Number 2 didn't take long to realize that he couldn't provoke a different reaction from Bucky (of course he couldn't, Bucky wasn't that dumb), so when he tried to face Ward for the 4th time, seemingly calm and collected, Number 2 grabbed him by the hair instead, which the kids had pulled together into a half-bun this morning, and used it like a handle to drag him towards the wooden table in the center of the room, throwing him up against it. It creaked and scraped against the muddy floor but miraculously didn't break when Bucky's weight crashed into it.
Bucky's scalp burned from the harsh pull, and he lost his balance when he tried to hold onto the smooth surface one-handedly, but that wasn't enough for his attacker. With one arm missing and the other twisted behind his back, Bucky had no way to protect his face when it was smashed against the table top.
"Bucky!" Arih screamed in her shrill baby voice.
Bucky groaned. "Guh..." Blood was streaming down his nose and dripping on dark-stained wood. The pain and the smell of it made him nauseous.
"It's ok..." he tried to console the wailing child. "Thula. Everything's gonna be alright, sweetheart."
"Yes, sweetheart," the guy said to the little girl, still holding onto Bucky's hair like a handle, forcing him to stay down, "your uncle Bucky and I are gonna have some fun."
Bucky coughed, spat out blood across the table, and froze. Behind his back, Number 2 was fiddling with the seams of his Shuka - like he was looking for a zipper.
Ice-cold dread squeezed his heart. His pulse speed up. He knew what this was! He remembered this! Bending him over a flat surface was only the beginning of what these guys had in mind...
He wasn't ready.
The children were not ready.
"No..." Bucky whispered in horror, and then louder. "No! You can't be serious—"
"My men need to heal," Ward announced dramatically, arms outstretched like he was quoting Shakespeare to an imaginary audience. "Admit that you betrayed us so we can all move on. It's gonna be therapeutic to say it out loud. Come on, Bucky Bear. This is a team bonding experience."
"I did it, ok?! I betrayed you! Is that what you wanna hear?!" Bucky screamed, panting frantically. "Don't do this... Please! Why do you even care? I haven't done anything to you!"
"Well, Hydra's on its way to a brighter future now and you're a living relic of the old times. A little urban legend that the kids tell each other at the academy. The Winter Soldier. The asset. The thing that scares them in the dark. You don't look very intimidating now, do you?"
Bucky tried not to tremble when he realized he didn't have the power to stop them as long as the children were here. He didn't have any power at all. His entire body was on edge, muscles screaming with the effort to hold himself back. He had to try...
"Looks can be deceiving. You should let me go while you still have the chance!"
"Shut up!" Number 2 growled and yanked Bucky's head up and down by the hair as if he was controlling the movement of a puppet. "You will obey us, isn't that right?"
Ward paid him no mind whatsoever. "Oh, I'm sure you could put up one hell of a fight but don't you doubt for a second that I will shoot one of these tiny monsters in the head if you don't cooperate with us."
Ward gave another signal and Number 2 cocked his rifle, shoving the barrel of it into Bucky's neck. He could feel the coldness of the metal against his skin like a deadly kiss and shivered.
"Now get undressed."
Bucky shook his head vehemently, as much as he was able to against the already painful grip on his hair, trying to get back to an upright position. The strain filled his eyes with tears.
"No! Please— Come on, Ward..."
There was no answer. Instead, Ward circled around him, took a picture frame out of the bookshelf and shoved it in Bucky's perplexed face. It was a recent picture of him and Steve by the lake, smiling towards the camera. A 'selfie' they called it. Bucky's favorite.
"Oh, I get it, you think you're Rogers bitch now. You two are exclusive, huh? That's so sweet. Don't worry, we're gonna remind you who's your real owner."
Ward stage-laughed again and the others joined in.
"You don't own me, and you never will," Bucky spat at him in a sudden rush of anger. "No one does! Not even Steve. It's called a partnership for a reason..."
The laughter stopped at once. Bucky realized his mistake too late.
Number 2 pulled his head up abruptly, raising him up from the table until he was bend-over backwards, so Ward could hit Bucky across the face with the frame. The glass shattered, cutting his cheek and leaving little shards everywhere.
Bucky could hear the blood rushing in his ears. Everything else was muted. Then the children started screaming in earnest. The guards were shouting, too. "Shut up, the lot of you!"
One of them shoved a child. Bucky couldn't see which one. The angle was bad, and involuntary tears continued to well up and cloud his vision.
"Hey! Don't hurt them!" Bucky pleaded with the guards with new vigor. "I'm sorry! I shouldn't have said that! You were right! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"
"Don't worry. You see," Ward continued his monologue in a stage whisper over the rising sounds of crying and chaos around him, grinning at the little group like a madman, "Bucky here missed his old friends. We didn't take proper care of him for such a long time, I think he's forgotten his place."
He barked a bunch of order at his minions and the shouting around them died down. Pitching his voice down to a low whisper, the Hydra agent leaned forward to watch the devastation on Bucky's face up close. "I think we need to teach him a lesson."
Bucky closed his eyes as the others roared and cheered. Some even clapped their hands as Ward bowed to them sarcastically. Then he turned his attention to Bucky again.
"Last chance. Get undressed or we'll do the undressing for you."
Bucky's heart raced. "Please, man! You don't have to do this..." he protested. "Please. Not here!"
"You're right. But we want to."
Another guy, Number 3 probably, stepped up and took Number 2's place in front of the table, grabbing Bucky by the neck and holding him down like a disobedient dog getting pushed it into its own filth. The glass shards loomed dangerously close to his face.
Number 2 circled around and came to stand behind Bucky, pressing his entire body against him. He was hard.
Bucky wanted to pull away in terror, gagging on fear and disgust, but between the gun and the table there was nowhere left to go. They had him pinned. The edges of the hard wood left brusing imprints on Bucky's hips.
"This is really happening," Bucky thought to himself, and then "This is gonna fuck up the poor kids so bad."
He felt simultaneously hot and cold all over when the guy behind him grabbed one of his legs forcefully and hitched up his Shuka.
"Please! Don't—" Bucky tried again but he was cut off by the dreadful sound of ripping fabric. The man had torn through his undercoat at the back.
The children, those who weren't crying already, gasped and whispered amongst themselves. Bucky didn't look at them but he felt his own face heat up in humiliation. They probably couldn't see much from their position anyways with Bucky's backside turned away from their innocent eyes but somehow this felt like a new low, a total defeat.
"No! Please! I know my place, I swear!" Bucky pleaded again. "I get it now! Just stop this!"
"Look at you…"
He refused to blush when Number 2 whistled in his ear but flinched violently when he felt a strange hand touch the bare skin of his ass.
The guy in front of him tightened the grip on his hair. "Now, where were we?"
"Please. Please, they don't need to see this, man!" Bucky started to beg of the man in front of him. "There are kids here! Jesus... They're just kids!"
He couldn't turn his head further to look either of them in the eye but he hoped to at least sway one of the guards to his side anyways. Ward was clearly the leader but if the others had a conscience or simply liked some privacy to get dicks wet...
"I won't fight back, I swear! I'm not resisting. I'm not— Come on! Please? I'll do whatever you want. I'm not going to run. Just— not in front of the children. We can go outside, alright? Just take me outside! Jesus Christ! That's all I'm asking! I'll do whatever—"
"What are they gonna do to him?" One of the smaller boys whispered to the guards. He was almost 7 years old, his birthday only a few days away.
The guard to his left who had his rifle pointed at them roared with laughter. "You'll learn soon enough."
Bucky swollowed hard and turned his head towards the noise. "Look away, sweetheart," he said. "Don't look at me. I don't want any of you to see this."
"I'm surprised," Goon number 2 commented, completely unaffected. "Do they make you wear these nightgowns underneath or it that a fashion statement? I mean, you never had any taste whatsoever but this is hideous."
Torturously slow, his hand pulled the ripped undercoat to the side and slid further and further up Bucky's legs, exploring his thighs intimately.
"Please... Can we do this outside, guys? Please! It doesn't matter what I have to do. Just—"
A sharp intake of breath and a second hand joined the first, as if he hasn't said anything at all. Bucky's muscled strained to keep himself still. The guy's hands wandered until he was grabbing at his ass cheeks, pulling them apart.
"I'd be free balling it before I'd put this shit on," Number 2 said.
"Please..." Bucky tried again. His voice shook. There was a fearful tremor in his legs now, too, which he couldn't hide. Bucky shivered violently. His stupid brain had decided to flood his system with adrenaline to give him a fighting chance, an advantage that he couldn't take. Not when there was a gun to his head and this much collateral. He just couldn't risk it.
"The children don't need to be here. OK? They don't need to watch this! I'll stay. I'm begging you! Just let them wait outside!"
"Doesn't matter anyways. They're not gonna be able to see a thing with that dress you're wearing," one of the other guys snickered.
"Come on... They're too young! They barely even know—"
"Shut up about the goddamn children already!" Number 2 bellowed. "I want to enjoy myself. Gunnar? If he does anything to ruin this for me, you shoot one of the little fuckers!"
"Yes, Sir!" The guy with the assault rifle to their left cocked his weapon, raised it in the air, and fired a shot.