The Hound protect the girl dispatch the Hou- protect the GIRL

Everything went to shit, and the Soldier would have taken the knife from the Hound and driven it into her throat for even thinking of raising it at the girl, but when faced with the choice protect the girl dispatch the Hound he found it wasn't a choice at all.

Before he could reach the Hound, the girl opened her eyes wide gold why are they gold why do they glow and the Soldier nearly stumbled, legs nearly giving out and breath catching in his throat with the sudden invasion of overwhelming fear he knew was not his. The Hound felt it too, she must have, despite never having felt a damn thing before in her life, and her hesitance was all the opening the girl needed to shove her hands out in a push.

The Hound flew back, crashing into the shelves that lined the opposite wall. The Soldier stared down at her prone form before looking down at the girl. She panted, leaning back on the shelf. Blood dripped from her arm - the knife had nicked her - and when she looked up at him, her eyes glowed golden.

"What the fuck!"

The Soldier did not wait to look back at who had spoken. He grabbed the girl, ignoring her yelp of surprise as he tossed her over his shoulder her head she hit her head be gentle there is no time for gentle and ran.

The Hound would not stay down long. He was lucky she stayed down as long as she did. The best way he knew to protect the girl was to get her away, and then, when he was certain she'd be safe, he'd have to reassess the situation. He'd have to deal with the Hound.

A Hound. Of course. Out of all of the assets in HYDRA's damned collections, it had been a Hound that found him. And he knew that where there was one, the other was no doubt lurking nearby.

"Crow Man, stop, stop, I'ma pu-"

She began to retch.

Shit.

He set her down, and she stumbled away, doubling over and finishing what she had started on his back. They hadn't gotten very far, not near far enough, but he knew the risk of moving her before she was ready.

She trembled when she finished, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"What the hell," she whined, and her voice carried a genuine distress he had only heard when her shoulder had been dislocated. She looked up at him with wide eyes - brown again, brown and angry and frightened.

The Soldier thought nothing of the fear in her eyes. He had his mission

Objective: Protect The Girl

and he would carry it out, regardless of how she felt, regardless of the color of her eyes or the strength she hid.

"We can't stay," he said, and her face twisted as he pulled off his backpack and jacket. Luckily, the bag had been mostly spared from the girl's sick, and he only needed to wipe the little away before discarding the jacket. Walking around with a puked on jacket didn't exactly let them blend in the way they needed to.

"What- what do you mean?" the girl asked, and there was a tremble in her voice. She cradled her arm, and blood dripped from the cut onto the ground. A trail to follow. He needed to bandage her arm. "Who was that lady? Why did she attack me?!"

There was no time to stand around and answer these questions, never mind how much she was owed the answers. They needed to move before the Hounds found them.

"We have to move." He used more force than he should have with her, but he had years of experience to know that force worked. He reached for the girl, and she flinched away, slapping his hand away, hard enough for it to have stung.

"No!"

His breath hitched. There it was, that foreign fear, the panic making his heart pound the way it only did when he was about to be put back in the ice.

It was the emotions, not the slap, that had him staggering back. It was her eyes that kept him back.

Gold. The girl's eyes were gold again, shining beneath unshed tears. Her own breath caught in her throat, and she stumbled away, cradling her arm tighter. She made herself smaller, and it hit the Soldier all at once. It was her panic. Her fear.

She's a child. She has every right to be terrified.

That, however, didn't account for how she was somehow able to force it onto others. The Soldier didn't consider himself any kind of authority when it came to children, but he was pretty certain they shouldn't have been able to shove genetically enhanced assassins into bookshelves either.

He stared down at her, brow furrowed as he tried to puzzle out how she was able to do these things.

She drew away from him, realization creeping in her features as the gold drained from her eyes.

Was this her secret? Was this why she was alone?

He didn't get a chance to ask. The girl turned, ready to run. When he reached for her, called for her to stop,

Objective: Protect the Girl

she pushed at him again. And she must have used as much force as she did with the Hound. He flew back, and when he landed, he landed hard, the breath knocked from his lungs and his head smacking against the asphalt.

Maybe, the unhelpfully smug voice said, you should have made time to tell the truth, and she wouldn't have knocked you ass over head.

The Soldier pushed himself up, and with blurry vision saw the girl standing still, and radiating that fear of hers. Despite this hidden strength, despite her previous bravado, she was still very much a terrified child.

A terrified child that wasted no time in turning on her heels and dashing away.

Ah. Shit.


Ximena ran.

She ran blindly, desperately, away from the void that had been that woman in the shop before it could swallow her whole. From the cold, dark other that Crow Man had become, the sharpness in his voice as he tried to order her, tried to grab at her, and she knew - she knew - he wouldn't have hurt her. He was still Crow Man, beneath those severe eyes and hard grip.

But still, Ximena ran.

She darted past the people on the sidewalk when she made it out of the alley. Pain shot through her shoulder and down her arm when she slammed into a man, sending him sprawling into the street. She should have stopped then, maybe. To make sure she hadn't broken him.

Still, Ximena ran.

She dipped into the alley she knew so well, nearly tumbling over as she turned into it. Her shoes skid out from under her, and she barely managed to right herself as she scurried inside. It seemed darker, now, as she moved, nevermind the hot sun shining up above.

"Nena!" She nearly stopped before she realized it wasn't Crow Man - It had been Helen's raspy voice that called out to her. The couple hadn't been there earlier that day, and Ximena wasn't interested in stopping for some stupid conversation about how people were bad when she had already had her share of that with the Void Woman. Ximena ignored Helen, danced away from her reaching hands.

Ximena ran.

She caught herself before she crashed into the warehouse door; blood was left smudged on it when she braced herself on it, her head swimming with pain and dizziness. Her stomach turned, and she doubled over, puking all over again.

She leaned against the door as she finished, tears burning her eyes. She trembled, but forced the door open and stepped over the mess into the warehouse.

Light flooded in, and she cast a long shadow as she stood at the doorway. She didn't know what she was supposed to do.

It hurt, feeling as small as she did. The Void lady had made it painfully obvious that no, Ximena was not cut out to deal with bad people she came across. More than that, the Void Lady had shattered some wall inside of her.

Ximena knew, had known since her parents had died, that she was strong. That she had a strength in her that even grown men didn't have. This wasn't new. She knew she could feel what others felt as easily as she knew what she had felt. That wasn't new either. And she also knew, the way children always knew, that it unnerved those around her when she picked up something heavy a little too easily. That she pushed a little too hard. That she could make comments that cut a little too deep because she already knew how someone felt.

It was the reason she had been in five foster homes and a single group home since the Battle of New York. It was the reason she kept being sent away. It was the reason she had survived after being sent away.

What was new, what scared her and shook her to her core, was that now, apparently, she could make others feel what she felt as well. And she didn't want people to know how scared she was. They couldn't know, because if they knew, then people like that Void Lady would know they can hurt her.

And if she was honest, she figured the universe had hurt her enough already.

Angry tears welled in her eyes and she brushed them away harshly, wincing when the action pulled at both her aching shoulder and her new stinging cut.

"Stupid," she muttered, and then, shouting with all the rage an orphaned and lost twelve year old could muster, "Stupid!"

It was a childish hurt, and an all to real fear that spurred her into action.

She stomped into the warehouse, not bothering to slam the door shut behind her. She slung off her backpack, not breaking her stride as she tore it open and snatched up Oso-osito off the floor and shoved him inside.

DC was a mistake, she decided. This time I'ma go all the way down to Mexico.

She tore open the doors of the cabinets, trying not to think about the sudden fatigue that spread into her limbs and muddied her thoughts. Shaking her head, she reached in and grabbed the change of clothes she had hidden away, and shoved them into the bag along with the bear. They took up more of the bag than they should have - fold your clothes! her previous foster would have nagged.

Well, Ximena thought bitterly, she didn't just almost get stabbed or attacked by a lady that was one with the void, so she didn't get an imaginary say in the matter.

She took little if any time to consider her stash of stolen goods before she began to pick and choose at random. A couple cans of food she hadn't gotten to, a blank notebook and cracked pen that was liable to break apart at any moment. She filled her bag mindlessly, only pausing at the sight of her bloodied arm as she reached out again. It stung with movement, and she wondered where the heck Crow Man had stashed that first aid kit. She definitely needed a bandaid, or she'd just keep bleeding all over herself. Bet he'd have patched ya up by now -

Yeah, well, maybe if he hadn't been acting like a big weirdo jerk.

She shook off the thoughts and tried to focus. Maybe he left it under his Stairs of Death. Holding her bag shut, she scurried over to Crow Man's side of the warehouse, and stopped just short of the shadows of the stairs. It felt… wrong to go under there. It was his space for as long as it had been empty, Ximena realized. That aside, she was still half sure that the stairs would collapse on her the second she stepped under them. But she could feel the blood on her arm going sticky and clinging to her sleeve uncomfortably, and she huffed in annoyance at herself. She'd survived worse, and despite what had just happened, she told herself that some falling stairs wouldn't do her much harm.

Just to be safe, though, she tried to will her eyes golden, tried to draw on the fading strength in her aching body.

Crow Man kept his Harry Potter area near empty. She set her bag down, and crouched down to feel around, not waiting for her eyes to adjust, and only found what she realized was that weird vest thing Crow Man had showed up in. Muttering under her breath, she tossed it aside and moved to stand when she heard it.

A whistle.

It was low and playful, and it sent a chill down Ximena's spine. She looked up, narrowing her eyes to see through the spaces of the stair's steps. A figure was walking toward the warehouse, a man. He stopped by the door, his whistling trailing off. It was impossible for Ximena to make out the details of him as he stood against the light. He was too slim to be Crow Man though, and his clothes weren't bulky enough to be Marty.

Marty didn't ever whistle either.

Cold fear settled into Ximena's gut, and she swallowed hard as she reached.

Nothing. Not a damn thing.

The Void stepped into the warehouse, making a show of stepping over the mess Ximena had left. He slid the door shut behind him, as easily as Ximena or Crow Man would have been able to, shutting out the light.

He spoke.

"Little girl," he called, his soft voice carrying through the open space. It was accented, just as the Void Lady's had been. Ximena ducked further into the darkness beneath the stairs, scarcely daring to breathe. She watched as the figure moved, eyes straining to adjust enough for her to make out the details to his person.

He had dark hair, and he wore the same type of dress clothes the Void Lady had worn. Too nice for Ximena's little corner of Foggy Bottom.

"Olly olly oxen free," he sang. "'Nessa didn't mean to frighten you. The game is over now." His voice was insincere, but almost hypnotizing. If Ximena hadn't known that there was nothing inside of him, she would have been tempted to run to him for help.

He moved silently, peeking around the rows of broken shelves as he made his way to Ximena's pallet. She watched, hands shaking as she gripped her bag, muscles aching from how she tensed.

"Oh, little girl, you don't want to stay hiding with that mean ol' солдат, do you?"

There was that word again, so'dat? Why did they call Crow Man that? Was that his name? It didn't feel like a name. It felt like a title.

He reached her pallet, kicking at a blanket. She knew that he only had to look up and she'd be seen. Her eyes darted to the door. Could she make it out?

I can throw a shelf at him if I have to, she told herself, and wondered if she actually could. She was already so tired.

She shifted, preparing for the run, but her leg gave out from being crouched so long. She stumbled, and the metal of the stairs clanged loudly when she tried to catch herself on it.

The man's head snapped up, and by now Ximena's sight adjusted enough that she could see his sinister smile clearly. She froze, breath catching in her throat.

"Hello, little girl."

Ximena didn't run for the door. She dipped out from under the stairs, the man already moving at her, and instead swung around to climb the steps. The steps creaked and groaned with her panicked movements. She stumbled, almost lost her bag about halfway up, and righted herself, only to see that the man was already at the base of the steps.

She scrambled up the rest, tossing her bag ahead of her. Its contents scattered, having still been open, and when she looked back down over her shoulder, the man was halfway up, sneering up at her and reaching into his pocket.

Ximena didn't think when she reached the top. Her eyes burned, and there was that golden tint that shouldn't have been there in her vision. She lifted her foot, and stomped on the top step. The stairs lurched, not disconnecting completely, but enough that it was hanging half off the wall. The man clung to the railing, cursing loudly at nearly being thrown off. He looked up at her, and snarled.

She narrowed her golden eyes at him.

She stomped again, and the whole staircase crumbled beneath her foot. The man lunged, trying to reach her before falling with it. She tumbled back out of his reach, and he fell just short of the safety of the second story.

She didn't wait to hear what happened to him. She scrambled up, half crawling to her bag. She shoved what she could back into it, and this time took the time to zip it up and sling it over her shoulder. There was a fire escape, and she ran to it.

The window was stuck shut, and when she slammed it up, the glass cracked and threatened to shatter. She crawled out, and the escape groaned and swayed precariously beneath her weight.

"Don't fall, don't fall, don't fall," she chanted to herself, easing her way across the grated bottom to the rusted ladder. She glanced down, trying not to think about the last time she was using a fire escape to get out of a sticky situation. She crawled over the railing to the ladder, and, slower than she should have, made her way down.

It didn't reach the bottom, stopping some five feet above the ground. Ximena leaned her head against the rung in front of her and steeled herself for the jump.

Her legs gave out from beneath her, and she tumbled down when she landed, falling hard on her bottom. The only thing that saved her from landing flat on her back and smacking her head again was her overstuffed backpack. As she picked herself up, her legs shook, and the fatigue she was fighting off was rearing its ugly head again. She found herself in the small ally space between the warehouse and the little outbuilding next to it.

"Nena!"

She looked toward the back of the warehouse, and there, outlined by the sunlight, stood Crow Man. She didn't have to reach to know it was him, really him, and not that Other.

She ran to him, colliding into him heavily, but not so much as to rock him back, and wrapped her arms around his middle, hiding her face into his chest.

He stood stock-still for a split second before she felt his arms envelope her, a hand resting on the back of her head.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, and Ximena shook her head. She didn't speak, because she could already feel a lump forming in her throat and if she tried to, she knew she'd end up crying. "Okay. Okay, nena. We can't stay."

She looked up at him, not wanting to pull away yet. Because he was solid and safe and she shouldn't have run from him to begin with.

"A man," she croaked, and his brow furrowed. "There's a man in there, he - he came after me. He felt wrong."

Crow Man cursed quietly, or Ximena guessed it was a curse from his tone. She didn't understand the word.

"Come," he said, pulling away and taking Ximena's hand. She clung to his arm, and he let her. His pace was faster than she would have liked, but she didn't stumble once, never mind how jelly her legs were feeling. They moved toward the back of the warehouse, and were almost out when a low whistle echoed in the small ally space from behind them.

Ximena froze, fear locking her into place. Crow Man whirled, and just as quick, he wasn't Crow Man anymore, not really. He was that other. Ximena dared not look at his face as he pulled her along him, tucking her to his side and half hidden behind him. The Void stepped around the warehouse and into the alley space, and let out another whistle.

A high whistle mirrored the first, and Ximena's head snapped back to see the Void Lady stalking up behind them. Her clothes were disheveled, and her bun hung low now, hair escaping from its confines and framing her face. Her eyes were lit with a hollow light, a manic grin growing on her face as she moved forward.

Crow Man, hissing under his breath, shifted so his back was to the warehouse wall, and Ximena was hidden completely behind him.

The Void Man said something Ximena couldn't understand, and the Lady let out a high giggle in response. Crow Man let out a clipped response, giving Ximena's wrist a squeeze as the Voids continued to move toward them.

Their movements were synchronized, Ximena realized, as they moved in on them. Step for step, with head tilts to match. The man though, he didn't have the mania in his eyes the woman did. No, as he got closer, Ximena noticed that he didn't have anything in them at all.

The Void Lady spoke, holding out a hand to Crow Man. Ximena felt him tense in front of her, and he gave a single word of reply. The grin slid off her face, and her expression darkened. Her eyes dropped down to Ximena, and Crow Man moved his arm just so to block her from sight. He spoke again, and the Void Lady arched a brow. Ximena would have thought her to be amused if not for the complete lack of anything in her.

The man answered, and the woman cut him off, and Ximena, scared and tired as she was, did not like that she had absolutely no idea what was going on.

Crow Man spoke again, and barely contained rage seethed beneath his words. Not once since he had been with her had he ever used that tone, had he ever openly felt like that.

The woman seemed to consider, and held up a hand to silence the man when he opened his mouth to speak. Again she looked down at Ximena.

She spoke, tone bright and cheery, and the man let out an irritated huff. She lifted her hands, a placating gesture that read too much like the don't say I never do anything nice a foster sister Ximena had once would do all the time. As it was, that foster sister was a bit of a horrible person.

She walked, crossing the alley space in front of Crow Man, and Crow Man moved as she did, but toward the back of the warehouse. They kept their fronts to each other, the Void with her hands held up and Crow Man gripping Ximena's wrist with one hand and holding out his other to keep her behind him, an added barrier from the Voids.

The woman dropped her arms, and a bored expression took over her face. Crow Man slowly, as though he didn't want to, released Ximena's wrist.

"Go, nena."

She drew back in shock, looking up at him in disbelief.

"What?" She grabbed at his arm and tugged on him. "No, Crow Man, you-you gotta, you haveta come, you can't sta-"

"Nena." Ximena swallowed hard, and he risked looking down at her. His expression softened, apologetic, and Ximena hated how sincere, how affectionate it was. "Go."

A lump formed in her throat, and tears burned her eyes as she took a couple shakey steps back. Why couldn't he have yelled at her? Why couldn't he have raised a hand to hit her, why did he have to come back for her- It would have been easier if he didn't actually care, and if she didn't either.

"Go," he repeated, just as soft.

Ximena ran.


"Ready, Soldier?" the woman Hound asked as she and her partner moved in on him, cautiously and with blades in their hands.

Once, when she had been young and still had the good sense to feign fear, she had told him her name. He thought it started with an I.

The Soldier lunged at them in response.

The woman was more fluid in her fight, not unlike the Widows he helped train, but she was also more straightforward than them. She liked to keep her feet on the ground. The man mirrored the woman, following her lead. He never could do anything himself. It left him predictable and sloppy.

The Soldier focused his energy on the woman.

He struck out with his metal arm. She danced around it, her blade glancing off of it. She tried to crowd into him, but he moved with her, leaving enough space for his blows to actually mean anything.

The man swung his blade at him, and the Soldier kicked back the woman. He caught the man by the wrist, and the man kicked out, his foot connecting with the side of the Soldier's knee. He hissed, but kept his footing, and twisted. The man tottered forward, off balanced, and the Soldier caught him by the throat. He squeezed.

The woman launched herself at him, and he had to drop the man as she threw her legs around his shoulders. He threw up his arm, and growled as a sharp, hot pain exploded in his forearm. He caught the blade before she could drive it into his throat. He slammed back into the warehouse wall, and she lost enough of her grip that he was able to toss her off of him.

She landed in a somersault, and the Hounds were at him again.

They moved to and fro. The Hounds moved in tandem, one distracting and the other trying to dive into his unguarded spaces. He caught them just in time, and landed his own fleeting blows as they danced away from him. Infuriating though it was, the Soldier kept pace with them, mechanical in nature and not slowing.

Nor did he speed up, or apply more pressure to his blows. He didn't tear the blades away from them like he would have any other time. He had scaled himself down for this fight.

The longer he kept them occupied, the longer they were focused on him, the farther away the girl would get.

He swung out his left arm, and felt it connect as he backhanded the man away. The hit landed solidly, and the man stumbled, stunned. The woman slid in, and the Soldier sidestepped, slamming into her outreached arm and redirecting her. She twirled, latching onto his arm and using his momentum to throw him off balance. He over corrected (stupid), and she swiped low with her blade. It caught him just above his knee, too shallow to cause serious damage or knick anything of import, but deep enough for him to feel it. He snarled, and she slammed her fist into the cut, then into his chest, sending him reeling back.

He fell back into the warehouse wall, felt it give only just beneath him.

She snarled at him. "You're not trying!" she accused. She twirled the knife in her hands, and he recognized the self soothing action from the days he trained her. The blade was slick with his blood. "You're slow, Soldier, and hitting like a child-" She went still with realization, and she scoffed. "You sneak, you're stalling."

She wiped at her mouth, smearing her own blood across her face from a blow he had landed that busted her lip. The skin around her jaw darkened, began to swell. Next to her, the man began to stand. Blood trickled from his hairline, and a gash cut through his cheek from where the Soldier's blow had landed. He seemed unperturbed by it; he didn't seem to feel it.

"If you hadn't let the little brat go," the man said to the woman, shaking off the blow as he straightened. The Soldier bared his teeth at the mention of the girl. "we'd have a real fight."

The Soldier would show them a real fight. Would tear out their throats with his teeth and crush their skulls with his fist-

Terror stuck him cold, grief and shame nearly knocked him to his knees. In front of him, the Hounds froze, and the knife trembled in the woman's hands. The Soldier saw her face twist, involuntary tears filling her eyes.

For a creature who has never felt anything short of boredom, the emotions rendered her helpless and broken.

His chest tightened with the oppressive emotions, felt as though he would drown in them if not for the sound of metal scraping on asphalt pulling him out of his stupor. He looked to the side, as did the Hounds, and saw a large industrial dumpster being pushed into the alley space.

A curly haired head peeked over the side, golden eyes squinting at him, and then disappeared back behind the dumpster.

The dumpster careened into the alley faster than any object that size had any right to move, and the Soldier had to step back to avoid being clipped by it. Rancid air blew in his face from the speed of its movement, and it slammed into the Hounds with so much force it continued on for another five or so feet after colliding into them.

The Soldier blinked once, twice. The dumpster stopped at such an angle that he could not see the Hounds on the other side of it, and he did not hear them stir.

He looked back at where the dumpster had come from. The girl stood there, chest heaving and golden eyes flickering, her hands still splayed out in front of her. The dread he had felt eased away, and he realized at once it had been her that set the emotions upon them.

She dropped her arms heavily, and took an uneasy step backward. Her legs buckled out from under her, and the Soldier was already running to her as her eyes rolled back and she collapsed into a heap.

It was Crow Man, and not the Soldier, that fell to his knees beside the girl and pulled her into his arms. She breathed, shallowly, but even as he looked her over for further injuries, he noted how her breaths deepened and evened out. Her pulse felt too quick, but not near enough to worry him. From what he could surmise, it hadn't been any injury that caused her to collapse. Her arm still bled sluggishly, and while the hit she had taken to the head earlier might be something to worry about, he was certain that it had been exhaustion that took her down.

He cradled her in his arms as he stood, resting her head on his shoulder. He walked out of the alley with the girl. Away from the Hounds. Away from HYDRA once more.


Hello! I hope everyone is doing well as all this craziness in the world continues! Wanna thank y'all for your reviews and fav/follows, and pls know your reactions to the last chapter gave me LIFE. Lemme know how this one turned out - it was my first like. legit fight scene and I'm open to any and all notes. also. That dumpster scene was the first thing I ever had planned for NQO and finally getting to write it had me CACKLING.

alright the isolation is obviously getting to me and i've gone on longer than I needed.

Wash your hands and stay schway y'all.