The window slid open. A figure dressed in black, lethal intent in every movement, slid into the room.
Bucky lay frozen as the thing crept silently toward the bed. He couldn't move, couldn't speak. It was like one of those dreams he'd had as a kid, caught in some creeping paralysis as childhood's fearsome boogeyman stalked him.
When the creature stood above him, no face, just burning eyes in a black hollow pit, Bucky closed his eyes. He'd rather die than stare this horror in the face.
A cold, metallic hand circled his throat, tightened.
Do you even remember them?