The flashlight scanned over the empty, dark and semi-quiet room. The room would've been completely quiet if not for the steady dripping noise coming from one of the back corners from a leak of some sort. Q hoped it was just water, but wouldn't be investigating further to confirm or deny it. The sub-basement was already creepy enough.
Surprisingly, when Q and Dawson arrived at Dnipropetrovsk, they found that the factory Hydra had used as a cover for the start of the soldier project was still active, even though Russia, the factory's biggest buyer, had previously announced it was severing the relationship. This discovery made it clear that the pair would have to be stealthy when it came to getting into the former Hydra base. It took awhile to figure out the best way in - recon on security, entrances and exits, and whatever else they needed to make sure they had covered before launching their mission. Even if SHIELD had collapsed, basic mission protocol was ingrained into their brains and they weren't about to throw that away.
"This looks like something straight out of Saw." Dawson commented, sounding a bit grossed out. She closed her eyes and let out a long breath.
"I hate that you said that." she let her annoyance seep into her tone, "Now I'm freaked out."
"Good, you should be." he gave her a side eye, keeping his flashlight steady, "Who knows what Hydra's got hidden in here."
"Okay, it's time for you to stop talking." she said matter of factly, nodding her head once and pressing her lips together. Reaching up to adjust her black ski hat, she tried to ignore the nervousness bubbling up in her stomach, tying itself it into knots while her head went to a terrible place full of Hydra torture. Picturing them capturing her and strapping her to one of the dusty machines in the room - doing whatever they did to Bucky, but to her and much more advanced since they had years to perfect their methods. It was one of her worst nightmares.
But the two of them were the only ones in the room. And there was barely anything in the room to begin with, but what they did find proved that, at one point, Hydra operated in the basement of the building. Just like Dawson had said, it looked like a place straight out of every horror/torture movie Q hated. And while she did half expect there to be a Hydra operative waiting for them, waiting to capture them and experiment on them like they had countless times to others in the past. But instead, there was just old hospital gear and machinery all covered with a thick layer of dust. No one had been there for a very long time.
But people had been there. That much she could tell by the leftover coffee mugs, office supplies and worn in chairs. There was a large canister that looked similar to the machine Howard Stark had put Steve in to pump him full of the soldier serum. And another machine that had long since melted, but was retrofitted with straps that looked able to hold down a man of Bucky's size. The concrete walls were decorated in long, deep scrapes that could've only been made by something like the metal arm on Bucky. An old, rickety desk with drawers that seemed to hold only old office supplies, but further investigation proved that one of the drawers had been locked. And since it was still locked however many years later, there had to be something inside.
Q dropped into a crouch, pulling out her knife from her boot to try and break the lock, knowing it would be easier than using a bobby pin on a rusted, seventy year old lock. She slid the blade into the small space where the desk met the drawer and rocked it back and forth with some force behind it until she heard a crack. The drawer popped open and she stood above it to see a thick notebook resting in the center, obviously tossed in there haphazardly and forgotten about. It had the same star that was on Bucky's arm, black standing out against the red leather cover. Picking it up and leafing through it, she found that it was missing a few pages, but had handwritten notes in the same language that the dossier had. She saw the world soldier and arm a few times which made her feel as though they were on the same path. She would have to translate the rest once they were back at the motel.
The basement was their beginnings. But where they went from there was a mystery. Q wasn't even sure when they had left the factory.
"Alright, let's get the hell out of here." she slipped the notebook into the inside pocket of her jacket, then rezipped it up so it was snug and she didn't have to worry about it falling out during their trek back to the car.
"Gimme a sec." he answered her, sounding slightly annoyed at her - like he was being rushed through whatever he was doing.
"What are you doing?" she asked with a step toward him. He was at one of the computers, typing in some long string of code that looked like an alien language to her. She surprised that the computer even functioned after having been turned off for however long. It was a bulky thing - barely even a computer by present day's standards, but still Dawson was working at it like it was a modern day laptop.
"Trying to see what their last log was." he said over his typing, "See if it can tell us where they went next." That was exactly why Q had brought him along - among other reasons of course, "And I'm also trying to get any other information they might have stored on their network."
"Like a Hydra Network?" she asked, arms crossing over her chest. He made a mhm noise, "What you think they have some sort of chat room where they discuss their evil-doings?" she was joking, obviously, but the look Dawson gave her from over his shoulder told her she was right on the money.
"SHIELD had oneā¦" he trailed off, making his point. She raised her eyebrows, making a face as she realized he was right. His attention returned back to the computer, leaving her to her own devices. She wandered over to one of the walls, letting her fingers trail over the scrapes in the concrete. Her heart sank as she thought more and more about what sorts of tortures Bucky experienced at the hands of Hydra as they tried to form him into the cold, calculating weapon they needed him to be. She wondered what kind of man they would find whenever they did find him - or if he would even be a man at all.
A loud clap made her jump and she quickly looked over to where Dawson was straightening up from the computer he had been at. His posture made it clear that he had been the one to clap, which made her roll her eyes; of course.
"Find anything interesting?" she asked with a perk of her eyebrows. He took in a deep breath, placing his hands on his hips.
"Probably." he shrugged, making a face, "Gonna need some time to translate and read 'em though." she nodded. That was understandable; even with all the Duolingo they had been doing, they were in no way fluent quite yet, just mastering conversational Ukrainian, which was enough to stop having people have eyes on them like they were tourists.
"So can we go?" she asked, waving her flashlight toward the door. He nodded crossing over the room to her and leading her out of the room.
Getting out of the factory was much easier than getting in. Especially now that they knew where the guards were and the timing on the cameras. The night was as quiet as the sub-basement. There was no one around, which was good; it meant that no one had noticed their sneaking in. They had been successful in their mission.
The pair of them were quiet during their trek back to the car. There was plenty to say, plenty to talk about, but just not in public. And especially when they were starting to get to a populated part of the town, what with people wandering by, able to hear whatever they said.
Their car was parked in an empty parking lot, surrounded by a lot of dim lights that gave off enough for them to see three men hanging out around the car. She slowed in her steps, trying to analyze their body language before she and Dawson got any closer. While the men were varying heights, all of them clearly went to the same gym. Their coats did nothing but show off their muscles, which were straining against the material. Two were smoking while the other was drinking something from a can - probably a beer, Q figured. They were laughing at something one had said. It seemed like nothing more than a casual hangout.
"Hydra?" Dawson muttered lowly, concerned even - as if Hydra had found about their little B-and-E and sent guys to make sure it would never happen again.
"No, I don't think so." she responded with a slight shake of her head, "Probably just some idiots hanging out in a parking lot."
"You say that like it's normal." he side-eyed her, unconvinced by her explanation. She shrugged,
"I used to do it all the time as a teen." he rolled his eyes, hands shoving into his pockets.
"Case and point." he scoffed, reminding her of who she was as a teen. She sighed and then straightened up a bit, trying to look more authoritative.
"If they give us any trouble, we'll just ask them to move." she shrugged, trying to play it off like it wouldn't be such a big deal. There was no reason to get in a fight. Fights would draw attention to them and that was the last thing they needed. Still, Dawson looked unconvinced - thinking it wouldn't be that easy.
As they got closer to the car, the men's attention turned to them. They stepped a little further away from the car and shifted closer to the two of them instead. Giving them a tight, but cordial smile, Q and Dawson tried to walk through them, wanting to get to the car without any interaction. But one of the taller men stepped in front, blocking them. Dawson looked up at him, the same annoyed look that was always directed at Q now directed at the other man. He stepped to the side, trying to walk around him, but again the taller man blocked him.
At that moment, the air shifted. A tense cloud rolled over the four people standing there. Q's eyes flicked from the other two men flanking the taller man. Their expressions were stone cold while the taller one looked almost amused by Dawson's attempts to go around him.
"We're trying to get to our car." Dawson said in Ukrainian - having known enough to make for conversation. He gestured along with his statement just in case he said something wrong. The man glanced over his shoulder, almost like he had forgotten there was a car behind him, before looking back at Dawson.
"What are you two doing out so late?" he asked back in the same language, hands coming to clasp in front of his body. Dawson squinted at him before raising his chin up,
"Date night." he responded, sounding annoyed by the question. Q kept quiet, eyes still watching the other two men. The taller man made a face, pulling down the corner of his lips and nodding to himself before looking over at the other two men and repeating what Dawson had said. The other men laughed lightly, as if it were some sort of joke. Dawson's eyebrows knitted in anger, never liking when someone mocked him.
When the laughter died down, the taller man's attention turned back to them - eyes landing on Q. He reached out for her, saying something in Ukrainian that Q couldn't translate fast enough. But she didn't need to; Dawson immediately reached out to stop the man,
"Hey, man, don't touch her." he said in English, which got the man's attention more than the deflecting. His eyebrows rose and his lips spread out into a wolfish grin.
"American, eh?" he asked in lilted English. Dawson didn't respond, hand still on the other man's forearm. Taking his non-response as a response, the man suddenly moved to grab Dawson, using his other hand to grab Dawson's arm from his forearm and twist it behind his back. He let out a cry of pain and Q immediately tried to do something, only to be restrained by the more muscular of the men.
Even with six months of Insanity workouts and sparring under her belt, she had only ever fought Dawson. She knew his patterns and what moves he would make before he knew he was going to make them. But he was no match for the man currently holding her with her arms behind her back and one arm around her stomach, pressing her into his chest. She struggled, trying to find any slack in his grip, but it was as tight as knotted rope.
"What are two Americans doing out this late at night?" the taller man asked in the same lilted English while Dawson tried to get out of the hold he was in. Again, Dawson didn't answer, forcing the man to spin him around quickly and slam his back up against the car hood. His fist immediately came down on Dawson's face, not even giving him enough time to try and dodge it.
Q couldn't help the scream that came out of her mouth. The man who was holding her clapped his hand over her mouth in an effort to silence her. Immediately, she tried to bite it, but found that there wasn't enough space to really open her mouth. Luckily, there was enough to stick her tongue out and lick his hand until he was grossed out enough to drop it from her mouth.
Using his disgust as a distraction, she pitched her head back with enough force to slam into his forehead. It hurt her just as much as it hurt him, but was enough to make him let her go. Quickly, she ran towards the taller man, who had grabbed Dawson up by the lapels of his jacket, but was stopped when the other man she had forgotten about grabbed her arm. He roughly pulled her back as she twisted every which way to get out of the grip, planting her feet as best she could to become immovable.
"Let me ask again: What are two Americans doing out here this time night?" the taller man asked as blood started to drip down from Dawson's nose. He let out a dry laugh, head rolling to the side as he did. His hair fell into his face, getting stuck in the blood that was dripping out of his nose. God, if he wasn't being dangled above the ground by some tall, muscular man, Q would kill him. Now was not the time for his attitude.
"Fuck you." he spat out, making sure he got enough blood in his mouth to actually spit out onto the man's face. The man obviously didn't take too kindly to that. He threw Dawson onto the ground, letting him roll around the concrete with a groan for a moment before placing a well aimed kick into Dawson's side.
"Stop it!" Q cried out, voice much shriller than it normally was. The man didn't listen, rounding up for another kick. She noticed every time he did kick Dawson, his arm went up as if to help him with his balance. It left his side exposed, which was something she could use to her advantage.
She unplanted her feet just as the other man pulled again in an effort to get her to him. The force of his pull sent her flying forward and she used it to her advantage. Her palm to hit up against the man's nose hard enough to make him let go as he went stumbling back, holding his face with his hands. She turned to the taller man as he kicked Dawson again, making him roll over onto his stomach with a groan. She went into her boot for her knife, pulling it out and lunging at him with grace - aiming right for his side as his arm went up for another kick.
There was enough power behind the action that the knife sunk right in. Going past the coat and whatever other layers he had on, it buried itself into his side. She swiftly pulled it out, knowing it would cause more damage than leaving it in. He let out a cry of pain, attention no longer on Dawson, but instead on Q. As a reaction, his fist came at her and she tried to use her knife to block it, but he smacked it out of her hand. Then his other hand came and punched her across the face without hesitation.
The force alone was enough to knock her off her feet. She crumpled to the ground with a small cry of pain, only to be delivered a swift kick to the gut. Rolling onto her side, she saw Dawson still on the ground next to her. The men were above them, looking down at them with anger and distaste and slight annoyance.
Suddenly, the taller man's boot came down onto Dawson's hand. He stomped down on it twice, making Dawson cry out in a way Q had never heard before. She winced, eyes shutting instinctively as the sounds of bones crunching filled her ears. Dawson's string of curse words did nothing to affect the men.
"Let this be a lesson." the taller man said seriously before turning away. Q could hear their retreating footsteps and watched as they walked away from them, the taller one holding his side where she stabbed him. She waited until they were far enough away to roll onto her back and stare up at the night sky above them. Dawson's cries had subsided into labored, heavy breaths as he tried to deal with the pain.
"'Sure they weren't fucking Hydra!?" he managed out through gritted teeth. She closed her eyes, not even responding, just taking a moment for the pain of the punch/kick combo to fade into a dull ache so that she could get up and help Dawson to the car.
Before they left, she made sure she grabbed her knife from where it had went flying out of her grasp. Wiping it on her pants, she got rid of the blood from the man and then stuck it back in her boot. Dawson was on his feet, using the side of the car to prop himself up. There was streaks of drying blood around his face and he was cradling his smashed hand in the other hand, wincing every so often because of the pain.
"We can't go to a hospital." she reminded him when she was close enough to see the damage they had done.
"I know." he breathed out before cursing under his breath. While it would make perfect sense to go to a hospital for his injury, hospitals had become a no-go. Simply because it meant their ex-significant others would be able to find them. There were security cameras and information being entered into computers connected to networks that Nat and Steve no doubt had access to.
"Let's just...go back to the motel and figure this out." she decided on. It was better than being out in the open where someone could see them and the blood and decide to call the cops. He nodded, grimacing again. She swallowed the lump in her throat, feeling somewhat responsible for what had happened to Dawson. The only reason he got his hand stomped on was because she dragged him into this mess in the first place. And now she couldn't even fix it properly.
Once back at the motel, she helped him up the stairs to their room, walking down the hallway in front of him and always checking her surroundings in case any of the men decided to follow them. She brought Dawson into the bathroom, letting him sit on the toilet while she perched on the edge of the tub. When she passed the mirror, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, seeing the side of her face was already puffing up from the punch - there was even a small cut under her eye from the ring the man had apparently been wearing when he punched her. She would worry about herself later, taking care of Dawson was her first priority.
Under the bright bathroom light, they were finally able to see the severity of Dawson's wound. His hand was nothing more than broken bones and bloody skin. It hung limply from the wrist, shaking slightly even though he tried to stop it. Every time he tried to move his fingers, or she dragged a warm washcloth over it, he'd hiss in pain. The guilt crept back in as she washed it gently with the washcloth, wanting to clean it up as much as possible. This was her fault. She had to find a way to help him heal.
Mid-wound assessment and cleanup, the click of the door being opened got their attention. She waited for a moment before hearing the door shut with the same click.
"You locked the door, right?" he asked quietly. She nodded, getting up from the edge of the tub.
"I thought I did." she kept her voice the same level as his.
"Deadbolt too?" he asked a follow-up, making her pause. Maybe she didn't do that. His eyes flicked to her as she opened the medicine cabinet to grab the gun that was stashed there - one of many stashed around the motel. "Stay here -" she tried to say, but Dawson ignored her, grabbing the gun from her hand with his good one. She gave him a look, getting a wide-eyed look right back as they silently communicated for a moment. Then she sighed, giving in and turning back to the doorway. She crept forward, hoping it was just room service, but knowing it was too late for that.
Stepping out of the bathroom and into the hallway area with Dawson behind her, Q saw a figure rifling through one of the duffels on the dresser. The dim light from the nightstand gave way to the fact that this was a young woman. Tall, lithe with long, curly hair that Q's first thought was that it was Nat - that somehow she had bypassed Dawson's security camera trick and found them, but no it wasn't Nat, no, it was someone else. The click of the gun's safety being turned off made the figure's head flick up, curls bouncing as she looked over at them.
"Jesus Christ, cOmrade." the woman laughed a little, putting her hands up, "Please file you holding a gun under things I never thought I'd see." The use of Dawson's old hacker name made Q pause and turn to look over her shoulder to where he was standing behind her with a gun pointed at the other woman. His jaw clicked and he hesitated for a moment before lowering the gun and clicking the safety back on.
"Marina." he sighed, not sounding unhappy but certainly not sounding happy at the sight of the woman standing across the motel room.
A/N: WHO IS MARINA? Friend or foe? Only time will tell...
An update! Sorry for the break - my laptop uhhhh completely went to shit and I had to shell out $$$ for a new one and it was an Ordeal lol but! I'm back.
Please don't forget to review! Let me know all of your thoughts; I love them all! Thank you to those who did review! I appreciate youuuuu.
