BOOK 4 of the ORPHIC Series
DISENTHRALL
/ˌdisənˈTHrôl/
set free.
~~~~~
When Lucille 'Lucy' Opal Baker starts adjusting to a world without Captain America and more government therapy sessions...
–the official multi-part time heist series featuring Sam, Lucy and James–
The three Avengers follow a grieving Brock Rumlow into the past, whose only intention is to save his husband from his future death, consequently aiding HYDRA in the process. Their only chance at convincing Brock to return to the past is by providing him something more enticing– his hidden biological child, DNA spliced from his KIA husband. The race to stop Brock Rumlow from changing the course of history ensues, and both Lucy and James have no choice but to call on the Avengers of the past. It doesn't help that they all assume Lucy, James and Sam are terrorists.
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"How the clock ticks against our ears, death disguised as he knocks on our doors."
Washington, D.C The Fall of the Triskelion
GLASS DISSOLVED BEFORE ANY council member could move. A figure with onyx hair landed, her feet pressing against the ground in silence. Whitened eyes darted across the council members, then the STRIKE team circling the area. Agent Rollins was standing off to the side, his hand pressing against the firearm on his hip. His eyes were focused on the Weapon as she halted in stepping on the shattered glass before her.
The figure vaguely acknowledged her presence as her cloak moved swiftly, the blackened crown on her forehead gleaming under the ceiling lights.
The bottom half of her face was covered by a mask, black and not dissimilar to the one the Winter Soldier wore. She tilted her head as she observed them all, before she focused on the figure standing behind Natasha, a gun pressed against her head. Her typing had stopped– her fingers frozen over the keys. Her bright green eyes inspected her, but the figure ignored it.
"Commander." She greeted, her voice cool.
Brock Rumlow grinned at her, eyes wintry. He moved to stand beside Natasha, the muzzle of his gun still pressing into the back of her head. Natasha clenched her jaw as the door to Pierce's office door opened.
Familiar footsteps and the figure breezed past Alexander Pierce, halting only when the Commander dug the muzzle of his gun against Natasha's skin.
She did not move, and the figure was glad she was intelligent enough to know not to.
Brock Rumlow– younger and without any scars– padded forwards. He entered the room, his eyes somehow cold and warm at the same time. He looked better, mentally and physically, not that the mysterious figure would know what the Commander had told Rumlow, his younger self.
