The ghosts we hide (Winter Soldier x OC)

Two

Nyx POV

I've never seen so many snivelling men in one place.

The space is huge, about half the size of a football pitch with a ceiling that stretches all the way to the top of the sixteen story building. Above my head a network of pathways crisscross like a giant ant's nest. I eye the hundreds of windows that look down on me, an uneasiness spreading through my body.

There are too many vantage points; this is not the place I would have chosen to keep twenty hostages.

Two rows of people in varying stages of panic sit tied back to back, legs crossed: Seventeen men, two women and one child. Surprisingly, the kid is calmer than a great deal of the adults. I've counted at least five with tears staining their cheeks.

The great expanse of a room is silent apart from the feeble mutterings of some of the hostages, heads bowed in prayer. My lip curls at the sight, fingers itching to slap them upside the face. Where has God been for the past fifteen years? Where was God's mercy when I watched my parents annihilated at age five? There is no God, not here.

There's shuffling from behind me, ruining the near silence.

I like silence.

For me, silence is safe, there's no shouting or whispering or guns firing. Nothing to hurt.

"I'm done with this waiting. Make the call already." Comes the voice from beside me. I don't turn to look at the man, instead staying perfectly still.

He stands close behind me, too close, hot breath fanning the side of my face and neck.

I sigh.

"We wait for the order." I reply curtly, turning to glare at him. Dressed in black like the rest of us, he stares back at me with glacial blue eyes, heavy jaw clenched. Then he turns away.

Only two more minutes pass before his impatience is voiced again.

"Get the boy." He snaps, and two more agents jump into motion. Walking down the line of slouching men, they pause and bend down, before standing up again with both of the boy's arms held tightly between them. A woman starts screaming, a horrible, guttural sound that ricochets around the room and reverberates in my head.

The boy struggles in the grip of the men, brought to life by the shrieks of his mother. The rest of the hostages start to cry out, abhorred by what they presume is going to happen next. A couple try to stand but are anchored to the ground by their hostage counterpart.

My teeth clench. Silence destroyed.

The kid is dumped in front of me. He stares up with huge green eyes, so glassy with tears that I can see my reflection in them.

His mother continues to scream and thrash; She needs to stop that before someone shuts her up.

But while the woman is hysterical, the child is silent. Not exactly composed, but not wailing. He can't be more than four years old, which is probably the reason for his stillness, his lack of comprehension.

"What are you waiting for, 184?" That gruff voice is in my ear again. I don't react, my eyes still captivated by the boy's.

A minute passes while I stay perfectly, hands at my sides.

The hairs on my arms and neck stands to attention as something cold and hard is pressed against the back of my head.

A growl forms in the back of my throat but I stifle it, shoving my anger back down.

"I said, make the call." The agent says, shoving the barrel of his gun harder against my skin. When I don't react he clicks a bullet into the chamber.

Letting out a sigh, I pull my own gun from its holster, the cool metal familiar in my hands. I don't break eye contact with the boy as I aim the barrel between his eyes. He stares back.

By now the woman is in a frenzy, her cries almost deafening. An agent slaps her, the sound resonating around the room, but it's no use.

"Do. It." The agent spits, his voice more of a growl than usual.

The kid is silent. I like silence.

Before the man behind me can react, I duck under his arm, shove the barrel of my gun into his armpit and fire. He drops to the floor and I send another bullet into his thigh. He screams louder than the woman.

"You stupid fucking bit..." He screams, but my hand covers his mouth, slick with his blood. He writhes beneath me, but his voice is cut off.

"We wait for the order, Agent 7." I murmur quietly to him, before standing up, his shrieks set free once more.

"Get him out of here." I shout to one of the others.

We don't have names in Hydra, just numbers. We are as insignificant as digits.

I watch as three men drag the screaming figure from the room. The door closes behind them, a noticeable quiet settling in its place.

I pick the child up and walk quickly across the room, holding him at arms length before replacing him next to his mother who tries her best to contain her sobs. She can't hug him with her hands tied behind her back but she tries anyway. Blonde hair sticks to her damp cheeks as she looks up at me.

Her reddened eyes hold no gratitude. I expect none.

Turning on my heel, I head for a door on the opposite side of the room to where 7 was dragged.

"Wait for the order." I call, my voice even. My words are repeated time and again as they echo around the room, filling the empty spaces as I walk out, leaving the quiet sobbing behind me.