My Marvel World

Chapter Five

Rumlow looked surprised for a second, taken aback by her sudden outburst, but then he immediately smiled his hideous smile, one side of his lips broken and cracked. Charlie loaded his gun silently in the background, watching both of them, not quite ready to give up his undercover position yet. He would do it when he needed to. Which was not quite yet.

"Oh, so Rogers finally gave up and sent one of his little minions to find me, hunh? And a female, too!" Rumlow hissed, walking around Josephine in a circle. She kept her head up, her jaw set as she watched Rumlow with only her eyes. There was no fear at all in her blue-grey eyes as she stood tall, her hand on her pistol, ready to fire if necessary.

"For your information, freak, I'm not a minion of anyone, I'm just not very fond of mass murderers." Josephine snapped angrily, stepping slightly towards Rumlow as he passed by her left side for the second time.

Rumlow chuckled, but it sounded more like someone having a heart attack.

"Really, little girl? Because, last time I checked, one of your friends is a mass murderer. Oh, what's his name? Campbell, right?" Rumlow lured Josephine in by insulting her friends. Charlie put his finger on the trigger of his gun, watching both of them, to see who would make the first move. Hopefully it would be Josephine.

Josephine scoffed, her eyes flashing with anger, and Charlie saw her knuckles turn white, gripping on her pistol as hard as she was. Charlie's eyes narrowed, and he brought his gun to the good side of his body, waiting for that perfect second when he could fire his gun at Rumlow and it would be over. (The gun was loaded with sedatives, not bullets, of course. S.H.I.E.L.D. had to question him before they got rid of him.)

"Yeah, I also that cute Serena of yours has a monster inside of her? A real one. Is that true, Wilson? Hunh?" Rumlow kept circling Josephine and luring her in with his venomous words about her friends.

"How about the 'Parker' boy? He's that Spider Boy, isn't he? I heard that he got little Ms. Stacy killed. And the Madeleine girl. I bet she's killed more people than I have. And I know for a fact that the

Thor's daughter girl has killed five times the beings than I have killed. Innocent? IS that what they call these people? Heroes? No. They're all murderers. Unlike the Maximoff child, who can't even save her father from being shot. Hmm, some speed she's got there. And the other Stark girl, she's a monster, even though she doesn't have one, unlike her sister."

Rumlow paused for a second.

"And that Storm boy, too. Nasty. Honey, there are things that I could tell you about him that you wouldn't believe." Rumlow stopped right in front of Josephine. At this point, she was fighting the urge not to dismember him with her new pocket knife, scream at him to shut up, just to make him stop saying all these things. But she didn't.

"He lied to you, you know." Rumlow hissed, his breath blowing back Josephine's hair.

Charlie felt the blood boil in every single inch of his body. He wanted to murder Rumlow. Stab a knife through his chest and carve out his heart with a kitchen knife. He wanted to whip him with his own electric wires, rip off his flesh, drag knives across his skin.

But Charlie settled for just whipping off his helmet, throwing it to the ground so that it's big, metal pieces fell to the ground with a crash, and made Rumlow look over at Charlie, a venomous look in his eyes.

Charlie held up his gun, his finger ready on the trigger. He didn't care that Fury wanted Rumlow alive. He didn't care that he would probably get a S.H.I.E.L.D. probation for shooting Rumlow. He didn't effing care about those stupid rules anymore. He had never exactly followed rules, anyway.

"Shut up, you don't know anything about me!" Charlie growled, his anger evident in his eyes, his knuckles white against the gun as he held it up, aimed perfectly at Rumlow's head. If he shot now, Rumlow would be dead in mere seconds. He could do it. He could end Rumlow's pitiful life right then. It would be over. All of it would be over.

Josephine looked over, a look of shock and worry on her face. She knew the rules. She didn't exactly follow them either, but she wasn't exactly a cold-blooded killer. Plus, she knew that if Charlie pulled that trigger, then all of their answers would be gone. Answers about H.Y.D.R.A., answers about how to get Campbell and Bucky's memories back, answers about what they did to Anna in the Torture Room, all of those things that Josephine needed to know because nobody ever bothered to tell her.

"Charlie, don't!" She yelled, and he looked over at her, the anger in his eyes softening, making him look more like the person that Josephine knew, not the person that he had been raised to be. He lowered the gun slightly and he shook himself.

What am I doing? This is the only way we can help Campbell, and all the other people that H.Y.D.R.A tore apart. He asked himself. Mentally, without even really noticing that he was doing it, he began making a list of all the people that H.Y.D.R.A. had tore apart: Campbell, Bucky, Natasha, Anna (even though she always insisted that fixing the others came first), and all those other Winter Soldiers out there that had no idea who they were or what was wrong with them.

In his thoughts, he was oblivious. Rumlow raised his machine gun, his hideous smile still on his scarred face, and shot Charlie in the shoulder.

Josephine screamed.

Charlie fell back into a bunch of barrels of gasoline, blasted back by the force of Rumlow's over- powered H.Y.D.R.A. guns. Pain burst from his shoulder and veins of pain made their way through his right arm. His left hand went up to shoulder instinctively, gripping at the area where he had been shot. In all honesty, he had never actually been shot before. Sure, he had been skimmed by bullets in other battles, and that hurt too, but he had never actually been shot, since he was generally good at dodging.

His one good gun was a about five feet away. He had probably let go of it when he had been shot. He mentally cursed himself.

Blood was running down his shoulder, dripping onto the cement floor. Charlie never minded blood. He had been stabbed before, seen people get shot and stabbed, even seen people puke up blood.