Not A Bad Thing || Captain America/Steve Rogers [COMPLETED/BEING EDITED]

Chapter 38: Dark Rooms

Kylie

Anything after the alley fight was hazy. It was a montage of lights and ceilings, with the occasional muffled conversation thrown in there.

The last thing I remember was seeing Tony unconscious against a wall. Even that felt like a million years away.

Tony.

My only concern at the moment was whether or not Hydra lived up to their side of the deal and snatched him up as well.

I tried to stand up and look for him, but was restrained by a thick strap over my lap and chest. I even tried to lift my arms, but they were tied down too.

"Where's Stark?" I mumbled into the darkness.

No one seemed to be in the room with me, considering the lack of an answer. Trying to find any by myself wasn't proving to be a success. The harder I tried to focus my vision, the more it felt like someone was pulverizing the contents of my skull.

This felt like the worst hangover ever. I could practically feel my brain turning into soup.

After they knocked me out, they probably shot me up with a sedative to keep me from waking up too early and seeing any clues about where I was being held.

Among the darkness, I could only make out the outline of a door eight feet in front of me, thanks to the lights on the other side of it.

I violently shook my arms and legs in an attempt to gauge how tough it would be to break free. Judging by how it didn't loosen up at least a little bit, it was going to take a while. Time was of the essence and that was something I possibly do not have.

"Hi, if you're there, come in and tell me your diabolical plans, then threaten me! Come on!" I shouted, rattling my restraints.

I banged my fists against the arms of the chair, and that way I had found out that the chair was made of metal.

I knew that my ass felt colder than usual.

That also meant that I couldn't break it and escape, which meant a bigger problem for me.

I couldn't depend on Steve and Sam finding me because truthfully, they probably won't get to me in time. For now, it was just me, myself, and I.

God knows how long I'll be here and what they'll do to me. Torture, most likely. One way or another, I'd be used for their corrupted endgame.

If I could figure out what I was here for, then I could figure out how to get out. It's not like I haven't escaped captivity before.

Many years ago, when I was in my assassin days, I was on my way back to my hotel room after a kill to pack up and leave. I was going on foot, thinking that it was less conspicuous than a getaway car. I was right.

Except that a certain duo was tracking me for a few months at the time and had decided to apprehend me a little too late. They were particularly angry for the life that was lost, making their moves sloppier than usual.

It played right into my hands. I noticed them following me and watching my every move, so I led them to an apartment building's roof.

After taking out a good chunk of their men there, I jumped onto the adjacent building and ran from there. Nat was waiting for me at the end of this roof, and we began to fight each other. Clint was the one to sneak up on me and hit me with one of his electric arrows.

I came to in the car and was able to undo my handcuffs. I waited until they opened the door for me. When I was forced out of the car, I promptly used my skillset to escape.