mafia | b.b.

[4] camp

FIVE WEEKS LATER

Bucky hadn't seen Petrov since they arrived back from Bulgaria. The past few weeks he had been taking part in Crimson Angel training sessions. Bucky didn't know what else to do under Ambrosa's charge, as he waited for a new task. He tried to avoid seeing Ambrosa, he didn't want to fire another gun for as long possible, he wanted to be past that part of his life. But Bucky knew it was only a matter of time until Ambrosa put his skills to work.

The Angel training base reminded him of the army base he once trained on during his time in the U.S. Army. At night, when he slept on the cots that were provided for those without a place to go home to, he dreamt about his life.

He dreamt about Steve, the Howling Commandos, raiding HYDRA bases. Sometimes it was good things, others were bad. The nightmares brought images, flashbacks of being experimented on, looking down and seeing only the stub of his arm, waking up from being cryostasis.

At the camp, he laid low. He tried not to bring attention to himself, he didn't want to risk being picked for a mission.

In his cabin were four other men, all of them training to become the best. Bucky didn't want to be the best, he just wanted to survive.

Camp was in the middle of a dense forest, an hour off the main road. This was so no one could hear the fighting, or the bombs, or the guns. It had six cabins that could hold up to nine people, but only one held more than four. The square, as they called it, was where meals were served and where the challenges were fought. North of the camp was the field, where obstacles would be set out for the men. Some days there were circuits set up, focusing on peak fitness. Others it was empty, and the men worked on hand to hand combat. Since this was a new group, the trainers were gradually working up from hand to hand, to eventually guns.

All of the men, except for Bucky, were rookies when it came to fighting. They had all signed up, or been signed up for the Crimson Angels. All of them were hand picked by Zenon Ambrosa himself, he went through hundreds of applicants, picking only 25. Some were picked for their strength, others for intelligence. But they were all taught and trained in every aspect. A part of the day would be spent studying tactics, strategies, situations. The rest would be applying it or learning combat skills.

After the men had 'graduated' from the camp, they were either hired by Ambrosa, or killed. As they couldn't just walk away, knowing everything they did.

Bucky didn't care about any of it. He knew that if the time came that Ambrosa was going to try and kill him, he would be able to defend himself. And if he was hired, he would be fine doing the absolute minimum.

Cabin 3 was spacious, it was clean and sleek like Mr. Ambrosa's house. The queen beds and their sheets were black, while the dresser and chest each man was provided with was a sleek white. The other men in the cabin kept clothes, books, pictures and other sentimental items in their chests. Bucky didn't even have enough clothes to fill the dresser. In the chest he kept his journal, where he wrote down everything he could remember from his past, and his emergency backpack was hidden beneath a jacket. The only guns he owned were in that backpack, and he hoped he would never have to see them again.

Damien, Francis, Gregg and Lucas were the four other men in Bucky's cabin.

Damien was the boss, or so he thought. He was the strongest, and considered himself to be the smartest. He grew more and more arrogant as the weeks went on. With each task or skill he was given, he mastered it within a few days, the trainers thought he was a marvel. Bucky thought him to be slow and lazy.

Francis and Gregg were strong, but not smart. They followed Damien, needing a leader at all times.

Bucky only talked to one of them, Lucas. He was the smallest in the group, but definitely the quickest. He explained to Bucky that he was more of a computer guy, he was a hacker back home. Lucas didn't talk about 'home', no one did. No one wanted anyone to know about their personal life, knowing that we were all criminals. It was unwise to reveal yourself to people you couldn't trust.