Chapter 4: Saving Sergeant Barnes
Steve ran down the hallways in the sickly, yellow green light, searching for Bucky. His now sensitive ears picked up the angered snarling of a wild animal. He placed his body on the cold, stone wall, to listen. He was curious about the conversation.
"You will give us everything, Creed, your compliance shall be rewarded," A cold, isolated voice whispered to Creed.
The man, called Creed, was strapped to a table, his muscular arms bound to his side. His face was slick with sweat and dried drops of blood splattered on his face. His eyes were dark pits, full of a wild temper, like a prehistoric big cat. Blood dribbled out from his mouth, and to Steve's horror the man's teeth were pulled out, but it was just the caines.
"Go to Hell, you bastard," Creed choked out, red scarlet blood spraying onto the bare walls.
The voice merely chuckled again, and drove something into the man's side. Steve couldn't see what it was, but it had to hurt. An agonising scream echoed through the chamber. Steve jumped out from his hiding place and slammed his shield into the man's face. The body slumped to the floor. Creed's eyes darted to him, jerking his head over in a silent nod to help him.
Steve could see the massive man grip the side of his leg, red blood gurgling out, in a steady stream. The man tied a piece of his worn pants onto the wound, stopping the blood flow. At least he knew basic first aid. He did see the pained expression on the man's face. He had to help, despite the man's wild looks.
Creed was a large, well muscled man, nearly reaching seven feet in height on pure muscle alone. Unlike his brother who had wild, untamed hair, Creed's was cut short, but it was still messy. His face and bushy sideburns were slick with sweat. Heavy restraints were bound to his side and waist. He pulled the straps loose, and helped the man to his feet. Then he heard a voice. Steve would recognize Bucky's voice anywhere, but it pulled at his heart to hear the fear in it.
Steve's pace was slowed down, because he was dragging Creed along. The man limped and hobbled along, his bad leg bonded together using the straps from the table. Creed's eyes had an unnatural glow to them, like Liberty's eyes at night.
He didn't care if Victor was a freak of nature. Yeah, he was aware of mutants existing. He didn't care about them having abilities or looking different from everyone else. He saw them as people wrongly accused, just for being different.
"Victor. That's my name," Creed growled out.
"Steve Rodgers," Steve answered back.
Then they heard a human moan. Turning around a corner, they saw a much smaller lab, and strapped to that table was Bucky Barnes. His once smooth brown hair was messy and slick with sweat. His face was pale and waxy. His once bright gray blue eyes were unfocused and hazy.
"Steve? Steve is that you?" he asked once Victor tore the bindings off.
"Yeah, Buck, it's me, it's Steve," he answered, trying to hide the relife in his voice. Victor swung Bucky over his broad shoulders. The man limped behind Steve, his arms clinging to Bucky's chest.
"I thought you were smaller," he greeted, a smile on his lips.
Steve laughed, and lightly jogged out of the hallway, Victor trodding along. They walked down to the gangway, and to their collective horror that the whole place was on fire. Steve spotted two men, one had to Smitcht. The other, he wasn't so sure on who he was. Smitcht carried himself with pride, almost like a lion, puffing out his mane. The other man seemed to cower, not in fear, but in respect.
"Captain America! How exciting! I'm a huge fan of your films! I must say very impressive, but not a huge improvement," Smitcht boasted, smiling.
There was something off about the man's face. A low, predatory growl was behind him. Victor was growling at the man, a threat. Victor's striking gray-blue eyes became hard as rocks. Then Smitcht peeled the mask off, revealing a crindsome red skull.
"You are deluded Captain, afraid to admit that we have left humanity behind. Unlike you, I embrace it proudly-without fear!" he cried, but it was hard to tell with a skull.
"Then how come you're running?" Steve yelled back, as the man and his underling left.
"Steve, I hate to be the voice of reason, but the place is on fire," Victor deadpanned.
"Do you have one of those?" Bucky asked, worried that his friend had a red skull underneath his flesh.
"No, but let's get out of here," Steve ordered.
The odd looking trio ran up the stairs and to the gangway. They soon came across a narrow strip of metal that was groaning from the strain of Bucky's weight against it. Steve thumbled with one of his pockets and pulled out a sliver whistle that was shaped like a dragon's head, but in a celtic design.
Steve pressed his lips to it and made several sharp, piercing blows that only he, Victor, and Bucky could detect. A thunderous, bellowing roar rocked the base. Liberty broke through the glass and held out her massive palm. Steve jumped into it, pulling Victor along. Liberty picked up Bucky very gently with her jaws. The same jaws that could snap his future vibranium shield in half. Liberty was a perfect combination of beauty, grace, elegance, maternal instincts and a wild nature that can't be tamed.
Johan Schmidt was a proud, prideful, arrogant man, if one can even call him that. He felt relieved that he pulled the mask off that was hiding his face from view. Behind the base was a massive stable area. A blood-red dragon was perched on it, all tacked up and ready to go.
Hekate was a massive dragon with crindsome scales. Unlike Liberty, her scales were rough and jagged and unpolished. She bowed her triangular shaped head down to his, and he gently stroked her on the cheek. A low, rumbling purr was heard over the dim explosions on the base. She had bright, blue eyes that glinted like ice and were like fire, hot and burning, scorching those that dared to defy her and her rider.
She was feared by Smitcht's underlings and the prisoners. He had a nasty habit of feeding those that displeased him to her. That's what happened to the high ranking men that were sent over to him, to see if he made good on his deal. Unlike Steve and Liberty who had a strong bond, only made stronger by the serum, he and Hekate's bond was like a higher up and his right hand man.
I see the american runt and her rider flying back to the allies, Smitcht, should I chase them? She asked, her voice low and rumbling.
No. It would be entertaining to see that circus freak and his golden scaled beauty try to fight us, my pet, he answered back, almost purring with barley hidden glee. Dr. Zola was riding right behind him on the two seated saddle.
"Sir, where are we going?" he asked, clutching his briefcase, which contained all of his designs.
"To the other base, we need to reinforce ourselves for the ally's wrath if we are to win this war,"
Liberty landed with a grace, despite her massive size. The former HYDRA prisoners of war shrunk back in fear. They had all seen a dragon mercilessly eat and shred their comrades to pieces. However, they where not dumb, they saw the motherly gaze in her warm, blue eyes. Their collective savior was on her back. Victor was clinging to her scaly neck. Sergeant Barnes was in her jaws, but picked up by his tattered, green undershirt.
"Okay, who's not that badly hurt, raise their hand!" Steve barked, his voice carrying out through the forest. Monty and his cell mates were the first to raise their hands.
"Good, go to everyone else who is badly injured to walk, on the tanks, or carry them!" he yelled out, no evidence of the shy, sickly, skinny punk from Brooklyen in his voice.
They quickly obeyed the orders. Steve was in shock, he didn't know if they'll take orders from one who had no experience in leading men before, but they did. In fact the ones who go on to be known as the Howling Commandos would trust him with their lives. He went from a scrawny nobody, to a lonely circus freak, and now onto a leader of men.
The thirty mile walk back to base was long, slow and trieding. Steve kept his speed at an easy gait. He waved Liberty over. The massive golden scaled dragon landed with a thud. Steve pulled out a note-pad and a pencil. He wrote a note, addressed to Col. Phillips.
Phillips was furious. He had found out through the grapevine that Captain Steven Grant Rodgers had gone against his orders, and went on a one man solo mission to rescue his best friend from his childhood. Good God! That man was insane! He reached through her saddle bag and pulled out the note. Captain Rodgers had the neatest handwriting of anyone he had ever met.
Col. Phillips,
I know that you're most likely mad at me for defying a direct order, but I managed to rescue the men in Azzano. I brought something over from there for Howard to try out. We both know how much that man enjoys new things to play with. We're marching along the main road, but it's more like limping given the fact that some of these men-more like most-need medical attention. I would like to surrender myself, and Liberty, for disciplinary action.
Sincerely, Captain Steven G. Rodgers
Steve scanned the signs for Liberty's sleek, flying form. For golden scales flashing in the sunlight, for a roar of greeting. Nothing, so he hung his head in shame. He hoped that Liberty didn't get herself killed, nor muzzled up and chained. Colonel Phillips had tried that already after Erskine's death. When Liberty tried to burn him to a crisp when Steve was denied a chance to serve, for the sixth time, ever since Pearl Harbor. It was still a sore spot in his heart upon hearing that. He was too skinny and sickly, now he was too much of a freak to be considered being used on the front lines.
He soon saw the familiar gate open, allowing the men to enter the camp. Bucky breathed a sigh of relief, they were safe. He looked at Steve, who winked and smirked at him. He laughed. Steve was still Steve, so there was really no cause for alarm.
"Hey! Look who it is!" Someone shouted.
On that cue, the whole entire base burst into cheers, their voices ringing out. Some of them ran up to Steve, patting him on the shoulders. Others took off their helmets and tossed them at friends they thought were dead. Colonel Phillips walked up, Peggy following behind him. Liberty gave out a loud roar, one that of joy. Phillips had a look of defeat. He had admitted he was wrong about Steve with his eyes, not with his mouth and words.
"It'll be wrong to dismiss you, and to court martial you, cause look around, Captain Rodgers; you saved these men, so it won't be necessary," Phillips admitted.
"Thank you, Sir," Steve responded with a salute.
"Hey! Let's hear it for Captain America!" Bucky yelled at the top of his lungs.
Then his face fell into discontent. Steve walked over to Bucky, trying to avoid the cheers, and being slapped on the back by over zealous soldiers. Bucky was on the bench getting looked over by a nurse. Steve only saw his mother, not the young woman.
"Hey, Buck," Steve whispered, his eyes turned downwards at the dirt. Bucky gave a small smile, his once bright gray blue eyes, now dull with a sadness that no words can express.
"You don't need me looking over you, to keep you out of fights, ya punk," Bucky spat, but there was no anger in his voice; just sadness over the fact he might lose his best friend, his brother in all, but blood.
Steve said nothing, but moved closer to him. Bucky flinched back, keeping his right arm close to his chest. The blond haired man sighed and decided to sit down next to him, fumbling with a yo-yo, a birthday gift from his mother. Steve still had the damn thing from his childhood.
He flung it back and forth, playing with the children's toy. His blue eyes were turned upwards at the sky, his worn childhood toy flinging from one hand to the next in a series of elaborate tricks. It was a nervous habit of his; to play with that thing or to fumble around with one of his drawing pencils, he often chewed the ends.