A/N: Please read and review!
They called themselves the Religion of Crime, a very unimaginative name if you asked me, and they claimed to worship a being that was attacked to the omega symbol, making me believe that they're older than we would've thought. Their main goal was to spread their master's influence across the globe, and the only way to do that was remove certain people. People they believed would stop their master, only known as The Darkness, from ever being able to conquer the hearts and the minds of the people.
Apparently, that was why I was chosen.
I remember regaining consciousness inside a dark room, and I could see there was an older woman with me. She was also restrained, and by the looks of her appearance, she had probably been there a while at least much longer than I had. She looked a little worse for wear.
She had realized I was there, and she managed to get my attention.
"Do you know why they took you?" She had asked me.
"They wanted to break me down," I said. "Too dangerous."
"They know who would be able to influence the people around them for the better," the woman said to me. "And, that person's death would be the best way to bring down those same people."
Apparently, I was that type of person who could influence the people around me. Either for the better or for the worse.
"For what?" I asked her. For some reason I could not help but wonder what could have been happening around me, and I felt that had to do with something I got caught up in working on.
"To make them more susceptible to the coming Darkness," she said to me. "Their will will become his will."
"Who?"
The woman actually looked afraid at my question. She became very pale, and her eyes widened. "It would never be good to ever speak his name."
"How would I be able to help get rid of him if I don't know his name?" I asked her, and I was starting to become very impatient with her being so vague about what was going on around us.
"He's considered to be a god," she replied, shaking her head back at me. "There is no one who could defeat him."
"No one's invincible," I said. "Only really lucky. There is always someone who can be able to defeat someone else."
The woman looked at me for a moment. "I can really see why they felt threatened about you. Too bad you won't survive here. They love killing, and they are really good at it."
That was when the door was opened, a black hood was thrown over the woman's head, and she was taken away from there. She never came back, so I knew what could have happened to her. Her terror-and-pain-filled screams were enough for me to guess that much.
A few nights later, I was feeling very sick. They had not provided me with any food or drink. I was not aware of what was happening around me, and my blood sugar was so low. I was surprised I was even conscious at all.
I could hear them yelling about something, and they were freaking out about something at the moment. Someone came into the room, and he carefully and gently helped me to my feet to help me get out of the room. I only stumbled with him, and we barely managed to make it into the kitchen before I collapsed. The man had set me down on the ground and made sure I was protected. He came back to me with a bottle or orange juice.
"You need to have something," he said to me, causing me to look up at him. There was something about that man that seemed very familiar, and I was not sure why that would've been the case at that moment. "That can't have been good for you. It never was for Ed."
How did he know about my great-grandfather so well? He had to have been a complete stranger, right?
He quickly stood to his feet and pulled out his gun that had been at his side, and he shot at the last person who had been keeping me. That may have been why I was able to recognize that man.
It had been a while, and I was almost as mentally altered the last time I saw him after I had been stabbed and almost gutted by Baby Stryker. It made sense why he would have been there to help and why he would have been able to know my great-grandparents and how they were so different.
That was why I was willing to drink the orange juice, especially when I had problems trusting people under certain circumstances.
The man who had saved my life was the Winter Soldier or Bucky Barnes as I came to know him. That was the second time he had saved my life when I least expected it to happen.
He made sure I was alright, and he made sure I would get the help that I had needed once it had arrived. Then, he had completely disappeared.
Before he left, Bucky said one last thing for me to be able to hear.
"I used to save Steve's skin. Can't really do that for him any more now that he's Captain America. But, his best girl always seems to get in trouble . . ."