This story is my brainchild and was written about a month ago and I'm just now typing it up. As I said in the summary this is AU and won't reflect the plotline of Captain America: Winter Soldier because I'm too broke to have gone and seen it. That being said, for any who have read my other fanfiction which is on hold till I figure out how to get past a few blocks, I apologize. Now that I'm done with Highschool I'll have more time to type up my chapters and updates will follow quickly. I'm already working on the sequel to this story.
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The wind whipped past his ears, ruffling his hair and clothes with clear indiscrimination. He could feel the storm building up all around him. The change in pressure made his ears pop.
He pushed off his jacket feeling too warm inside of it. It fell onto the stony ground beneath his feet. The wind whipped the light weight material away and into the Nevada skyline off of the cliff. The gray material carried easily.
He knew it would have. He shrugged and clasped his hands together in front of him, stretching his back and feeling his whole body pop like a symphony. He was more out of shape then was good for him. "That's much better." He mumbled to himself as he rolled his neck and shoulders feeling the last of those kinks slip away.
He watched the dark clouds roll in with a menacing swiftness. The shudders of light crashed around the valley and the booms of thunder reverberated through his chest. This is what he'd been waiting for. As he spread his arms wide he felt the world slip away as he knew it. The air hummed with life.
As fast as he'd felt it the connection fell away from him, his vision going dark and his body dropping like a stone. The last thing he saw was a man, his features distorting, and a shiny hypodermic needle in his hand.
…..
The figure slid through the nearly empty streets as the sun rose on the western city of San Francisco. The fog muted the rose and golden hues that bounced off of the city's building.
The early risers of the city began to bleed into the waking streets, but with the visibility so low the figure didn't pay them much attention.
The figure kept to the shadows rapidly disappearing around it. Blood dripped down their partially concealed face and neck from beneath a black hood. The small trickle made a track down their sharp chin before dripping onto the tight material of their jacket. The jacket leant a more feminine form to the figure and as it turned a corner down the alley to their left a set of pale blue eyes fringed by strawberry blonde bangs caught the light making them glow.
The figure turned their head to make sure they weren't being followed. In the second it took to turn their hands clasped tight on their shoulders. When the figure whipped around her hood fell back. She growled, sharp canines making her sharp features feral. She kicked at the man's knee and as he grunted he released her shoulders and hit the ground on his injured knee. There was less than a second of break when her knee then caught the man's jaw.
She grabbed his jaw and jerked it so he was facing her and looking into her eyes. "Come after me again and I'll break your jaw." Her own voice grated even her ears, the sound gruff though clearly feminine. She backed away a few steps and lifted her leg again to kick the man in the chest, but he recovered and grabbed her ankle twisting it and forcing her off balance and to fall on her face.
She caught herself with her hands, wincing as the asphalt tore into them, and offering blessing that she had had such fast reflexes to catch herself.
The man laughed, the dark sound making her want to shiver. "Nice try." His voice was velvety and low.
She pushed up on her hands and put all of her weight into them. She then pulled her free leg up and out kicking the man hard in the jaw. He released her leg and she scrambled up to stand, her leg a bit sore from his hard grip. She gave him a feral grin, her abnormally long canines digging into her lips. "Enjoy the broken jaw."
She watched him stand straight once again. He pushed pale hair out of his whiskey eyes. "More like a bruise."
"I'd rather not. I've never been good at it." She stood in a defensive posture, her weight on her back leg for stability.
"As you wish." The man snapped his fingers and she was grabbed from behind by two sets of strong hands. The man produced a needle from his jacket pocket and dug it into her neck. She tried to fight back, but the drug gave her little time before knocking her out.
…..
He bit back a snarky response as the men chasing him fell; tripping on the obstacles he was easily making it over Such as the jump from the dumpster nearly ten feet to the fire escape he'd just made. He was careful to push his dreads out of his face and keep his vision clear, any failing to do so would have him falling on his face just the goons chasing him.
He looked back down as he climbed the fire escape and thought, as the men pulled out their guns, that he should hurry but the ringing sound of a gunshot made him freeze and the exploding pain in his left calf told him it was too late for that particular thought. He pushed himself to keep going putting more of his weight onto his other leg.
He made it over the edge of the building onto the gravel of the roof. By the sound of it the men had finally made it onto the fire escape and would be coming up after him. "See ya, losers." He mumbled as he took off, hardly feeling the gunshot anymore with the adrenaline pumping through his veins.
He turned the corner of a stairwell opening and meant to jump to the next building but that came screeching to a halt as he ended up face to face with a giant bruise. Sure, there was a guy beneath it, but he didn't notice him much. In his moment of shock the walking bruise slid a needle right into his neck.
"Not as fast on your feet as I thought you'd be." The bruise said as he stood over the bleeding boy.
…..
She worked her way through the crowd of museum donators with small smiles and lots of eyelash fluttering. She tilted her head to catch a reflection off of an older man's glasses. Two men, roughly the size of your average football player, were making their way towards her. She flipped a curl over her shoulder and made her way to one of the side halls that were open and without guard.
It was some miracle that let the cleaning closet just out of sight around the corner to be unlocked. She slid into it and closed the door. She looked up at the ceiling and the larger vent cover directly above her. It would do.
She pulled off her heels and slid off her dress, the black material crumpling around her bare feet as she pulled at her cat suit. It was like a second skin and with some tugging and awkward zipping she was covered from head to toe, a small hood covering her hair. She used the shelves along the walls of the small closet and pushed the vent out of the way.
It should have bothered her that it wasn't bolted shut and that this was working far too easily, but as she pulled her legs into it and closed the vent the men rushed in. She peeked through the vent just in time to see them look up at it.
With ease due to many years of practice she worked her way through the vents to the back of the museum where she knew there to be hardly any guards, especially at a gala like this one.
Or so that would have been the case until her tails tipped her hand. As she slid out of the vent and hit the ground with a rolling start she saw them blocking her means of escape. She stood staring the three men down.
The man between the two football players looked rough, his pale features would have been her type, handsome and smoldering, but the harsh bruise along his jaw and cheek did him no favors and neither did the hypodermic needle in his hand. He stepped closer. "Just take it and we won't have to use force."
She smiled giving him her most dazzling, eyelash fluttering, grin.
He was clearly unimpressed, maybe even gay, but it was obvious that he was at the very least unimpressed. She frowned and put her hands on her hips. "Let me guess, Life or Death decision here?"
The man smiled making her want to shudder, his light brown eyes darkening. His friends pulled out their guns and aimed to throw a warning shot. She launched at the man in the middle and threw herself, using his shoulders as a spring board, and flipped over him.
The shot rang out a split second before she fell, her weight not holding on her left leg anymore. She looked down and saw the bullet wound before she felt the pain. And then the pain was gone and her vision was going dark, her body collapsing onto the cold museum floor.
…..
She curled up into the crate, her tiny flexible body using the limited space well.
The warehouse she had been hiding in for the past few days was under siege. She could hear the shouts and footsteps. Five men in total were all fanned out to find her. She wasn't surprised, not in the least, but that didn't mean she wasn't scared. Her heart was hammering so hard she was having trouble hearing anything else.
She had been on the run for over a year now and she wasn't sure what would happen if these men found her, but they were almost on her now. She could hear them circling like the sharks they were. They'd found her.
She adjusted in the crate so her back was pressed into the hard slats beneath her and her feet were flat to the surface of the lid.
When the lid started to come off the crate she pushed with it exploding out and onto the chest of a man at least three times her small size. She had knocked the wind out of him but his comrades came to his rescue one on each side of her clamped their giant hands around her arms. She tried every move she knew to try and get them to let go, but it was no use.
A man emerged from behind the other giants, he was average height and fair like she was but he looked terrible, the mottled green and yellow bruise decorating nearly half his face. "I was told you'd be the hardest to catch, seems you were a bit of a disappointment."
He pulled out a needle making her insides squirm. She wanted to pull away but as it drew closer she froze and when he dug it into her neck her world went black.
…..
The darkness was suffocating. It was overwhelming.
Hard wooden chairs. Erratic breathing. Four others. They were awake.
First instinct when tied to a chair is to try and pull free. Don't. The ties cut in and they cut deep.
The first thing when you wake up to a gag in your mouth is to scream. There's no point. That's where the terror sets in.
The air felt thick with the muffled screams and harsh breathing through the thick fabric crammed against their mouths. It was too dry and sucked out all of the moisture left after the adrenaline.
The lights flipped on above their chairs one by one down the line.
The first light came up on a boy, average height and built like football player, all muscle. He had dark hair pulled in tight at the nape of his neck that came down well past his waist. A few strands had managed escape and framed his. His tanned skin and high cheekbones gave his race away even before the heavily lidded and chillingly beautiful turquoise eyes looked up frightened at the light.
The second light came up on a presumable girl. Pointed chin, thin pink lips set in a snarl into the darkness, and heavily lashed pale blue eyes that were just as cold as the ice they looked like. A shock of red hair; choppily cut a few inches away from her head, though the back was only barely an inch. She struggled against her ropes her top lip curling and showing sharp, if not longer than normal, canines through her gag.
The third light down the line came up on a boy, his dark skin shimmering with sweat and his long dreads pulled back and partially off his neck. His eyes were dark like the rest of him but wide in panic as they flitted from one person to the next, then up to the ridiculously bright light over head. The girl with the red hair met his eyes and he stopped panicking as much and her face softened a bit. His full lips parted to say something, but the next light that came up pulled his attention.
The woman, for she did have a very womanly figure, sat calmly in her chair her high ponytail of curly black hair and strong nose making her look exotic, which seemed to cover it. Her hazel eyes and dark arching brows glanced down the line then back straight ahead. It was odd because even tied to a chair she looked graceful and even a lot like a bitch.
The last light came up on a younger girl, her matted auburn hair hanging limply around her head. She looked at the others with wide eyes, her thin face and sky blue eyes tired and worn looking. When she caught the eyes of the red head they froze, unsurprisingly so did the red head's.
A door behind them opened and they all tried to whip their heads around, much to the dismay of their neck muscles. The man was holding five files, some much more thick than the others. He made his way slowly around to stand in front of them. His voice was low in tenor and high in his lack of ability to care. "Welcome to the Angel Program kiddies. Time for introductions, yes?" He stepped up to the first boy and flicked open a file. "Ociel, age 16, Hispanic and Native American decent, Superior strength and control of aerokenisis and remote viewing with restrictions. Well, haven't you been a busy boy." He pulled out Ociel's gag. And put his file at the bottom of the stack moving on to a very full one, almost bursting with papers.
"Div." He read giving the red head a frosty glare. "Age 16, Immediate mastery of any skill, Canine mutations, and regenerative abilities." He pulled out her gag. "Bite me and the gag goes back in."
He moved on with a glance at the boy's leg making the boy look as well, surprise lighting up his face. He flipped to another smaller file. "Caden, age 17, African American, Superior reflexes, Superior speed, Superior healing abilities. A healthy leg is a useful one, isn't that right?" He pulled out Caden's gag with a fairly creepy smile.
Down the line he crept with his fluid like motions. He reminded the woman of a snake as he flipped to her also bursting file. "Amery, age 18, Italian American, Superior flexibility, Is noted for being able to steal anything she can get her hands on, Never caught." He whistled for added drama and he pulled out her gag. "Stealth is practically your middle name."
He turn away from her hazel glare and turned to the last girl in the row, the smallest one with the smallest file. "And here… Tegwen, Age 13, a fellow experiment like Div, but an improved version. No doggy bad habits, increased intelligence and capabilities, near immortality, and increased reflexes." He pulled out her gag and smiled his slow smile. "A crown jewel."
He stepped away holding the files in his left hand as he stroked his chin with his right. "Well, this is it, the first team of the Angel Program. Welcome."
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Well, I hope you enjoyed it. Review please. I love reviews.