𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐘, 𝐒𝐀𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑.
♥︎♥︎♥︎
Beverly experiences a flood of memories when she is under cryo. Every sensation from her past - touch, smell, tear, kiss, and emotion-resurfaces in exactly the same form. S...
With my hands tied behind me, I am guided towards an unknown location, the hallways dark and gloomy as I walk. The guards push my body towards a door, shoving me inside a wider room. Inside, a few more guards stand around each other, chatting quietly. Designed on the walls are weapons and torture equipment, hanging by a small nail. There is a black mat in the middle of the room, it being the only barrier between the concrete floor and your body when being thrown down on it. There is clearly dried blood stained on the material, the guards being too lazy to clean it up.
Standing on the other side of the room, his arms chained behind his back and being held by a guard, is a man. I recognise the man. They call him the Winter Soldier. He looks beaten, his eyes are sunken to the back of the sockets. He lifts his head, facing me in my direction and his eyebrows scrunch together. I look curiously at him but am pulled away towards the mat before I can get a proper look at him.
The guard with his hold on my arm pushes me onto the mat, my body tumbling onto the material. Another guard forces The Winter Soldier in front of me, rushing back over to his original spot. We both look at each other, evident fear in our eyes.
"And, fight!" A guard calls out.
The soldier looks back at me, my eyes never having left his face. He watches my face clearly, scanning every feature with his big eyes. I frown as I look up at him, seeing the bruises, blood, and scars on the skin more clearly up close. We still haven't made a move to begin fighting each other, both of us strangely feeling hesitant.
"Morana, you may use your powers against the Soldier." The same guard instructs.
Looking back at each other again, he takes a deep breath before slowly stalking towards me. Instead of tripping backwards as I try to get away from him like every other soldier has done when fighting him, I don't move. It's not because I don't want to. It's because I can't. His eyes are keeping me frozen to the spot. They are beautiful, yet broken. They bring me a sense of familiarity in an unknown location.
He raises his hand, his fist prominent on the end, and aims for my chest, but with the fleshy part of my arm, I knock his arm back. He stumbles backwards, his eyes quickly looking over at the guards before walking back towards me. I grab his shoulders before he can get a hold of me, pushing my body off the ground. I throw myself onto his back, my legs wrapped around his neck as I sit on the back of his shoulders. He seems shocked as he doesn't love, instead grabbing onto my legs that dangle onto his chest. I throw my body weight forwards, making the both of us land back on the mat. I roll away from his body, but before I can stand, he grabs my ankle, pulling me back onto the floor.
I hit the mat with a force that knocks the wind out of my lungs. The soldier crawls to straddle my chest, keeping my arms held above my head. I wrap my legs around his lower body, using all my body strength to roll him over at have me on top. However, it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. From a quick glance at him, you can see the burning muscles all over his body, making him seem like he weighs a ton. But, it felt almost too easy to roll him over. He doesn't even fight back as I lock his arms above his head.
"Why aren't you trying properly?" I lean down to whisper in his ear.
"I don't know." He whispers back.
He grabs my waist, pushing me upwards. I let my legs off his body, allowing him to push me to my back on the mat. He stands up and begins clicking his bones as I quickly regain my stance, facing him again. He pounces towards me, grabbing me and turning me around, pushing my back onto his chest. With the quick view I got before we begin fighting again, I see all the guards slowly stalking towards the mat, looking at the two of us with wide smirks on their faces.
We fight together like it's a dance, moving with and against each other perfectly. We don't ever hit each other too hard, but enough that it looks believable for the spectators. They seem to be buying it and have yet to interfere and beat us for not completing the task given to us. We never do too much damage to the other, not adding any more bruises to the other's body, knowing that the other doesn't need them.
"Stop!" The main guard calls out.
We halt our movements, looking over at the guard as he steps onto the mat. He doesn't look happy as he stops in front of us, his arms crossed over his chest. The soldier looks clearly nervous, masking my own emotions.
"Boss says he has a new plan for you two. Instead of fighting against each other, you are going to fight with each other."
He says his orders, quickly walking away, other guards following quickly behind. Another guard, obviously the second in command, takes the previous man's place, his face a little more welcoming than the last. But, he still has maliciousness behind his eyes as he watches us.
"Boss says you have a mission together soon. Now, go. Get cleaned up before your appointments with the doctor."
Just like the last, he leaves us behind with very little amount of information to go off. We don't move until the last guard has walked out of the door, not closing it behind them and instead watching us through the frame. We limped over to the side of the room, seeing a sign for a bathroom and following it. We enter the room, seeing mould and grime covering every inch of the walls and floor. I internally groan, but force my body over to the sink, washing the dirt off my hands. I clean as much of my body as I can, getting the residue of the previous experiments off my body. The soldier does the same, the both of us standing in silence. I occasionally look over in his direction, feeling the need to check on him. I see that he does the same a few times, both of us catching the other out at the same time and awkwardly looking away.
"I didn't use my powers on you," I mumble to myself and him.
"I know."
"But, I don't know why." I turn to face him. "I could have easily killed you."
"I know."
"Why didn't I?" I groan.
"I don't know. I don't know why I didn't fight you properly, either." He makes eye contact with me.
He looks desperately at me, almost like he needs me to answer all the questions swarming in his head. But, I can't possibly do that without answering my own. And there is no way I can do that with the useful information being taken from my head unwillingly. I turn back to the sink, drying my skin and seeing the pale colour that was underneath all the dried blood, dirt, and bruises. Now, scars and wounds scatter all over it, some of the reasons being taken from my memory. Looking over at the soldier, I can see his skin mirrors my own. Instead of his metal arm, he looks just as battered and beaten as I do. Looking at his skin, I feel a wash of comfort falls over me. Even without knowing this man, I feel my body being pulled towards him, wanting to always be by his side.
