|| SamBucky (WinterFalcon Oneshots) ||

i'm so sorry, sammy

Bucky's mind was jumbled. His body hurt and his throat was raw from screaming. He could still feel the electric pulses sending waves of shock through his brain. It's like, something was there but he couldn't place what they were. It made him uneasy as he waited for his orders.

"Asset, you have a new mission." A gruff voice says in a soft Russian drawl.

"You are to kill Captain America. NOT John Walker but Sam Wilson, originally known as The Falcon." Something struck a chord in his mind: a flash of a black man in a red and white suit with obnoxiously large red goggles and a smile full of smugness. 

Though it's gone as quick as it came, not giving him enough time to grasp onto the fact that this man was his old partner before he got taken.

"Can I know more about him?" He asks hesitantly, closing his eyes and waiting for the inevitable slap. Though it doesn't happen and instead, a sick but smooth voice laughs. The laugh sends shivers up the soldier's spine as he waits for the man to calm down. 

"He left you to die. That's all you need to know." He says before walking out, knowing that it would rile the man up. One thing he noticed about Asset, is that he hates being betrayed. Like when his old handler left him for dead, he hunted him down and killed him in cold blood, disposing of the body where nobody can find it. He has a morbid way of killing them.

First, he kills them.

Second, he throws the body in water to make the body unrecognizable.

Third, he fishes the body out and gets rid of the nails and teeth, and anything that could give the police a clue on who the victim was. Leaving it a cold case.

It's why he relies on him to get the job down.

Bucky glared at where the man left, his empty blue eyes holding so much emotion that one would crumble beneath the heat of the stare.

 "How dare he left me to die!" He thinks as the feeling of anger bubbles up inside of him. Yet, a small voice in the back of his head is feeding his brain doubt. Because what if his handler is lying? He has lied before? 

No.

This Sam Wilson left him to die.

What kind of sick human would leave one to die?

Excluding him, of course. If it's an order, he will.

Tomorrow came faster than expected. He was being transported through an underground network that's off the grid, perfect for sketchy business. He moves robotically, afraid if he even stumbles, he'll get that chair. God, he hates that chair. The car jerks and suppresses a growl, even when the man driving chuckles. 

That man is treading on very thin ice right now, one more snarky reply or snicker, he's going to rip the man's head off of him, not caring about repercussions about his actions. He's gone past caring, all the time and work he has spent with Hydra over the years, it comes as no surprise. Because let's be honest, we'd all want to stop caring to stop feeling that stupid emotion called fear clouds our judgement and ruins missions. 

Sam sighed as he stayed perched on a tree, making sure to not slip off the branch. His hair on his neck stood on attention, the thoughts in his brain moving too slow for his liking. If he has any chance of intercepting the band of Hydra agents, he'd have to use his wits. It's probably the only thing that has kept him alive for so long. 

His eyes snap down when he hears the sound of engines rumbling. They're heavily armoured... Meaning that they have something very valuable to them. He just doesn't know what.

God, he could really use the banter he used to have with Bucky before he well... Before he died. They returned without a body, leaving Sam to bury an empty coffin with a heavy heart. A part of him hoped that he was now a ghost, doing what they were doing together without worrying about being caught. Because how can you catch someone who is supposed to be dead?