8 Bedrooms. 7 Bathrooms. 39 Acres. The Tower of Lethendy incorporates the original laird’s house dating from about 1570. Later parts were built in the Scottish Baronial style, with recent modernization. Two gate lodges & two cottages. Private golf course.
Prompt: (Y/N) literally dives head first into her first solo mission, ready to prove everyone wrong. She was strong enough for everything and anything.
Warnings: cursing, mentions of torture and death
Down the rabbit hole (Y/N) fell, reality colliding with the ideal fantasy she had been living inside the Stark Tower with Tony, Natasha, Bruce, Clint,…and Steve. A disjointed family they had become, yet it worked out in the best ways possible. Until Steve and Tony distrusted (Y/N). Weak? (Y/N) was not weak.
‘I’ll show them. I’ll show them all.’
(Y/N) spiraled through the frosty clouds, parachute deployed, she floated upon the icy air. Normally at this point when she went skydiving, (Y/N) felt weightless, wild, free, like a bird in flight. But now she felt heavy. The weight of her current situation bearing down on her in tons, anvil upon anvil stacked atop her graceful shoulders, pushing her towards the ground. Into the ground. She wanted to bury herself beneath the dirt, never to be found. Never to be hurt. Never again.
But, then, it hit her.
‘They can’t hurt me if I hurt them first. I am stronger than them. I am stronger than Hydra.’ (Y/N) smiled a wicked smile to herself. They would pay for what they had done to her, to countless others, to her brother, and to her mom.
‘I am a Hydra experiment gone wrong. Wrong for them. What they did to me will bite them right in the ass.’
(Y/N) landed just a mile outside the decently sized Hydra base. A normal person would’ve taken an hour or so to trudge through the forest foliage in almost complete darkness, but (Y/N) only took twenty minutes as Hydra designed her to.
‘Right in the ass.’
Under the cover of darkness, (Y/N) peered out from the bushes like a fox staring down a rabbit hole. The all-too-familiar scene before her sent chills down (Y/N)’s spine. The dull, grey fences, electrified at the touch, that (Y/N) also knew too well. Guards posted at each gate, in watchtowers, rooftops, everywhere. Guns of every shape and size gripped tightly at the ready in the blood-stained fists of each guard.
As a black Hydra SUV pulled up next to the bushes where (Y/N) was hiding, she darted towards the doors, hidden by the early morning mist, and pulled herself onto the rear to ride into the least guarded garage on the base, as (Y/N) remembered. The large metallic doors closed (Y/N) in, (’no turning back now’). The two men at the front of the SUV exited, slamming their doors as they went. They approached the rear of their car, about to unload weapons and pounds of Hydra uniforms. Man, were they shocked to find (Y/N) hanging on the back and, to (Y/N)’s morbid pleasure, their shock was frozen for eternity under (Y/N)’s spell. To rid of the evidence, (Y/N) boxer kicked as Steve had taught her, the sculptures to dust, then swept them beneath the SUV. She should’ve felt bad or sad or something. But she didn’t. They deserved everything that came to them.
Down the halls (Y/N) walked, clad in a uniform she had stolen from the back of the SUV. She tread casually as to not give herself away (Nat had versed her in the art of assassin-hood). Passed the guard station, passed the communication center, passed the hundreds of animal cells cruelly used to hold in people, examination rooms, and, oh, god, the screams of the tortured. Their pleads and blood-curdling cries burrowed a hole in (Y/N)’s chest, almost ripping her heart out from behind her trembling rib cage. She almost turned around to save them, but no. SHIELD needed the files to take out bigger targets, rescue more people, destroy more Hydra bases. (Y/N) tuned out the screams as she had once done on a daily basis. It was as if she had never left.
‘I will come back for you. I swear,’ (Y/N) silently promised the owners of the screams.
Further into the beast (Y/N) walked, until she reached it. Hydra’s data center. (Y/N) could see the silhouettes of towers upon towers of boxed up files. However, just before the cloudy windows, three guards were posted like faceless gargoyles. Terrifying to anyone who had not lived among them for as long as (Y/N) had. All she felt was pure anger. But, she forced it down. Get the files, return them to Fury, then rip this hell hole to shreds.
Eyes staring straight forward, (Y/N) handed the guard her Hydra badge, created by SHIELD intelligence that (Y/N) had helped to approve herself. (Y/N) felt invisible eyes on her, masked, they scrutinized her every feature in excruciating detail. After a tension-filled eight seconds, the guard opened the door for (Y/N), wordlessly, as always, handing her back her faked badge as she strolled inside.
‘One box. Seven files. Come on, (Y/N). You can do this.’
(Y/N) had about nine minutes to find the box before the guards would begin to question her.
Eight minutes had passed and (Y/N) had found the box, but only six of the seven files.
She searched and searched, but the file wasn’t there.
‘James Buchanan Barnes. James Buchanan Barnes. Where the hell are you?’
Another minute passed, and just as (Y/N) had predicted, one of the guards marched into the room, a robot to Hydra, his face was dead, but (Y/N) knew where his loyalty lain. The thought made (Y/N) want to rip his head off, but she remained composed.
“Soldier 8729,” the guard began, “you’re presence inside this vault has run too long. What exactly are you searching for?”
“File 9946, sir,” (Y/N) responded to the now known, yet still unknown, male.
“That file was moved to Siberia along with the prisoner. Does your boss not know that?”
“Now he will. I shall relay the message.” (Y/N) tipped her cap to the guard as he tipped his to her, the way all the guards did, then with the files she did have, (Y/N) retreated in a well-mannered walk back towards the garage. Back through the maze of hallways, past the horrors, past the prisoners, past communications, guard station, garage, home-free. (Y/N) was so proud, she almost high-fived herself. Not a single thing went wrong, except for the one file, but ‘big deal.’ (Y/N) trudged back through the forest back to a clearing where she spotted the Quinjet. Fury was standing just in front of it with his arms crossed, eye patch on, and a proud glimmer in his eye that he tried to force away with no luck. (Y/N) did it. He didn’t think she could, but there she was, box in hands, smile on her angelic face.
“I could only find six files. Sorry about that, but the last one was shipped off to Siberia with James Barnes. I could retrieve that one too-”
“That won’t be necessary, yet. I think you have some people to pay a visit to,” Fury stated, eyebrow cocked at (Y/N).
“They’re not people. They’re not even human. They are the monsters,” (Y/N) answered as she turned and sprinted back towards the Hydra base, blinding rage driving her forwards.
‘They’ll regret everything.’
When she arrived back at the base, this time, she did not hide. The sun finally awoke the skies, sending it’s fiery rays onto the base, almost like it was setting up targets for (Y/N), which she gladly accepted. (Y/N) strode directly at the base, eyes narrowed, fingertips dancing with icy blue power, fighting desperately to be sent directly into the heart of any and all Hydra workers. Guards, directors, phone-line operators, scientists, surgeons, the goddamn janitors. Anyone working for Hydra was a target for (Y/N). They screwed with the wrong girl.
(Y/N) heard gunshots come towards her direction, but she froze the bullets mid-air, then, with the flick of her wrist, sent the bullets back towards their shooters. She ripped the electric fence that had bound her, trapped her for years from the ground, sending it crashing into the forest behind her. (Y/N) marched straight into the base, freezing the guard station and everyone in it, then compressed her hands together to turn everything to dust. She did the same to the communications center and examination rooms, freeing her people, the prisoners. Every guard, however, at each corner she rounded, (Y/N) shattered like glass, only jagged bits of crystal left to their existence.
Then, finally, she reached the cells. It was about time these people were liberated. God knew how long they had been in there, how many involuntary, painful procedures they endured. How many people they themselves were forced to kill. (Y/N) blew the double doors down to enter the hallway of endless cells, crushing the guards that attempted to stop her. (Y/N) gathered her strength, then with every ounce of power she had, froze the entire hallway, bars after bars struck with her magic.
“Kick them down! They’ll crumble, I swear!” (Y/N) called out to the mass of awed prisoners. Then, she heard it. One after the next, cell bars being smashed to bits by weak legs and fists. Crash. Smash. Like glass rain, each drop echoed like victory cheers through the dungeons of hell. (Y/N) heard cheers, real cheers, from her people. Her fellow prisoners. They ran up to her and hugged her, tears streaming down their faces. These were the newbies. The recently captured recruits, forced into missions and experiments they never asked for. (Y/N) looked beyond the huddle to find her people. Her real people. Those who did not believe what had happened, had just happened. So many years…too many years…what is real anymore? Stunned into silence, they shook themselves off. It could be another dream of an escape, a pure illusion from the drugs forced into their veins. But why take the chance? Blurs of bodies flew past (Y/N) and her huddle, into the morning sun the sprinted.
“Follow them,” (Y/N) insisted to the young ones, some only the age of thirteen by the looks of it, “Get out of here. Run!”
And so they did. Fifty or so, most not yet experimented on, fled through the holes (Y/N) had created in the walls. To freedom. It was one of the happiest moments of (Y/N)’s life.
But it was short-lived. (Y/N) still had to liberate the torture chambers. They weren’t hard to find, the screams of agony and pain shot (Y/N) in the heart and dragged her towards her worst nightmares. These were the places that caused her to never sleep, to run, to hide, to scream into her pillow at night, to silently cry in the dark. And, unfortunately, this experience would not change a damn thing, because all of a sudden, the screaming stopped. An arsenal of shots, then dead. Silence. (Y/N) was frozen by her own fear, paralyzed in a state of absolute horror, stomach in knots, forehead sweating, heart palpitating, she hesitated.
‘Open the door, (Y/N). Open it! There are people inside that need help. Open it!’ She shrieked inside her mind, despite its fear-stricken numbness. And, against her gut, (Y/N) opened the doors. What she found shocked her to the very core. Just when she thought she had seen everything…a sea of people. Dead people. Lay strewn in various positions, naked, left to be forgotten. No mercy shown, red covered the room from someone, everyone. Necks bent at awkward angles, bullet hole peppered skin, eyes lack-luster, scars, bruises, disgusting sutures. Then, she saw her friend. Her cell-neighbor. Dead.
She couldn’t handle it all. Her mind shut down on itself as (Y/N) turned and ran. Far. Far away. She couldn’t think, she couldn’t breath. Was she even alive? Had the shock killed her? She didn’t know where she was. Panic. Terror. Fear. Yes, fear. (Y/N) couldn’t help it. Fear had gotten the best of her. Tears fell and froze on her face in glimmers of lost hope. It was too much, it was too-
Five hours later, (Y/N) came to. Fuzzy as it was, she recognized a make-shift hospital space. She was lying on an old mattress upon the ground of a grassy field. White sheets draped over her head to form a sense of what those who had created the tent thought would be privacy. But not to (Y/N). It was a prison. She shot up, IV ripping out of her arm as she tore the sheets aside and turned to run. But she was met with something she hadn’t expected. Survivors. SHIELD agents and doctors. Everyone’s eyes, full of awe and pure gratitude, were on her. She froze, but not in horror, just confusion. Her head cocked to the side as she took in the sight before her in wonder, but her thoughts were interrupted by someone.
“One minute I’m gone, and you’ve gone and ripped out your IV to make a run for it. This is why I make the plans,” Fury stated. (Y/N) just stared at him, wild eyes beginning to relax at the sight of a familiar face.
“What…” (Y/N) cleared her foggy throat, “What the hell happened?”
“You faced your worst nightmare, and won.”
When (Y/N) got back to the tower, she did not breath a word to anyone. The team thought she was still angry about Tony and Steve not believing in her, despite the fact that they did. They knew she could handle just about anything, they merely wanted to protect her.
And then they saw the photos and videos. At first, they were proud of (Y/N), amazed, in fact, by the pure power she possessed. Eyes glowing in a rage so fierce, the guards couldn’t even look directly at her, fearing themselves to be turned to stone.
However, the photos were where the real problem lain. Emaciated bodies of torn flesh littered the room (Y/N) had found. Horrified, nobody could look at the photos for longer than two seconds.
Immediately, when he saw the photos, Steve turned sharply to walk/jog out of the meeting room. Ghastly memories of his own surfaced, nails clawing at his mind as he remembered thousands of bodies in mass graves back in World War II, their petrified, dead eyes everlasting in his mind. He grimaced in agony as he locked the door to his room and cried. Yes, cried. (Y/N) in the room directly in front of him, they both silently cried, wanting desperately for someone to hold onto, yet refusing to allow anyone see them cry.
Everything was a mess. (Y/N) didn’t leave her room for almost two days, her door only opening occasionally by Natasha, Steve, or Tony to bring her food that was never eaten. They attempted to console her, but (Y/N) was in her own world, only this time, it was a world of her own personal hell. Her walls up, she just laid in bed and watched the sun rise and fall with blind eyes.
But, on the third day, (Y/N) sat up on her bed.
‘They can’t win. I won’t let them. The fear of Hydra will not kill me. I’ll kill them first.’
(Y/N) rose from her bed and walked like a zombie into her shower. Clean. She needed to wash away every spec of dirt and grime, every fear, every memory, scrubbed clean from her body, from her mind. She must’ve stayed in that shower for almost two hours, wasting tons of water. She mentally slapped herself, but shook it off. She shook everything off. (Y/N) looked in the mirror at her reflection: pale skin, dark circles under her eyes, chapped lips, but strong, fierce eyes.
‘No fear, no weakness. No fear, no weakness.’
(Y/N) dressed herself in black leggings, an over sized flannel, and warm fuzzy socks, then exited her cave. When she walked into the kitchen, Tony and Bruce were talking about some new form of technology. Immediately they stopped when they saw (Y/N) pouring herself coffee, almost as normally as she would’ve three days ago. Except she wasn’t smiling, laughing, or even speaking. But, at least she had left her room. Neither knew whether to speak or not, the fear of scaring her away too great, so they allowed her to speak first. (Y/N) swallowed a sip of coffee and grimaced.
“Ugh, I forgot creamer again. Why do I always do this to myself?” (Y/N) laughed weakly as she reached into the refrigerator for creamer.
“…Right…might want to watch out for that next time…” Tony attempted slowly.
“If I had a nickel for every damn time I tried…” (Y/N) peered up at Bruce and Tony, staring at her with concerned expressions, “Okay, I know I look like hell, but staring isn’t nice.”
“(Y/N), please don’t take this the wrong way, but I need to ask. Are you okay?” Bruce asked genuinely. (Y/N) gazed into her coffee, wondering if she really was okay. Probably not, but that’s not Bruce’s problem. She shook herself out of her thoughts.
“Yeah, I um, I’m fine. Just…tired.” (’That’s the best excuse you can come up with?!’)
“I understand why. You kicked Hydra ass down in Germany. That base didn’t even see you coming,” Tony commended.
“You saved a lot of innocent people. Be proud of yourself, (Y/N), and eat something,” Bruce added. (Y/N) just looked down.
“Depends…what do we have?” (Y/N) asked cheekily, covering her pain. Tony rushed over to the refrigerator and called out everything there was. Everything.
“We got eggs, cinnamon rolls, hash browns, we got bagels, sausage, butter, lettuce, cheese, cookie dough, carrots-” (Y/N) just laughed and reached into the fridge to pull out a muffin.
“Thanks, Tony, but the muffin will do.”
“You sure, I could order something. You want Chinese?”
“For breakfast?…Actually, fuck yeah. Let’s order a big ass pizza too.”
“Alright! Be back in a minute,” Tony began to turn to make the call, but he quickly pivoted and gave (Y/N) a short hug, “Glad you’re back, kid.”
“I am too. Believe me, I am too.” It was sweet and sappy until Tony moved his hand to pat her shoulder which forced an involuntary wince out of (Y/N).
“Sorry, guess I’m still a bit screwed up,” Was all (Y/N) said as she tried to make a break for it, but Bruce stopped her.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. You may have walked out on me once, but not this time. Let me take a look.”
“Nah, I’m fine, just bruised and shit.”
“(Y/N), let him see,” Tony pleaded with her. (Y/N) rolled her eyes and pulled her shirt down to expose her shoulder.
“Oh, god, (Y/N)…Why didn’t you- doesn’t that hurt?” Bruce asked as he examined the long gash along her shoulder, a permanent scar left by a Hydra bullet.
“I got nicked. So what?” (Y/N) pulled her shirt back up and began to retreat back to her room, but nether would let her leave.
“(Y/N), those stitches need to be replaced. They’re getting infected,” Bruce diagnosed.
“Why? Do like me, and consider them battle scars,” (Y/N) answered.
“Dammit, (Y/N)! Why are you being so difficult! I’m taking you to the hospital,” Tony exclaimed.
“No! Just..ugh, it’s fine. I’ve dealt with worse. Just leave it be, it’ll sort itself out.”
“I don’t like hospitals, okay? I don’t like needles and blood and just stop!”
“Okay, okay. Then, I can sort it out here. I have the materials, just come into my lab,” Bruce compromised. (Y/N) thought about it. She did trust Bruce. A hell of a lot more than most people in the world. Plus, her shoulder did hurt like a bitch. A endless flame of fire raging in her gash like a forest fire, seeming to grow hotter and bigger by the second.
“…Okay…But I’m expecting that pizza in ten, Tony. Alright?”
“Can do. Now go get unfucked.”
“Can do,” (Y/N) smirked as she followed Bruce into his lab. Trust. Hard thing to come by, but her team was full of it. In all of two minutes, (Y/N) had laughed, genuinely, and now she was allowing someone to care for her? All new for (Y/N), but she gladly welcomed it.
[Picture of me talking with an old woman in Sprout Tower. My Pidgey, Twister, looks at the people behind us.]
“According to a myth, during an ancient war, a Bellsprout begged the legends for help after seeing its friends slaughtered. The legends feared the consequences of their direct involvement, but granted the Bellsprout a bit of their power, power that caused it to grow 100 feet! With this power, the Bellsprout defeated the invading forces. However, this power was too much for the poor thing to bear, and it perished. Touched by the Bellsprout’s sacrifice and bravery, the people and Pokemon of Violet City turned it into the middle pillar of this tower.”