Untimely

Chapter 28

(3rd POV)

The rubble still smoked as it's cracks and free rocks rolled down large pillars that were just walls a moment before. The scene was cloudy with dust as a large triangular shape was cracked, as if a baby bird was coming out of its shell. Captain Rogers stepped into the fire light, his face scratched and dirty as he hooked his shield onto his back before turning back around and picking up a still Halo Band. She was, just as before, completely limp.

The captain wasn't sure if she was alive.

None the less, three helicopter lights had showed themselves to the Captain, but that had not seen him yet. Without hesitating, he gathered his nerves and escaped out of the fire light, into the shadows, and then picked up his pace into a run. He knew where he was going, the last person he knew he could trust.

/
(First, Halo POV)

The air felt- warm. So unlike what it had been when I was waking up. And whatever I lie on, it was comfortable. The light beneath my eyelids was dark, and not blinding. But I was still careful with opening them.

No, the room was dark, and since my eyes were adjusted to the intensity of blackness, I could see things easily. I sat up slowly, feeling a million things scream that I didn't know had voices. My back felt like it needed to be cracked, but was twisted too far around itself to ever come free of its knot. My abs and stomach muscles felt like I could puke any moment, but it wasn't from hunger anymore.

What happened?

I stand slowly, swinging my feet off the brown couch I had been resting on. My head hurts, but it doesn't feel like any of my senses are weak. When I try and stretch, I feel something cold against my back, at the hem of my pants. I reach back and grab a small object, pulling it and taking it into my hands.

A gun?

Why do I have a gun?

I don't feel scared, which is strange. I want to feel scared. I don't know where I am. Feeling scared is normal for a situation like this.

Feel scared, Halo.

I hold the gun in an armed position, since I can see it had bullets.

I do remember one thing, I know what a problem I am. I know who I'm with and why I'm feeling so horrible emotionally.

As I said before, Emotions are the weakness.

I really am just a Hydra rogue.

Is that why Shield wants me dead? Because they are Hydra?

Or is Nick Fury just an aggravating piece of-

I don't know what to think anymore.

I push the thoughts to the back of my head as I place my hand on the baige colored wall. My breath hitches as I can sense the movements of other people again.

I'm not alone, at least.

But I take time to notice how allowing my mind out of my head feels- like the pressure is being drained out, and it doesn't hurt anymore. This was all my mind wanted. The freedom to move around, without being chased or threatened.

I drag it back, feeling thirsty and the want for light.

I walk through the door of the room into a long hallway, same wall colors, but with a dark wood lining on the ceiling and floor. My finger is on the trigger, and my gun points to each of the rooms as I walk by them, toward the window that is covered by closed blinds.

I can't hear voices, but I can hear a tv that sounds to be on the news. But the words are muffled.
Finally I reach the edge, and I point my gun out in front of me, being prepared to point at whoever it needs to be pointed at.

But a dark hand grabs my gun, and then disappears around the corner. My senses seem to erupt with a scream that my muscles use as energy as I grab the retreating arm before it vanishes completely, and I yank forward, brining this person into full view and toward my other fisted hand.

He falls back, holding his nose, and still the gun. I push my weight forward, noticing the weak position he's in. But I do not reach him. I run into a taller, more sturdy body mass, and I feel myself let out a growl of disappointment as the new person grabs my arms and pushes me a step back. I look at Steve's face, and I can't read it. I don't know what he's thinking.

You can beat him. You did it before, and now you have new abilities to try. Remember Loki's cell?

I stand up straight, hardening my confused face and looking over his shoulder to the other man. "Who the hell is this" I question, remembering the sound of my voice.

"Sam Wilson" the man said, grabbing a tissue and holding it to his nose. I looked back at Rogers in a glare,

"He's the only one I know that's not trying to kill you" Mr. America was angry. It felt uncomfortable, and it broke my stand off position immediately. He had anger apparently, and having it directed towards me changed how I saw it.

"Why'd he grab the gun?" I peered at him as he looked down at the black weapon.

"You would've shot me the minute you saw me" he defended, sliding it across a glass table.

I opened my mouth to retort, but I noticed that Rogers was still dirt covered as well. I closed my mouth and stood up straighter, "where's the bathroom"

"Down the hall, to the left" Now he sounded annoyed. Rogers did. I just didn't want to die.

/

I had to have the water on cold for the shower, since I pleasantly discovered that I had singe marks on my shoulders and arms. The thought made me feel sick, I was below Steve. The heat was closer to him, and I got burns.

I changed into what I had had on under my uniform, since I had just gone shopping, I had normal black jeans with a black t-shirt. As I looked at myself in the mirror, something felt unfinished.

Maybe it was the way there was no color in my attire. But I knew I had to have all black on. It was a rule that just was, and no one ever questioned it.

I walked into the room I had awoken in and sat on the couch. The smell of coals still pungent.

Te carpet was plain. Nothing wrong, with nothing strange and unexpected. It was a safe place to stare at as my head buzzed with other things. Some call it staring off in the distance, but it didn't want to do that. I couldn't see the distance, but I could see the carpet, and it was safe.

I didn't feel scared, or upset. Just angry. A lot of anger.

After a few minutes of silence, Steve walked in, already clean and wearing a white t-shirt with his uniform pants. He sits across from the couch in an arm chair before staring at me intently.

"What's goin on?" He doesn't sound angry anymore.

I sighed heavily, pushing my hair behind my shoulders and folding my hands together in my lap before clearing my throat. "I don't know what I am" I reasoned, thinking of the hints I can't comprehend. He have me a quizzical expression so I elaborated further. "I blew a door out of its socket without touching it when I was with Loki, I can see a building and it's every painful detail without being inside it, time slows down at the weirdest of times, and it hurts because it's like ripping reality into shards of fantasy. My heads not supposed to do that"

"You'll learn" he reasoned, "just like we did"

"But I'm not you guys" I snapped, before laughing at how stupid I sounded. "I'm hunted by 'you guys'. I'm part of the group that doesn't go anywhere, they just wander around until they're killed". A pig in a slaughter house" I sat back against the couch in frustration, though I feel like saying these things is letting go of some of the weight.

Steve pursed his lips before looking right at me, "you're going to learn" he said seriously, "You just have to know who you're fighting"

"And who am I fighting?" I questioned quietly, folding my hands back together. A long pause of silence ensued as he looked around the room for a minute. When his gaze went back to me, his eyebrow was raised as he looked up form the floor, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

"Yourself"