43.
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Steve comes to slowly from a dreamless blackness he doesn't remember how he fell into. He feels groggy, like he's been asleep for days, and he just can't make his eyes open. He' weak, something he hasn't felt physically in months. His head aches, pounding loudly in his ears. It all reminds him of how he used to be, before the serum when he was the sickly kid from Brooklyn.
For a moment he wonders whether it had all been a dream; if hi min has been conjuring up from grand fantasy of a healthy and successful version of himself and now he's awake in his bed in Brooklyn and he's imagined the whole thing. He prays to God that isn't true, because if it is, the dream had been cruelly surreal. It had taken all of his greatest desires and merged them together into a new life that completely changed him. He starts to worry, to panic. But then he takes a moment to stop and think. Even though his bed had always been hard, it was never this hard and cold and constricting. And he's not entirely sure he has the imagination to dream up an alternate life for himself with such vivacity.
No, it can't have been a dream, it all felt too real to be a dream. Either way, he just wants to go back to sleep and to not think about it.
It takes him a second or two to work out why he can't move his arms and legs, or his torso for that matter. He struggles, twisting, but he barely moves. Not only does it make his chest and torso ache immensely, it sparks an intense worry within him, his mind whirling with questions and thoughts. He frowns, using as much strength as he can to try to burst out of whatever is holding him, but it's no use. He goes still again, exhausted.
When the pounding in his ears slowly subsides, Steve realises he can hear voices, low and mumbling around him. He strains to listen, determining they're all familiar, and one is noticeably feminine.
Steve forces his eyes open, an immense feat, and blinks in the low light. He's sitting upright, leaning back against the cold concrete wall. Looking down, he sees he's being strapped down by a clunky metal contraption that engulfs his entire chest and stomach, pinning his arms against his sides and his body to the concrete wall. His feet have also been strapped down, bolted to the floor by metal shackles. He struggles against the metal, but he's still too weak and it doesn't even budge.
He blinks as he looks around, the room he's in becoming clearer as the fog over his eyes diminishes. The room is muggy and damp, like he's been locked up in some underground cellar. He's sitting in a jail cell, a row of thick metal bars in front of him. The room is made up of two rows of jail cells of all the same size, not even containing a toilet, a hallway running between the two sides.
He squints and frowns, noticing that multiple faces are peering over at him from the other cells. It takes him another moment to recognise one of the faces right across from him. Staring at him with widened, nervous eyes, is Bucky.
"Buck?" He grits out, his voice crackled.
Bucky's face lights up in relief now that Steve's awake, moving, and talking. "Steve? Thank God! We thought you weren't ever going to wake up."
"They gave you enough tranquiliser to put down an elephant," Falsworth adds, looking at Steve worriedly from the cell he shares with Bucky.
Steve thinks back, and slowly it all comes back to him. He remembers now - he'd been injured in the fall from the plane, met back up with the Commandos. He'd been treated for his injuries and gone to sleep, though he knows he most likely fell unconscious. And then… everything's a little blurry after that. He remembers a kick to his shin waking him from his sleep, Isabel's frightened face looming over his, her eyes flicking toward the forest. He remembers seeing the men surrounding them, hearing Bucky and Falsworth screaming somewhere far off in the woods, the twinge as the many darts hit his body, and then… Black. He'd gone under, he'd been the last to fall victim to the tranquiliser. But that only left him with more questions. Where have they been taken and by who? And did they all make it? Where is Isabel?
...Isabel?
"I'm here, Stevie," Isabel replies quietly, and Steve realises he'd said her name aloud.
He turns to his right at the sound of her voice, his eyes landing on her small frame leaning against the bars of the cell right next to him, only a few meters from him. Steve feels instant relief, his eyes scanning her for any injuries, but she looks okay.
"You 'kay?" Steve slurs.
"I'm fine. I'm more worried about you," she answers. "That amount of transquiliser, it would have killed the average man. They could have killed you."
"You've been out for hours," Bucky adds worriedly.
"Good thing 'm not average 'nymore."
He slowly feels himself becoming less groggy, more aware of his surroundings. He looks around, seeing that Morita, Stark and Dernier are in the other cell beside Bucky's, Dernier still with his torso bandaged. Dugan and Jones are in the cell beside him with Isabel, Dugan's wrist looking painful in its brace.
"Where are we?" Steve asks, frowning.
He could have a pretty good guess at where. When they'd been taken however long ago that was, they had to have only been a few miles from the factory they'd been intending to invade. Hydra had probably been drawn to their position from the wreckage of their burning plane, or perhaps they'd been the ones to shoot them down in the first place. That seems more likely, that Hydra had set up posts around the factory vicinity to shoot down any passing Allied planes, particularly the Commandos', who they must be expecting by now. Likely, Hydra followed their entire trek from the plane wreckage to their campsite.
Somewhere in the distance, Steve can hear the rapid German speech of a guard. It sounds like it's coming from the other side of the thick metal door at the end of the hallway.
"Our best guess is that we're inside the factory we were heading to, but I'm sure that's what you're already thinking. Monty and I were awake for most of the transport, we only moved for a few miles. Resisting them was pretty futile," Bucky replies and Steve immediately takes notice of the large welt on the side of his face, likely from the butt of a rifle. "They carried all of you when you were unconscious but made Monty and I walk. Stripped us all of our weapons when we came in and then locked us all up. Lost my damn rifle again."
"You were right, Cap. Getting in wasn't the problem," Dugan mutters. "It'll be getting out that will be the struggle."
"We didn't even have to put in much effort to get here, just had to parachute out of a burning plane," Morita says jovially. "They carried us the rest of the way in while we had a nice little nap."
"But now we're all locked up like fish in a barrel," Jones replies.
"Good lookin' fish," Morita says with eyebrows raised.
"How can you be joking around right now?" Howard asks in astonishment, eyes flicking between the men as though he were watching a tennis match. He isn't used to the men's humour while out on missions. It keeps their dire situations lighter and helps them cope.
Steve looks at all his men and shakes his head.
He eyes the only exit, the metal door, and then glances back down to his restraints; he's got no foreseeable plan for breaking free. If he wasn't so weak, maybe he could break free, but his injuries are taking a massive toll on his stamina and he hasn't the strength. He shuffles around, trying to get an arm free, but the contraption only seems to lock him in tighter, cutting off his air supply and making it harder to breathe. He freezes, feeling the sharp stab as the cold metal presses tight against his healing burns. After a few minutes of behaving, the machine makes a whirring sound and he hears a low gust of air as it slowly loosens off again, but only slightly so that Steve can breathe. It stays tight for a while, like its warning him that he has to behave. Steve isn't sure whether the machine is acting this way on its own or controlled by an outside force, someone watching them through a camera system. Steve looks around for a camera and spots one in the far corner, pointed right at him.
"Steve?" Isabel speaks up quietly, and Steve's focus snaps to her. "How are your injuries?" She asks quietly.
Her eyes, however, are locked on the camera Steve has just noticed. She speaks in a whisper, not wanting to make it obvious to whoever is listening and watching that the Captain is injured and therefore possibly not at his highest levels of fighting ability. She doesn't want to point out any potential weaknesses, not that they wouldn't have already been seen when Hydra picked them up in the field. Surely, they saw the injuries and bandages on his bare chest, though they may not have realised the extent.
Steve looks down at his chest, only visible to him past the metal restraint. Most of the bandages have come undone and fallen off in all of the scuffle, meaning he can see most of the wounds. The burns have calmed reasonably, no longer blistered and raw. The skin has started to grow back, crawling across the wounds and hiding the once charred muscle. The cuts that Isabel sewed together have healed neatly, thick lines of red that stretch across his chest. Within a few days they'll turn white and then disappear altogether. Though, it wouldn't hurt for the stitches to be removed soon. They're tight and uncomfortable and pulling on his skin.
"Okay, I think," Steve notes. "They're healing. Don't hurt as much anymore. Isn't bandaged anymore though."
"I don't think it will get infected," Isabel promises. She looks down at her hands, then back up to Steve. "How are we going to get out?"
"I was just getting to that," Steve admits. "We'll find a way. Don't worry."
Hours pass before anyone even pokes their head inside the cellblock to check on the prisoners. A guard opens the metal door with a loud clang, peering inside with his gun raised, face hidden behind a black mask. He looks them all up and down with a threatening anonymity before slamming the door shut again.
"Well, he was friendly," Dugan notes.
The room grows colder as night presumably descends again, until eventually they can all see the mists of their breath in front of their faces. The concrete floor and walls seem to hold the cold air within them and pressing against them causes a shiver to go up everyone's spines. It's not like they have a choice, though - there aren't any beds for them to lie in or any blankets provided. They huddle a little further into their coats and toward each other, teeth chattering. After a few hours Dugan grabs Isabel and sits her under his arm, tucking her into the warmth of his side. She leans silently against the crook of his shoulder, her arms holding her legs up to her chest.
When the lights above them shut off with a loud bang, they're all plummeted into pitch darkness. Even when their eyes adjust, they can still barely see further than an inch in front of their faces. There aren't any windows or skylights to let any moonlight in. Just a pitch black.
No one brings any food or any water and none of them are ever relieved to go to the toilet. There isn't even a bucket provided for them. As embarrassing as it once would have been for the men, the Commandos just let it go - there's no use trying to hold it and they know it. But Isabel holds it. She just can't bring herself to do that in front of the men. Eventually it starts to hurt but she ignores it. She just can't, even if they're sitting in the pitch darkness.
Their stomachs grumble loudly, echoing through the room like a chorus. Along with the chattering of their teeth, the shakiness of their breath, and the sounds of the factory bustling outside, the room is far from silent.
Eventually, almost everyone manages to ignore their aches, pains and grumbling bellies long enough to fall asleep. Isabel, however, can't make herself close her eyes. Not only is her bladder protesting sharply, she hates the dark – worked that much out on their first mission – and the knowledge that any one of the people outside could walk through the door at any time is unnerving. She wonders what will happen to them now that they've been captured, and their main weapon is incapacitated with his restraints. Had Steve been able to move and uninjured, they probably would have broken free hours ago, most likely would never have been captured in the first place.
She can't help but think of all the terrible experiences Bucky explained to her, what Hydra had done to him in the factory before Steve saved him. There's a whole number of people working for Hydra who want all of their heads and want to see them suffer, the Red Skull and Madame Hydra among them. God only knows what they'll do to them all in here. And all of them are just sitting ducks, unable to escape, waiting to be picked off and experimented on or killed. The only question remaining is who will be first.
Isabel finds herself watching in the direction of the door, waiting with a racing heart for someone to enter.
"Belle, you gotta sleep," she hears Steve say from her left, making her jump. She can't see him, but she assumed he'd gone to sleep long ago with the others since he's been so silent.
Dugan makes a noise in his sleep, somewhere between a snort and a cough, and shifts. Isabel takes the opportunity to unwind herself from under Dugan's arm and moves closer to Steve, close to the bars of the cell and away from Dugan so she doesn't wake him.
"Can't," she replies quietly, looking to where she thinks Steve is. "I'm too… too…"
"Scared?" Steve whispers.
Isabel nods. Then, she realises Steve probably can't see her. Or maybe he can, she isn't sure. "Yeah," she whispers.
"Me too," Steve eventually admits.
"You're never scared," Isabel mutters with a scoff of disbelief. "You aren't scared of anything."
"That's not true," Steve whispers. "Everyone gets scared."
"You hide it well." Isabel pauses. "What do you get scared of?"
"Well, being scared means you have something to lose. I'm scared of losing lots of things, but not to do with me," Steve says carefully. "Mainly, I get scared for you – that you're gonna get hurt or something's going to happen to you."
"You don't have to be scared for me, Steve," Isabel tells him quietly.
"I am. I can't help it. I love you too much to lose you," Steve replies with conviction, his voice gentle but firm.
Isabel looks down at her crossed legs, her hands bunched into fists in her lap to warm her freezing fingers. She remembers what she'd meant to tell Steve on the plane and when she'd thought she'd lost him in the explosion. All those things she needs to tell him. There's no better time than now, she reasons, when they aren't entirely sure what the next hour will bring.
"Stevie, I gotta tell you something – something I should have told you a long time ago," Isabel whispers.
"Okay," Steve says curiously.
"I told you part of it when you emerged from the woods, but that wasn't all." Isabel pauses again, eyebrows furrowed in thought.
"Go on, Belle. You know you can tell me anything," Steve pushes, his voice calming and inviting.
Isabel takes a deep breath. "Steve, I feel like I have to explain to you. Some of the things I did in the past, some of my actions, they prevented us from having more time together. We could have been happy so much earlier, way back in Brooklyn before any of this ever happened. It's my fault, and I'm sorry."
"Belle, nothing about us is your fault. There isn't anything to apologise for," Steve protests.
"Yes, there is."
"Well, then I don't understand," Steve admits.
Isabel takes a deep breath, loud and echoing and a little shaky. "Danny. You gotta know that I never loved him. I never really wanted to be with him. I knew in my heart and soul it was wrong, but I tried so hard to make it work because I thought that was what I should want. I knew it would have made my parents happy and he offered me any life I ever could have wanted. He promised to free me from poverty, and that was kind of inviting for a while, enough that I fooled myself that that was what I wanted, that I wanted to get away from my life in Brooklyn. But when I really thought about it, when Bucky made me open my eyes, I realised that wasn't what I wanted in the slightest. I loved my life and I never wanted to leave it. I didn't want financial wealth, I wanted emotional wealth, and I wasn't ever going to get that with Danny."
"Belle, if you're just saying this because you think that I'll be upset that you had feelings for someone else, don't. You are allowed to have loved people before you were with me. It's okay that I'm not your first love," Steve tells her, his voice both soft and stern at once.
"But you are, Steve," Isabel argues. She can't see Steve, but she can imagine his facial expression, the pinched one with the furrowed brow and lips set in a line. "I loved you even when I was with Danny, but I never properly realised it and I think that's because I was scared, because I never thought that you'd ever want to be with me. You always spoke about finding "the one" and I never in a million years imagined you could have meant me. In all honesty, I thought you were too good for me, too pure; that a girl who went steady with a man for his money should never be allowed to taint someone like you. But apparently, I was wrong about that, just like I've been wrong about a lot of things," Isabel whispers.
"I pined over you for years, but I was the same, I didn't think I'd be good enough for you," Steve admits in a low voice. "Poor Bucky heard about it every day and he tried for years to push us together, but we were both too stubborn to give in. And stupid, as he lovingly supplied. I didn't think you'd want to be with someone who couldn't provide for you the way he should have. I know it's different now, that I'm healthy and I make a living, despite how dangerous my work is. But there's still a part of me, deep down, that thinks you might leave me because the worry just isn't worth it."
"I'd never," Isabel protests. "I told you that I loved you, so much, and I mean it. I love every part of you with everything I have to offer. With my whole heart."
She scoots closer to the bars, reaching a hand through them, hoping to be able to touch Steve. Her hand falls on his shoulder and she fumbles her way up to his face, cupping his cheek. She feels him smile as he leans into her touch.
"I love you too, Belle. I hope you know that I do, and I hope I showed it to you long before I ever said it."
"You do, and I do know."
"I think our main problem so far has been a lack of communication," Steve laughs.
"Well I wasn't going to tell you any of this then because I was too worried that you'd reject me."
"You know I'd never do that, Belle," Steve tells her.
"I know that now, but back then, I was just too paranoid. I was scared. I didn't want to lose the friendship we had because I tried to take a one-sided affection further. I never considered the fact that our great friendship would be the perfect foundation for a romantic relationship."
"I was worried, too," Steve admits. "Even when Bucky reassured me you were sweet on me, I still couldn't take the plunge."
Isabel takes a deep breath. "There's more. Just don't laugh, okay?"
"What is it?"
"I think it runs even deeper than all this," Isabel whispers. "I… You know that I'm superstitious, and I-I think we're soulmates, Steve. I think fate drew us together, made sure we'd meet. I think we were meant to be. And you may not think that and that's fine, call me crazy if you want. But I think I've loved you for almost as long as I've known you, or at least as long as I've known what love is. Even when you were a poor and sickly artist it felt like my heart was going to explode when I looked at you. It's like that now, still. I don't love you for what you look like, though I'll admit, it's always been an added bonus. I love you for you, for what's on the inside. I love you because you respect and love in return, you're loyal and determined and sweet and funny and caring, and you light a fire inside me that no one else ever has. I-I can't even find the words, Stevie. You give me purpose and love and life. You're my light in the darkness, just like that soothsayer said all those years ago."
"Isabel, I can't even… I don't even know what to say," Steve whispers.
Isabel feels a wetness on her hand, and she realises Steve's crying. She wipes away the tears with gentle movements, feeling blindly in the dark.
"You don't have to say anything," Isabel promises. "I just had to tell you how I felt. You had to know. I couldn't almost lose you again without telling you."
"Hey, you aren't going to lose me. I'm not going anywhere. I've gotten so used to you, being able to kiss you and hug you whenever I want rather than just imagining it, that going even one day without it feels like an eternity. I can't function without you, Belle. I've never been able to. And honestly, I don't think I ever want to again," Steve promises.
He turns his head to press a lingering kiss to the inside of her palm, the only part of her he can reach. It leaves a tingle against Isabel's skin and ignites a fire in Steve's heart.
"We're gonna be okay, Belle," Steve promises. "We're gonna get out, and then I'm gonna tell you all this every day, for as long as we both live."
"I believe you," Isabel says with a small smile.
They're going to get out. He's going to hold her and kiss her again, and he's going to find his own words to explain how he loves her.
The loud bang of the metal door slamming open jolts all of the Commandos awake, all of them sitting upright with a start, searching instinctively around them for their now-confiscated weapons. They squint against the faint light that washes over them from the doorway, still barely enough to see anything in front of them.
Isabel's eyes fly open and she finds that she's fallen asleep pressed up against the bars with her arm still stretched through to cup Steve's cheek. She yanks her arm back quickly, aching from being held upright for the last few hours, her face numbed from being pressed against the cold metal. Steve's already awake at the sounds, staring straight toward the exit. Isabel follows his gaze, eyes widening.
Heavy footsteps echo loudly through the room as a man walks down the hallway, leather boots on concrete, flanked by two other figures. The ominous black shadows, indecipherable through the darkness, come to a stop just before the cells. At a snap of the front man's fingers the lights above them all illuminate, causing the Commandos to blink against the sudden change.
When their eyes adjust, they find themselves looking up at the Red Skull and Madame Hydra, Doctor Armin Zola stood behind them. Bucky makes a strange noise at the sight of Zola, a strangled cry of fear that he tries to hide behind a cough. Zola smirks at him, awfully confident when his subject is locked up in a cage for him to observe.
"That was a dramatic entrance," they hear Dugan mutter, but no one laughs.
Red Skull walks up to Steve's cell and peers in, his red hands clasping the bars. "Hello, Captain!" He greets rather jovially.
"Schmidt," Steve hisses, glaring up from his seated spot on the ground.
"How strange it is to see you without your traditional stars and stripes. When my men brought you in, I almost didn't recognise you, looking so… plain." Schmidt accepts a wad of material from Madame Hydra. "Don't worry, we have it here for you. Looks like it's been through a bit of hell. I understand you've grown quite attached to it, not that I can see why."
Schmidt passes the charred ruins of Steve's uniform through the bars with a grimace, the cloth landing on the ground by Steve's feet.
"Sentimental, I guess," Steve sneers.
"What a shame you can't put it on. Along with the shield, it really completes the look. Without it you really are…" Schmidt pauses to think of the right word, "…nothing. Just a kid in way over his head."
"Steve's more than the uniform and the shield," Isabel finds herself hissing at the Red Skull, standing from her spot on the floor before Dugan or Jones can grab her, coming up to the bars. She ignores the sounds of everyone shouting at her, fights off Dugan who grabs her waist to drag her away. "You'll never be half the man he is. You–"
Dugan's hand slaps over Isabel's mouth and he drags her backward toward the wall. "Calm down. This isn't some damn back alley fight and Steve isn't five-foot-two anymore. He doesn't need you to stand up for him," Dugan hisses, looking worriedly up at the Red Skull, who's staring contemplatively at Isabel.
Madame Hydra waltzes up to the cell, smiling in at Isabel. "Ah, the little girlfriend. You've got quite the mouth on you."
"You are acquainted?" Schmidt asks curiously.
"Yes, we met once in the Czechoslovakia factory. Was just as much of a shock for me to see the Commandos have recruited a woman as it was for them when I removed my own mask. Though, I never got her name. So, who are you, Fraulein?"
Immediately, Bucky and the other Commandos shake their heads furiously at Isabel. Howard looks incredible worried and out of his depth, sitting quietly in the corner of his cell and staring wide-eyed at the back of Schmidt's red skull. Isabel looks at them and then back to Madame Hydra, glaring at her and pursing her lips. She isn't going to tell them anything.
Madame Hydra raises an eyebrow at the brunette American girl. "Fine, be like that," she says sarcastically. "It was all a formality, after all. We already know who you are. Those comic books produced in America are rather informative, as is your social security information. Would you like to do the honours, Doctor Zola?"
Zola nods, flipping through a file he holds in his hands. Behind him, Falsworth sees that every page has information about every one of the Commandos. Morita, Dugan, Jones, himself. Steve's pages are longer, but Bucky's even more so, the pages riddled with Zola's scrawled handwriting. Zola stops at a particular page, Isabel's army-issued photograph at the top right and below that, a blurry image of her walking with the Commandos inside a Hydra factory from a security camera.
"Isabel Elisabeth Barnes," he reads, "born December twenty-third, nineteen-twenty-one. Registered nurse now employed by the United States Army. Second child of George and Winifred Barnes; younger sister of James Buchanan Barnes, who I believe we have in this very room as well," he says, smiling back at Bucky who forces himself not to shrink away. "We did our research. We know all of your workplaces, schools, movements in Brooklyn, about your journey on the USO Tour, your movement around Europe. We know what training the SSR has provided you and how Sergeant Barnes attempted to somewhat train you in weaponry at the gun range in the SSR base. And not just for you, Miss Barnes, but for everyone in this room. Do you want me to continue?"
Isabel's jaw drops, and she stares at their captors who seemingly know everything about her. Her hands tremble visible and Dugan takes it in his to hide her fear. They can't bear for the Red Skull to see any of them weak if they want any chance of getting out alive.
"I think that's plenty," Steve growls, but the Hydra followers pay him no mind, preoccupied by the only other woman in their midst.
"Oh, one more interesting piece of information. The girl's Jewish, or half. I suppose Sergeant Barnes is as well," Zola adds with a triumphant smirk.
Red Skull's eyebrows rise on his forehead in surprise. "Now that is interesting. A Jewish girl caught by the Germans amidst the war that prosecutes her own kind. If I were Adolf, I'd probably be much more fascinated." Red Skull walks a little closer to Isabel's cell. "Lucky for you, Hydra isn't fixated on the blue-eyed utopia like the Nazis are. I couldn't really care less what religion or nationality you are. I have my own agenda and I care more about the work you are doing, and the work you can do for me."
"I won't do anything for you," Isabel argues, but the Red Skull waves her away, silencing her.
"Give it time," he says off-handedly, and no one is quite sure what to expect from that.
"You know, we caught your little confessions on our security tapes last night. It was a great source of entertainment for us. How sweet and pathetic you both are," Madame Hydra says mockingly, sneering at Isabel and Steve. Isabel's cheeks heat up immediately. "Don't be embarrassed. It was nice that you two got to express your love before you say your goodbyes."
"What goodbyes?" Steve asks carefully.
"Honestly, Captain. I feel your intelligence is a little over-hyped," Schmidt mocks Steve. "Hydra's current task is not only to win the war and take over the modern world, but also to take down the great Captain America. You are the only thing standing between us and world domination. The initial plan was a kill shot - clean, efficient. We take you out, we have a clear path toward our goal. But then we managed to shoot down your plane and found you and your men injured in the woods. We simply couldn't pass up the opportunity and our plans have adjusted accordingly. Your strategic mind, your brute strength; I feel Hydra can make more efficient use of your abilities than the US Army ever could. You could lead us an army of similarly enhanced soldiers. You could be the fist of Hydra. We certainly wouldn't have you performing like a… dancing monkey."
"I'll never work for you. I'd rather die," Steve spits.
"You may not be given a choice," Red Skull smirks. "None of you will. I think Sergeant Barnes can attest to that." Schmidt then turns toward the door, shouting, "Bring it in."
Seconds later, three men enter, dragging behind them a heavy-looking metal chair. It has pads on it above the head that look as though they clamp down on the temples, and straps to hold down the subject's arms and legs to the chair. The men plug it into the power socket and it sparks to life, emitting a hum of electricity. Bucky goes extremely pale, his eyes widening, and he looks as though he might cry. Isabel immediately knows what it is. It's the chair, the chair they stuck Bucky in to wipe his memories. Suddenly she feels a little sick.
"We could stick the Captain in the chair first to wipe his memories and shape him into our personal weapon," Red Skull deliberates. "But even as he is injured, he's rather strong and he may be able to overpower us. And his enhanced mind… We have no guarantee that the chair will be able to successfully penetrate its forces without multiple attempts. But I believe we may have found the Captain's Achilles heel, so to speak. I believe we can break him down until he has nothing else to fight for anymore and will turn himself over to us willingly. You were silly, Captain. You brought your weakness right to us." Red Skull walks back up to the bars of Isabel's cell, smiling down at her. "What purpose would the Captain have in his life if we were to take away his one true love?"
"No!" Bucky screams immediately before anyone else, even Steve, can wrap their heads around the Skull's words. "Don't you dare fucking touch her, you sick son of a bitch. She's an innocent. She's only a medic. Don't you lay a sick hand on her!"
"Sergeant Barnes, mind your language. There are ladies in our presence," Red Skull admonishes. "Don't worry, I'm not going to kill her. I'm just going to help her along toward the correct mindset."
Bucky glares at Schmidt and swears some more, much louder, drowning out whatever Steve is yelling. Bucky rattles the bars to his cell trying to reach them. If he could just close his hands around the man's neck, he could squeeze just hard enough until the Red Skull's face goes blue and he doesn't take another breath–
"You will be next, Sergeant," Zola promises, leaning awfully close to Bucky and making him jump away. "You may have escaped our clutches when we first met and you may not be first for experimentation now, but your time will come. The Captain will watch all of you be tortured and turned over to our side. By that time, he will have nothing left to fight for and he will join the Hydra cause."
"Cap will still fight for freedom, Zola. Even if all of us are gone, he'll still fight against Hydra. That's where you guys have got it all wrong," Falsworth sneers, reaching his hands through the bars with a sudden movement and only just missing grabbing Zola's collar, the small man jumping to his feet and moving away. Zola stops beside Madame Hydra, who's preoccupied with their plan.
Madame Hydra raises a pistol into the cell, aimed at Dugan and Jones. "If either of you interfere with this, I won't hesitate to end your measly lives in a second. I can make it painful if you wish."
A guard walks into the room with a set of keys and unlocks the door to Isabel, Dugan and Jones' cell, pushing it open. Isabel jumps away, pressing herself against the back wall beside Dugan, who puts a protective arm in front of her. Madame Hydra cocks her pistol at Dugan, raising an eyebrow. Everyone's yelling, Bucky and Steve the loudest. But their words have turned into a jumble of shouts and the noise echoes through the cells in a mass of chaos.
Isabel can't focus on anything except the fact she doesn't want anyone to get hurt. She gives in, knowing there's no way any of them can escape this. Isabel forces Dugan's arm away from her, not wanting to see the man shot in the name of protecting her. She knows it will be a feeble effort anyway.
"I'll be okay," Isabel promises Dugan, and Dugan steps away slightly to honour her decision.
"No, please! Don't touch her! I'm begging you, take me instead! Please, take me and spare her. Take me!" Steve pleads from beside them, struggling ferociously against his restraints.
"I don't trade lives, Captain," Red Skull admonishes, looking unimpressed. "I chose whose life I want and I take it, should they serve me a purpose. Your time will come, just be patient and wait your turn," Red Skull tells him as though Steve were a child.
"Please, Belle's qualm isn't with you! You can't do this. You can't."
Schmidt walks into the cell and grabs Isabel's wrist in a crushing grip. "I can, Captain, and I will."
Then, he proceeds to drags Isabel out of the cell. Isabel struggles against him, screaming loudly and crying, hitting at his arm with all her strength and digging her feet into the ground. She flails as much as she can, kicking and screaming. She won't go without a fight, and she's going to make it as hard for the man as she possible can. Red Skull grunts and pulls harder, struggling to guide her out despite his increased strength.
The room is so loud with Isabel, Steve, Bucky and all of the Commandos screaming and yelling and trading insults. Madame Hydra looks frazzled by the noise, her head darting around as she listens to everyone's screams. After a few frantic seconds, she turns her gun on Bucky, who's closest to her, to shut up his continuous flow of swears and threats.
Dugan and Jones pounce on the moment the woman's pistol isn't trained on them. They fly forward in synchronization and knock into the back of the Red Skull, careful to avoid hitting Isabel, who's wrist is tight in his grasp. The force is enough to surprise Schmidt and send the three men to the ground with a painful thud. Schmidt lets go of Isabel's wrist as he falls, leaving her standing at the opened entrance to her cell, looking down at the tousling men on the floor with wide eyes.
"Isabel, run!" Steve screams, and Isabel snaps into gear.
She turns and runs down the hallway toward the exit, narrowly escaping Madame Hydra's hand that grasps for the back of her jacket. Madame Hydra doesn't chase straight away, torn between tracking down Isabel and helping the Red Skull from his attackers, who pummel him into the ground with all their strength. Her gun is aimed at the three men, but she can't get a clear shot on Dugan or Jones as they wrestle and flail with the Skull. She can't risk a fatal shot to Schmidt.
Isabel pushes Zola out of the way as she hurries past, sending him flying into the bars of Bucky's cage. Falsworth immediately grabs Zola and gets his arm around the little man's neck, choking him into unconsciousness as Bucky screams after Isabel to escape and to get help.
Isabel sprints out of the open door, her legs carrying her as fast as they can. She's breathing hard, her hands trembling violently, but she forces herself to run. She has no idea where she's going, sprinting down hallway after hallway, turn after turn, acutely aware of the multiple footsteps now following her. She passes many guards, all of whom seem to take a second to catch on to who she is before they try to take her down. By the time they do, she's already turned the corner, their bullets bouncing off the rock walls of the factory.
The sound of gunfire only makes her run faster. She can't afford to get shot. These men will only shoot fatally, and she won't stand a chance. She ducks her head down as Bucky taught her, tucks herself into a ball and runs. Isabel gets on a straight, sticking to the side wall as she emerges onto what she assumes is the main factory floor with hundreds of Hydra members working on the weaponry. None of them look up from their work to watch the petite brunette sprint past them in the shadows.
Attached to the factory floor is a massive garage with hundreds of army trucks inside it, all of them loading and unloading weapons and goods for the factory. At the very end, Isabel sees the main entrance to the factory, the only exit, an escape from the mountain. She sees the brightness of the day outside, the trees in the far distance – she just has to get past the patrolled fence line and lose the Hydra guards that run right on her tail and she'll find her freedom within the mountain ranges.
Isabel sneaks a glance behind her to find that Madame Hydra is now following her with her pistol raised, gaining on her quickly. She must be enhanced, has to be, or at least she's just a professional athlete of some sort. Isabel's never been a track star, but she's always been fairly fit and flexible, and running was always a natural action for her. And yet, Madame Hydra gains on her easily, her lengthy strides pummelling the concrete floor.
Isabel turns back around and runs faster, impossibly, feeling the adrenaline race through her system. She gets halfway across the factory floor to the garaged area that will provide protection from the bullets, when suddenly there's a loud echoing bang, different and hollower than all the others, and Isabel's falling face first into the concrete, slamming into the ground and skidding to a stop. It's then that she feels it - the burning, debilitating pain in the back of her thigh, a sluggish bullet embedded into the muscle. Isabel screams and screams, clutching her leg and curling in on herself, her brain fogging up from the pain. She can feel the warm trickle of blood down her leg, soaking her olive-green pants.
Madame Hydra's footsteps approach and then she's standing over Isabel menacingly, a predator over her prey.
"Please! Please! Don't do this," Isabel tries.
Madame Hydra takes no bar of it. She hauls Isabel to her feet. Isabel can't even bear to stand on her leg, to even put pressure on it, but Madame Hydra makes her. She drags Isabel quickly back through the factory, and Isabel is forced to run along behind her or fall to the ground again. The Hydra workers look on as the girl is led back to the prisoner cells, screaming both in pain and in fear. With a bark from their superior they get back to work.
"Madame Hydra, please. You don't have to do this, this isn't right. Please! Ophelia, please!" Isabel tries again, and she gets no response from the woman until she mentions her name.
Madame Hydra stops with a stomp of rage and flies around, holding Isabel tightly by her shoulders and sneering so close to Isabel's face their noses are almost touching. "How do you know that name?" Madame Hydra spits, her eyes so angry they almost burn red.
"W-we r-researched you, Ophelia Sarkissian," Isabel informs her through the gritting of her teeth from the pain, realising she's struck a nerve with the lieutenant. Madame Hydra jolts even more at the mention of her full name.
"I don't go by that name anymore," Ophelia warns. "I am only Madame Hydra."
"You can't just be M-Madame Hydra," Isabel argues, her voice pleading. "You're a p-person. And people don't do this to each other. Please! Hydra is e-evil, the S-Skull is evil, but I don't think you are pure evil. There has to be some g-good in you, and if there is, please, find it within y-yourself to spare us. If you're doing this for the Red Skull, he's only using you. He doesn't love yo–"
Madame Hydra shakes Isabel, hard, making her head backward and forward painfully and cutting off her words. "I do nothing for anyone but myself. That is what you who are in love do not understand. I work alongside the Red Skull for personal and mutual gain, in all aspects of our lives. It is a relationship built on mutual benefit and nothing more. There is no presence of love or emotion whatsoever. But you wouldn't understand that; you live through your heart, not your mind and logic." Madame Hydra looks almost as though she pities Isabel for feeling normal human emotion toward others. She clicks her tongue like a disappointed mother. "Now, stop your incessant rambling, Frauline," she warns. "You will say nothing else."
Madame Hydra begins to walk again, dragging an exhausted Isabel. "But–"
Isabel is cut off when Ophelia's strong fist connects with her cheek. It sends her to the ground, landing in a heap with a shout of shock.
"I said no more," Madame Hydra spits as she hauls Isabel's shaking body up again.
Isabel can't have been gone for more than five minutes. As they approach the metal door to the cells again, Isabel can hear the men inside yelling and she sees that none of them have moved considerably. Doctor Zola is on the ground in front of Falsworth, sitting up slowly, red faced and breathing heavily. He's moved just out of reach of the men, sitting on the cold concrete. Red Skull has removed himself from the cell and successfully locked Dugan and Jones back up, both of them sporting red blotches on their faces that hadn't been there before, most likely from Schmidt's fist.
The Commandos spot Isabel and yell louder, shouting insults and swears at Madame Hydra and the Red Skull, pleading with them to leave Isabel be. Isabel feels incredibly weak, the leg causing her more pain than she ever could have imagined. Nevertheless, she makes one last ditch effort to stop what she knows is coming, to try to stop them from putting her in the chair. She grabs onto the frame of the door as they pass through and holds on tight, her knuckles turning white. Madame Hydra huffs and tugs on her waist, trying to pry her fingers away. The woman is extremely strong, her hands leaving bruises on Isabel's skin.
"No! Please!" Isabel pleads, hardly breathing from the pain and from the pressure on her waist.
With one large tug, Madame Hydra loosens Isabel's grip on the metal door frame, and she falls face first to the floor again, landing hard. Isabel doesn't move when she hits the ground, the pain all too much. She'd be content to just lie there forever and let the world take her, but Madame Hydra has other plans. The woman picks Isabel up and half carries, half drags her to the metal chair, shoving her into it. She straps down Isabel's arms and legs roughly, pulling the straps tight enough to cut off the blood flow. There's a thin trail of blood all the way across the factory to the chair.
"I must admit, you're more trouble than we thought you'd be, Miss Barnes," Red Skull says from where he still stands between Steve and Bucky's cells. "Admittedly, you earned a bullet to the leg for it. How far did she make it, Madame?"
"Half way to the truck bay, Herr Schmidt."
"Not bad for an innocent," Schmidt says approvingly, echoing Bucky's previous comment. He then catches sight of Doctor Zola still sitting on the floor, rubbing his red throat with a frown. "Honestly, Doctor Zola, get up. The girl's been injured more than you and she's still putting up a fight. Start up the machine. I want to see how far she makes it in this before she bleeds out."
"Yes, Herr Schmidt," Zola says obediently, forcing himself to get up and approach the chair.
Isabel looks at him with pleading eyes, begging for him not to do this to her, but the pleading goes unnoticed. Instead, Zola pulls a notepad and pen from the pocket of his lab coat, preparing to take notes on his next human experiment.
The noise in the room only gets alarmingly louder as the machine whirrs to life around Isabel. She can just make out Steve and Bucky's pleading screams over the noise. Her eyes flick to Bucky, who looks positively terrified with tears streaming down his cheeks, and then to Steve. Steve's thrashing in his restraints, eyes wide and hopeless, but there's an anger on his features Isabel's never seen before. He flicks his leg with a force he seems to pull from mid-air and the leg restraint flies off, clattering into the bars. Isabel has no idea where he found the energy, he's been so weak since the plane crash–
The metal pads close down over Isabel's temples, squeezing hard enough to bruise, and the machine's whirring gets louder. Zola shoves something between Isabel's teeth – a mouth guard, she realises – and seconds later the electricity flows. Isabel's whole body seems to jolt, and it feels like her veins are on fire. The electricity is so powerful, all she can hear is the crackling in her ears. It even drowns out her own screams. It rattles her brain and her memories, making everything blurred. She sees a million different images seemingly at once, flashes that show on the back of her screwed up eyelids like a film projected at the cinema. It's so much all at once that it's overwhelming. All of the emotions attached to the memories also come along with the images and she feels her heart flip with the emotional rollercoaster. She sees her family and her home in Brooklyn, various patients she's had over the years, Steve beat up in an alleyway, the forests outside that they trek through, the Commandos laughing around a smouldering camp fire, Steve's pocket watch sitting firmly in her hand, Bucky writing a letter to home by the light of the campfire, Steve's face so close to hers as they dance, Steve's hand firm on her lower back, smiling down at her–
On the edges of Isabel's consciousness, she's aware of the ruckus. She hears an almighty male roar that echoes in her mind, followed by the rip of metal, a shredding sound like she's never heard before. She hears the scatter of footsteps, the metal door slamming shut. Another metal clang of a cell door sliding open. But she can't concentrate, can't work out what's going on. The machine is too strong, it's overpowering her mind, making her see all sorts of things she'd once thought she'd forgotten. Memories and conversations, people's faces, people's blood on her hands. She seems to see her entire life all at once, an intricate mosaic of memories–
Then, as soon as the pain starts, it stops and the memories flash away. Rather abruptly, too, like a screen being turned off. Isabel slumps in the chair despite the pads not rising again, holding her head upright. She pants for laboured breath, her forehead sheen with sweat. She can't breathe, can't hear, can't see. Everything is just white. Pain, she realises. It's the blinding of the pain. She's going into shock, she must be. She's never experienced it before, but they spoke about it in nursing school. Pain or shock, and you saw white. Anger, you saw red. She's seeing both, a swirling of colour across her eyes that slowly fades away, revealing reality before her again.
Then suddenly, the pads are ripped away from her temples and Isabel feels two hands on either side of her face. She flinches and tries to jump away but freezes when she realises their touch is warm and familiar. She looks up, blinking away the white, and finds Steve's face only inches from her own, his brows furrowed. His mouth is moving, he's talking to her, but she can't hear him. She looks past him, finding that the room is empty again apart from the Commandos still locked in their cells. Steve's restraints have been broken, the metal torn into chunks in his escape. The door to his cell has been kicked open, the lock broken on the ground, and suddenly, all those sounds she'd heard make sense. Steve broke out of his restraint to save her, most likely from a pure adrenaline rush. Red Skull, Madame Hydra, Zola – they were too cowardly to face the angered Captain and they bolted.
Isabel's eyes snap back to Steve and he's still talking to her, his eyes tearing up. He looks beside himself, heartbroken, like he's begging with her. She makes herself concentrate and Steve's worried voice finally becomes clear.
"Isabel, baby? Please, look at me. Belle? Oh God, please tell me you remember me," Steve's saying.
He wipes a tear away from Isabel's cheek. She doesn't even realise she's crying until he does so, and then the tears flow rapidly, soaking her face and Steve's hands.
Steve swivels around to face Bucky, petrified. "Oh God, Buck, she doesn't remember. She must be terrified."
Bucky is crying too, looking terrified and broken in his cell, a puddle of emotion on the floor. "I didn't think it worked that fast," Bucky cries. "They must have changed it."
Steve turns back to Isabel, running his thumbs over her cheeks to wipe away the fast-falling tears. "Isabel, please. It's Steve, your Steve, please remember me."
Isabel meets his eyes, her own wide and wet. Her mind is moving so slow and sluggish. She forces herself to speak, to make her mouth move. Steve's upset; he thinks she doesn't remember. But she does, she does– "S-Steve?"
Steve's eyes widen in surprise, and then he smiles in relief, hanging his head. Isabel thinks she sees more tears in his eyes than before. He's crying for her. He thought he lost her, she realises.
"Oh, thank God," he breathes, leaning forward and resting his head on her shoulder, his arms encircling her carefully. "I thought I lost you, I thought you forgot me."
"N-no," Isabel manages. "N-not g-going anywhere."
"That's my girl," Steve smiles, pulling away and running a loving thumb over her cheekbone.
He quickly rips off the restraints on her arms and legs, freeing her, but she's much too weak to even move. She stays slumped in the chair, still breathing deeply, her heart beating erratically in her chest. For a moment, she worries she might even have a heart attack. It would be possible, considering the amount of electricity she just endured. But she takes another second to just concentrate and soon her heart seems to calm down, ending its excited jig in her chest. She can breathe easier, but the pain in her thigh is just getting worse, the metal of the chair making it sting, ache, burn.
"Where are they? Schmidt, Zola…" She grits out.
"They escaped as soon as they saw I was about the break free. I was so angry, Belle, they knew if I got my hands on them I'd kill them. Were out of here in a flash and closed the door behind them, didn't even stop to turn this chair off," Steve tells her.
Isabel nods, relief washing over her. They're gone, but that also doesn't mean they won't be back. They'll run into them again somewhere else. Isabel takes a shaky breath and swallows down the pain. "Gave up their plan pretty quick," she grits out.
"I think they realised it wasn't going to work."
Isabel nods again, before looking past Steve to her brother in his cell. He's pale and his eyes are red – he's been crying and screaming for her for what feels like an eternity, watching his sister suffer the same torture he did at the hands of Doctor Zola and the Red Skull. "Bucky?"
"I'm here, doll," Bucky promises in a shaky voice.
Steve gets up quickly and retrieves his shield from the corner by the metal door where the guards had left it. He approaches the door to Bucky's cell and brings the shield down on the lock, breaking it instantly. Bucky slams the door open and rushes past Steve straight to Isabel.
"Oh my god, Belle," he whispers, his hands hovering over her shoulder like he doesn't know if he should touch her or not. He eventually gives in and grabs her up in a tight hug, mindful of her injuries.
"Fuck, that hurt," she tells Bucky, making her brother chuckle despite the circumstances.
"Told you it did," Bucky says, his voice a little emotionless.
"I-I'm sorry," Isabel apologises, knowing that seeing that happen to her would have been like torture for her brother.
"No, don't you apologise," Bucky berates.
He grabs Isabel by the cheeks and looks into her eyes, making sure she's coherent. That machine really messes with the mind, and he has no idea how she's going to react to it. He also needs to make sure she listens, that she knows what's happened to her isn't her fault. He spent far too long thinking his own torture had been a product of his behaviour, and it took him a long time to come to terms with the fact that he was an innocent too, just a soldier fighting for his country who found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong people.
"You and Steve are just as bad as each other, always apologising for things that aren't your fault."
"We're made of the same stuff," Isabel answers.
"Yeah, you are."
Steve frees the rest of the Commandos and Howard, who all gather together in the hallway, giving Isabel the space to gather her wits again. They look on with worry, fear, and guilt – they'd made it their intent to protect the woman they'd grown to love as a sister, but how could they when they were all incapacitated at once? They know it isn't their fault, that they all chose to become part of the Howling Commandos, even Isabel, but the guilt still plays on them.
Steve kneels back down in front of her again beside Bucky. "You doin' okay, Belle?"
"M-my leg, it burns," Isabel answers. "Got s-shot."
"I know, Morita's going to look at it once we get out, okay? Right now, we haven't got any medical supplies or any weapons besides the shield. We need to escape, they're probably going to blow the factory to the ground again before we can get out. I just need you to hang in there," Steve says, holding Isabel's hand tightly. It shakes violently, probably from fear and blood loss, and her hand is worryingly cold in Steve's. He rubs a hand over hers for a second to try to warm it up.
Isabel nods at that. Steve easily picks her up out of the chair, mindful of her injuries, and carries her bridal style over to the corner of the room, laying her carefully on the cold concrete floor.
"We're going to get out, I promise, but I can hear them on the other side of the door. They're waiting for us to emerge. We're going to take them all down and then send this mountain to the ground."
"Okay," Isabel agrees.
Howard comes over and sits beside her, keeping her upright. He puts his arm over her shoulders and holds her trembling body against him, his warmth immediately soaking into her. "I'll stay with her, Steve. I'm no good a fighter, I'll just be in the way."
"Keep her awake," Steve tells Howard, nodding thankfully to the inventor.
"I-I need some material," Isabel says, her hands covered in blood as she fumbles with the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.
Bucky rips a strip of fabric from the bottom of his t-shirt, handing it to Isabel. She ties it around her leg as a tourniquet above the bullet wound, pulling it as tight as she can. When she can't pull tight enough, her arms weak, Howard helps, looking a little green as he tugs the ends of the once-white material together and ties it as Isabel weakly instructs.
Steve hurries to his cell, picking up his uniform shirt and pulling it on for added protection. It's damaged beyond repair, burnt and ripped, but it's better than nothing.
Seconds later, he's kicking the metal door open and bursting back out into the factory, met by gunfire from hundreds of Hydra goons. He raises the shield and ducks, the other Commandos hurrying for cover behind the concrete walls on either side of the door. Steve runs forward into the fray, managing to snag a weapon from a soldier he sends to the ground. He throws it back to Bucky, who easily catches it and starts taking down the soldiers from behind the wall, picking them off one by one.
Steve continues through the fray, knocking down soldier after soldier and handing the weapons he collects back to the Commandos. Eventually everyone is rearmed, even Isabel and Stark in the corner, and the large crowd of Hydra soldiers gets smaller and smaller, falling victim to Steve's shield and the bullets of their own guns. Isabel can hear the clanging of the shield's metal against bones, the loud blow of guns as they fire back and forth at each other, and often, the sound of a body hitting the floor. It takes close to a half-hour for them to make a big enough dent that the Hydra soldiers realise they're done for. Some of them seem to realise earlier than others that they'll never be a match for Captain America and make a run for it, but they're picked off by Bucky's keen eye through the scope of the gun, leaving a trail of bodies leading away from the scene.
As the clock ticks by, the amount of blood on the floor beneath Isabel's leg grows and her body weakens. She slumps against Howard, and only his soothing voice in her ear can keep her awake.
Dugan takes out the final man still surrounding them, a bullet to the chest that sends the masked goon down with a yelp. He takes a few final gurgled breaths, coughs up a mouthful of blood, and goes still with frightened, unblinking eyes. Then suddenly the factory falls silent – the fray of bullets halts and the sounds of screaming and running stop, too.
Steve turns back to his men, who hesitantly emerge from the protection on each side of the door frame. "Let's get out of here," Steve says, walking back into the room. He's sweating from exertion, but he's got no injuries further than the ones already healing, the burns hot and aching beneath his shirt. Steve surveys his men, but all of them escaped the barrage unscathed. "Keep on the lookout, there's a good chance there's still many more soldiers somewhere in the factory; that can't have been all of them. Jones, tell Dernier to keep an eye out for anything he can fashion some bombs out of. Once we're in the clear, we're going to blow this factory beyond repair."
"That's if Schmidt doesn't decide to do it first. I'm sure he just watched you take down his final factory's defence," Jones says before obediently repeating the command to Dernier. The Frenchman looks a little pained by the injury to his side but excited that he gets to demolition an entire mountain.
Steve comes back over to Isabel. She's leaning back against Stark's shoulder, extremely pale, a sweat sheen her forehead, her eyes closed as unconsciousness threatens to take over. Her eyebrows are furrowed in pain, and Stark's rubbing a comforting arm on her shoulder and speaking to her in dulled tones. Steve knows she must be utterly exhausted. Along with her injuries from the plane crash, there are bruises forming over her temples from the machine's pads and on her wrists from where she'd hit the floor, and a pool of blood has formed underneath her leg, crawling away from her across the concrete.
"The machine, it's their only prototype," Bucky tells them, stepping up toward Steve.
"Destroy it," Isabel whispers, her voice hoarse.
Steve looks back at the metal chair and then to Isabel. He knows that if she weren't shot, she'd do it herself, can see the twitch of her hand as she manages to glare at it, can see the fury and fear in her eyes.
"I'll do it. After all, we need it done properly," Stark says jokingly but utterly missing any form of humour. He gets up carefully without jostling Isabel and approaches the metal contraption. He fiddles with the circuit board at the back, investigating it and committing its functions to memory before unplugging almost every cord, throwing the cords to the side of the room, and leaving a gaping hole in the back of the chair. "Stick something explosive in there and you'll never see the chair again. It will blow it from the inside, out," he tells them.
Dernier and Gabe run out into the factory in search of explosive materials and return quickly with arms full of handheld bombs, stolen from the belts of the fallen soldiers just outside the room. Dernier shoves a few inside the emptied circuit board and spends a short while rigging up some sort of remote that will cause them to detonate when Dernier decides they're out of the vicinity. Considering the strength of the explosives, which are likely fuelled by the Tesseract energy, there's a good chance the explosion could also wipe out this area of the factory with it.
Steve lifts Isabel from the ground again, apologising and hushing her when she whimpers in pain, and prepares to carry her from the factory and give the shield to someone else to carry.
"No, you c-can't carry me. You gotta get us out," Isabel protests. Her teeth are chattering now as fever takes over. She tries weakly to push away from Steve to be put down.
"You can't walk, Belle," Steve protests, holding her a little tighter.
"And you can't fight while holding me," she argues, as stubborn as ever despite the way unconsciousness clings to her mind. "Y-you promised you'd get us o-out."
"I'll carry her," Bucky offers with a look of steely determination, holding out his empty arms.
Steve nods and carefully slides Isabel over into Bucky's grasp, taking Bucky's newly claimed rifle from his hand. Isabel whimpers again, quieter this time, her brows furrowing. Bucky grips her tightly, holding under her knees and her back, tucking her against him. He's warm and Isabel leans into him, holding on tightly around his neck.
"You're much lighter than Morita," Bucky tells her with a chuckle, making Isabel hiccup out a laugh as well. "I got you, Isabel, we're gonna be okay. Just stay with us, okay doll?"
Isabel nods in reply, scrunching her eyes shut. She's just so tired. She tries to stay awake for them - she wants to see their epic escape from the factory, wants to see the damned chair explode into a million pieces, wants to watch from a distance as the mountain implodes, destroying every inch of Hydra property within it. But the blackness closes in before she can stop it, and she just can't keep them open any longer.
Isabel wakes up slowly, her consciousness taking its time to return. Truthfully, she wants to go back to sleep, but she needs to see.
She's immediately aware of her throbbing headache and the terrible pain in her leg. She groans and lifts her hand to hold her forehead, flinching when her fingers come in contact with the bruised areas over her temples. She blinks her eyes open, frowning into the light, and is surprised to see she's looking up at the tarped roof of an army truck.
Isabel flies upward into a sitting position, looking around wildly. The last thing she remembers is Steve slipping her into Bucky's arms, Bucky starting to carry her as they escaped the factory. But they aren't in the factory anymore, they aren't surrounded by those concreted walls deep within the mountain. They're in a truck. Where are they? Who's they, anyway? Did Hydra get her again? Did–
"Woah, Belle, take it easy. You're okay," she hears Steve say, and turns to see him sitting right beside her. He puts a comforting hand on her shoulder and gently pushes her back down, resting her head in his lap. He puts his hand gently on her forehead, smiling sadly down at her. "We got out, we're okay. We're heading back to base."
Isabel nods and breathes a sigh of immense relief. She's laying on the bench in the bed of the truck along one wall. She looks down toward her feet to see Morita sitting at the other end of their bench, dabbing some more disinfectant on the bullet wound on the back of her thigh. It's all bandaged up though, and she presumes he got the bullet out and successfully stitched up the wound, and now he's just starving off infection. She's grateful but embarrassed, considering that to reach the wound they probably had to take off her pants or rip a hole in them and that's so inappropriate for them to see that, but decides she can't make herself worry about it. She's just so tired.
"The factory…?" Isabel asks vaguely.
"Schmidt set it to blow once we took down the group outside the cells. He, Madame Hydra and Zola escaped before we could even find them. We only just got out before the whole mountain fell on top of us," Steve tells her, running a hand over her hair.
Isabel nods at that, feeling extremely drowsy. She sees Falsworth, Dugan, Howard and Bucky sitting on the bench opposite, looking at her worriedly. Dernier and Jones must be in the front driving.
"You didn't let me drive," she finds herself telling Steve, glaring up at him.
"Well, I think we need to add another condition to that promise. You need to be conscious and have full use of all of your limbs."
"Fair enough," Isabel says, earning a chuckle from Steve.
Isabel reaches a hand over the gap and reaches for Bucky's hand. He takes it and squeezes, smiling at her in reassurance.
"You can go back to sleep if you're tired, Belle," Steve says, noting the way her eyes droop heavily. "I'll still be here when you wake up."
Isabel turns to look back up at him, smiling a little dopily from being sleepy. She closes her eyes and let's sleep take her away again, take her away from the pain. Within seconds, her hand goes limp in Bucky's and she can't feel the pull and tug of Morita working on her damaged leg anymore.
