Like Father, Like Daughter

A New Mission

Triggers: Angst, abusive situations, implied sexual abuse, cussing because I'm me, and good ole bloody stuff (Like some violent action, and a tiny bit of gore, but not a whole lot so don't worry too much). 

A/N: So this is probably my favorite idea for a fanfic so far. I'm not sure if someone else has had this idea before me or not. I don't really get inspiration to write anymore because of school, so there probably won't be regular uploads, but I'll try to upload like twice a month. If you guys like this, please reblog it to let me know! I hope you enjoy all this. Also just a heads up, I know nothing about guns. I may be an American from a long line of heroic veterans, and gun-lovers, but I know fuck all about rifles, or any guns for that matter, so any info mentioned in this is all from Google. Also (again), I don't speak German, so any German in this chapter is from Google translate. I'll be using it for whenever I use other languages.

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Follow your mission. Don't ask questions, don't argue, and don't talk back. Just follow your orders. Mama's words run through my head as I lug a heavy bag upstairs to the roof of a building. It's been so long since I've heard her voice, I can't even remember what it sounds like anymore. The door of the roof arrives sooner than I expect, and I bump into it. I shake my head, and walk through the door. I set my bag down on the ground, and pull out my deconstructed sniper rifle. It takes me less than a minute to put it back together, and set onto the ledge of the roof. I position the M1941 Johnson Rifle to point at the top window of a skyscraper about a block from this building.

I look into the scope and take my aim. I take a deep breath, and when I release my breath I pull the trigger. The bullet travels through the air, through the glass on a window, and directly into the skull of my target. Through my scope I watch the head of some important looking man in a suit explode when my bullet hits his skull. Just as I see this a pang of guilt sinks in my stomach, and I quickly pack up my rifle. He deserved to die. He's working against us, so he doesn't deserve to breathe air anymore. Isaak's words echo through my head as I run down the stairs to the ground level. I reach my black motorcycle, and speed off before anyone can see me. As I speed down the streets, I try not to think about the man I just killed...

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I sit on an old, rickety chair in the safe house Isaak told me to go to after I finished the mission. The sounds of the forests echo around me, creating an eerie atmosphere. Every snap of a twig puts me on edge. They're late. Dread fills my stomach, sinks down my thighs, and travels up my arms to wrap around my throat. My breath quickens, and the fuzzy tingle of a panic attack covers my face. I lean forward in my chair so my head rests between my knees. They left you. You're fucking worthless. Why would they come for you? You're a fucking m u r d e r e r. I shake my head, and push these thoughts away. I stand up, and begin to pace. It's been an hour. An hour and they aren't here yet. Tears begin to well in my eyes, and my leg tremble. What if they really left me here?

Just as I think that, the door opens and in walks a tall, redheaded man. He's huge, with wide, muscular shoulders and a thick neck. The rest of his body matches, thick, beefy, and intimidating. My panic immediately vanishes. Isaak didn't leave me.

"Lilyana," He says in a thick German accent. "Did you kill him?"

"Yes, sir." I reply quickly.

"Did anyone see you?" He asks.

"No, sir."

"Good, meine Puppe." Isaak says with a small smile. He rarely gives me praise, so just this tiny bit makes my heart skip a beat, and brings a harsh blush to me cheeks.

"Can we go home now?" I ask, exhaustion suddenly setting in my core. Murder is hard work. Isaak sits in the chair, leaving me standing.

"No. You have another mission." He says. I don't say anything as he pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket. He hands me the paper. It's a photo of a man I know well. He has long, dark hair, and steel blue eyes, just like mine.

"Papa?" I look at Isaak confused. I haven't seen my father in 3 years, not since he escaped.

"He's your mission. You're gonna bring him back." He says plainly.

"How?" I ask.

"We're going to plant you in a base that his friends are going to raid, and you're going to feed us as much information about them when they take you in. Then you'll lure your Papa to us and then you can see him as much as you want. Isn't that what you want?" He asks. Of course I want to see him. The agents were scared of him, so they didn't hit as much when he was around. He protected me.

"I'll do it." I say. Isaak stands up and walks towards me. He smiles down at me and sets his hand on my shoulder. I smile back up at him.

"You have to convince them that we mistreated you, that you're scared of us. You can't do that with just your words, now can you?" He says menacingly. His hand slides from shoulder to my throat. Panic fills my blood and I try to pull away, but his hand squeezes. His other hand comes up and punches me.

Once.

Twice.

Three times. My head snaps back with every punch and his hand squeezes my throat harder and harder until spots fill my vision. I don't try to fight back because it'll only make it worse. Isaak throws me, sending me flying through the room to crash into the wall. Air rushes into my lungs, but before I can even take a full breath, his steel toe boot slams into my rib-cage. Over. And over. And over again. Until my ribs are making disgusting cracking, snapping noises. Darkness takes over my vision before Isaak can grab me by my hair.

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Bucky's POV

This Hydra base is tiny compared to ones we've found in the past, this one only has three or four rooms, which means only three of us are needed to scope out the place. The entrance is empty when I step with my rifle in front of me, ready to fire. I motion with me hand for Steve and Natasha to enter after me. They enter the same way I do, ready to fight. Natasha goes into the first door, probably to find any files. Steve is just about to enter the second door when we hear the tiniest whimper. It's a sad sound, like a child.

My eyes meet Steve's and we both make our way to the third door, where the whimper came from. I stand next to the door with my rifle ready and Steve pushes the door open. I quickly step in, pointing my gun around the room as I look for any enemies hiding in corners, and Steve follows this motion. In the corner of my eye I see a heap on the ground. On closer inspection, the heap is a young girl, beaten and bloodied, curled up on the concrete floor. Steve sees the girl just as I do and he kneels in front of her. He places his hand on her throat, checking for a pulse, but just as his hand comes into contact with her skin, the girl flings back. A terrified scream rips through her throat as she looks around wildly. With her sitting up I can she her face much clearer. Both her eyes are bruised and swollen, her lip is busted and her nose is broken.

"It's okay, we're here to help you." Steve says softly, holding his hands up. The girl looks at Steve, then looks at me. Her face loses all color when her eyes meet mine and she lets out a tiny cry.

"Papa?" She asks in a tiny voice before her eyes roll back and she faints.