Love & Bullets (bucky barnes x oc)

25: The Devil's Choice

Ivan Dmitriev: businessman-turned evil. The one man who could pass for being worse than the Don. Dmitriev never gave a shit about anything or anyone except for his organization. The Red Room... his prized possession. Hidden in plain sight amidst the busy streets of Astrakhan, Dmitriev controlled thousands of women ― from age twelve to twenty-eight ― into becoming assassins. Walking time bombs. Killers. It's a shame you had crossed paths with him.

〄

You thought you were finally free. You thought you had found peace from him. You thought your life in Russia was long gone. How naïve of you. You should've known he would be back.

As you lay on the cold kitchen floor with three mafia men hovering above your fatigued body, you feel numb. Numb to the pain, yet you're still suffering. You feel... emotionless. Pure emptiness.

Despite the screeching rings in your ears and the pounding headache from having just fainted a minute ago, you feel normal. Who can blame you? This has always been your life: running. In fear. Hiding. But the truth is, you don't want to hide anymore, you're tired of it. Twenty-eight years old yet you've spent half of that just running.

You want to live. Not run.

But you can't forget your past life. You can't forget the Red Room. Ivan. The torture. There's a reason why you escaped, why you had to leave behind everyone you've ever loved to die. You were and will always be nothing but a traitor, and Ivan knows that. But why does he want you back? Is it just to kill you for his own sinful satisfaction? Or is it something more?

〄

"Alexandra, you know what to do. Make me proud."

"I will, Ivan. You know I will."

"Good girl. Report back to me when the job's done."

"Okay. And thank you, Ivan. For everything."

"Don't thank me. I should be thanking you. Now go, you have a mission to complete."

The mission: Kill the Mayor's daughter. How? By bombing her school. As terrible as it sounds, you feel zero remorse, just an intense sense of purpose. You feel like your life finally has meaning, and that's all you've ever wanted since you fled from the Don. When Ivan took you in, you felt safe... something you hadn't felt in a long time. And so, you don't even think to question his missions. Not after everything he's done for you.

The detonator is small, probably small enough to go in your back pocket. It fit like a glove in your tiny hands, the red button at the very top catching your attention each time you look at it.

"Not yet, Alex. Not yet..."

As you stand atop the roof of the primary school, you glance down at your wristwatch. Incoming call: Anya.

"Hey. Where are you?"

"At my post. You have the dee-tonator?"  Anya had a heavy Russian accent, but you admired it nonetheless. It made her unique, gave her a reason to stand out from the other girls in the organization.

You glance down at the detonator clasped onto your belt buckle. "Yes. And Alina? Is she with you?"

"No. She was stationed at the bank opp-oseet from you with Ekaterina."

"Okay. You're ready?"

"Yes."

"Good. Stay on alert. I'm blowing this place up in five seconds."

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Boom. With one click, you watch as the building collapses before giving in to the heaps of smoke and fire. The place looks like a crime scene. Oh, wait. It is.

Time to run. Your feet carry you up every roof , and with each leap, you get farther away from what used to be the primary school.

"No sign of the cops?"

"None. Report back to Mr. Dmitriev, Alex. We will see you there."

"On it."

―

"Well done, girls. You've made me proud." Ivan takes a step closer and smiles at your beaming faces. It makes you feel good knowing you've made him proud. It's the least you can do given everything he has done for you.

His expression fades, and you immediately know something is wrong.

"Alina. Ekaterina. Anya. I am afraid I carry some grave news."

Silence. You turn to your friends, worried sick at what the news may be. They say nothing except nod at Ivan.

"The organization has become overpopulated. I need to bring the number of women here down. Do you understand?"

All they do is nod. You feel a knot form in your throat. Not because of what he is saying, but because you know what happens next.

Ivan turns to you, "Alexandra. Who should go first?"

Your eyes dart to him, your breathing turning rapid. Heart pounding. Silence.

"I don't know..."

Ivan takes a step forward and smiles, feeling no remorse whatsoever. "You know. Pick. It will be painless for them."

"Why do you want to kill them? Why them?" You feel the panic bubbling up in your chest as you speak.

"Because they are your weakness. You should have known better."

"Weakness? I have no weaknesses, Ivan!"

He laughs. "Then pick."

You stare at him, then at Alina, then at Ekaterina. Finally, your eyes land on Anya. Dear Anya. The little one. She was so tiny, so fragile, that nobody would even suspect she was an assassin. Then there was Ekaterina. The funny one. The one that could make light out of every situation, the one with all the tricks up her sleeve. And finally, Alina. She had just joined the organization, but she was a natural. She knew Russia like the back of her hand, every twist and turn memorized.

But you had to choose. Which one would you pick? Which friend would die first?

"Ekaterina."

Ekaterina doesn't say anything as she takes a step forward. Hot tears well up in your eyes, and you instantly regret your choice. Ivan breaks the silence with slow claps.

"Well done. Now. Take this, and finish the job yourself." He hands you a small silver pocketknife, with a blade sharper than anything you had ever seen thus far.

"Ivan..."

"Quiet, Alexandra. Finish your mission."

Your breaths get shaky as you take the knife from his cold hands. Your entire body quivers as you face your friend, who has remained silent ever since you said her name. She lifts her head up slowly to meet your eyes, and a single tear falls down her cheek.

"I'm so sorry, Ekaterina. I'm so sorry."

Her eyes widen as you plunge the knife deep into her chest, hearing her deep shriek in your ears. She gasps for breaths as she falls to the floor, gripping the knife, desperately trying to take it out to no avail.

"I'm so sorry..."

And then it was over. She laid there, limp, lifeless. Dead.

And from then on, you knew you had to escape.