In the 21st century, The Soldier went rogue, HYDRA fell, but the files of the assassin still remained. The deaths were too big for SHIELD to let it simply go.
Apparently, the Avengers had no idea there were more than two people lost in time.
It wou...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Bucky laid on the ground for a long time, his eyes closed as if he was simply enjoying an afternoon nap.
It had taken a while for William to get a hang of himself again and fall back into the safe shell of an emotionless façade he had cocooned himself into over the years.
His grey sheets were dirty now, smeared with blood that he had tried to wipe off his hands. The fingerprints had dried dark brown, a heavy contrast against the light colour.
William didn't try another attempt on the man's life, realizing he hadn't stood up for himself. Hadn't even tried to bargain for his life, he'd just laid there, allowing this to happen.
What the hell was wrong with this Bucky?
William narrowed his bloodshot eyes as the man shifted slightly, pushing himself up carefully and avoiding any eye contact although Will was glaring at him.
He had healed, for the most part, with just a few measly bruises left underneath the dried blood on his skin. As if he had been beaten up weeks ago, so he healed fast.
He didn't show any signs of being in pain, nor being uncomfortable in any way. The man was completely relaxed and William thought that maybe he had hit him a bit too hard and he had some kind of brain injury now.
Why was this man playing with death?
Bucky leaned against the wall, staring at the ceiling as if he was deep in thought.
William didn't like his presence, it was unsettling. He kept clenching and unclenching his fists, feeling drained of energy, though it was as if his instincts still forced him to be alert no matter how tired he was.
Being stuck and locked up again was taking a great deal out of him.
Bucky's gaze drifted over to William's clenched fists and he nodded to himself as if he had finally come to a conclusion about something. The man then slowly stood up, making William hold his breath.
Would he be punished now for his actions? Was this it? What would be their style of torture? Surely a method that required pain and a lot of it. Would they use electricity? Saw? Would they use knives to slice underneath his feet and palms? Or maybe water instead? Would they stick him inside of a metal box to mess with his instincts? Would they bring him pieces of flesh and weak, sick prey to torture the crazed beast? Only to stab it once it showed any signs of breaking through?
Whatever they were going to do, William would face it head-on.
He watched as Bucky crouched slightly, making himself seem smaller. His back was turned towards Will, it could be taken two ways, either he sees him as no threat and shows that he's above him. Or he shows him that he's vulnerable to William's attacks.
He had a damn arm made of metal and he basically refused to protect himself? Bucky had definitely lost a screw or two somewhere.
The man left the cell without another glance back, and William was grateful to finally be alone. He dragged himself to the tiny bathroom to scrub off the dried blood, rubbing his hands red even after all signs of his crazed episode gone.
