Greetings fellow human beings, it is I, your Captain, again.
As the smartest, coolest, most handsome people know already - because they've checked my linktree (or rather, it's "carrd", but you know linktree better), I was an artist on a furry romance VN called "Three Weeks on the Atlantic". I was in charge of some character art and other things on the project. I mean I still am, and I'm working on the sequel but that's another topic.
One character in particular in the game is Nila, and I wanted to do an illustration of her in a modern outfit (the VN takes place in the 1800s after all)... so ... Here you go!
The title is a reference to the game, if you wonder.
A funny thing is that initially, I drew only half of the image. I had forgotten her wings because I can be stupid sometimes, lol, but after being told about it, I fixed it. The outfit is made up. I just thought it was cool.
More illustration of the girls will be coming soon.
Buy it here (itch.io) or buy it here (Steam) - All proceeds go directly in my pockets-- I mean in the studio's funding!
(* At the time, it was just a VN with no talks of a sequel. But now, a sequel is being worked on, which isn't a VN, lol.)
Word Count: 3,020
Song Choice: See What I’ve Become by Zack Hemsey
Special a/n: SURPRISE! AN AFTER CREDIT SCENE. Hope you stayed, you loyal Marvel fans. I thought to myself, if you write Marvel, you gotta do it right. :D have fun, guys. Hope you like it.
Being honest, Sam hadn’t expected any results to turn up, especially not so soon after leaving Munich and that pile of rubble that had been a modern hospital back in the 50s. The team had rushed into the Quinjet and taken care of Scott, who had nearly bled out. Thanks to Natasha, a doctor had awaited them on board, ready to save their friend. The secret base was a blessing. Finally, they could all tend to their wounds and get some rest. Bucky had recovered, after hiding himself away in his room for weeks, after nights of screaming and mornings with a metal hand around Steve’s neck.
Being even more honest, Sam hadn’t expected Natasha to pull him out of bed in the middle of the night to get him aboard a plane to … Bulgaria? Or something in that direction.
He wiped his eyes, still tired, pulling his Exosuit on before realizing he didn’t even wear a shirt yet. At least his wounds had healed, especially that nasty bullet wound in his shoulder. This base was equipped with perfect medical supplies. Sam was very grateful for his healing process. Not being able to fly around anymore would’ve taken a big toll on him. It was the last thing he and Riley had done together.
Sam admired the Russian’s determination to find someone who had caused her so much pain and put her into a position where living turned into running, just because the girl meant so much to Barnes. Of course, also because it was Hydra. No one should endure what cruelty Hydra managed to apply. And he totally understood Natasha had been more than disappointed their time in Munich had not resulted in Zola’s death.
But Sam still had his money on these two, Barnes and Romanoff. Steve had lost his ten bucks the moment the bet was settled. That day felt like ages ago now. Back then, they’d still sat around in Wakanda, trying to kill time.
Multiple sources had confirmed Hydra activity in the destination region and Natasha wasn’t taking any chances.
“Finding Barnes took us years because we were too cautious. Not this time”, she’d proclaimed in the mission briefing on the jet.
So, they all went to Europe again. Sam really didn’t want to know how much Nat owed all her spy friends by now or how that favor thing worked, he was just gonna be glad when everything was over.
Of course, however, he knew this mission was something special for Natasha in another sense. It was her shot at redemption, even if she didn’t call it that. She had messed up when she tricked Steve and even though he treated her with kindness, she, as well as everyone else, was aware of the fact that she needed to make up for holding a knife to James Buchanan Barnes’ throat. The earlier the better.
Steve already analyzed a blueprint of what looked like a warehouse. It didn’t give the impression of a fortress, but with Hydra in there, it probably was the same level of dangerous.
Next to him sat Bucky, silently scribbling into his worn-out, yellow-edged journal, not looking up once. He’s been doing that a lot since he and Wanda started their sessions, Sam thought, good for him.
The dim light above the seats created a gloomy atmosphere and proved how tired Sam really was. Since no one sought conversation, the former pararescue decided to rest some more.
They landed and parked the jet outside the city, off-road and off-sight. Despite the thunderstorm roaring and lashing against the windows, everyone ignored the dark warnings the sky sent and jumped out of the vehicle. Just in time to see the first red of the morning peek through from behind the mountaintops on the horizon.
Finding the warehouse was no problem in this city that couldn’t stand a comparison to the size of New York or even Berlin. Luckily, there was no traffic at this time either.
That exact warehouse didn’t really distinguish itself from its neighborhood - shattered windows, sooty walls and loosened, but thick chains hanging from the ceilings. The mechanic cranes, now without use, were characteristic for this former heavy industry region.
When the three of them - Sam had already left to fly control rounds - stepped onto the muddy ground, nothing moved, everything was quiet except for the crackling of the rain. It was a little too quiet for Natasha’s taste, who had expected much more activity. Steve couldn’t make out any signs that screamed ambush, so he contacted Sam.
“Any signs of enemy units?”
“My heat camera doesn’t give me anything. Building’s unarmed. There is one signature, but it’s far from usual.”
“What do you mean?”
“Body temperature very low, subject not on the move.”
“Alright, we’re going in.”
The inside of the building looked as abandoned as the outside. No one had stepped into this building in a long time, at least not through the front door considering the thick layer of dust on the floor here. Now, water dropped softly from the three intruders, whose clothes were drenched.
When Bucky turned on the flashlight, signs of past fights appeared. Bullets stuck in stone pillars, the indentations visible from a distance, implying guns heavier than simple handguns. Bucky even spotted indentations on the floor, edges smeared with brown tones that probably had been red once.
A side entrance to the main hall captured the intruders’ attention. The door leaf was completely crooked, but still hanging on the hinges. Who- or whatever had unloaded its rage here, it was a force to be reckoned with. Steve wondered what they were really dealing with.
He didn’t know it, but Natasha was thinking the same thing. Had the Rem- Rebecca really done all of this?
In Steve’s memories, she’d always been a sweet girl with the gentlest fingers of all. She’d cleaned his bruises after his fight with Tom Honeycutt from across the street and all the others too, every time he came home with Bucky after school.
There was no version of this universe that he could imagine Rebecca as an assassin like her brother. She hadn’t even been in the war. The facts just didn’t line up. Was this a trap?
Leading away from that side door they found drag marks, guiding them deeper into the massive hall that was probably impossible to fill with warmth. No wonder Sam’s heat signature showed a cold body. Everyone would hibernate in here.
As soon as Steve’s eyes made out the lonely figure in the dark, he began running. Sam would’ve warned them of Hydra mercenaries by now, right? The way was clear and the others followed more or less hesitantly.
When Steve came to a halt and stood in front of the Remnant, however, he wished he’d never seen this - image. He knew this could never be unseen by anyone. Tears welled in his eyes, silent tears he wanted no one to witness. Hydra had, once again, outdone themselves, but not Steve’s mind.
Because in there, he’d seen something similar before. The worst possible outcome, just with a different body hanging in chains, one with a metal arm. A hundred nightmares.
This one, this woman, had her head hanging so low that one could almost think she was dead. This place smelled bitter, of blood and urine and burnt flesh, but every time a cool breeze crept through the slits in the walls, a little more of the nauseating aroma got carried away.
A firm hand rested on Steve’s shoulder. Bucky appeared by his side, offering silent comfort although he should’ve been the one haunted by the sight. But he showed no signs of emotional distress. Before Hydra, he’d been good at shoving the outward manifestations of his feelings away.
The sight - Hydra’s lethal asset and master thief chained up by both her wrists, with arms stretched out to the sides. Her only clothes were her combat pants and a shirt that had undoubtedly seen better days. The combat mask was missing; they’ve stripped her to the essence, Steve thought bitterly.
She resembled a dead person, but he’d never seen a corpse in a position like that. Not with the whole front unprotected, not with tight chains clawing into her flesh and her arms keeping the torso up to prevent a collapse.
All the blood reminded the super soldier of his time at the army, when he’d rescued the 105th in Azzano and when they’d lost part of their division just behind Chambéry in Southern France.
But her legs stood, stiff like pillars, just not as straight, holding her body up.
The floor underneath her boots was damaged, showing cracks and more blood, dry like the blood covering her hands.
Bucky cautiously stepped around her. He examined her back. Natasha had already rushed by to see if their surroundings offered any intel or belongings left behind by Hydra.
She returned with a harness of chains that was obviously meant for the woman and, judging by the multitude of red-brown stains, had been in use before. It made Bucky speak up.
“It’s her.”
Everyone turned to him.
“She’s not my sister, but I know her.”
Not Rebecca, it echoed within Steve’s mind. Not his sister. How?
He’d seen her face. Steve’s mind hadn’t been scrambled, instead his memories haunted him at night because they were so vivid he couldn’t tell them apart from reality. He saw Brooklyn in those nights, his Ma, their tiny apartment, the places he discovered with a 9-year old Bucky, spending time with his family, everything. In contrast to Bucky, he could trust his memories. Right?
If this woman wasn’t Rebecca, who was she?
“She looks the same”, Steve mumbled.
“See her neck? Remember when I took a shot at our kitchen window and one of the shards hit her neck?”
“With that old tin? I remember your Dad polished your ass for it. Twice.”
“Yeah”, Bucky grinned sheepishly, “me too. But look, her scar’s missing. Also, our twin mole behind her ear isn’t there. Not her.”
Natasha piped up, whispering like the others. A little necklace with an arrow hung from her hand. She must’ve found it somewhere.
“And who is she instead?”
“I don’t know her name. But this harness was hers. No one else needed it. They created her in Siberia, like us, must’ve been in the 60s. Back then, Belyakov called her хищник. Predator.”
His blue eyes wandered over her body, calling memories to resurface. There was an expression on his face Steve couldn’t describe. His friend raised his eyebrows.
“She shouldn’t be this still. She should’ve heard us from outside. Must be her second week.”
“Second week?”
“Hydra doesn’t abandon their soldiers. They bring them back to order. This”, he gestured around, “is standard procedure. Probably preparation for a wipe.”
“Are you telling us she’s been hanging here for two damned weeks!?” Steve’s heart cramped.
“At least two. She’s strong, makes it hard to break her. You smell the urine though, right?”
"Man, I’m starting to feel sick and I can’t even smell it”, Sam mumbled through the comms.
It was probably Natasha’s fault that the dormant girl roared back to life. When hanging the harness back, she missed the hook and the chains clattered against the concrete floor.
In an instant, the Remnant stirred. Steve’s skin prickled in response.
Suddenly, he noticed the trail of dried up blood leading away from her. Behind a little flock of dust, his eyes spotted a tooth, half brown, half white. The trail led away from her. Steve swallowed hard. If they hadn’t taken her off her chains, it must’ve been someone else’s blood.
A low, vibrating growl came from the woman’s chest and rumbled back from the walls, echoing tenfold. When her head lifted, Steve heard Bucky take in a sharp breath. Hydra had taken her mask, but left her with a dog’s muzzle. The muzzle didn’t cover the fleshy scars running over her cheek and onto her neck. It didn’t hide the dried blood plastered onto her skin, under the nose and her head wound. There was more on her chin and throat. Even her short brown hair had blood sticking to it. She did look like the Winter Soldier now, thanks to the trim by Steve’s hand. It left a downright frightening resemblance. Actually, appearance, Steve thought with a grim face. Like a monster left to devour the next idiots brave -dumb?- enough to enter this godforsaken place.
Her muzzle also didn’t hide the bruises on her skin, matching the blue of her eyes. For a moment, Steve was alarmed. One of her eyes gleamed in a way it shouldn’t have, it even looked like it glowed, but he blamed it on the rays of sun suddenly peeking through the cracked windows.
It looked blue, bluer than he’d ever seen in eye colors, before returning to a very normal shade much like Bucky’s. The other eye, however, seemed dull, too gray in its entirety before returning to a normal blue.
No matter the eye color, both eyes looked hostile. They shot more than just daggers at the people around the woman. Natasha stepped back a few steps, never letting her eyes stray from the woman in chains.
The latter’s head turned towards Steve, who’d wanted to soothe her by explaining their actions. But she rushed at him, like a sharp dog, hissing like a feral cat. The chains rattled and Bucky pulled the blond out of her reach. There was something inhuman about the woman, besides the low growl.
She’s ready to kill, Steve thought. Either he was going completely illusional by the tiredness lining his own body or he actually saw sharp teeth behind the muzzle, he couldn’t tell. Her nostrils flared and if the chains hadn’t been, he imagined hell would’ve already broken loose in here, like in Bucharest, with the special task force coming after Bucky.
Barnes started mumbling something in Russian, soft and slow, like a quiet melody, a song meant to say more than a lifetime of words. She quieted down, her bloody wrists still twisting in the handcuffs, but her face was focused on his and her whole body language pointed at him.
He stood before her now, still out of reach, because her muscles were taut. She couldn’t be trusted when standing tense like the pulled string of a bow.
Steve could’ve sworn he sweated underneath his uniform. How would they get her back to their base?
Natasha solved that question with an elbow to the Remnant’s neck which sent her back into unconsciousness. On the one hand, Steve was relieved, on the other, he doubted this was the solution.
“Nat. There was no need-”
“Oh yeah? What were you gonna do? Sing lullabies all the way back? We know she’s alive and dangerous. Enough so to keep her locked up until we can fix - this.”
The redhead shot a look to Bucky, who still stared at the young woman.
“Tell Rogers I’m right.”
“I guess”, he shrugged. “At least it’s less of a struggle this way.”
Bucky carried her onto the jet. Before, they’d put on the harness, after yet another discussion. She was heavier than he expected, even without any metal appendages and after two weeks of hunger. Bucky didn’t say anything when her shirt slipped upwards, revealing a pattern of bruises on her pale skin. His eyes fell on the muzzle and it pained him to see this device on her face, especially when he still felt what it meant to wear one of them. It screamed animal and it cost him one hell of an effort to not take it off. But he had noticed the sharpness of her teeth as well and definitely wasn’t keen on them sinking into his skin. Nothing he hadn’t seen before, during his time with Hydra.
When the chains rattled again, he swore to himself that he’d destroy them as soon as he could. They wound around her neck, pulled her upper arms and her wrists behind her back, connecting there, restricting all her movements, but apparently didn’t keep her from curling up against the wall of the jet.
The Soviet assassin swallowed hard when Steve sat down next to him.
“I have a theory”, the super soldier started.
“She’s not Becca. I’m sure, Steve.”
“I believe you, Buck. Is there anything else you remember about her though? About her past, how Hydra found her?”
Long pause.
Bucky didn’t need to think about that for long, he’d rather avoid that topic entirely. It was just another point on his “everything I regret about the last 70 years“ -list. He sensed that Steve already assumed things, but he also knew his friend gave him the freedom to decide against saying them.
But things usually get worse when you keep them inside. Speaking them out loud can prevent horrible stuff sometimes. He swallowed hard, words beginning to echo in his mind again, he’d heard them when everything was a blur, but he’d heard them, so they felt it was their duty to torment him in every possible way.
“I did. Chased her and her siblings down in New York after killing her father. Took me three weeks, they were sneaky children and good at hiding. Couldn’t kill her, got a wiping and turned her into a monster like me. 1964.”
He raised his eyes to meet Steve. There was some much insecurity in them, Steve almost cried out.
“I don’t blame you, Buck, you know that.”
“What do you believe in that you can look past all that? There is so much I did and”, Bucky sighed, “… so much, Steve. It’s just so much. So much blood. So much death.”
“I know you’d fix it if you had the chance. But maybe this is it. Turn her into your new hope. You have my forgiveness, what else do you need?”
Bucky sat quietly after these words, but he sent a kind smile towards Steve.
My own forgiveness. But you can’t give me that.
“So, what is your theory?”
“She’s Becca’s daughter.”
Of course. It made sense. Complete sense. The resemblance. The age. She was born in the 40s, just after the war. The mark on her arm, displaying the old SSR emblem with Peggy’s signature (this one still didn’t make that much sense to him). The mole on her finger, a Barnes’ family trait. The sun gleamed through the windows, lighting up the jet’s inside.
“It’s a possibility”, Bucky agreed. “That would make her… my niece.”
“It would make her family.”
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Shang-Chi’s two after-credits scenes point to Marvel’s future
Shang-Chi’s two after-credits scenes point to Marvel’s future
It’s hard to believe, but Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings is the first Marvel Studios movie to continue the MCU’s ongoing story since Avengers: Endgame.
With Spider-Man: Far From Home off in its own little Sony corner and Black Widow set in the past, it’s been up to Marvel’s Disney Plus shows to shoulder the trek forward. But Shang-Chi has one up on them all.
After years of all roads…
