clint mumbled, ânot again. For starters, just tell us what you know.â
âThe antsâ, Scott whispered. âWe found proof he paid a lot of money to the CIA. For what - no clue. But he did. And you saw the Winter - Buck- Barnesâs file.â
âOkay. Letâs go to TâChalla with that. He might be able to do something, at least get us out of here so we can help.â
Wandaâs head turned and she sent a look through the big windows lining this hallway. She noticed the unusually busy runways of the royal airport.
âAre you coming?â, Clint asked, already standing by the other end of the hallway. She nodded, flowing her two friends, hoping that the king would be able to do something for her friends.
They arrived at the palaceâs royal quarters after thirty minutes, after having had to wait at least ten minutes at the over-conscientious security control of the Hatut Zeraze.
To their surprise, they were urged to wait. The king was busy, in a confidential political meeting right now. Hadnât all politicians been secured?
âItâs not a secret that I have a past with the CIA, your highness. Against the councilâs notion, I could arrange a collaboration and turn this situation to our favor. The CIA in London operates on a lead that points at a yet unknown asset, my king.â
He eyed the king, for a reaction revealing what the Black Panther felt about the head of the SIWâs leader and his line of action that had undoubtedly been bold. To go behind the Councilâs back had definitely not been a wise decision, but this wasnât a standard situation either. But TâChallaâs face was unreadable.
âUnknown? How is that? No entries in our databases?â
âNot a single one. The only trace you could establish would result from putting his name behind all unsolved victims of the past⊠fifty, maybe sixty years?â
âAnother Winter Soldier?â
Lomawu shook his head, pulling out the modified beads lining his wrist, special high-tech devices every authority in Wakanda was equipped with. Several passwords protected the classified content he stored on there.
A hologram was pulled up, containing a file with not just a few, but more than half the standard categories blank, a true testimonial of this assetâs nebulous identity.
âIf you were looking for the wind, you would not find it in this breeze.â
âAgreed, my king. I have information, however, that claims the current mission of the Remnant is to kill Steve Rogers.â
âIs that definitive?â
âVery. Based on the calculations we applied after the incident surrounding Mr. Barnes in his quarter, based on, well, everything we could collect, the asset is unpredictable. There has been a direct attack on Captain Rogers and Mr. Wilson in Belgium yesterday. To continue engagement in my protocols, I require permission of lethal action on sight, Sir.â
The Black Panther still sat on his throne, unmoving, like the real beasts out in the jungle that could stay in a position for hours. One of his hands was touching his chin and cheek, he was thinking while staring what seemed like a hole into his advisor and subordinate.
âDo you not recommend our incarcerating facilities?â
âMay I quote one of your grandfatherâs sayings, your highness? Every fortress has a door. Iâm convinced that this asset is enhanced and Hydra holds the leash tight. Forgive me for being blunt, but how many more Wakandan lives are you willing to slaughter for the Americans?ââšThe king furrowed his brows, gaze steady and his body in an elegant posture. It was a good question, one that he couldnât afford to have overseen and trampled over.
A guard stepped in, bowing his head respectfully.
âMr. Barton, Miss Maximoff and Mr. Lang request an audience, Sir.â
âThey shall not speak to me today, but my words may reach them still. They are expected to pack their gear and meet at the hangars in two hours.â
The guard disappeared right away, honoring all the strict palace protocols.
âYou have never disappointed me or my father, Lawrence. I trust your judgement. Permission granted. Make sure to prevent any further disaster.â
Mr. Lomawu bowed, stepping forward to display the traditional gesture of gratefulness before his king. He took the fine, ornamented spoon from the side of the throne to dip it into the small bowl of the kingâs exquisite oil and sprinkled it onto his feet, Immediately, a wonderful, rich scent between the two men, telling tales of childhood and secret places deep within the jungle. After that, he removed himself from the mighty Black Pantherâs presence, backwards, like ancient rule prescribed. He had just reached the door when TâChalla raised his voice again.
âOh, and Lawrence? Take the Americans. They shall assist you in your hunt.â Lomawu bowed and left the room. He couldnât say he was happy about this turn of events, but he didnât complain. Obstacles were challenges, not stop signs.
It would be easy to convince the three leftover Avengers to join the hunt for the unknown attacker that had freed the Winter Soldier. Also, it had attacked them during the Captainâs absence. Lawrence smiled. Zola had shown him his plan and it was a plan of victory.
Pierce had failed, but the Avengers were split. Good conditions for Project Awakening.
The loyalty these three remaining Avengers had for Steve Rogers was going to be his fall.
Germany. The Autobahn was a blessing. In just two and a half hours, the silver Audi had covered over 230km and flown by two major cities, each offering hundreds of places to stay. And they had stayed at a tiny little motel to just rest and nurse each other up, to eat and sleep, even despite Natashaâs determinedness to keep their course on Cologne. But now, theyâd reached Germanyâs Ruhr Area, theyâd reached Cologne.
âThe whole cityâs celebrating the Carnival right now. With those masses of people, surveillance is a bitch. Weâll be safe for⊠well, at least a day.â
Steve wasnât sure if they would stay hidden there for long enough to figure everything out - what Hydra was planning to do and what would happen to Bucky, but they had an important source in their car and Steve swore to himself that he would make this man talk if he denied them information.
His mind couldnât relax, even with the humming of the car and the jazzy music Sam had put on. It went over the conversation from the hotel room over and over again. Sheâs asking me a question she already knows the answer to and he doesnât ask the one question he actually wants answered. What did that mean? Of course, Steve hadnât mentioned Bucky once, keeping his vulnerable spot hidden, but Natasha? What did she ask that she already knew? Steve had supposed the doctor just asked that to create a feeling of uncertainty, that it didnât mean anything else. Thatâs how Hydra works, he told himself, even when they know they lost, they still create confusion and chaos everywhere they can.
So, making sure the man who was spread out over his side of the back row was still unconscious, Steve searched for Natashaâs eyes in the rearview mirror. She was quiet, too quiet, hadnât even complained about Samâs music once by now. What was she thinking about? What if she knew much more than she pretended to - no. Steve didnât want to believe that Natasha was pretending anything right now. Sheâd shared all the relevant information with them - right?
Then, all of the sudden, he remembered how much time Nat actually spent at the Hydra building. The video hadnât been that long. And she still hadnât explained why she didnât make it out on time.
The little bag that was placed in the foot room of the back row caught his attention. Sheâd kept the file about Bucky in there. He remembered how for a moment, he thought heâd seen brown paper in there. Brown like a manila file. Was there a second file? About Bucky?
Slowly, he bent down, grabbing the bag. Natasha didnât notice, she kept her eyes on the street.
Steveâs fingers brushed against hard paper and when he pulled it out, his eyes went wide. It was a file. It wasnât thick, just like Buckyâs, but it wasnât about the Winter Soldier. Red letters, all Russian, covered the front and when he opened the file, there was no photo, just text. He knew a few Russian words Nat had taught him, enough to decipher âHydra propertyâ and âassassinâ. His eyes went wide. What was this?
Then, there was one entry on the bottom that made him wonder what was actually going on. It was in English and dated. âRecent status: Instructions enforcedâ.
Just then, the paper made a sound and Sam turned around.
âWhere did you get that?â, he asked, clearly confused as Buckyâs file was safe in the glove compartment.
âMaybe you should ask Natasha thatâ, Steve replied and Samâs eyes shot to Nat immediately. Her face pulled into a frown.
âThatâs none of your business.â
âOh yeah, it is. If this is what you compromised our trip to Paris for, I wanna know what Iâm holding right now.â Sam wasnât sure when heâd heard Steve so full of authority the last time, but it definitely took him back to when they infiltrated the Shield headquarters. He was glad he was sitting in the front of the car right now.
âI agreeâ, he stated. âIâm not risking my ass for just any secrets.â
Natasha clenched her teeth. Sheâd wanted to keep this confidential, not making the two men feel like sheâd used them for her own goals. Although she had, maybe just a little.
âThose are files about a Hydra asset Iâve tried to locate since a few years - without success. That one is untraceable. But I believe it was him who stole Starkâs tech a month ago.â
âI canât believe you just - wait. What happened to Tonyâs tech?â Steveâs face went from mad to worried. Why hadnât he heard of this? No matter how big the break-up of the Avengers had been, this was a big deal for Tony. Damn it. That idiot was way too proud to ask for help. Steve rolled his eyes.
âAs if you missed that too. The SIW mustâve kept you out of everything.â
âNat, what do you know?â, Steve was impatient. If she didnât have a good explanation for this⊠well, he didnât know what to do, but he would be deeply disappointed.
Natasha hesitated, it was obvious she insisted on keeping the intel to herself, but with the pointed look Steve shot at her, she complied.
âOkay, so Tony was working on some tech that was gonna help Rhodes walk. You know that heâs still paralyzed. The device was supposed to send electric impulses from the brain to Rhodesâ legs so he could overcome his bodyâs disability. It was almost finished, then someone stole it, leaving no traces. As soon as I heard of it, I went over, looking for leads.â
âTony asked you for help? I canât imagine he wasnât pissed at you after your stunt at Leipzig.â
âOh no. He didnât even know I was there. I found a mark I remembered from Russia, way back, when I was trained in the Red Room.â
Sam furrowed his brows while he Steve noticed how tight Nat was gripping the steering wheel. It must be incredibly hard to share all of that, he thought. This was personal stuff, after all.
Behind the windshield, the autobahn disappeared and rows of city houses came into view.
âCheck the fileâ, Natasha continued. âThe asset is called-â
âThe Remnantâ, the doctor finished. Sam jumped; no one had noticed the doctor had regained consciousness. âAnd thereâs not a mission the Remnant failed.â
âWhatâs his mission now?â, Steve pressed. The grin the doctor gave him annoyed every single cell in his body, but he didnât act on it. Not yet.
âWell, itâs almost over already. The Winter Soldier is back out there and youâre not going to escape Hydra this time. You should know, the Remnant is like the Sergeant, a little more compliant, luckily. A real animal, aggressive if kept hungry. Thereâs no getting away, there has never been. Once youâre a target, you can choose your tombstone.â
âWeâll see about thatâ, Steve replied.
âI liked him better when he was sleepingâ, Sam mumbled.
Natasha steered the car deeper into the city, proving sheâd been right. Thousands of people were on the streets, celebrating Carnival, all dressed up and throwing around candy. Everything was colorful and loud and suddenly, the four of them were only crouching through the streets. Maybe it hadnât been such a great idea to come here. Sure, they wouldnât be spotted here, but a getting out of the city quickly? Not possible.
Sam opened the roofâs window, shrugging when Natasha shot him a worried look.
âMaybe weâll catch some candy.â
Steve still wasnât satisfied with the information theyâd received. He figured it was logical the mole in Wakanda had supplied Hydra with the information of Sam and hisâ departure. It was all planned, somehow. He still eyed the doctor very suspiciously. He hadnât told them everything.
âWhat else do you know? How do you know the Remnant?â
âBarnes wasnât my only responsibility, Captain.â
Steve felt very uncomfortable. His eyes flitted back and forth from the windows to the doctor, wary of police presence and any signs of danger. He spotted mounted police.
âAnd what are they gonna do to him?â Because whatever it is, Iâm not going to let that happen.
The doctor stared at him for a long while.
âAs much as you blame yourself, you never actually had any control over life, Captain. You know that you canât protect me from their assets, right? If they want me to die, I will. This shotâ, he pulled his shoulder forward for display of the nasty wound, âwas a promise. I probably wonât make the night.â
Sam huffed.
âDo you even know who youâre sitting in a car with!? This is a veteran of World War Two. This is Steve Rogers.â Obviously, Sam tried to defend Steve, but the latter just wished Sam hadnât.
âAnd tell me, Steve Rogers, how did protecting your family work out?â
Steve was grim.
âI donât have a family.â There was bitterness in his eyes. âWhat else do you have on the Remnant? When is he coming for us?â They came up to a red light at an intersection.
âFaster than you think. Actually, the Remnant is not-â, something crashed through the window, right before Steve and into the doctorâs head. A bullet. Blood spilled everywhere. Headshot. He was dead right away. Sam yelped, Nat pressed on the gas.
Steveâs head shot towards the high buildings. He didnât see any sniper. Where the heckâŠ? Suddenly, something sunk into Samâs arm. It was a split second, but Steve saw it. It came through the roofâs window. Sam pulled out a little dart, smearing the blood on his arm. Natasha couldnât go fast, too many people in the way.
âGet out of the car!â, she screamed. Right then, Sam passed out. The dart. Steve gasped. It mustâve been poisoned. He jumped out of the car and pulled his friend out. He needed to get to a hospital right now. Crap, crap, crap. What were they supposed to do? Theyâd be detained before they could reach the front desk.
Right now, they stood in the middle of the street. They couldnât stay here, not with a sniper around. But Nat positioned herself behind the car, using it as shield while pulling her handguns out. She shooed a lot of people away, too.
âSteve!â, she shouted. âWash the wound with water!â
Steve looked at Sam on the ground. His eyes were closed. Save him. Just when he took the arm in his hands, Sam started to convulse, and, much worse, to choke. Steve wasnât sure what this poison was, but he poured a whole bottle of water over the wound. He couldnât actually do much for Sam right now.
Nat spotted the sniper quickly, he stood on the roof of a multi-apartment house, already packing his gear. She watched as he moved over the edge, climbing down the balconies with rapid ease. But he hadnât reached her range yet. Suddenly, there were two mounted police riding towards the same house and Nat let out a breath of relief.
âLooks like weâre not the only ones who spotted the sniperâ, she said, half-turning to Steve and Sam to see how they were doing. Sam had stopped choking and Steve, an almost- panicked Steve, was performing CPR. A shiver ran down her back. They couldnât lose Sam. Oh God. She turned back, back to where the attack had come from. The sniper just reached the ground, jumping the last three stories down at once.
The police was waiting down there, one of the officers had gotten off his horse, and walked towards the sniper. Shit, this is the guy who freed Barnes. The Remnant. Heâll kill them. The police wonât stand a chance against this asset.
Momentarily paralyzed by the realization of how few options she actually had, Natasha watched the scene before her eyes unfold like a nightmare. The police officers walked right up to the Remnant, but to her surprise, the different parties only exchanged a few words. The police officer took the assetâs long range gun and handed over his horse. With one swift motion, the Remnant sat in the saddle, rifle on the back and knives in his belt. The other police officer threw a semiautomatic at him, then rode off. Shit.
The Remnant was maybe 250 meters away from her and with Sam in need of CPR, they couldnât run.
A police car appeared in the street. Backup. They wouldnât make it out alive either. Suddenly, shots were fired. Horrified, Natasha realized that the Remnant had killed every police officer in the car. The good guys.
âWe need to get awayâ, she yelled at Steve, turning around to see him holding Sam in a sitting position. He waved slowly at her. Thank God.
Nat could already hear the clattering of hooves against the asphalt and with every second passing, she grew more anxious.
Steve stood up, looking at her very seriously.
âYou two, run. The Carnival is a huge event. There should be ambulances around. Find one, get him out of here.â She nodded, but wondered if Sam could run. He stood up, but she realized immediately how dizzy he was.
The horse came closer. Nat handed Steve a gun and a knife.
âKill himâ, she warned before hiding under the car with Sam. As soon as the rider had passed them, they crawled out on the other side and leave.
Steve, however, began running immediately. He passed a few houses, following a street, yelling at people to get away, to get into the houses and stay in there. A bridge came up before him, a bridge over a river. He ran onto it despite realizing that the long trail didnât really offer many hiding spots. Blood rushed through his ears. More shots. Crap. Where do I go? The Remnant must be close already. From the corner of his eye, he saw a post with a little sign on top, picturing a man falling into the water. Probably a warning. Steve needed it, the post, pulled it out of the ground and ran.
The doctorâs words rushed through his mind. If they want me to die, I will. No, Steve would not die. Not again. Not today, Steve swore. Too many people needed him. He noticed, though, that the shots sounded different than usually. The attacker used silencers, they didnât want anyone to notice.
A bullet whizzed past his arm and Steve jumped behind the railing that separated the sidewalk from the railroad tracks on the other side of the bridge. Thousands of padlocks hung there, on the metal grating, deflecting bullets for him. He ripped part of his uniform on something sharp, but didnât get shot.
The sniper had reached him by now, the police horse galloping past his position. Steve jumped out just in time to stick the metal rod in his hands out, creating an obstacle for the horse, to knock the rider out of the saddle. But no one was on there. The horse complained loudly, skidding over the rough asphalt. It got back up quickly and ran. At least it shoved people out of the way. But the Remnant was gone. Steveâs head whipped around, eyes narrowing in concentrated anticipation. Where was he?
For a moment, Steve heard only the rushing of the water underneath him and some music from the city parades. The next second, the tiniest gush of wind reached him. In one fluid motion, the asset jumped onto his shoulders, attacking without mercy. He mustâve hidden higher up in the bridge.
Steveâs muscles protested against the sudden weight. His hands shot up, came back bleeding. The Remnant pressed against Steveâs windpipe. The rough knuckle gloves dug into his skin, creating marks. Heâs gonna choke me. The grip wound tighter and Steveâs throat was on fire. He couldnât breathe! His hands grabbed the shin of the Remnant. With one fast motion, Steve yanked at it and the grip on his throat loosened. Steve sensed his opportunity and slammed himself against a big pillar. To crush the attacker up there for almost making him suffocate. But the Remnant jumped off at the last moment, rolled over on the asphalt. He was moving way too fast. His quick reflexes had protected him from Steve.
The Remnant wore a muzzle too, like the Winter Soldier, and a dark gray uniform. Something like a stick was on his back, right next to the gun. His face only showed two cold blue eyes. The faceâs skin was smudgy; dirt, blood and paint were on there. Steve had never fought anyone radiating aggressiveness like the Remnant. Maybe Batroc. But Batroc moved slower.
It made the super soldier wonder what barbaric things Hydra had done to this person. Theyâd turned him into a thing. An animal.
Steve received an elbow into his throat, making him cough, making his back vulnerable. The Remnant kicked him in the back of his knees. He brought Steve to the ground. A knife gleamed over the soldierâs head and to get free, he kicked the asset in the balls. He didnât get a reaction from him. The asset wasnât in pain. Without hesitation, he swung around, sending Steve flying onto the rails. Gravel and stones dug into Steveâs body, grazing the skin on his hands with a stinging hotness. He could feel bruises forming almost everywhere. This guy was not as heavy as expected, but incredibly agile and fast. A strong succession of punches followed, both of their knuckles bled at this point. There was no beauty in it. Only pain.
Suddenly, the metal on the ground vibrated softly, making an odd sound. The train! The train was coming. Steve jumped up, leaving the rails and tried to move onto the small ledge the Remnant stood on. But the latter kicked him down, not allowing him to get away from the rails. His eyes were so hard, so focused, screaming dominance in this fight. As if that was the default in every fight. Had Steve ever fought someone who resisted that much? Other than Bucky Barnes?
Steve tried to climb up the ledge again, but received a hard punch in the face. It split his lip. His tongue felt numb. With one strong pull, Steve slammed the Remnant onto the rails. Something cracked. Probably the Remnantâs arm. The feeling of the break echoed through Steveâs mind, making him shiver when it mixed with the sound. But it was a good sign - no metal limbs. Not another Winter Soldier.
But something was off - he knew that since the first punch heâd had to swallow, even before that. This asset was too quiet, his punches too strong. Steve had fought experienced fighters before, the STRIKE unit had given him a taste of it in DC, the Wakandan SIW had shown him their skills. But this one - it was a mix of sly experience and incredible skill. Because it felt like Steve couldnât get a grip on him, the assetâs blue eyes calculated so much faster than normal soldiers did, he anticipated and reacted aggressively. He resisted against Steve, much like the Winter Soldier had before. The Remnant was an opponent able to hurt Steve. Not only because of his bodyâs abilities but because he mustâve studied the soldier beforehand. Heâd watched him and learned. It made him unpredictable. Steve felt a hue of cold fear crawling up his spine like a ladder. It scared him that Hydra had a second soldier who was familiar with his movements and his body. As if the Remnant had been specifically trained to kill him. Impossible. Right?
The evening was rough. Steve had left the river hours ago, but still felt the cold seeping through his muscles. He hadnât managed to find Sam and Nat. After realizing how stupid he was for telling Nat to get Sam to a hospital, he had thrown away the city map heâd taken from a small, messy souvenir shop. Everyone would recognize them, after Berlin and especially, after thrashing the airport in Leipzig. Crap, he thought. Nat and Sam could be anywhere. That led him to get another city map, which he unfolded, huffed at and put back into his pockets.
While most of the people here remained carefree, running around in costumes and yelling words he didnât understand, Helau Alaaf, a drunk person with a hideous green wig even complimenting him on his outfit, Steve just stood in front of the over-towering cathedral, shoulders slacked, head hanging and heart low. Steve sighed and after a few more minutes of resignation, he shook his head. Rebecca.
It wasnât her, she had died and Steve had seen her grave and Steve just didnât know. Bucky had died too. Right? The thought of him buried in an empty coffin. But Rebecca hadnât even joined the war, how would Zola-? What if they took her for leverage against Bucky? To break him?
Steve didnât want to believe it, but the memory of her face told him otherwise. Sure, there were a few features that were different, that didnât look entirely like Rebeccaâs, but the young woman was her. Undoubtedly. She mustâve grown.
Steve scratched his head. Buck had been 26 when he entered the war, Rebecca was five years younger than him, she would still be in her twenties, depending on when Hydra had torn their dirty claws into her. Rebecca, sweet Rebecca. The last time heâd seen her was 1940, sheâd been just out of boarding school and returned to Brooklyn to visit. She lived with Grandma Barnes then and made the best casserole Steve had ever eaten, he still remembered the feast that had been. Sheâd worn Sarahâs old apron. And now, she was ready to kill him, just like her brother.
His eyes flitted over the big plaza before the dome, carefully checking all the rooftops for snipers and all the advantage points for any sign of Hydra. One last look up the stunning architecture of the huge cathedral, a remnant of the past, just like him. He turned around but noticed the police officer standing a few steps behind him. He wasnât looking his way, but Steve would have to just assume that he was Hydra, or, if not, still looking for him.
The soldiersâ eyes fell on the radio that was clipped onto the policemanâs belt. If heâd be able to snatch that away, his chances to find Sam increased by a hundredfold. Surely, the âpoliceâ had spotted Nat and maybe there was a way to get Rebeccaâs location. Also, a police radio was a good alarm system. If they followed him, Steve would know.
So he reached out, and with a slow, but controlled motion, the radio was out of the belt.
The first steps, Steve walked, but then he jogged, to the other side of the cathedral, his heart beating fast. But the radio was his.
âThat wasnât very niceâ, someone said and Steve turned around, caught in the act, heart beating fast. His knees were bent, his arms ready for the next fight. A girl was staring at him, with an eyebrow raised. Had she seen him? But then he noticed the cane in her hands and how her eyes were closed. Blind. That still didnât give him any relief. What did she know? How long had she been standing there?
âYouâre rightâ, he answered slowly, hoping to get out of this situation as fast as possible.
âArenât you supposed to beat the bad guys?â
If not before, he was definitely struggling with his words now. What did she know? Who else knew? He looked at this girl who couldnât even see him.
âYou recognized me.â
âYeah, the police is trying to catch Captain America since hours. That idiot fell into the Rhine. We donât have any suicide jumpers and only few people are stupid enough to take a bath in that filthy soup people call a river. Your shoes are squeaky.â
âLook, kid, I donât want to get you in trouble. You should get out of here.â She grinned. He wondered how old she was. She looked like fourteen, fifteen.
âIâm already in trouble. We all make mistakes, donât we? But your friends. Theyâre in the St. Antonius hospital, thatâs three kilometres from here.â She actually pointed into a direction, although Steve wasnât sure if he could trust her directions.
"Thanks, kidâ, the smile Steve did was a little crooked, but he meant it.
âNo, thank you for saving us.â
However kind-hearted that sounded, it felt like another punch in the gut. Steve didnât have the heart to crush this girlsâ hopes and dreams, so he just whispered his reply to himself.
âI havenât even saved anyone yetâ, it sounded pathetic.
But this girl, with the stunning hearing range of a blind person, heard better than Steve had hoped, and replied with a kind smile.
âBut you will. Youâre the strongest person Iâve ever met.â
He furrowed his brows, because, well, how could she know how strong he was?
âYou havenât even seen me.â Iâm a mess.
âI donât need my eyes to see. I know theyâre not gonna catch you. Have they ever, really?â
She walked off after that, joined by two teenagers whoâd just run up the Domplatz stairs. They linked their arms with hers, laughing when she said something funny. One of them took her cane and with her in between them, they guided her over the stairs. Was that what family meant? That your family carried you despite your disabilities? While he got moving, that thought didnât let go of him. Maybe for once, he wasnât the one carrying everyone around, maybe this time, he was the blind girl in the middle.
Doors opened, letting in a gush of cold air that swept up the nervousness that the five scientists exhaled in this former hospital room they occupied. Guards entered, mercenaries with enough weapons to bring down an entire police station.
Steps echoed in the empty hallway, announcing the presence of three more people. Handcuffs clicked. It took a dozen more nerve-rattling seconds for the people to enter the former medical room, two of them with heavy steps, but the third with steps not audible despite wearing combat boots.
The assetâs eyes were on the ground, guardâs hands on her shoulders, restraining her additionally to the obligatory harness on her back that had her wrists chained behind her back and fixated by chains of the collar around her neck. It wasnât that - the heavy restraints, not even the kevlar- reinforced muzzle in front of the lower half of her face - that took the scientistsâ breath away.
Especially one of them, a younger staff member whoâd worked in this job for only two years, was taken aback with the change in atmosphere the moment the asset had stepped into the room. By the belligerence radiating off this subject, like she understood combat was her purpose and aggressiveness her truest self. And maybe it was. It was an understatement, however, to say that despite all confidentiality, this asset had a reputation. At least in his department, seeing that no one else was allowed to even know she existed.
The asset had taken place in the center of the room, on an examination table. Its surface shimmered silver in the grey gleam of the moonâs light that fell though the windows, but now, drops of blood flew onto it, destroying its former sterility. Following protocol, the roomâs lights were turned on slowly, everyone was trying to create a soft increase of light.
The young scientist nervously checked the sheet of paper on his clipboard, stepping towards the asset on the table, who was surrounded by two other scientists assessing vital signs. Of course, heâd heard the rumors where people said that this asset could smell fear on you. And of course, heâd also seen the damage the asset had done last week, the broken necks and the bloody throats. A bead of sweat tickled his neck and the young scientist just prayed the asset wouldnât know he was scared. Too bad Rumlow wasnât around anymore. Heâd been a beast himself. At least they could trust Rollins to have their backs.
But he tried to push his fear away, to focus on the numbers dictated to him and to scribble them down in the correct order. Everyone was following the security protocol this time. Theyâd be alright.
The young man knew the orders. Avoid touch, any kind of contact and verbal approach. He breathed heavily when he stood right before her, awaiting his colleaguesâ next request, determine her pulse, desperately trying to ignore how blood-stained these combat pants were. How much power these legs held, how several knives stuck in sheaths on there, how the assetâs eyes followed him the entire time. He just wanted to get this over with, to be honest. Because his heart was beating way too fast right now at the possibility of a very sudden and very painful death. Heâd seen it happen before to the personnel. He knew she could do it. She never had hurt him, not really, but who knew when that streak would end? Even with his trust in Hydraâs conditioning, there was no way to underestimate this asset.
They took the upper part of her combat gear off, leaving an open view of the damage on the asset. A thin shirt and a sport bra covered her skin, but let them see all they needed to focus on. Thanks to years of training, she knew what they wanted to see. Not the many scars hidden under her skin, covered by the SecondSkin- Technologyâą developed for her. In the blink of an eye, her skin changed from a healthy color to what needed to be worked on. Everything on the surface right now were some deep bruises and a terrible looking arm. Theyâd work overtime to get the asset mission-ready again, but there was nothing the team couldnât fix. For now, though, anesthetics would have to do the job.
Finally, they were done. The young scientist made the mistake of looking up for a brief moment, meeting the Remnantâs eyes. Icy blue pushed him back with a determination only intensified by how she bared her teeth at him behind the half see-through muzzle. He staggered backwards, until his back hit the wall and he felt the distance between him and the asset was big enough to be called safe. If there even was a condition called safe when the assassin was in the place.
More steps sounded through the hallway and one of the assetâs supervisors stepped in, accompanied by a man resembling the man he worked for only in skin color and attitude. The young scientist immediately recognized this man from last week, when he had come with Mr. Lomawu, who, apparently, didnât have the means to appear today.
Well. This man, with the military haircut and a determination in his step that probably shared the origin of military, eyed the room with a strict gaze and waved a handful of STRIKE unit guards in. Rollins secured the doorway.
Whatever the man - his name tag spelled Djenge - planned, it couldnât be good if he needed more guns in the room for it. The young scientist could tell Mr. Djenge wasnât one to be messed with, one of those who were the top dogs in Hydra right now, in a time that the organization was reduced to only very few units and divisions. The man exchanged a few words with the subjectâs supervisor, demanded vitals plus further information and nodded.
Next, the mission report was delivered, but it didnât take a scientist to tell that her voice sounded way too raspy, too rough.
âWhat day is it for her?â, Djenge inquired.
âDay Fourteen, Sir.â
They talked a few minutes longer, in hushed tones. As much the scientists wished that things hadnât changed, that they wouldnât have to switch up the schedule or their treatment, things didnât look good. Things started to look even worse when they noticed how restless the Remnant was becoming on the table. She was moving around, shifting her weight. The young scientist held his breath. No one had strapped the asset in, if she got up⊠They really needed this to get over with. Another pearl of sweat rushed down his neck.
Mr. Djengeâs voice cut through the quiet lab, ending all whispered conversations between the scientists and doctors.
âNew mission objectiveâ, he announced loudly. Obviously, the Remnant wasnât listening. They all noticed how her eyes whirred around the room and how her fingers had started to shake.
âSoldierâ, he bellowed. When nothing happened, he dared to step forward and grab the assetâs chin. The scientists froze. A throaty growl vibrated through the air, a warning that could turn into an attack every moment now. They all saw how the assetâs teeth were bared again, how her body language switched to belligerent in a matter of seconds. Someone had the mind to prevent another bloodbath and pull this incredibly stupid handler back. He grabbed one of the spray bottles that were always prepared for this asset and used it. Cold water was sprayed right into the assetâs face. There was an almost inaudible whimper and she sat back up, gaze clear and focused, betraying her skin that was rising in little goosebumps.
âBring the tranquilizers, quick!â, one of the scientists shouted in the background. All guns were set on the asset in the center of the room now. Stick to the protocol, dammit! Was that so hard?
âSoldierâ, Djenge repeated. He ripped his arm out of the scientistâs hold, stepping forward.
âYou got a new mission target. Find the Winter Soldier, trace him.â
When it stayed quiet and the assetâs fingers curled around the table, he continued.
âCaptain America took him prisoner. The Winter Soldier is held captive by criminals. He deserves his freedom. Bring him back and he can finish his good work.â Apparently, heâd read the reports issued for him and his supervisor, the part on how to talk to the asset. At least he put in a little effort.
The Remnant listened, now, the confusion swimming in the blue eyes slowly being replaced by worry. A worry that was precious, because it worked like a motor, giving drive when everything was taken from this person. The man read lines from the book now, obviously carrying out his orders, trying to get this done and over with.
âThe world is brittleâŠâ
She struggled, clenching her jaw. Her eyes were pressed close. As always, she couldnât do it. Couldnât resist. But boy, this asset tried.
âThe world is brittle / seamed with cracksâŠâ, he repeated, with more emphasis.
Everything Hydra had planted into the young creature screamed far too loud to be hidden much longer and she broke. Too weak in the shadow of her full power.
âThe world is brittleâ, she repeated with a husky voice. âseamed with cracks / ready to shatter.â
âGermanâ, he demanded.
âDie Welt ist brĂŒchig / gesĂ€umt mit Rissen / bereit zu zerbrechen.â
âRussian.â
âĐĐžŃ Ń ŃŃĐżĐŸĐș / ĐČĐ”ŃŃ ĐČ ŃŃĐ”ŃĐžĐœĐ°Ń / ĐłĐŸŃĐŸĐČ ŃазбОŃŃŃŃ.â
âWipe the asset, prep it and get it going.â
The man checked his wristwatch with a frown, then turned towards the supervising scientist.
âHow long do you need?â
âWe can get the asset out in three hours, Sir.â
âGood. Make sure to keep the leash tight. Canât afford any slips. We need the Winter Soldier. Prepare her and send her in, three more missions have come up.â
At this point, there was nothing more to fear from the asset. She was completely compliant now, knowing the futility of struggle. The effect of her presence was gone like the light of a faded candle. A strong hand, it was Rollinsâ, gripped one of her arms while someone else guided a needle into her veins. Then, they pressed the asset into a seat right into the neighboring room, where a familiar machine waited. The machine secured the Remnantâs arms, strapping them in tight. A mouthpiece passed the muzzle on the Assetâs face and finally, everyone could do their work.
The young scientist smiled. Hydra was good at what they did and today, heâd contributed to the big picture. And, no injuries on his part.
Theyâd done a quite excellent job today.
Masterlist
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what the fuck was up with this trial. Garfield was evidence. everyone was covered in blood. there was a walking tree and a FAKE walking tree. akio and genta live again. michiko blasted kpop for several hours and then lied down on the ground. sarara vored minions. holly didn't punch anybody. nothing about this  trial made sense