Years Beyond - Old Soul Sequel

4

<Steve's Pov>

I forced my swollen eyes open. The lights were flashing red in my cell, I realized once I came to. It took me longer than it should have to realize that something was wrong, but my reflexes were weakened and sore. I slowly sat up on the harsh cold floor, my bones moaning in protest where they had been beaten and battered.

"Natasha," I croaked, crawling feebly towards my cell door. I could hardly see. It was dark, aside from the red strobe lights. Seeping through the cotton-like barrier I felt in my disabled ear drums, I could vaguely hear a siren. "Natasha."

My vision was blurred, but I could see well enough to make out Natasha moving begrudgingly across the floor, confined within her own cell. "Steve," she called out, her voice not much better than mine. They had hurt Natasha more in her throat than they had me, and I could hear the impact. I winced.

"Are you...are you alright?" I wheezed. Come on, Steve, I internally scolded myself. It hurt to move, hurt to breathe. Hydra showed no mercy on captives, especially to Natasha and me. I'll hand it to them: they're stubborn. But so are we. We've refused to tell them anything, especially when they asked why they can't track Avalie anymore. We had to keep her safe, and telling them that she was powerless and sick meant that she might as well be dead.

They also wanted to know where we held Daphne. That was a secret I'd never tell. Not even Avalie knew she was alive. I'd like to keep her location in confidentiality, definitely not a secret I'd willingly give to Hydra.

"I'm okay," Natasha breathed. I blinked hard, trying to clear my head and focus on the lights and siren. Natasha noticed them as well. "What's happening?"

I exhaled painfully, forcing myself up onto my knees. "I don't-"

The door to our left burst open in brute force and light poured into their dark hole. I cowarded against it, not remembering the last time my unadjusted eyes had seen light.

A dark silhouette was outlined in the doorway. "Who's there?" I called, schooling my actions to become more dignified. I bit back the pain, having a reputation to uphold. I could do this all day, I had told the man punching me earlier. My hands were bound and my face was bleeding profusely, but I took in the next hit without a flinch, mentally counting down how many more until he got bored and tired out. Then I was tossed back into my cell.

I latched my hands around the bars and pulled myself up onto my feet, resisting the immediate urge to fall back down. Across from me, I noticed Natasha doing the same. With her fiery hair that complimented the red of the dried blood on her face, even I was intimidated by her stature. I admired her bravery, knowing how much pain she must be facing.

But Natasha is nothing if not prideful.

The silhouette walked further into the room. As he came nearer, my eyes finally found their way into a land of understanding. The fog cleared, and I recognized who it was.

It was the man. The one who had been punching me, the one who unflinchingly slapped Natasha. In his black eyes, there was no mercy; there was only blood, somehow staining everything he owned.

"Good news," he said. Brunsen was his name. I knew him distantly, a man I thought would be unimportant. I've heard of multiple scientists involved with the brainwashing of Bucky, but I didn't think any of them would be an immediate threat. But Brunsen didn't stop at Bucky, for he furthered his talent for torture within the depths of Hydra.

"Doubtful," Natasha replied. She was leaning against the bars, and she lazily drew a finger across her mouth to sweep up an escaping drop of blood.

Brunsen ignored her. "There has been a trade offered by your team of, however you may say, Avengers. Under some compromises, there has been an exchange for your freedom."