When I Leave [bucky barnes ≫ the avengers]

Seven.

[Trigger Warning: nightmares, blood, death, and a big language warning haha. (Yes, Steve would be extremely red in the face if he read this (=^.^=)]
[There may be touches on PTSD, namely symptoms shown within Bucky and Breetan's characters. Maybe even Natasha's, idk. This trigger warning for OCD and PTSD are going to be throughout the story from now on.]

Hands on a cold throat.
The Young-Blooded Killer.
Five lifeless, cold bodies piled on top of each other.
Lives taken by the Young-Blooded Killer.
A bullet wound to the head.
His eyes, gaping black holes.
Her arm, dislocated and limp.
Their faces, agape in fear and shock.
The Young-Blooded Killer standing over them.
These deaths all stuck out like a sore thumb.
Her hand, always on the trigger. Her face behind the wheel, her fingers wrapped around the blade.
Her smirk, plastered on her face time and time again after each successful mission.
---

The darkness was choking, thickening as the night left the early hours- Twelve turned to one, one to two, and finally three o'clock.
The heat forced sweat to plaster red hair onto her ghostly skin as she sat on the hot balcony, waiting. Watching.
She couldn't move, waiting for her boss to arrive.
"It's been done, I assume?" A voice ran out, across the expensive mansion's balcony. Lights flickered on behind her, forcing her to shrink into a large fern that had been sitting on the clearing, engulfing herself in its cool shade.
It was female, a tall lady standing in the doorway. Curly red hair sat upon a circled face, brown eyes glared at her and pink lips pursed in loathing.
"Of course, superior Atwell."
"Why didn't you go back to base?"
"I've got a new mission. Forgive me, ma'am." She mumbled, pulling out a gun from her back pocket at the speed of lightning.

Name: Hayley Atwell.
Occupation(s): HYDRA Training Supervisor 7.
Occupation Add-On: Superior to: Winter Soldier (Occupation: Assassin.), Young Blooded Killer (Occupation: Assassin.), agent Zero (Level five.)
Occuptation Add-On: Trains: Agent Downey (Level two), Young Blooded Killer.
Death: Obviously quick- Bullet to the head.
Speech: Should it matter?
Evidence: Are you joking? You're the Young Blooded Killer, you don't leave evidence.
Take: Keys to cells, folder on The Winter Soldier, agent Downey, agent Neko and your training.

Ignoring what her new supervisor had typed, the girl raised the gun.
Blood splattered the balcony's floor.
--

The heat of a Summer's morning forced sweat to dampen her eyebrows.
"What did I do?" A S.H.I.E.L.D Intern sobbed, mascara staining their cheeks.

"You're part of S.H.I.E.L.D, what else?" The Young Blood scowled, her thin, bony fingers wrapping around her daggers' hilt.

"I... I only take calls, though!"

"Sucks to be you."
The girl's sobs were cut off as she choked on her own blood.

"Oh my Gods. Oh my Gods." She cried, sitting up abruptly.
The darkness was choking, forcing her into a worried, suffocated state.
"Ooh my Gods. Oh my..." Breetan whispered, salty tears streaming down her face. She took a deep, shaky breath, "I'm okay. I'm alright..." She mumbled, remembering that she wasn't alone. "Okay, calm down. Calm down." Her lungs begged for air that she could not supply as she sobbed, raising cold hands that began to claw at her face, desperately trying to erase the ever growing supply of tears.

When the tears left her worries, she shakily swung her legs over the soft, plush bed, her lungs still screaming for air. Breetan's feet met icy metal, her eyes fluttered around the dark, but unmistakable HYDRA office- the metal chair where she always sat after a mission, the computers. She knew where she was even without the aid of her haphazard glasses. "Oh my Gods. F**k, shit, f**k," She mumbled in Russian, "Why..."
Lights flickered on, blinding her in its warm, orange glow.
"Breetan, you okay?" A female voice whispered in her ear.

"Shit." Breetan murmured, twisting her arms over her shoulders to embrace the lady's arms, flipping her over Breetan's head. A red haired woman fell to the metallic floor. "Superior Atwell... The mission... My severe apologies." She growled, falling to the floor to put her third superior into a choke-hold after elbowing her in the face.

"F**k. Breetan, you've got to calm down." Superior Atwell half-yelled, elbowing her in the chest to release Breetan's hold. "JARVIS! Sedate her!" She then yelled in English, forcing Breetan to look up as a panel opened in the cinderblock ceiling.
A sleek nozzle slowly exited the panel. Breetan's wings puffed up, enveloping her in a black, fluffy cuccoon that superior Atwell herself had taught her how to do. Her superior could no doubt see the wings as a piercing pain shot through them, drawing out a quiet yell.
Her wings ached as she rolled over, dodging the second needle that flew out of the ceiling.
She heard muffled stumbling, crashing, and the creaking of a door.
"I heard shouting? What's happened" A male voice shouted, footsteps drawing closer.

"It's Breetan- She's doing the same thing Bucky does!" Atwell yelled, "Get Barnes!"

She heard running, refusing to lower her makeshift shield, despite how hard Atwell tried.

[Bucky]
The thumping on Steve and my door brought me out of a nightmare-fueled dream. I swung my legs over the bed, flipping on the lamp to force the shadows to flee, before staring at Steve's empty bed.
Oh. I thought grimly, wondering where Steve could be.
I hesitantly trekked to the door, ramming my toe into the end of Steve's bed in the process.
The door opened with a creak, Sam's worried face greeting me.
"Mm?" I grumbled incoherently, rubbing my eyes with my non-metal arm.

"Buck, it's Breetan. 'Thinks she's at HYDRA." He stumbled over words, dragging me into the corridor.

"For God sake, Sam, it's not even four. I need coffee n' vodka."

"No you don't. Nat want- Needs -you to calm 'er down, 'cause you used to think that too, remember? C'mon!" He pulled me by my metal arm, it almost popping off as a result of his obscene strength.

"Oh for G-" I started to speak before being shoved into Natasha and Breetan's bedroom, where a feathery-looking sheath lay by an exasperated Natasha.

"It's the first time, so it's pretty bad. We need you to coax her out of her wings," I shot Romanoff a confused look, "Yes, Buck, wings, and try to talk her out of this weird whatever-it-is. Got it? We'll leave you two alone."

I nodded, crouching beside the feathery cuccoon. When Sam and Nat left, I started to speak, avoiding touching her. "You're okay, you're in S.H.I.E.L.D.. HYDA won't hurt you. Can you tell me what you dreamt?"

Okay, that was chapter seven! Sorry for the wait （＾∇＾）I was gonna make it longer but hhhhhhhhhh
sorry~
This chapter is unedited, so please point out spelling/grammar/plot mistakes- I really appreciate it!
Comments, votes, etc are all extremely appreciated too~
Thank you for reading!