Wanted for Slaughter || ᴋᴀʀʟɪ ᴍᴏʀɢᴇɴᴛʜᴀᴜ

XVI - Finale

The sound was almost unbearable. In your mind it was the gun. The constant beeping of the machines Karli was attached to. It was so similar, so fucking similar. It was as if you could see the whole thing again, in slow motion. The image of Sharon's finger on the trigger made shivers run down your spine. It was so vivid. You could still feel her blood on your fingertips, cascading down the face of your palm as you pressed your hand onto the bullet holes, trying to stop the bleeding.

Your hands trembled in your pockets, eyes set on Karli's unconscious body in the hospital bed, a glass window between the two of you. You couldn't handle the beeping, you had to step out, it was too similar to the click of the gun when it went off, landing straight in Karli's-.

You checked your hands, pulling them from your pockets and looking at them. There was something foreign about them. The once unfamiliar tremor in your fingertips was now a sense of security that you were still alive, still feeling, even if it felt like you weren't.

Maybe the younger you - the one before Bucky's supposed death, before Hydra - would find it odd that your hands were shaking out of nowhere, but the younger you didn't exactly have blood on her hands. Not your own, not anyone else's. Even with the war going on, you were happy. That was up until Bucky was announced dead, of course. That's when the ground felt like it was caving in on you.

And now the whole world was fucking falling apart.

A sign escaped your lips when you checked your hands, sweat covering them as your fingers twitched. At least it wasn't blood. Reminding yourself became a workout ever since you found what hospital Karli stayed at. 

There was so much you'd have to get used to, get used to the normality of being alive in the 21st century. Living. Eventually dying, again.

You've been waiting for Karli to wake up for days now. You were sick of waiting, the patience you once had when Bucky would steal your hairbrush while you were getting ready back in the 40's, it was all gone, dissolved into an anger, one that you struggled to control.

"It's a shame, really, what happened to her." A voice said to your left making your gaze leave your hands and towards the sound.

A woman, dark hair, slim face, brown eyes. Her smile was warm, yet her eyes told a different story. They were cold, devoid of emotion, unwelcoming. Your brows furrowed, creating a crease in between them. You didn't recall meeting this woman ever, not when you were in Madripoor, nor when you were in Riga, either.

She clicked her tongue, the smile she wore widened slightly before she looked through the glass at the tubes the ginger was attached to.

"If you ask me, she didn't deserve it." She continued in a unbothered tone. "She wanted good by doing bad though, you have to admit."

Your brows furrowed deeper. Putting your hands back into your pockets, you turned your body so it faced her. Who does she think she is? She wasn't there. She didn't know.

"Who are you?"

She glanced at you, holding your gaze for a few seconds before pulling out a card out of her pocket, handing it to you.

A number was written on it, nothing else. You raised an eyebrow, lifting the card in question. She said something about her company, something about knowing you wanted to do good by Karli despite everything she'd done. Still, with everything she was saying, it made no sense of who she was and what she wanted.

"It must be so hard for yo-"

"What do you want?" You interrupted unintentionally. Right, your patience. Sometimes you forgot how short-tempered you'd become.

She held your gaze again, a shiver running up your arms as you tried to read the expression she wore on her face. It wasn't sympathy, but it wasn't offence either. She kinda seemed...amused.

"To offer you a deal." She straightened, folding her arms over her chest confidently.

"A deal?"

A hum escaped her throat.

"Sharon Carter. She was allowed back in the US after Sam Wilson, the now Captain America, cleared her name for the government. Correct?"

Sharon. You couldn't believe he still got her a pardon to re-enter the USA.

You shivered. You didn't hate her for what she did. But everyone who was in the room knew that she didn't have to pull the trigger, everything was under control. It was obvious, to you at least, that Karli knew more about Sharon than she'd let on, but nonetheless, she was the reason why your girlfriend was in a hospital bed, wires and tubes helping her breathe.

Still, a part of you was glad she ended up here. A hospital bed rather than jail. She'd still face trial, take responsibilities for the death of loads of people. But she'd have you by her side, holding her hand through it all, even if others didn't agree.

If she survived. 

You waited for her to continue, nodding your head shortly.

"What if I told you, you could get her back for what she did?" Her smirk was mocking, almost as if it was captivating you into doing what she wanted you to do.

You scoffed, turning your body to face the glass again before she could convince you into something you knew you wanted to do. "I'm not going to kill Sharon."

"Who said anything about killing Sharon?" She pulled out an iPad, pressing in random codes into the screen until a document came up. She handed it to you, placing in into your sweaty hands. Your eyes squinted slightly, trying to read the small letters in front of you.

You began scrolling down, widening your eyes as you read on.

"Sharon is the Power Broker. And the US government just gave her access to the most secure files in the continent."

You met her gaze, eyes wide when you realised. You were right. Sam didn't believe you. And now Sharon is going to corrupt the whole scheme. Steal confidential files just to get back at the government for naming her the traitor.

"I have a mission for you. An individual one."

There it was again. The cold shivers running down your back. But this time you knew it wasn't in your head, nor was it the air around you.

It was your body telling you to do it.

"Stop Sharon before all goes to shit."

You stopped for a moment, thinking about everything the woman just told you. But you knew you couldn't trust people you didn't fully know. 

"Who are you?" You asked again, hating yourself for even considering it. 

"Contessa Valentina Allegra de la Fontaine." She smiled. 

"You can call me Val." 

THE END :)