sorry i forgot the warning i apologize

Focus On My Lips● Oliver Queen x Reader●

I DON’T OWN THIS GIF (IF IT’S YOURS MESSAGE ME AND I WILL GLADLY CREDIT YOU ON IT) x 

I kind of forgot to post this x

Synopsis/Request : Could I please have a Oliver Queen imagine where reader has healing powers so she is automatically the first one Oliver goes to when he gets severely injured but the healing process is painful and reader distracts him by kissing him… Sorry if that’s confusing.-

@_madhxtter

A/n: I’ve only watch arrow a couple times, until they moved it to 1am. So apologies if something is not right. But I totally need to catch up on arrow.

I accidently put this in Marvel.

WARNINGS: blood, magic

Oliver leaned against the door frame, wincing as his knuckles made contact with the hard wood.

“Coming” you yelled, as Oliver tried to keep himself from falling, as he started to see black spots.

“Oh my god” you whispered, as you opened the door. Seeing a very injured

“Help” Oliver groaned out, as you wrapped your arm around his chest, trying your best not to drop him, as you dragged him to your bed.

“Oliver, what did you do to yourself” you sighed, as you carefully layed him down on your bed.

“Don’t worry, the other guy is way worser” Oliver said, smirking at the unamused expression you gave him.

You pressed your hand against his abdomen, making him groan in pain.

Quickly unzipping the zip and pushing the fabric away.

There was a huge gaping wound, making you look back at his face again.

“This is going to hurt” you mumbled, as you placed your hand over the top of his wound, making him wince.

Your hand started to glow, as Oliver screamed in pain, his hands grasped the hand that was

“Wait, stop” Oliver groaned, as he sat up, his whole body covered in sweat.

“I can’t Oliver, it will make your wound worse, try and think about something else” you said, as you looked into his blue eyes.

“How can I when I feel like my whole body is on fire” Oliver grunted out.

You pressed your lips against his. Your free hand cupping his cheek.

Oliver let go of your hand, gripping the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him.

You pulled away from his lips resting your forehead against yours, as you took your hand away from his wound.

Casting your eyes down, smiling at you saw there was no wound there.

“All better” you said, instead of replying, Oliver cupped your cheeks and captured your lips with his.

Sorry for the long post ahead

Hey guys.

I’m sadly gonna have to apologize once again for a delay in updates, Why? Cause of school. I’ve been trying to follow my classes intensely, as my final exam is coming up in March.
And, apparently, the school forgot to give us without a gymnasium degree a properly warning, so we got dumped the news last week, that we got an InfoD (information technology level D) exam throughout Week 5 & 6, sooo that got me a liiittle stressed, but okay, I should be able to handle that.
Though, among this exam, I also got a 3 meetings, one was today, with the educational counselor and the headmaster of my school, so try and help me figure out what to do when I’m done here on 3D College Denmark and if I can possible find an internship somewhere. One of the meetings with the counselor is an hour before my exam is due, so that cuts my work time on that down by an hour, but dumb lil me just agreed to the time without thinking.
PLUS I got all my commission work, which is REALLY slacking behind. I’m not gonna lie, I’ve been EXTREMELY lazy with getting them done ever since I came back from my Canada trip in October. Idk what it is, motivation have just been super low and I am SO sorry to all my commissioners for that.

To sum it all up, I’m kinda stressed and nervous at the moment, having A LOT of things going at once. I feel like I’m in control of 5-6 different trains, who all gotta cross the rails at the same time and I gotta make sure they don’t crash each other.

I’ve decided to put this blog on a short, 2 week hiatus. I will return with an update on Week 7, when I’m on vacation again and should finally have time to clear my head and relax enough to draw an update.
I hope you all understand and again, I’m sorry for the delay.

Control [Part 1 of 2]

Word Count: 5612 (I’m not gonna apologize)
Warnings: So much angst, murder, blood, use of the memory suppressing machine, true historical event, danger to the reader and Bucky, lots of confusion between realities, I’m sure there’s more. Sorry if I’ve forgotten anything!
Summary: @blazeshira’s request - “Hi! I saw that you had your requests open and I was wondering if you could do a Bucky fic where the reader was also given the serum & trained with him along with the other winter soldiers but they developed something before she was frozen along with the others & he forgot her until he went to Siberia w/ Steve & he sees her chamber & realizes she escaped before Zemo could kill her so he tries to find her? Fluffy fluff & some angst, please & thank you!”
   [song/title inspiration] [playlist
A/N: Yashira, you are a jewel. I loved this prompt so much even though it’s been the hardest thing I’ve ever written. Thank you for the endless days of inspiration you’ve sent and for the support.
P.S. Sorry if any of the Russian is wrong. I used Google translator for all of it.
P.P.S. I’m very nervous about this one. It’s very much out of my comfort zone. There’s lots of angst, a couple of fight scenes, and Bucky as the Winter Soldier (which was nerve wracking all in its own). All the feedback is appreciated (and very much needed, honestly). Like I said before: I’m very nervous about this one. Please let me know what you think! I hope you all enjoy it!

Originally posted by marvelheroes

Your name: submit What is this?

Siberia, Russia; 1950

“вставай!”
Wake up!

Huge hands wrap around your arms, yanking you from the cold. Your limbs thaw and grow slack around you. They feel like jelly, like they weren’t meant for you. Your legs won’t cooperate, they’re collapsing underneath you.

Yet, you’re still moving forward.

How?

You fight through the haze as your head lolls around on your shoulders. Blinking rapidly, you focus your eyes on the soldiers above you. They’re holding you up. They’re dragging you to a chair. You try to put your legs beneath you to stop them, but the ground is moving too quickly underneath you. They shove you in a chair roughly, your head slamming against the headrest. Fear holds you there.

Your heart rate picks up alarmingly, your breath tears in and out of your nostrils.

You can’t focus on what was happening.

Eyes darting around the room, you try to take in anything. Anything substantial. Where are you? Kidnapped? Lost? Bright lights erupt around you, and you close your eyes tightly to shield them from the glare. Laughing. Swings. Beautiful long hair. Missing teeth. You squint up at one soldier, his stony features undisturbed by your frightened voice. “Please. My Bella–my sister? Where is–”

A hand slaps you hard across the face, tearing your dry lip. You feel heat bloom on your face immediately. “Вы здесь не задавать вопросы.”
You are not here to ask questions.

Blood runs down your chin, hot and thick. You want to ask why you were here; but you stop yourself, fearful that the soldier would hit you again. You try to remember where you were, what you were doing here.

Panic rises like bile in your throat. You can’t remember anything further from waking up. Except your sister. So solid and true. Beyond a shadow of doubt, you knew that girl with the missing teeth was your sister. You could hear her laugh. Where was she–?

The two soldiers were speaking to each other above your ragged breathing. Metal clamps made their way around your upper and forearms, restraining you to the chair. Your eyes dart from one clamp to another, back to the soldiers, and around the room. Their accents were thick as they spoke rapidly. You could understand most of what they said. When had you learned Russian–?

“Она вспоминает свою сестру. Лечение не работало.”
She remembers her sister. The treatment did not work.

“Зола не будет счастлив. Она показала обещание, прежде чем вернуться в крио.”
Zola will not be happy. She showed promise before going back into cryo.

One soldier shoves a rubber mouth guard through your lips, causing you to choke. He steps back. The machine surrounding you suddenly comes to life and crowds around s around your face. Your panic spiked, your breath ripping out of your lungs. “What’s happening?!” You shriek around the mouthpiece.

“Wipe her.” You heard a disgusted voice, full of disappointment.

You scream around the rubber in your mouth as searing, undeniable pain shoots its way through your system.

Siberia, Russia; 1957

Again and again, you awaken with shouts and commands to move. New handlers surround you, yanking you from your chamber if you didn’t move quickly enough. Each time, your panic subsides more quickly, replaced by defiance. You argued out of spite. Telling the HYDRA scum that you could not be contained. You thought you were putting a very bold middle finger out into their system, but you realized that all you were doing was hurting yourself. You were tying yourself down. You were giving yourself the electric volts straight into your cranium. Your actions caused your own discomfort, caused you to forget yourself again and again.

Your defiance crumbles into submission quickly enough. You learn to stop speaking out of turn. You learn to comply. You keep your questions to yourself, knowing whatever information you’re supposed to know will be given to you.

There are others like you – stoic, silent, deadly. Bred to be killers. You train with them daily, honing in your skills as assassins. There’s one that catches your eye immediately.

The Asset.

He observes, mostly. Stalking around you and the others, eyes sharp, as if he’s waiting for one of you to attack him or the handlers. There’s enough weapons around – you could. You entertain the thought of throwing a knife straight between one of the guards’ eyes and dismiss it. No need to get yourself in trouble.

You’re sparring with a man who’s easily three times your size. He keeps coming at you, relying on his hulking size to drive his knife into you. But you’re lithe and strong. As he charges towards you, you widen your stance. Grabbing his knife-wielding hand, you twist it until it’s pressed against his back. He drops the weapon and falls to his knees with a sickening crack as you shove his arm between his shoulder blades. You push him into the ground and sit atop his back, smirking in victory as he wails and concedes below you.

You hear a chuckle amidst the grunting and yelling of your counterparts. You look up to find the Asset watching you. His mouth turned up in the slightest amused smile as he passes by. Your heart is hammering. Scrambling off your partner’s back, you await nervously for some kind of review.

He locks his cold blue eyes with yours, making you feel nervous and exposed for the first time in a long time. Your stomach knotted in on itself while your chest heaved, trying to regain composure. The ghost of a smile is gone from his features. “Еще раз.”
Again.

The Winter Soldier never spoke to you or your comrades. He never gave orders, never offered advice. He always circled around diligently like a hawk. His voice was smooth as silk as the command rang out. You smiled to yourself, a small victory won.

It became your goal to have him recognize you routinely after that. You pulled out all the stops during training. You hoped for his steely stare to critique your form. You wished he would spar with you himself. You desperately wanted to hear his voice again.

What was this feeling coming over you?

Siberia, Russia; 1963

You wake, feeling your body thaw from the cryofreeze and make your way to the chair without the assistance of the guards. They still surround you, hands on their guns. As if it was necessary, you scoff. You were one of the most well behaved soldiers in the program. You sit up straight, proud and elegant, awaiting your orders.

They probably wanted to send you out on a discreet mission to take care of a small nuisance. That’s all they ever took you out for. Two men burst through the door, striding purposefully toward you. Your breath hitches in your throat. One of them is a three piece, looking harried and important. The other–it’s him. The Winter Soldier.

“цель миссии.”
Mission objective.

The higher up in the suit shoves a folder in front of your face. You take it silently, sneaking a glance to the Asset before flipping through the pages to find a picture of a very young and powerful Senator – or whom you thought was still a Senator.

The man explains who the target is, that he is the current President of the United States. If he continues to hold office, he will dismantle everything that HYDRA has worked so hard to achieve. He goes on to tell you that you will accompany your comrade and over a dozen handlers. You keep your face stony and impassive, but your heart is beating wildly, pumping adrenaline through your system.

You’re going out on a real mission! Not some piddly scraps. And with–and with the Asset. This was huge. You wanted to express some kind of thanks, some kind of appreciation, but you keep your lips sealed, read the file, and wait for further instruction.

“Солдат?”
Soldier?

You look up at the young man in the suit. He seems impatient, like he has somewhere better to be, and do more important things than tell you who you’re going to murder today. A slow smile pulls on the corner of your lips as you quietly rasp, “Я согласен.”
I accept.

He nods as you rise from your seat and fall in step with the Asset. His metal appendage brushes against yours metronomically as you walk. It glints in the light from the overhanging lamps, and you realize the rest of your team has assembled behind you. Looking back discreetly, you notice a fairly large gang of the hardest looking men you’ve seen yet.

You suddenly wonder what year it was. The last time they took you out for a mission was in 1958 to arrange some ‘accidents’ for two political officers in Europe who were trying to shed light on subjects that were better to stay in the dark.

It didn’t matter. You were just curious.

Dallas, Texas, United States; 1963

You noticed that the Asset didn’t speak unless he was giving orders. You paid close attention the the orders he was giving to the other soldiers, noting the importance of the tasks and the sequence they were given in.

You were there as number two in command. Dedicated to protecting your comrade and take the mission over if anything were to happen to him. Nothing would, you knew that. The Asset was very good at what he did. His skills were the peak of excellence.

Lying on a rooftop, you and the Asset overlook the crowd that has gathered to line the street. He’s lying low, hiding behind his sniper. You’re on your belly beside him, pressed together from your shoulder to hip. Both watching as the motorcade slowly comes into your line of sight.

“Солдат,” his voice was low as his grip tightened on his gun. “идти вниз к обочине. Убедитесь в том, что я не видел.” He lifted his eye from the scope, his icy blue gaze piercing you. “Когда это закончится, встретиться со мной на свидание точке.”
Soldier, go down to the sidelines. Make sure I’m not seen. When this is finished, meet me at the rendezvous point.

You nod, lifting yourself on your knees before answering, “Да сэр.”
Yes sir.

You make your way down the building as quickly as you can. Taking off your mask, you tie it to your belt. You won’t blend in, not with this catsuit on; but, at least you won’t look completely like a suspicious fiend. Sunlight floods your eyes as you make your way out of the building and towards the throngs of people. They are all pressing as close as they can towards the street just to get a glimpse of this man.

You receive a couple of looks for your attire, but no one pays you any mind. You take in all the faces around you. Families, mostly. Children on their fathers’ shoulders talking excitedly as they wait. Women in pretty dresses, hanging onto the arms of men. People start to waive as the vehicles come closer.

One shot rings out, and it’s mass chaos. People scatter, ducking their heads beneath their hands, trying to find shelter. They’re all stupid fools, you think as you watch them all scramble around you. You’re an island, strong and anchored in these waves of disorder, still scanning the crowds for any danger to your comrade.

Another shot reverberates as people start to cry out. Policemen who had been assigned as escorts for the motorcade draw their weapons and search for the assailant. Your eyes stay glued on them, flickering to the black convertible. The car is nearly next to you, and you see that the objective is wounded, but not dead. You’re sure the Asset sees that, too.

One of the officers’ eyes go wide. He raises his pistol to the roof that your comrade is on. He’s inexperienced, you can tell. There is no way the officer will be able to shoot him. But, your mission is to keep the Asset safe. You quickly draw a handgun from one of the holsters on your body and shoot him twice in the chest. The civilians around you scream and scurry away, holding onto and protecting one another.

The final shot resonates and strikes the objective directly in the head, effectively killing him. A small smirk finds its way to your features before you realize you have to leave post hastily. You put your mask back on, covering the bottom half of your face; and walk between the clambering people who are still trying to find some refuge.

“Miss! Stop!” Someone calls, and you turn to see two officers chasing after you. Your gun is still in your hand; and you raise it, shooting the men without a second thought and watching as they fall to the ground.

Four of your handlers find you within minutes. You all make your way to a car that’s a little further away from the commotion. One soldier breaks into it, and you all load up and drive off before the authorities can think to put up barricades. When the handler that is driving is sure that you’re not being followed, he heads to the edge of the city.

You make it to the helicopter and are relieved to see the Asset is standing, waiting with half a dozen of his handlers. His mask is off, slung around one of his belt loops. You realize that yours is still on and remove it. After you exit the car, it drives away – no doubtedly to be abandoned somewhere.

As you make your way to the helicopter, the blades come to life, swirling the air around you. You look up at your comrade, hoping your face is expressing the relief that he’s there and alive. The corners of your mouth pull up into a small smile.

His hair is whipping across his face obstructing it from view, but you don’t miss the tiny smile he returns. The Asset holds out his hand to help you into the helicopter, and climbs in after you. A jolt runs through you as he sits next to you. There’s little to no space between the seats, so you’re pressed together shoulder to hip to knee. He’s warm and smells of metal and leather and something musky that has to be his normal scent. You fight the urge to lean your cheek against his shoulder. Sitting up straight and stoic instead.

Jakarta, Indonesia; 1978

Two sides of the same coin.

That’s the greatest thing that the handlers had to say after your first mission with the Asset. You and the Winter Soldier worked in perfect synchronization together. After that, you went on tons of missions with him. Your ability to follow orders and your judgement call in a tight situation became valuable to the Asset.

Through the decade at his side, you earned the name Foxglove. The Asset took to calling you that instead of his customary, “Soldier,” or “Comrade.” He said it was deceptively fitting; that you were also a soft, beautiful, and deadly flower. Those kinds of comments made your heart flutter in your chest.

Although you two hardly spent any ‘personal’ time together, you felt a connection with him. A deep understanding flowed between the two of you. It was something to be treasured, you didn’t feel this for any of your other comrades.

Especially not the ones you were forced to get along with.

You were on an undercover mission. A scientist in Indonesia was close to a breakthrough. Creating a new element. You had to go in, gain his trust and steal his work before killing him. This was no problem. You’ve done it countless times before, or so you’ve been told. But, you didn’t expect this man to try and be so personable with you. He was very forward, trying to get you to go out with him or work late with him whenever permissible. You hated it, but you had to go along with it for the sake of the mission.

“Come on, Amanda,” Hasan pleads, using the fake name you’d given, gently grabbing your hand. “I am so close! Just stay a couple more hours?”

You were posing as an American student who had come to Jakarta to learn more about this field. It was very hard to not revert back to your usual Russian, but you pulled off an American accent beautifully. “I can’t tonight, Hasan! I’m going out with my friends. Maybe we can come in early instead?”

The scientist pulled you close, drawing little designs on the back of your hand. “I was hoping to take you to dinner afterward.” His accent was thick and you struggled to not kick him away from you.

Your skin crawled the longer he touched you, so you pushed him away as playfully as you could. “Maybe just coffee in the morning?” You smiled and kicked an eyebrow at him before turning away.

“But–I don’t know what you like!” He calls, trying to get you to stay.

You pull open the door and repress a sigh. Turning, you plaster the delicate smile on your face. “You’ll figure it out.”

Your face falls out of the fake smile and you cannot put enough distance between yourself and this lab. You dash to the elevator, out of the building, and hailing a cab in record time.

When you get to your ‘home,’ you know the Asset is already there. You can practically feel him brooding and sulking on the other side of the door. You shove your key in the lock and push the door open, quietly calling, “Honey, I’m home!”

You laugh at yourself and flick on the lights. Sure enough, he’s sitting in his usual armchair with a deadly pout on his face. Despite your lack of a true relationship, you felt the need to tease him. “I’m guessing you saw Hasan begging me to stay late with him?”

He’s silently watching you as you put down your purse and kick off your shoes. You come to sit on the couch closest to him, tucking your feet under you. You lean your chin into your hand and smile, goading him to reply.

“I saw him hanging on you.” His voice was low and scratched its way out of his throat, promising some kind of danger. His eyes locked on yours, you saw the fire burning within them. “I almost shot him.”

You smiled, but what he said was lost on you. Your heart suddenly raced, your head falling into your hands. The world feels like it’s slowing down as your breath tears from your lungs.

“Isabella, stop hanging on your sister! She has to go! “

You snap back like a rubberband and sit up, looking around for the owner of the voice.

The Asset is kneeling in front of you, concern painting his features. His hand comes up to cup your jaw. “Fox, what’s wrong?”

As you take in his features, you feel like you know him. Not just as the Winter Soldier, or the Asset, or your comrade. There was something more behind this wall in your mind. You felt like you were seeing more clearly.

“Did you remember something?”

You sucked a breath in and nodded minutely. This was bad. You knew it. The handlers would not be happy–

He knows you’re starting to panic as he strokes his knuckles across your cheek. His voice is gravelly, but gentle. “Keep it to yourself, okay? Don’t let your handlers–hey, look at me.” You lock your gaze with his steely eyes. “The mission comes first.”

You nod, not knowing what else to do. Closing your eyes, you reign yourself back in. You have to ignore the itching thoughts in the back of your mind. The mission. Focus. You need this or the whole world could collapse into utter chaos.

You tell yourself these things, but you can’t help the question that bubbles up from you.

“Are we doing the right thing?” It’s quiet, and you’re not sure he’s heard you. You hardly heard yourself, but the guilt that comes with the thought of killing this innocent man consumes you.

Hasan has his breakthrough the next day, and the mission is finished. You and the Asset make his death look like an accident and go back to Siberia for your mission report.

Zola knows about your own breakthrough. You don’t know how, but he does. You and the Asset are always sent to the memory suppressing machine after missions, but this time was more purposeful. He kept you under the machine until he was sure you were a blank slate.

New York City, New York, United States; 1999

You come to find out that you’re unstable around the Winter Soldier. He’s more volatile around you, too. Your deep connection causes you both to become more lucid as the years go by. It was growing difficult to complete a mission when you were both together. But, the Asset had gotten to the point where he refused to go on a mission unless you were beside him. He would argue, telling the soldiers, or Karpov, or even Director Pierce, that he trusted you above anyone else. Wiping him did nothing. You were constantly in his mind.

You were dependent on him, even after having your memories suppressed time and time again. The moment you see him, you know there is a link there. You trigger each other’s memories out in the field more often than not. You had convinced each other to run away together more times than you could count. You thought that with your combined skills that HYDRA wouldn’t find you, but they always did.

HYDRA tried to keep you separated from the Winter Soldier, but certain missions required both of your skills.

You’re both currently sitting on a rooftop, the target’s home in your line of sight. The Asset is next to you, shoulder to shoulder, tracing the lines on your palm. Moments like this are rare where both your handlers and his are absent. This deep relationship you feel with the the Asset makes you wonder how long you’ve actually known him and why HYDRA keeps wiping him from your mind.

You felt like you had to be next to him. It wasn’t possessive, or even the knowledge that you’re supposed to protect him. It’s more like a confirmation that he’s there, that this man you share a bond with is a true physical being. Having him beside you helps you confirm that this link isn’t just some made up theory in your head.

“Maybe we should disappear,” you whisper into the night. The Asset’s light touches stop and you look up at him to see fear in his blue eyes.

“Do you remember what happened last time?” His voice is loaded with feeling, making you desperately wish you could remember anything. You kicked at the wall in your mind, trying to have any memory come back to you. Shaking your head, you grasped his hand and laced your fingers together. You glance over to the target’s home and see he’s still glued to the television.

“They caught us before we made it out of the country,” A dark look passed over his face. “I can’t tell you what they did to you when we got back to Siberia.”

You nodded, dropping your gaze to his thumb, watching as it made gentle, soothing arcs across the back of your hand. You feel trapped, like no matter what you do, you’ll always belong to HYDRA. You pushed the thought far from you and shifted closer to him. “I think I had a dog.”

You both did this sometimes – assumed things about who you were before being part of HYDRA. He chuckled and you peeked over at him. His smiles were so rare. You liked the way his eyes crinkled around the edges. “I see you as more of a cat person.”

You hum thoughtfully. “Maybe I had both. I remember Paris. A creek by our house, maybe?” You shake your head, hearing the little girl’s laugh. You hear her laugh all the time when you try to remember things.

The Asset squeezes your hand, shaking the weight of the memories from you. “I remember a living room. Couch cushions on the floor. A nurse.”

You crack a smile. “This got very adult-themed.”

He realizes how it sounds and blushes. You save the image of the light dusting of pink across his cheeks with a sense of pride. “No! Fox, you’re–” he laughs quietly. “I think the nurse was my mother? I don’t know, but it feels like home.”

“Do you think we would have found each other if this hadn’t happened to us?” you ask suddenly, brows knit together. “I don’t know if you feel it, but there’s a connection here–”

He nods instantly, obviously relieved that you feel the same thing he does. “Fox, there’s only one thing I’m thankful for.” His cybernetic hand comes up to cup your cheek.

You lean into his cool touch. “What’s that?”

“Finding you.”

You gasped, holding your breath with the tension you felt. The Asset combed his fingers through your hair, tucking it behind your ear, before pulling your face up. His eyes were more expressive than you had ever seen them. His thumb brushed against your cheekbone as you tilted your head and closed your eyes. You felt his breath fan across your mouth before his lips molded to yours with the faintest bit of pressure.

His phone went off, loud and annoying, and you jumped away from him like a jolt of electricity ran through you. Gasping, you press a hand to your mouth and walk away from him. Shit, shit, shit! Repercussions were going to be harsh. Your handlers were going to know–they were going to find out. They were going to wipe you both – or worse. You knew it. You tried to pull yourself together and focus on the Russian that he was fluently speaking into the phone.

“Да, сэр, я понимаю.”
Yes sir, I understand.

The Asset flipped the phone closed and put it in one of his pockets. “Fox,” he reached out for you, fingers brushing against your shoulder. You turned to him. His eyes were wide with concern. You knew he had to be thinking the same things you were. “We have to leave.”

You nodded, not trusting your voice, and followed behind him. You tried to bite your lips to rid them of the feeling of his against yours, but the tingling persisted.

Siberia, Russia; 1999

The flight back to base was quiet and tense. The handlers seemed more distant than usual, but you tried to act normally. As soon as you arrived on base, a soldier came up to you and the Asset, purpose and authority in his stride. “Карпов хочет, чтобы вы два для отчета миссии.”
Karpov wants you two for mission report.

This was unusual. After a mission, you and the Asset would turn in your weapons, clean yourselves up if needed, deliver the mission report, go to the machine, then back to cryo. You shared a look with your comrade, hoping he would understand the change. He tilted his chin forward, telling the officer to lead the way. His features softened as he glanced at you, his eyes flashing with worry before becoming reassuring.

Your arm brushes against the Asset’s flesh arm as you stayed in step down the hall. Two soldiers start walking in front of you, now; and nearly half of your team from the mission follows behind you. They all have their weapons. You consciously have to remind yourself to keep your face impassive, even though your heart is thundering in your chest. Your mind has one single thought on a loop as you enter the room:

They know, they know, they know.

Karpov is sitting towards the back of the room at a table. Two empty chairs wait for you and the Asset on the other side. Your escort party disperses around the room, all hands on a weapon, ready and waiting. You sit and wait anxiously for the report. Your commanding officer’s eyes pierced into you both. “Доклад миссии.”
Mission report.

The Asset dove into the report, telling Karpov that you both watched the objective, trying to find a way to get him cornered on his own. The mission cut short because he had ordered you both back before the mission was complete–

Karpov dismissed the Asset with a scoff, turned to you and asked for a mission report. You looked at him questioningly, then at your comrade.

“Сэр, я запутался. Зачем вы меня спрашиваете? Он говорил вам, что мы делаем.”
Sir, I’m confused. Why would you ask me? He was telling you what we were doing.

You know as soon as the words leave your mouth that this was the wrong move. You do not question your commanding officer when you’re in Winter Soldier mode. You obey. You comply. You’ve given yourself away, now. Karpov’s eyes glint with understanding, and now you know that he is also aware. He’s aware you’ve had another breakthrough. He’s aware that you and the Asset took an opportunity to isolate yourselves from your handlers. He knows about your kiss.

You blanche and gnaw at your lip. You drop your stoic facade as you feel the Asset tense beside you. He’s figured it out, as well.

“Ваши обработчики сообщили мне о ваших действиях. С этого момента, вам запрещено работать вместе. Отведите его к стулу.”
Your handlers have informed me of your actions. From here on out, you are forbidden to work together. Take him to the chair.

You and the Asset stand, yelling out in protest. He flips the table, grabs your arm, and orders you to run. An alarm is blaring, soldiers are pouring into the vast room, blockading you both in. The Asset pulls a gun from one of the holsters and starts shooting. You do the same. The handlers start dropping one by one, and you have a small glimmer of hope that you’ll be able to make it out this time. The Asset’s cybernetic hand is still wrapped around your arm, holding you close, assuring you’re safe.

Your hopes are smashed as the Asset is shot, a pained cry leaving his lips. You turn to him on instinct and start to check him for his wound. Your momentary distraction causes a soldier to come up behind you, pinning your arms between in his own and effectively disarming you. There’s too many of them. You watch, helplessly, as the Asset is taken to the machine that will wipe him. You’re faintly aware that another soldier is digging through  your various pockets and holsters, ridding you of your weapons. As soon as the Asset’s strapped to the chair, you lose all will to fight. Your knees give out beneath you, and if the soldier weren’t still holding you up, you would be crumpled on the floor.

Karpov shoves a rubber guard into the Asset’s mouth and the face guards come down. Your heart is thundering in your chest as you try to think of something–anything to make this stop. You know nothing will work.

The soldier detaining you chuckles as the Asset starts to scream in pain. “Вы не будете так повезло, Фокси. Он новый кулак HYDRA. Вы неудобством. Они будут прекратить вас.”
You will not be so lucky, Foxglove. He is the new fist of HYDRA. You are an inconvenience. They will terminate you.

Your heart races at his words. You cannot let this happen. Scanning the room, you see that a lot of the soldiers had left to go back to their posts. Now or never, you will never get another chance.

You tighten your arms in his, and rear your head back as hard as you can. You hear a nauseating crunch. He cries out in pain as he releases you. You take a knife from a sheath on the back of your suit and cut one soldier’s throat before he can draw a gun. You wield it, stepping closer to Karpov. “Let him go,” you spit.

He laughs, pulling the alarm again. Its siren wailing loud and obnoxious. “Это не закончится хорошо для вас.”
This will not end well for you.

You swallow, hearing the thundering of footsteps. He’s right. You have to make a choice. Now.

You spare a glance at the Asset, who is still screaming in pain underneath the machine, as the first soldiers make their way back to the room, guns drawn and firing. You dodge them, making your way to an exit that’s not yet flooding with soldiers.

You don’t get far down the hall before bullets ring out around you. You look behind you to see four guards firing at you, and you hear more coming into the corridor in front of you. You stop and consider your options for only a second before you run and collide through the window.

You hold your breath as you’re airborne, bullets flying by you. You feel two bites – one in your leg, another in your back. You tuck and roll as you hit the ground, crying out in pain, and get up as swiftly as you can. Gunshots and alarms are resounding behind you, motivating you to keep moving forward until you’re safe.

[Part 2]

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