I’m not even going to watch tonight’s episode or legit the probs the rest of the season which is depressing because Riverdale and bughead are what basically got me through my breakup. This shit is fucked up. Betty Cooper would not do that. Hell Archie’s always been a man whore but he wouldn’t either. Ronnie and Jug don’t deserve this either. The writers threw away three seasons of character building for some cheap shots at ratings. Ratings that are going to mean nothing now that they are losing bughead shippers. Honestly stupid.
God and Satan are the two sides of every living creature and society is caving in on itself trying to run to the light in order to save itself from their own darkness. You cannot run from yourself. You will always end up where you started.
**Author's Note**I apologize for any mishaps, misconceptions, or mistakes in the writing of this fic. I'm a relatively new MCU fan. Please don't bite me. This is not ran through a beta so any grammar or typo errors are strictly my own. This fic will not be extremely fluffy (though it will contain fluff--I ain't heartless) and is full of violence and adult situations (will contain smut in later chapters, and strong non-consensual elements, including rape. I won't be super descriptive.) and well I mean it's freakin' HYDRA what do you expect? I do hope you enjoy this rollercoaster and don't puke like Stevie at Coney Island. ;) Disclaimer for the Russian used in this fic is from google translate because I don't know any actual Russian, my apologies.**contains spoilers for The Falcon and The Winter Soldier, Captain America Movies, Avengers Movies.** This is my first attempt at 3rd person pov, I also think it isn't great but, alas.****Correction: a LOT of FLUFF!!!!
gifs not my own...
don’t steal my work, it ain’t cool.
P.S.: I hope I captured each canon character correctly, I've only been a fan for about a month.
Chapter 1: Project Sapphire
New York- Avengers Compound
~ Sometime during the events of Captain America: Civil War
~Circa 2016
Pov (3rd person):
Everyone fell into their respective rhythms. For the first time in a while, the rag-tag team had down time. Bucky was still getting adjusted, it was easier with Steve there, for sure. Natasha or Nat as most people around here called her, was starting to grow on him as a friend. The old Bucky, the one who was still wishing on a star with two lovely gals on the streets of Brooklyn one last time before he was shipped off into the mouths of Hell. That Bucky might have had the courage to ask Nat out for date. But that felt so foreign to him now. Times have changed so much.
Steve happened to love the internet, whereas Bucky, personally, could have gone without that technological advancement. Oddly enough he missed the feel of the old leatherbound books, the rough feel of their ink bound pages on his fingers. He appreciated headphones, not that Bucky was ignoring his fellow Avengers, rather he found it easier to find peace and get lost in the music. Today he was listening to Unforgettable by Nat King Cole. He made note that the famous track was released in 1951, ahead of his time. God, he was old. He tried not to think about it too much. He didn't want his entire long and torturous life story to replay in his head at the moment. He stared out the window, letting his steel blue eyes focus on the distance, the trees and how they danced in the wind. The corner of his mouth cracked into a slight grin of sorts, 'I can do this all day, Beanpole'. He thought to himself quoting his best friend. He let out a long drawn out sigh, closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the couch.
Sam gave him this and filled it with songs categorized by decade. He was still on the 50's. By the time Etta James came on scrolling through his, well, whatever the hell an iPod was, Steve came into the room, Bucky felt the plod of his heavy footsteps against the wooden floors of the compound. Steve tapped him on the right shoulder, of course, breaking him from his momentous tranquility. Bucky took the headphones and placed them on the coffee table, knowing that if Steve needed him, he probably wouldn't be relaxing and catching up on music for a while.
"Is there something wrong?" Bucky asked sitting back into the couch, his long strands of hair falling onto his face. Steve gave him a curt smile, nodding.
"Uh, it's HYDRA. We found another base, well Nat did. An informant dug up a file from a base and there is some people still confirmed alive." Steve explained but stopped, sitting down to join his friend, Steve sighed lightly, putting his hand on Bucky's knee gently.
"Look, you don't have to go. I get it. I won't force--" Steve reconciled but was cut off, Bucky rising from his seat and facing Steve. Bucky looked into Steve's eyes and wondered for a moment if there were still echoes of that scrawny kid in there. Parting his lips but pausing for a moment Bucky made his decision.
"No. I'll go. HYDRA's bases are almost all the same layout, so I would know them best out of a rescue squad. Who else is going?" Bucky asked, his eyes firm and unwavering, as if to solidify his decision. Steve smiled thinly raking a hand through his blonde hair, eyes to the floor momentarily.
"uh. Sam said he's been tired of being cooped up in here, and Natasha is always willing to show off. Do you think we can manage with just the four of us? Technically I could call Tony?" Steve was searching for better solutions thinking out loud. Steve thought he, Nat, and Sam could pull it off but in all honesty, he doesn't know what going back to a place like that could ignite in his lifelong friend.
"Of course we can take it. Still have that weakling mentality in you huh, Rogers? C'mon fire up the Quinjet." Bucky's attitude changed in mere seconds, playfully hitting Steve on the shoulder and turning on his heel, walking away down the hall to gather things from his room. his metal hand steadied on the knob before Steve called out to him from the distance between them.
"Bucky? Thanks." Steve said, they didn't have moments like these often and thought it important to show him appreciation for putting himself back into the firepit that was HYDRA, again. Bucky chuckled, the whites of his teeth showing as he spoke.
"Happy to help. Why don't you gear up yourself? Or are you getting senile?"
Steve shook his head, frowning a bit but perked up his expression as he entered the hall, shoving his hands into his pockets.
"Shut up, Barnes." Steve replied jokingly nudging the former Winter Soldier as he walked past. Bucky didn't have a comeback instead he was too worried about what might be uncovered inside that HYDRA base. His door closed with a small click, he was alone, thudding his head against the wood of the door he closed his eyes for a short moment and sighed.
"Please, don't let this be another massacre." he whispered to himself like a prayer. He didn't want the bloodied ghosts of HYDRA victims he couldn't save haunting his dreams for weeks. Not again, not on top of all the others he'd killed as the Winter Soldier. He already didn't feel right about being at the Avengers Headquarters. He thought he didn't deserve it. He was grateful to be welcomed here, but, there's too much blood on his hands to deserve this and the motely family they have here. But, maybe that's why he doesn't leave? He opened his eyes again, after his brief respite, peeling his weight from his bedroom door and twirled his metal arm around, making sure everything was in place.
***********
Bucky strapped himself into the Quinjet, in his seat, one that held no pertinent responsibilities such as piloting the aircraft. These crafts are so different from those he saw overhead on the Austrian front. If he didn't know any better he'd think something as foreign as the Quinjet was ripped straight from the mind of H.G. Wells. It's not like he didn't know how to pilot aircrafts. He'd just feel uneasy if he were in the pilot's seat at the moment. Because it wasn't just his meaningless little overdue life that he'd be risking, Steve is there coupled with Nat and Sam. On the off chance of this thing nose diving on his accord, he'd expect Steve to make it out probably severely injured but Nat and Sam? They were… delicate compared to he and Steve. It's no fault of their own of course. He wouldn't want anyone to endure the abhorrent trials that became synonymous with the Super-Soldier- Serum. Bucky flinched slightly at the booming sound of Sam's voice whipping him from his incessant thoughts rushing with the force of a raging river, ever present, unchanging, and unrestrained.
"What do we know about our target?" Sam asked.
Natasha smirked the corners of her lips eager to tell the secrets of this place and it's intrinsic horror tales. Not that she found joy in revealing them, but that she was about to be a part of the barbaric institutes' liberation. That was something she wasn't able to do herself, now following in Clint's shadow as he did for her. Bucky was just able to eye the file Nat flipped open, Sam scoffed.
"Fuckin' Russian. " Sam exhaled under his breath recognizing the lettering but unable to read for himself. Steve eyed him and gave him a sour smirk, temporarily breaking his concentration on piloting, "Language."
"Shuddup gramps." Sam retorted rolling his eyes. Sam nudged the air with his chin, in the direction of the file his eyes narrowed slightly through the red hue of his goggles, "What's the beef on Blondie?" he said leaning over Nat's chair for a better look at the girl's photo.
"A little bit. HYDRA really wanted her though. Birth name: Stella Anais Saunders. Age: 26. Date of birth: June 2nd 1990. Height: 5 feet even. Caucasian American. Taken from her home in Homer, Alaska a decade ago. Current location: Solovetsky Island Monastery, ooo sounds fun. Father: MIA whereabouts unknown. Mother: deceased upon capture. Unidentified sibling. Priority: paramount. Enhanced ability: lethal." Nat blew a rogue strand of hair out of her face.
"Sounds like HYDRA. If it involves death they want their filthy hands on it. Jesus, She was just a kid." cursed Steve, a sickening feeling chilling his spine, igniting a fury within him that would keep him fighting for a stranger that was incapable of resistance.
"Hmmm. Bastards. Think they can play God. 2006, huh? Hehe, back when Furtado was still Promiscuous. Promiscuous girl, wherever you are! We 'bout to rescue you." Sam finished in a sing-song tone with the rest of the occupants of the Quinjet aloof to his reference.
Bucky's eyebrows stitched together tightly in confusion, turning his head to the Falcon, gawking at him bewilderingly, "What the hell is a Furtado?" Sam did a double-take on the Winter Soldier, his lips spread open in slight astonishment.
"Oh I forgot I'm working with a stoic. Hey man, what was it like to see a sabretooth in your front yard?" Sam toyed with Bucky, causing him to exert a bitch-face.
"Very funny bird-brain." Bucky retorted.
"You think that's an insult? Birds are smart as Hell." Sam came back getting closer to Bucky.
"Guys! Seriously? C'mon. We're a unit, not a schoolyard. Do you want to save this girl or not?" Steve turned on his Captain prowess, dripping with leadership.
"Sorry Cap. HYDRA just, makes me sick." Sam surrendered, glancing back at the file.
"That's an understatement. Do you have any idea what they could be doing to her? They're keeping her alive for something. Using her as a weapon is just the tip of the iceberg." Bucky finally broke his silence. Sam jutted his gaze between Bucky and the file, his expression heavier than before. Sam's face contorted.
"What's that last line? Apoekt Candonp?" Sam attempted to pronounce the words failing miserably, shaking his head.
Natasha laughed, and said aloud in her native tongue, "Проект сапфир."
Steve spoke, "Translation?"
"Project Sapphire." Bucky concluded
"Sapphire? Like the jewel? What is she the Hope Diamond?" Sam bemused at the odd title, finally settling down in his seat.
"Who knows, but we're about to find out. Sam? How is Red-Wing with 7 meter thick walls? You think he can take down a fortress? We'll need a diversion, something with shock value so we have time to look." Nat included hinting that they were close to the compound.
"Fancy is Red-Wings' middle name baby. I wonder, when was the last time a milk-white HYRDA minion has seen a flying black man 'bout to kick their ass?" said Sam getting excited.
Bucky smiled for a second at his remark. "If she's as valuable as they say she is, she might be in a dungeon. It's possible they'll have multiple areas labeled with the name Sapphire to throw you off. She can't be the only Enhanced in there either. Guaranteed they have back-up." Bucky explained running through the scenario in out loud. He'd seen it a thousand times and had a similar layout to his lair in Siberia.
"Dungeon? Who knew we'd be rescuing a princess." Steve joked.
" Wasn't in the job description huh?" Nat said playfully.
"Stay frosty. We've got 15 minutes 'til landing." Steve uttered preparing for battle.
No matter how much Bucky thought of it, his stomach couldn't stop churning into knots. What if he loses it? And becomes the Winter Soldier again? Compromises the mission. Somehow hurts the girl they are supposed to save? Bucky stared bleakly into the floor of the Quinjet, not really paying attention to his surroundings.
"Head up Soldier. You'll do fine." Steve's voice permeated Bucky's deepening worries. And he believed in himself again, his real self, if only for a moment.
******************
*POV change: 1st person
Stella:
I felt an overwhelming haze and pain throbbing itself into my head as if I had just woken up with a terrible hangover. This was familiar to me, these were the cards I was dealt, and I don't remember exactly when it was that I just accepted it. Had I really given up that easily? Or was it because they'd beat me for insubordination daily if I didn't comply? I can't put my finger on it anymore. I have tried to piece together memories from before they took me. But the most I can remember at this moment is a deadbeat mom among an empire of snow and angel dust. My throat is raw from hours of screaming, my body being overtaken by wave after wave of aches after steady exertion. I'm a lab rat that much I know. And with my underperformance today, I won't get another meal for a week. And those bastards in the lab coats will increase my test session from 8 to 10 hours. Great.
I still couldn't make out the language these people spoke. I only picked up on their tone. The door had just opened from the endurance room with two guards behind me. They were ordered to escort me back to my dank cell. I gingerly placed a hand over my ribs, close to my breast where Dr. Ivanov beat me for being less than adequate today. It would bruise up by midnight.
Suddenly the ground quaked beneath me and the red emergency lights turned on inside the complex. Or at least they let me think so. Were they testing a rogue subject? There were plenty of others in this complex. But I was never allowed to talk to them. Once a girl about 14 years old tried to get information from me. She was shot on site and thrown out like cattle.
The two guards behind me rushed me down the hallway, making sure the barrels of their guns were firmly planted in my shoulder blade and spine. Potentially fatal places. I heard gunfire, screaming, metal connecting with stone walls. Sounded like a prison break to me. I didn't know any other victims, really I didn't know where to go. They would always blindfold me en route to my cell. These two guards forgot to do so, caught with their pants down. They were getting pushy and more frantic as the shouts and short screams crept closer.
This was the first time anything like this has happened, right? An actual break out? I don't even know whether I can leave. Of course I want to get rid of this place. But won't they just find me in the long run? How long can I maintain any sense of freedom? And what's to say freedom with an eye open is true freedom at all? I was starting to hyperventilate and didn't really notice the two foreigners in front of me. Not until one of the guards spun me around and held his gun to my head, pressing firmly in my temple. Honestly, if this bullet goes into my skull? Good riddance. what was more intriguing to me was the intruders in front of me. A woman with red hair and a man. I almost couldn't keep my eyes off him.
He had beautiful steel blue eyes with a twinkle of worry on them. His hair had fallen haphazardly into his face, seeming not to care. He was much taller than me and what was most peculiar was his arm, it was completely made of...metal? I noticed the red star and got second thoughts of escaping. These people can't be here to rescue me. What would they want with me anyhow? From the looks of them they look like they could be KGB. Maybe Putin wants me to be his special slave.
The woman rose her hands as if to surrender, "Woah there big shots, you don't want to do that. You can just let the girl go and none of this has to end nasty, alright?" She said. I didn't expect her voice to sound like rich syrup, almost comforting. The man didn't say anything, instead had his gaze steady on the guard threatening me. If looks could kill, the poor bastard would have died ten times by now.
What do these creeps want with me anyway? Blow up a school? Set crops ablaze? Kill people for them? Become an assassin? I may not exactly know what to do with myself at the moment, but I don't want to be anybody else's bitch, that's for sure. Why all of a sudden was I getting this... will to live? All the time I have been here in this Hell, I haven't had this fervor once. I was able to touch the guards' forearm and burn him with my blue flames lighting up the scenery, mixing with the red emergency lights. He wailed and that was my chance to duck. During my short time down, I let my right hand hold something invisible, a sword made only for me, materializing out of thin air. The couple apprehended the guards and knocked them out. Huh? Why wouldn't they just kill them?
I stood warily, holding my sword out in defense. From hilt to tip I let my flames erupt, lighting the long blade. I felt like a cornered animal. And what was worse was I don't know how much fight I have left in me. I'm fucking exhausted after hours of torture. They read the room quickly, the man changing demeanor and speaking in almost a soft whisper.
"We're here to rescue you. Stella? That's your name right?"
"How—how do you know my name?" I asked breathlessly, panic still gripping me tightly. I hadn't heard my name in...forever. Normally the douches here addressed me as 060290 or not at all. I stepped away from the woman, getting too close to me. She distracted me, making me lose focus on the metal man in front of me.
"I know it's hard to do right now, but you gotta trust us. We're from the Avengers. Are there any others in the complex?" the woman asked holstering her gun.
"Never heard of the damned Avengers. If you are who you say you are, what took you so long?" I asked pensively, still on high alert. I'm so tired. I'm tired of fighting.
"We're sorry we couldn't get to you sooner. But, we don't have a lot of time, do you know if there are any others?" The woman asked more urgently. I stammered, my flames losing their potency.
"Maybe? I can lead you in the general direction but that's it." I told them lowering my sword, it felt so heavy all of a sudden. They relaxed, no longer feeling threatened by me. Although, remnants of shock was still there in there pricking in their eyes. Not every day you see someone make fire out of nothing, or a sword for that matter. The man gestured for me to go on ahead. My jaw tensed.
"try anything funny, and both of you are extra-crispy. Got it?" they nodded exchanging brief looks with each other. I asserted what energy I had left, but turned and walked in the direction I thought was were the cells were. Where my home had been for who knows how friggin' long. I took them through corridors and was starting to have trouble breathing in the dampened air of the complex. it's old moist floors not agreeing with my bare feet. The assholes who took me only gave me the bare necessities and that was only if they were being nice. I lost my shoe privileges a while ago. I was going to give up when I heard a familiar dripping from the ceiling. The I knew to take a right.
I saw others, like I thought there might have been but my ankle felt like it hit a strong cobweb. Instead it was a tripwire. And my fellow occupants were all coughing and gasping in seconds. I felt a metal arm grip my mouth and nose. I was weightless, carried quickly away from the scene. Why would these people go to such lengths to save me? I didn't mean anything. I must have inhaled a little bit of the noxious gas, because even as his hand was removed and we were away from the corridor, I felt myself blacking out.
"Steve It's a wash! We got her. but they killed the rest. She's...bad shape..medic...Quinjet now!" He said desperately speaking to some device in his ear. I felt my lungs aching as I stared up into the man's eyes. Flashing shades of maroon and the siren's losing their shrillness. The woman was out of sight, fighting her way through guards and clearing a path. The man held me against his chest, his form curling into and over me as if to shield me. My vision blurred wildly as I felt my head lol into his chest. I heard his chest rumble as he spoke, "Stella? stay awake!"
I managed to give one final gasp before succumbing to the deep dark sleep.
He had always been quiet. Even when he spoke his words were surface level. Something about saying things that mattered -- baring his soul -- scared him. He spent a lot of time alone. Sometimes this was good. Sometimes his solitude hurt so much he wasn’t sure he could handle it. But it never really left him. Occasionally people came up and talked to him. Sometimes that was nice. Sometimes it wasn’t. There was a girl who tried to talk to him every day. He assumed she did it out of something resembling pity. He kept up his mask of apathy. It was easier that way. Sometimes the girl made an effort to look nice. It wasn’t for him, so he pretended not to notice. She invited him to things, and over time he began to think that she might be lonely too. But she talked so much. She smiled as much as she talked. He dismissed the thought. Lonely people didn’t smile. One day they watched a movie. She would lean over and whisper things to him. Despite himself, he found he was smiling. She even got him to laugh once or twice. He didn’t lean close to her, however. He carefully kept the thought of putting his arm around her out of his mind. He kept his distance. He had read and seen enough to know how the story ended: with him hurt. So he stayed away and kept telling himself he didn’t care.
I’m pretty sure this is a terrible idea, but I’ve always wanted to write fanfiction or at least write stories about dreams that I’ve had so I’ll probably start doing that. So my first idea for a story was to write about a dream that I had- it was built around the idea of trees, the planet was dying and I remember going through two visions to find out the consequences of doing nothing or not trying hard enough to solve the problem. In this dream, I met a woman who was dressed in all white and wore a long gown and hood. She seemed almost transparent and as if she was as light as a feather. She took me to a small lit area in a forest, and she told me that I had to go to sleep to find out how I would solve the issue of the dying trees. So the first vision, I awoke with only her, she was slowly losing energy and seemed to be a light gray- the trees around me were dead and walking around I realized everyone was gone. I awoke from that dream, into the second vision, and the people who had accompanied me to the area had just left- I remember running after them and asking if they would be willing to help as we only had a limited amount of time. We found a water plant, but unfortunately it had dried out, I slept for too long and the solution was gone from our grasp. And then I woke up the final time, and I was in an area that was just trees were losing size and their leaves. It was similar to the second dream but it felt earlier than that. I remember running to find the first person who had accompanied and asked them to help me in this situation.
You open the Emerald Door that has appeared within this strange place. It opens slowly, carefully, and within all that you can see is hues of green numbers and letters placed against a pitch black background. It reminds you of an old movie that you had seen before. You do not see a path before you, and yet you feel as though it is safe for you to go ahead and proceed. You prepare to do so.
...
Before you can step through, something stops you. A voice. “You shouldn’t be here.” You turn, attempting to figure out where it’s coming from, but you aren’t able to figure out where. “You made a choice. You accepted the responsibility. And yet, here you are.” Your head hurts just a little bit. You did make that decision when you encountered Pharos for the first time. When you spoke with the big nose and Elizabeth. You step away from the door, looking around for that voice. You are still unable to find it, with only the forever white plains stretching about.
“You don’t know where you are, do you?” You give a small shake of the head. “...Hmm. The circumstances surrounding your return are quite curious. Perhaps you are not that one. Perhaps something has happened in your never ending defense. Or perhaps the game has changed once more. Regardless, you maintain that key power, and should be given this next role.”
There is a pause. It lasts no longer than a few seconds, and yet the weight of the voice and its words makes the wait between sentences feel longer. “Would you accept the same contract again, within this world, within this time?” There is another great pause, a memory floating back to your mind. ‘I Chooseth This Fate Of Mine Own Free Will.’ It is a familiar thought. It is one that you use to answer back to the voice.
“...Very well. In time, you may come to understand this place and what has become of you. But for now, it is time to wake from your dream, and to see what has come of your decisions.” The voice becomes silent. After a minute to ensure that it is done speaking with you, you begin to take your steps through that great emerald door.
...
...
You feel weightless. The world around you has changed, your vision stunted and limited. You can only see what appears to be a room. Although, your perspective is quite weird. It is from the point of view of a desk, looking outwards. Almost like a camera. You cannot turn your head.
You attempt to speak, and all at once, your head feels like it is being split open by a massive headache. You close your eyes, trying to adjust to this feeling, and realize that you can’t move. It takes some time for the pain to go away. With your eyes closed, you continue to focus. You realize that you can see something else. A variety of words flash into your mind, an apparent document for some sort of school paper. Images pop into your head as well. You can see these forming in neat sections, like files...
Fixed camera view? Documents and images? Files?
You begin to get the feeling that you’re stuck inside a computer.
