Blades & Ballet | Bucky x Reader

One

The soft sound of footsteps echoes through the wall as I wait patiently for the target to pass. As the footsteps move further down the hallway, I punch my metal fist through the wall, grabbing one of the bodyguards and pulling him back through the plaster, dispatching him. Before the second guard can react, I kick my way through the wall directly behind him, knocking him into the banister in the process. A third guard rushes toward me, and I throw a knife, hitting him in the throat before grabbing a second knife from my boot and dispatching the second guard as he recovers his footing.

Up ahead, the target hurries down the staircase as two more bodyguards rush toward me, their guns raised. They open fire, but I deflect the bullets with my metal arm as I approach them, grabbing my pistol from its holster and shooting them both. They drop to the ground as I flip over the banister, landing on the staircase between the last two bodyguards. I shoot one of them in the head before turning on my heel and launching a knife at the other one. They fall to the ground.

Slowly, I turn toward the target as he stumbles back in fear. My metal fingers wrap around his neck as I force him backward, pushing him though the glass doors and into the hallway. He looks up at me in fear as I slowly squeeze the life out of him.

"Hail HYDRA," I state as I release my grip. The target sinks to the floor.

At that moment, a soft jangling draws my attention, and I turn my gaze to the door at the end of the hall, where a young Asian man is frantically trying to get into his room.

"Please," he begs as I approach him. "I-I-I didn't see anything. I didn't see anything."

His pleads fall on deaf ears as I raise my gun.

I fire.

I jolt awake.

The living room is dark, the only light coming from the silent television. Breathing heavily, I sit up from the floor, running a hand through my short brown hair. It wasn't just a bad dream. It was a memory. A memory from when I was the Winter Soldier, a mindless assassin used by HYDRA.

"So, Mr. Barnes," Dr. Raynor says, "are you still having nightmares?"

I slouch on the grey couch in her office, my blue eyes focused on anything but her. She sits in the chair across from me, hands folded neatly in her lap.

Behind me, a forest mural covers the wall from end to end, giving the otherwise neutral room a splash of colour. I suppose it's meant to give the room a sense of tranquility and warmth, but it only feels cold to me. Sterile.

"James, I asked you a question," Dr. Raynor presses. "Are you still having nightmares?"

"No," I curtly answer.

Her brown eyes analyze my face, not satisfied with my response. "We've been doing this long enough that I can tell when you're lying. Now, you seem a little off today. Did something happen recently?"

"No," I repeat.

"You're a civilian now," Raynor reminds me. "With your history, the government needs to know that... you're not gonna..." Not wanting to say the words out loud, she makes a stabbing motion with her hand. "It's a condition of your pardon. So, tell me about your most recent nightmare."

I scoff, shaking my head. "I didn't have a nightmare."

Irritated with my lack of response, Raynor takes a deep breath and grabs her notebook, pointedly clicking her pen as she starts taking notes.

"Oh, come on, really?" I sigh, triggered by the notebook. HYDRA always had one nearby during my imprisonment. "You're gonna do the notebook thing? Why? It's passive aggressive..."