Get Schooled (2020 Edition)

Ch 12: Ah, Shit

Tw: Steve gets a little roughed up in this -- depictions of violence, use of a slur.

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"Well? Are you going to gap at me like a guppy fish or are you going to invite your friends into your room?" Ms. Hilda's odd slang seemed wrong in the moment, with Steve frozen in place, staring at them.

"Excuse me, miss, but we were just, uh, wondering if Stevie could come out and play." Ward's smile was dark but his voice was cheery. Hilda glanced between them all, raising her thin brows.

"All right," she caved, a little hesitantly, before she gathered herself and frowned. "Well, then, you boys scurry along and behave yourselves," she said pointedly to Steve. It was quiet amongst the boys as Hilda trudged up the creaky stairs. Steve stood frozen in place, wanting to slam the door closed but suddenly unable to move an inch.

"Can I help you?" Relief coursed through him, grateful that even if he's unable to move, his sarcastic tone allowed himself the confidence he needed.

"Oh, we just wanted to send a message," Pierce said humourlessly, ushering out the door. Steve folded his arms, scoffed out a shaky breath, and forced himself to stand his ground.

"Sorry, I'm busy taking a break from kicking nazi ass, so another time perhaps." Steve moved to shut the door and Rumlow shouldered past him.

Grabbing his shirt collar, he hauled him out the door -- and threw him down the stone steps.

Panic exploded in Steve's chest before he tumbled to the ground, bruised and confused but luckily without any broken bones yet.

Scrambling to his feet, he struggled to prepare for the next attack, unsure of where exactly Hydra is. He got his answer when someone sent him sprawling into a brick wall.

Steve gritted his teeth as his cheek scraped the rough brick, as the pain blossomed in the arm they had pinned behind his back. He squirmed uselessly and Ward, who was holding him there, twisted his arm tighter.

"Look, f*g, we don't appreciate gettin' shown up. You're not better than anyone, you're a useless piece of sh*t," Pierce hissed into Steve's ear. The blond closed his eyes and said nothing, fire igniting once more in his chest -- a blinding anger he no longer wanted to hold back.

"I could do this all day," he spat. Slamming his head back, he heard a satisfying crack and Ward was off of him. Steve shook out his arm briefly before curling his hand into a fist, and it collided with the side of Pierce's jaw. Hydra sprang into action, easily outnumbering him.

Easily overpowering him.

Adrenaline was making him shake. Steve reeled back from an elbow to the face, cupping his nose. As red flowed from his lip, he dimly thought of Bucky -- and his heart started beating faster.

He started to run; Bucky hated it when he fought.

With an agility Steve didn't know he'd had, Sitwell tackled him into the dirt and slammed his head into the ground. A pulsing pain and black dots exploded in his head, and he slumped to the ground, before finding the sense in himself to try to wrench himself free from Sitwell's death grip.

Anger pursed in his lips, Pierce slammed his fist into his face, once, twice, three more, and Steve had lost count -- when he opened his eye that wasn't swollen to a red and purple lump, he was slumped over on his knees and someone was kicking into his stomach.

Nausea overwhelmed him and he gasped weakly before forcing himself not to react, not to make a sound. He sat there and idly watched dark blood drip onto the dirt, felt the screaming pain of his stomach and ribs.

"Had enough yet?" Pierce asked, too calmly as he again smashed his fist into Steve's cheek.

With barely the strength to look at him, Steve lifted his head defiantly and spat blood into his face.

Pierce sneered and reared back, wiping a finger over his bloodied face in disgust.

Steve grinned weakly, his head falling backwards, breathing heavily. He closed his eyes, waiting for them to finish him off.

Pierce's furious blue eyes bore into him, and he nodded once. Rumlow, Ward, Sitwell and Arnim put on a show, showing him who's boss.

Blood and tears and pain -- Steve squeezed his eyes closed, grimacing, a wordless but pained gasp escaping him as pressure was put on his ankle, and he bit down hard on his knuckles to muffle his cry as he heard a snap, and a numbing pain overtook him.

After a final kick to the side of his head, Steve lay unmoving and wondered, dully, if they were going to let him live.

All of them panting, worn out and jittery, stilled when they noticed that Steve was no longer making any sounds.

A pang of dread ignited in Pierce's stomach, but he quickly dismissed this. Jerking his head, he lead his crew away, shaken.

Steve had the strength to roll himself onto his side, blinking slowly in the falling light. The copper tang of blood and sweat lingered in the air. His eyes fluttered closed and Steve lay motionless where they left him.

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Bucky was walking along the road in the hue of the sunset. He'd completely ignored his parent's orders but couldn't care less. Walking by the orphanage, he figured maybe he'd pop in and see Steve. He knocked on the door and was surprised, oddly enough, to see Ms. Hilda answer -- even more surprised to see the look of concern pulling her face into a scowl.

"Hi, Ms. Hilda, is Steve here?" Bucky cocked his head to the side, confused by Hilda's frustrated shake of her head.

"He isn't here. A while ago he left with his friends and he hasn't come back," she said bitterly, but her look of worry gave away how she cared for the boy. Bucky frowned in return, chewing his lip.

"His... friends?"

"Group of young boys came in looking for him, looked like hooligans," she scoffed, leaning against the doorframe.

"How many?" He noticed his own voice becoming more frantic and told himself it couldn't possibly be what he thought it was. Please, God, he was wrong--

"Oh, about six. Why?" Her suspicious gaze settled on him. Bucky shook his head, ignoring the death gaze, his mind racing.

"Thanks, Ms. Hilda," he said dimly before bounding down the steps. He knew it was Hydra, but he didn't know if they were still around, didn't know where Steve was.

He got his answer when the all too familiar signs of a fight appeared just outside the courtyard of the center. Red droplets led him forward, like a sick version of Hansel and Gretel in the woods with the breadcrumbs.

The sight he arrived to was no fairytale.

Around the corner near some garbage cans was a puddle of blood, and Bucky's heart dropped.