Oh Suzannah, Don't You Cry For Me

Chapter Twenty-Nine: World's Worse Use of an Octopus Logo

Ooh boy, I apologize for the wait. I didn't intend for this chapter to take this long to write and upload, but I had a lot of homework. Midterms hit me hard this semester, and I've been spending most of my time doing homework or stress-playing Minecraft. I hope the longer chapter will make up for the wait. Thank you for being patient with me. :)

Chapter Twenty-Nine: World's Worse Use of an Octopus Logo

All things considered, it could have been worse. If not for Bucky's incessant need to always keep an eye on his little sister, Suzie would have been fine with Steve's compromise and would have willingly participated in the Hydra mission she had been longing to join ever since Bucky appeared. However, Bucky practically followed Suzie around camp and threw her into a rigorous, week-long training session. He drilled into her the type of weapons Hydra used, the landscape, the assumed layout of the intended target, and a million other details Suzie had no hopes of remembering. She hardly slept, rarely had time to eat, and her muscles ached like the first month back at basic.

In other circumstances, Bucky's persistent supervision would have aggravated her. It did now, but considering they were in the middle of a world war, Suzie figured she could endure her brother's unceasing presence. He had always been protective—it came standard in older brothers—but this bordered on too extreme.

At least he also bothered Steve and the rest of Captain America's special team. If anyone had told her scrawny, little Steve would turn out to be Captain America, she would have laughed in their face and called the nearest insane asylum. She had long ago given up on questioning her reality since it only wasted precious energy. Life had turned into fiction as soon as she had stepped foot on European soil. Steve's uncanny appearance only added fuel to the already raging fire.

Sitting squashed between the wall of the truck and Bucky's broad shoulders, Suzie clutched her rifle and tried to ignore her teeth rattling in her skull. The truck seemed intent on hitting every bump in the poorly-maintained road as the group drove toward the Hydra base. A suped-up Steven Grant Rogers and a large man with a thick, ginger mustache and a stupid bowler hat sat across from her, boxing her into a small area of the truck. The trio loomed over her, and not for the first time since Steve and Bucky agreed to let her join, Suzie debated if she could handle this mission or not.

At least a small Asian man and a scruffy Frenchman who had not spoken a single word of English since they left the camp accompanied her in the back of the truck. They sat near the tailgate, leaving her in her corner surrounded by three large men. Bucky had probably planned the seating arrangements to keep her safe in the corner—she wouldn't put it past him. A black man drove the truck and a British guy sat in the passenger seat. Bucky had introduced them—apparently, there were four "Jameses" on the team—but she had forgotten the list of nicknames Bucky told her to remember. It didn't matter anyway if she stayed beside Bucky the whole time.

Steve wore his attention-grabbing uniform, a wild child no matter his size and muscle density, determined to get shot with the painted target he held on his lap. Who designed his uniform? And his choice of weapon? They were not standard military dress. Suzie didn't care if Steve "could outperform the fittest human", bullets could still hurt him. His uniform—also not bulletproof—would only garner unwanted attention. Hiding wouldn't be an option, but Bucky said, much to his visible dislike, Steve usually ran head first into the battle, which Steve had planned here. A stupid plan—but hey, if Bucky said it had worked dozens of times before, why wouldn't it work now?

Because plans seldom turn out the way one wants. There were too many variables, too many things could go wrong and get them all killed. Gambling with their lives—and the rest of the world's—by sending a super soldier straight into a well-defended fortress of doom controlled by the world's worst use of an octopus logo sounded not only stupid but downright risky.