❝ you have always worn your flaws upon your sleeve. and i have always buried them deep beneath the ground. dig them up. let's finish what we started. ❞
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BUCKY rushed to the edge of the wall, footsteps deft and silent. He felt her behind him, breathing muted by their masks.
Muzzles, it felt li—
"Two minutes, at most."
Bucky's head twitched before he fully turned it down to her. She stared back up, eyes dark and sombre. They looked empty.
He reached across his torso, using his metal hand. Unholstering his last pistol, he turned to face forward.
It was easier to talk to her this way. But that was his secret to keep.
"на моей отметке."
The quiet mechanical clicks of her weapon filled the silence for a moment before Bucky turned the corner. Her body wa close as the two assassins made their way down the eerie hallway. The florescent lights were dim with age, casting everything darker then it needed to be.
If he was honest with himself, he was terrified right now. The emotion sat tight in his chest, curling itself deep in his lungs. It was difficult to even breathe in this moment.
His breathing was on the verge of hyperventilation, but he had to force a steady rhythm.
As if she could sense his unease, Bucky watched her, enthralled, slip by and take lead.
Their mission had gone south when more than expected backup arrived at the scene. In this moment, for some reason, Bucky couldn't quite remember what was going on.
This felt like a fever dream. He had never been in this state before.
