the room is reminiscent of a battlefield; the bodies of hydra scientists and lackeys strewn across the floor ------ blood smeared on the tiles, weapons snapped in half, needles and operative tools scattered or destroyed. when he fades in, he notices the whimpering coming from the few that have unfortunately remained conscious. his area of the room near untouched.
he could do nothing but stare, watch as the man breezed through them like they were nothing. full of unbridled rage and aggression. something niggled in the back of his mind whenever he looked at his face, but he couldn’t place anything; couldn’t think, couldn’t feel his body, from the top of his head and all the way down to his toes. he felt numb.
the soldier blinks and turns his head, to the strike team member grabbing onto his boot with a bloodied claw of a hand, spitting out blood, specks of which land on his face and he hardly flinches. and then they murmur something he can’t hear, he watches the movement of their lips. a plea no doubt, one that would go unanswered.
@earnedstripes.