Treachery-Bucky Barnes X OC

Part 12

After a quick lunch, I headed back to the main training room for one-on-one mission training with Barnes.  I have to admit, I was quite apprehensive about this. On one hand, this was the perfect opportunity to learn more about the target and his--its-- weaknesses. On the other hand, training with just me and Barnes means I had the greatest chance of giving myself away.

When I entered the training room, Barnes was already there, punching away a bag suspended from the ceiling. When he heard me come in, he turned, and I was once again struck by the sight of him: hulking shoulders, marred by scars and the uneven union of flesh and metal where his left arm was attached. Piercing stormy blue eyes, locking with mine and temporarily making me forget where I was. Brunet locks falling to gently brush his shoulders, tangled from his lightning-fast punches. 

What the hell was happening? Was this another piece of Hydra trickery to keep me close to the target? I didn't think so. This was different than the sensation of preprogrammed Hydra training, which felt like I was being told to do something and I had no choice. The new sensation was entirely me, and that scared me like nothing else.

I spoke first, not knowing what else to do. "Hey." He nodded at me in return, turning from the punching bag and grabbing a towel to dry off. Well, that was something. "So, mission training, right? What exactly do we do?"

He finally spoke. "Usually we go over different mission layouts, deciding who would do what so we don't have to in the heat of the moment. We spar a little, figuring out each other's strengths and weaknesses. According to Steve, this is all so we 'get to know each other.'"

As he puts on a shirt, I nod and look him over; his body posture, his expression. "Let me guess: you're usually partnered with Steve, and you're pissed to be saddled with the new girl." He said nothing, but once again, his posture gave him away: I had struck a nerve. Instead of leaving it alone, I pressed it. I got the impression that everyone on the team tried their best not to get in his way. In that case, the best way to hold his attention would be to not bother with mincing words with him. "Ouch, Sarge. No faith in new blood?"

That certainly got his attention. "What did you say?" He demanded.

I shot him a smirk. "You heard me," I replied, raising an eyebrow. "I get the whole grumpy ex-assassin thing, I do. You have a knack for it. But since we need to get things done so we can, I don't know, save the world sometimes? Let's cut the bullshit and get training."

He just stared at me for a bit, and I was nervous I had pushed him too far. "Fine," he said. "Let's get training." He walked over to the other side of the room and reached into one of the cubbies on the far wall. He pulled out a folder and made his way back over to me, motioning for me to sit down. We sat on the floor and he gave me the folder to look through. "We usually have a couple of basic types of missions to complete," he said, motioning at the folder. "There are aid missions, where we help out with overwhelming natural disasters that regular government relief systems can't handle; infiltration missions, which usually involve collecting information; and raid missions, where we launch a coordinated attack on, for example, a terrorist cell. Each format has different protocols you'll have to follow to complete the mission quickly, stealthily, and without casualties." 

I read through the descriptions and handed the folder back. He frowned slightly, trying to give me the folder once again. "No, you keep this. You'll need to know this inside out." I shrugged and grabbed the folder. I couldn't tell him, but I already had the entire thing memorized. He looked at my face, furrowing his brow as he scrutinized me. "You seem familiar, Venetta," he said, still looking at me with his piercing gaze. "Have I seen you before?"

I shrugged. "Maybe. I've lived in New York my whole life, so it's possible." He nodded, but I could tell he wasn't satisfied with my answer. It was stupid of me to assume he wouldn't recognize me. We were kept in the same compound for decades, with cells right next to each other. If he had managed to remember his pal from seventy years ago, he could remember his time in the Hydra base and thus me.

We spent around half of the afternoon going over different scenarios and deciding what we would each do. Occasionally, we would disagree, but most of the time it was freaky how much we thought the same thing, in the same words even. After the first three times this happened, I decided to purposely take a second and reword my responses when I replied. I had a feeling our shared Hydra training had something to do with this, and I didn't need Barnes any more suspicious than he already was. 

After a couple of hours of what I proclaimed our "little study session," Bucky decided it was time to spar. Not that I was complaining; I was aching to get off my ass and do something. We climbed into the boxing ring on the other end of the room, which was, as I was told, an inside joke between Stark and Romanoff. I ducked under the ropes and strapped on one of the pairs of gloves hanging on the edge of the net. Barnes followed me in, strapping on his pair.

"Anything goes but biting," he said shortly.

I smiled sweetly at him. "I'll try to go easy on you, Sarge," I joked. His look only darkened, and he got into a basic fighting stance. Once again, I would have to vary my reactions. If I explicitly used moves drilled into me by Hydra, Barnes would catch on.

When he came at me, my initial reaction would be to duck under his punch, then hit him with an uppercut to the jaw. Instead, I stepped back, then countered with a quick jab to the stomach. We continued like that for around thirty minutes. I made sure to dumb down my fighting, but I still wanted to impress him, so I made sure none of his hits connected. I mainly dodged when he tried to hit me and pulled my punches so my hits did little to no damage. If we were fighting, I had no doubt that I would have him on the floor by now. My Hydra training had only gotten more intensive when the Winter Soldier went missing since it was anticipated that I would one day have to go against my former partner. 

After a bit, I let him sock me in the head, knocking me out cold. When I woke up, he was leaning against the ropes on the edge of the ring, watching me. I rubbed my head, wincing like it hurt when in reality my enhanced healing had already sorted out the injury. "What was that?" he demanded, looking me over as I sat up.

"What do you mean?" He looked at me incredulously.

"Did I stutter? Where did you learn to fight like that? I thought you were some street rat off of the bad side of Harlem."

"I am. That's why I can fight. You don't live where I live and not learn how to defend yourself."

"No," He growled frustratedly, clenching his fists at his sides. "That's military-grade combat training. Where did you learn that?"

"Oh, that," I said nonchalantly. "My dad was a Navy Seal. He was really protective of me, so he taught me how to fight 'the right way,' as he would say," I said, using air quotes. I was finding that excuse to be useful in masking my slipups. I can't push it, though, or instead of placating them. 

We continued sparring for a bit after that. I knew a normal person would be getting tired by now, so I made my breathing heavier on purpose, slowing my reaction times. I saw him move to my right, but instead of countering right away like my training was begging me to do, I let him take me down, tackling me to the floor of the ring. He stayed there for a second, suspended above me, staring into my eyes with a look contemplation and something else I couldn't recognize. I cleared my throat and he moved, quickly getting off of me. What was that?

That night, I fell into bed feeling very worn out. I was used to the physical aspect of the job; I had been doing that forever. Acting casual, though? Having to pretend to be an actual person instead of a mindless weapon? That was the hard part. I would have to practice and get better, or else risk blowing my cover. By the time my mission was complete, I would be a great actress. 

A bit of a longer chapter for you guys! Let me know if I should do a Bucky POV at some point. Thank you to my AMAZING beta reader Mariethecat0 for being willing to help edit these chapters!

To Kat,

For being the sister I never had.

-Silver