AN: Implied suicidal thoughts. Nothing graphic.
The Reaper lay curled in the floor, clutching her ribs as she spat blood onto the floor. Her body was bruised and swollen from the beating inflicted for her failure. Her betrayal. She wasn't sure how long she'd been lying there. The lights were never turned off.
Sleeping Beauty.
Torres!
Come home.
Blue eyes.
She squeezed her eyes shut at the pain in her skull. What is happening? Something inside her screamed that this was wrong, that there was something she was missing.
A door banged open, then closed, behind her. She heard footsteps and then a female voice. "Reaper!"
The Power Broker.
"You failed to kill the Winter Soldier. Why?"
The Reaper paused. Why? She wasn't sure. She...didn't want to? What had happened? "I don't...I don't know."
She screamed as the cattle prod hit her back. "That's not an answer. Why did you fail?"
"I don't -" Another scream.
"Why?!"
"I - " Another.
"I want an answer, Reaper."
The Power Broker was standing in front of the Reaper now, holding the cattle prod next to the Reaper's face. Too close. The Reaper lifted her eyes to the ceiling, searching. She hoped the Power Broker would see she was trying. Come back. Come back - "Home." Her eyes met the Power Broker's. "Come back home."
"Hm. Prep her. I want this fixed."
"Yes, boss."
Her body was lifted from the floor and dragged to - that chair...
"Time to bring you back home, Reaper." The guard mocked her as the straps wrapped around her, the needle pricked her skin and then - she heard a scream. Felt a scream. In her chest. Is that coming from me? And then blissful nothingness.
"Name?"
"Reaper."
"Where are you?"
"Home."
~<>~
"I've got a lead."
"Where, Joaquin?"
"Nova Scotia."
"Nova Scotia? That's never been on any lists." Sam's brows furrowed.
It'd been weeks since they'd lost Ray to the Power Broker. Weeks of bad intel and empty warehouses. They set up base in DC at Sam's house, and they'd been searching, running all over the country trying to track where she was taken. This was the first good news in days.
"What's the connection?"
"Well, it was tricky. I was following shipments that left the warehouse the night that...Anyway, nothing was turning up. Thought maybe we were looking at this the wrong way. So I started tracking the shipments that arrived beforehand."
"They'd have to have the equipment and the chemicals ready. They couldn't set that up on the fly. Good call." Bucky placed his hands on the counter, leaning forward in earnestness, needing a good fight.
"A bunch of shipments came in in the weeks before. I found the source - turns out they have been shipping to Nova Scotia. Several boxes a day."
"When can we leave?" Bucky looked to Torres.
YOU ARE READING
Death Where is Your Sting? - B. Barnes
Fanfiction"You told me you would help me." "That was a long time ago." "So is that a no? Because I could really use a hand right now. Or a suture kit." In which Bucky Barnes is reunited with someone he thought long dead and is asked to help her remember. Thei...
