Captain America and Bucky Barnes Imagines

104. STEVE: Hellhound Returns

A/N: This was requested by two of my favorites, Marvel_Fanatic_ and BuckysGirl42! You two are absolute DOLLS and I love you so much! 

Everyone has been so stinkin' nice and leaving the best comments and voting like crazy on this book and I'm so, so grateful for everything you guys do! It honestly makes me so happy to see how much you all love the book and it inspires me to set time aside every day to write more. I'm a relatively busy gal with working at a bakery and going to pastry school full time, but I'm trying to make time to write so that you all have something new to read as often as possible! You guys are really a dream come true :)

Endless hugs from me to you! 

Winnie 

Words: 2.7K

Pebbles of sand billow through the air like snow during wintertime. The sun is hotter than the deepest depths of hell—the pyramids in the distance doing nothing to shelter your sweltering skin from the godforsaken star. Blood patterns on the sand mark your path where fallen bodies slowly roast in the dry heat. There's the distinct smell of carnage and sweat. There's no doubt that the scent comes from you. You're wearing freeing shorts and a tight tank top—hair hastily tied up in a small knot atop your head. Most of the blood that soaks into the soles of your shoes doesn't belong to you. It came pouring out of the bodies of the masked men you took down as they chased after Steve and Bucky—you following to knock out the targets from behind. The alien artifact located in the Egyptian tomb has been secured, as far as you've heard through your earpiece, and all that leaves now is escape.

There's not a lot of hope that it's going to be a clean exit when you realize you're surrounded. A mile away from the mountainous pyramids and another three from your team you find yourself squared on all sides by the opposing team. Your hands clench into fists as your body automatically makes to move into a defensive stance.

One of the men says something. You don't speak the language here, but you know enough about human nature that he has no friendly plans for what he wants to do with you. You did, in his defense, just kill five of his friends with your bare hands. They don't call you Hellhound for nothing. In your defense, though, they were planning to use that alien artifact to mutate innocent, kidnapped women from all across the impoverish towns surrounding beautiful Cairo.

Out of the corner of your eye you spot a familiar metal bird-shaped robot.

Red Wing.

Hey—at least your team hasn't completely deserted you yet. You had little doubts that they would: ever since that day in Rome you've known that Steve and the others would always have your back.

One of the men seems to realize that you're unarmed. Of course you are—you lost your gun about ten minutes back. Besides, you prefer your killings a bit more personal for the especially rotten Joes.

The gunman raises his weapon and you hear a resounding blast.

You stifle a sigh of relief. You flinched at the sound, but the only one to fall to the ground was the gunman himself. He's sporting a brand new bullet hole in his head. Thankfully, Red Wing shot your opponent before he could shoot you.

At the shock of one of their teammates falling dead the men around you all look up. The few who stay focused on you are forced to do so as you turn to kick, punch, and jab their bodies out of your path. Bullets paddle the ground near your quick-moving body. Sand splatters around and bullets become cemented into the corn-yellow soil.