Chapter Nineteen:

Blue trembled over his mother's body, his hands gripping her head close to his chest. "Ma," Blue whined over and over again. His hands were shaking, his breath was coming fast, in in in inininin

"Blue," Steve said, coming close to him.

Blue turned and bared his fangs. "No!" He screamed, "No! No! No!"

Steve raised his hands, showing Blue his palms. "I know you're upset," He began and Blue shook his head again, looking back down at his ma, his ma, his ma. . . "I need to know, did that woman hurt you?"

"Ma," He whined, his lip trembling. "Ma. . ."

"I know, B," Steve whispered, "I know. Work with me here. Did she shoot you?" Blue gave a shaky nod. "Can I see it?" He inched forward and Blue hissed, holding his mother closer to his chest. "Sorry. Sorry," his moved back. Blue relaxed a little, still hiccupping sobs out. "Can you point to where she shot you?" Blue raised a hand slowly, pointing to his collarbone, which was still bleeding profusely. Blue ignored it, and the dizziness he felt from it.

"Okay," Steve breathed, looking from Blue to his dead Ma. "I. . . I need you to let her go, alright?" Blue shook his head, frantically. "We need to treat your shoulder ― you're losing a lot of blood."

Blue shook his head again, "No! Ma! No! No! Ma!" He said through sharp breaths. He heard loud sirens outside and his head turned sharply, his eyes darting at the wall he was staring at. He could see red-and-blue strobe lights flashing through the window curtains. He clutched his mother tighter, and growled agitated.

Tony, who had left several minutes ago, returned a few minutes after the red-and-blue lights did. Behind him, was a taller man with a receding blonde hairline and dark eyes. He wore a dark blue outfit, and strapped on his waist was a belt of several items ― one of them being a gun holster.

Blue tensed, growled at the man, his fangs bared and eyes narrowed. "Hello son," the man spoke evenly, but Blue could sense the wisps of fear from him. "We're here to help. I need you to let that woman go, alright?" Blue shook his head, moving back, dragging the body with him.

"Blue, please," Tony spoke. "They're going to help your mother. But, they can't do that if you're holding her like this." Blue shook his head again, his eyes going from Tony to the man to Steve, waiting, anticipating a fight.

What he didn't expect, was an order. "Blue, let her go," Steve said sternly, and Blue turned, going rigid. "That's an order, Blue. Drop her and move away." Blue whined, looking back down at his mother. He slowly released her head and scooted away from the body. The man advanced, moving to a rectangular black box on his shoulder, speaking sharply to it.

Blue didn't listen, he was covering his ears, sobbing into his knees. His ma was gone, she was gone. He didn't get to meet her ― he didn't even get to hear her laugh.

Blue let out a howl of pain, of remorse. Steve moved closer, but Blue wasn't having it.

He screeched at Steve, his mouth, reddened from blood stretched wide. His throat was coarse, but that didn't stop his screaming. His fangs were out and exposed at their full length, dripping with the blood of the fake-Ma, whose body was still desecrated in the hallway. His claws were scratched deep in the wood of the floorboards. He screamed loud and long, making Tony and the man stop to stare, either in shock or horror.

Steve moved forward and wrapped his arms around Blue, rubbing the back of his head. Blue inhaled for a moment before screaming again. This time, it was cracked, like a shattered mirror. It sounded like he was gurgling rocks, like he was drowning alone. The screaming finally gave way to loud, open sobs. Steve held him tighter, not saying a word.

After a while, Steve rose to his feet, still holding tight to Blue. He led him out of the room ― the Fake-Ma was moved, but the stains of blood were still on the floor. In the hall, were a couple men and women. One of them, was carrying a large black bag. "C'mon," Steve said gently, tugging Blue out of the hall ― out of the door ― out of the house.

Steve moved Blue into a car, opening the door, he watched as the people who brought the black bag moved out of the room, carrying the body between them on a yellow stroller. Blue began to cry again, fat tears making its way down his cheeks.

Tony approached them, glancing for a moment at Blue before turning sharply to look at Steve. "They want to ask a few questions," he said to Steve.

"He can't," Steve said. "He's not―"

"I'm sorry," the man with the rapidly retreating blonde hair approached them. "But, seeing as Blue Williams is now an orphan, he is the property of the state. With all due respect, you aren't his guardian, and we need to know what happened here."

"You saw what happened," Steve frowned. "He was hugging the body of his mother."

"But the other woman ― the Jane Doe ― we don't know exactly how that happened. It looks like claw marks on her face, but, we won't know for sure until autopsy results come back. But," he glanced at Blue, who was swaying a bit in the seat, his eyes half-lidded. A cold seemed to be creeping up his spine, and his stomach seemed to twist. "He does seem to have unusually. . . long nails."

"Sir, with all due respect," Steve repeated, not sounding respectful at all. "He is most likely going into shock and he has a bullet wound in his collarbone. It would be better for his health if he is taken to the hospital opposed to being taken in for questioning."

"Mr. Rogers, that is not your decision to make," the officer said frankly. "Hand him over."

Steve's eyes narrowed, and Blue breathed, in and. . . out. In and. . . out. "No."

As soon as the words left his mouth, several pairs of guns were pulled and aimed at them. All of the police men swarming the house, hell even the paramedics loading the ambulance had guns and were ready to fire.

Steve and Tony froze, glancing around, carefully. Steve moved back towards Blue, who was still sitting in the car, looking around, confusedly. "That. . . wasn't a suggestion sir," the man smiled, but it was a cold smile ― the same one his Master gave before a punishment. The complete opposite of the ones Steve and Tony gave. "Hand him over ― I won't ask again, Mr. Rogers."

"Tony," Steve spoke quietly, looking around.

Tony touched his wrist, "Yeah. . . got it."

"Mr. Rogers," the man didn't look so happy.

"Who wants him?" Steve asked, glancing around at the other men on the street. There had to be at least a couple dozen of them.

"Nobody you know, Mr. Rogers."

"So, nobody important," Steve supplied, and the man narrowed his eyes. Blue looked around the car, seeing something glinting from underneath the seat. "What do they want Blue for? Don't they have enough kids to play with?"

"Yes," he agreed, "But not all of them are as. . . successful as their pet." Steve flinched, but kept his cool.

"Why him?" He demanded, "What makes him valuable? What makes Blue special? Because he survived being poke and prodded like a rat?"

"That," he agreed, "And, his screams were the most. . . satisfying." Something fell from the sky, locking themselves around Tony's wrists. Immediately, the man was knocked off his feet, landing face first on the ground. Steve grabbed Tony's shirt and yanking him over. Blue pulled the shield out from where it was underneath the seat and tossed it to Steve. He caught it and blocked the onslaught of bullets, falling into the car's backseat and slamming the door closed.

"JARVIS! Drive!" Tony shouted, and the car responded.

"Right on it, sir." The car lurched forward, and Tony climbed up, going to the front seat.

"Manual drive," he said, and then took hold of the wheel, speeding down the street at alarming ― and probably illegal ― speeds. "What's the fastest way to the airport?"

"Turn right," Tony did as he was told. Tires squealed against the street. "ETA, ten minutes."

Blue looked around, scared and shocked at the cars that chased them down the narrow streets. "Hey, B," Steve smiled, and Blue looked up at him. "It's going to be okay. Can you breathe for me?" Blue nodded, he knew how to do that. In and out. In and out.

Steve rummaged around the car, before finally finding what he was looking for in the glove compartment of the car. He pulled out a small bag and came to Blue's side. He pulled out a white paper towel and a bottled substance. "I know you don't like wipes," Steve said, "But I have to clean the wound. Can you stay calm for me?" Blue looked from the bottle to Steve, his eyebrows furrowed with anxiety.

"Hold on!" Tony warned before the car suddenly stopped before turning around, taking a complete U-turn. Blue's shoulder hit the car door and he cried out in pain, breathing sharply, his eyes closing tight as his shoulder throbbed. He whined through gritted teeth, his eyes closed tight, hand clamped over the wound.

Steve came over, and Blue smelt the sharp scent of alcohol clearly. Blue whined, trying to move away, but Steve wasn't letting him. He peeled Blue's bloody hand away, and pressed the towel into his shoulder. Blue hissed in pain, shuddering and trying to get away from it ― from him. It smelt so bad ― it smelt like his Master.

He felt sick. He turned and vomited on the ground, it was a bloody, sluggish mess. Steve moved out of the way, but didn't move his hand. "Wha―?!" Tony cried, trying to turn around to see what he knew just happened. "I know you didn't just vomit in my car!"

"Keep your eyes on the road!" Steve snapped and Tony grumbled, racing down the California streets.

After a few minutes, Steve let go. Blue yanked himself away, breathing heavily, trying to get the scent ― get his Old Master ― off of him. Steve grabbed a half-empty roll of bandages and instructed Blue to raise his arm. He did as he was told, and raising his arm and Steve began to expertly wrap him up.

"Shit!" Tony snapped, "JARVIS, deploy the rest of Mach-16. Have them get rid of the bogies following us.

"Yes, sir."

Blue leaned against the seat when Steve finished, closing his eyes and breathing. "Don't go to sleep, yet," Steve warned. "We aren't done yet. Can you hold off for a bit longer?" Blue nodded, he could handle a bullet wound ― he had far worse injuries in the Ring.

"How are we looking, Tony?" Steve asked, looking around them. Blue did too, and regretted it immediately.

A dozen cars were chasing behind them. A few had men pointing out their windows, shooting bullets that glanced off the window of the bullet-reinforced vehicle. "Tony! Slow down!" Steve shouted, looking ahead of them. Blue turned and frowned. The road was barred off, and there were tracks on the ground with a red, blinking light. He knew that meant nothing good.

Tony didn't listen. He barrelled straight through the wooden bars, and Blue turned, getting a glimpse of a huge. . . vehicle. It was long, and in the second that they saw it, it passed. Blue felt like he was going to be sick again. It looked like a worm-like car that traveled as fast as light itself. It could've hit them, he realized. That's why Steve told him to slow down. Had it been a second later, they would be dead.

Tony grinned back at them in the mirror, "Told you not to worry," he teased Steve. "I said, I have this all in―" Something heavy rammed them in the side of the car.

Blue felt as if he were flying for a minute, before the car flipped, turning on its side, and crunching on the asphalt. His head snapped to the side, he covered his face as glass showered everywhere.

Blue laid on the ground, his eyes closed. He smelt smoke and. . . was there a fire? He felt someone tug on his arm and he groaned in pain. "Steve?" He murmured. Nobody answered.

He was dragged out of the car. He tried to look around, but his neck hurt whenever he moved it. He was so tired ― didn't Steve say to stay awake? Why was he supposed to stay awake? He was so tired, and they were dragging him in a car, tapping his mouth and hands and feet. His head lolled, why was this familiar? Why did he. . . why did he remember this?

Then, someone put tape over his eyes, blocking any and all light from the room. The room began to move, speeding away. Blue moaned, his eyes only getting glimpses of light ― glimpses of faces. "Hurry up ― we gotta get back to base before they try to follow us."

Blue moaned, memories flooding his mind causing his splitting headache it feel exponentially worse.

"Quiet! God, they're all so irritating!"

Blue tried to get away ― tried to run. He couldn't go back, he was going to be dissected alive! He didn't want to die! "Shut him up, will you?" He heard someone say as he tried to get the several layers of tape off his hands.

There was a click of a gun, before it was smashed into his skull, and he slumped against the floor, his eyes shut.

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I may take a break from writing for this story for a bit in order to review what I have. Don't worry, I'll keep posting, but if there's a delay then don't freak lol