Lure [Closed]
When HYDRA fell, independent organizations never lost interest in targets that were previously under protection. While SHIELD still had loyal, active agents, there were never enough to cover all of their bases. There used to be eyes everywhere, always watching the important ones. The heroes, the assassins, and the dangerous types all had a guardian angels. Even if they were more than capable of defending themselves, it was in their handlers’ best interests to keep things quiet. (In most cases.)
One such organization had been able to send an anonymous message to two of their targets. A promise of meeting an old friend, a lure. Someone important enough to bring them from the shadows. Each target was presented with the chance to meet a different person. Who the organization chose didn’t matter- the old friend would never be there. Just James Buchanan Barnes and Robert Bruce Banner.
The instructions were clear, eleven o’clock p.m. Third floor of the what happened to be one of the dingiest apartment buildings in New York City. Room 148.
Each room along the hallway contained agents with firearms at the ready. Assault rifles, pistols, and dart guns laced with powerful anesthetic. They were confident that their prey wouldn’t be able to avoid capture.
The sky was unusually clear that night, and the familiar sound of traffic punctuated by the occasional siren felt normal to Bruce. He felt almost calm as he walked down the street towards the building. So many things had transpired already that he didn’t feel like much else could go wrong. Of course, he had been wrong plenty of times before. He doubted that the person he promised to see would really be there, and tried not to get his hopes to high. Despite this, the small promise was just enough to lift his spirits. Bruce just didn’t want to feel stupid when things didn’t go his way.
He climbed the stairs, and kept a hand on the damp rail. As Bruce looked up towards the third floor doorway, he noticed the splotches of mold that coated the walls. The lighting was even dimmer in the hallway he entered. A weak, reddish light flickered above him, and illuminated motes of dust that drifted in the air. The apartment seemed abandoned. Though the warning signs in his mind continued to glow brighter, Bruce began to make his way towards room 148 with cautious steps.
