((Since I had reached the end of the cinematic movie, I've been tossing around ideas for a sequel because you guys seem to thoroughly enjoyed my first piece. Needless to say, this is a work in-progress and hopefully will get the same positive reviews as the first part. At the end, just let me know how you liked it (please be kind!) and I'll just keep doing what I'm doing.
Enjoy the start of Part Two!))
The Shadow Stranger was incredibly busy after receiving Agent Hill's report. The manilla folder had brought a small amount of closure to her, however that didn't change the fact that the entire world now saw her as a HYDRA member. With the incriminating video and her SHIELD file posted on all forms of social media and news stations, she hardly felt it necessary to reveal herself in order to oppose those claims. As soon as her face would register in a camera, law enforcement would pounce on the opportunity to "dispose" of her. According to the FBI and the CIA, The Shadow Stranger was a level five threat, ranking on both of the organizations most wanted lists. While she was starting her life, she couldn't help but watch a handful of news reports about her. No one knew her true name, so in the beginning, they followed SHIELD's lead and referred her as The Shadow Stranger. Of course, Fox News was the first to simply call her Shadow; shortly after, they titled her an abomination. She rather enjoyed being called Shadow, it was quick and she did control the shadows. Although, she was still a stranger to nearly everyone who scrolled online or watched the news; but, to one man, she was not.
The Winter Soldier had learned of her original name, and she trusted him to keep it a secret, just as he trusted her to keep his location hidden as well. They had formed a mutual trust and pack to withhold each other's personal information. And they both upheld each other's faith.
While Casey Temple abandoned Don Vito's hidden office under the doughnut shop, she picked up a town in the upper west coast and settled down. Rather than stationing a new forgotten store in the metropolitan, Casey assumed a new identity and signed a lease for a small house. Her new name was Sandra Witt. She obtained a new credit card and bought a new laptop. The first thing she did was wipe the default programs and began her cyber hacking again. It wasn't an honest way to make money, but Casey couldn't risk any company finding out about her true identity. She decided that she would volunteer at hospitals, just as she did in Houston.
After she sustained a good portion of income, she couldn't help but further alter her appearance; cutting her hair into a pixie cut so short her curls wouldn't spring and dying the new hairstyle as light as possible. Casey bleached her hair so her natural black hair now had a blond hue. A short shopping spree provided her enough clothing to stay further under the radar of the police; dressing in layers, often tank tops with scarves, white washed jeans with holes, thick skirts that covered her knees, all boots, and a handful of hats to conceal her face. Regardless of what she wore, she found a leather jacket would be her signature item as Sandra.
It wasn't too long after the incident in D.C. that she established a steady life in Seattle. Casey enjoyed having an actual living residence this time; although Don Vito's underground office held many perks, she found that having windows made her naturally more cheery. She was thrilled when she was able to purchase a new couch, living room furniture, a kitchen table, and bedroom set. At first, she wasn't used to all the extra room, so she was pleased to have the small problem of filling it with appliances. Even finding a theme for her two bathrooms was an issue she never thought she would get a chance to have.
During a particularly windy evening in her new house, Casey had spent the entire day attempting to program hacking codes on her smartphone, so she couldn't walk past people and get their banking information that way. She had neglected to eat anything or shower because of her constant tinkering. Once the sun began to set, a huge gust of wind swept past her cozy home and knocked out her power. Casey sat in the mild darkness, realizing her electricity had shut off. Glancing around in confusion, she sighed and decided she should clean herself up before having to find some flashlights. Hopping into the master bathroom, using what little sunlight was left, she scrubbed away the naturally accumulated dirt throughout the day. As she sang a song to herself, Casey towel dried her short hair and wiped down the steam off the mirror. As the sun drifted further under the silhouette of the massive structures of Seattle, Casey dressed herself in a fresh outfit of fitted joggers and a baggy shirt with the words "I Am Iron Man" printed on it.
Finishing up in her bathroom, she shut off the vent and swung open the door to find more darkness, partially forgetting the power was knocked out. Just as she stepped out of the master bedroom, she suddenly stopped. Her playful demeanor switched off as she felt something tug in the pit of her stomach. Something wasn't right. Standing in the doorframe, she narrowed her large eyes to attempt to figure out what was wrong; holding her breath, she couldn't help but barely hear a second person breathing. There was someone in her house.
Was she being robbed? Ambushed by HYDRA or SHIELD members so soon? All potential possibilities. It didn't matter; she wasn't going to let one person ruin the life she had grown accustomed to. The Shadow Stranger wasn't going down without a fight. Despite her lack of reading Qlifhat's book, she knew plenty of techniques to quietly take out one guy.
Taking a cautious step into the short hallway, Casey glided her fingers on the wall, ready to press her palm against the flat surface in a fraction of a second. Wide eyed and shallow breath, The Shadow Stranger entered her small foyer and glanced around the corner. Before she could register anything in her house, a force grabbed her. Pulling her away from the wall and slamming her roughly on the tile floor of her kitchen, Casey and the intruder wrestled for a moment. Whoever this person was, he knew to keep her hands away from the walls and cabinets.
Using a heavy hand, the man was able to quickly pin her wrists together above her head. Leaning over her, he immediately planted a large knee to restrain her legs. Casey continued to struggle under his force; if she couldn't use her hands, then she would rely solely on her shadows. His mistake, they were surrounded by them. Still squirming, the girl called upon her inner darkness and felt her eyes blackened.
"Stop, stop!" a hushed voice demanded to her.
The Shadow Stranger refused to cease her struggle or draw back her darkness. Before she could yank the man off of her with her shadows, the man used his free hand to turn a flashlight on. The illuminated side shone on his face to reveal a stubbled yet strong chin, fierce contours, and blue eyes.
"It's me! It's me!"
Casey glared at the man with bared teeth and black eyes; realizing who it was, she lightly gasped and subsided her anger, altering the pigment of her eyes once again.
"What the hell-" she began to insist loudly, but Bucky dropped the flashlight and covered her mouth with his hand. He leaned in close to her face and made a shhhhhs noise.
The pinned down girl eyed him carefully; by the faint light of the flashlight, she noticed that his hair was trimmed, but just long enough to be tucked behind his ears. At the close proximately and his hand over her mouth, she was forced to inhale through her nostrils which picked up a universal scent from him. The aurora lingered in her nose while he held her down.
"You need to be quiet," he whispered.
He hesitated removing his hand until Casey nodded to confirm that she understood his request. Along with his hand, Bucky pushed himself completely off of her, gently pulling her into an upright position. She bent her legs under her and grabbed the flashlight. She didn't beam the light in his face, but she pointed it to the rest of his body; his clothes were ragged, wore thin with a couple holes, and his shoes were muddy.
"Have you've been drinking?" she asked quietly.
He swallowed his fear while holding a serious stare at her, "You can tell?"
"You smell like a brewery," she said. "What happened?"
Another hesitation before he answered; it might have been the alcohol in his system or he was authentically on the verge of tears. A trained assassin, once an army sergeant in World War II, a Howling Commando, and he was one word away from crying. "I know we agreed to go our separate ways in D.C. I tried, honestly. But please, I don't know what to do."
Her heart seemed to drop to the floor. He was her only living friend, how could she turn him away? But, there was a nagging little voice in the back of her mind that this had happened before. He was absent for a while, found her, befriended her, and ended up spilling all of her secrets to Pierce. Although both HYDRA and SHIELD's HeadQuarters were exposed and effectively destroyed, she couldn't shake the feeling of deja vu. She prayed that her decision wouldn't have the same result as the first time.
"All you had to do was ask," she said, giving him a warm smile.
Before she knew it, Bucky wrapped his muscular arms around her and brought her in close for a tight hug. She did her best to return the embrace.
"Do I still have to whisper?" As much as she enjoyed his affection, she still wondered why they had to be quiet.
"I think someone is following me," Bucky held onto Casey, not quite ready to release her.
"And you brought them here?!" her voice was low, but her tone was furious.
"I had nowhere else to go," he admitted grimmly.
"Rule number one," she ended the close encounter and looked him squarely, "If you think someone is trailing you, don't bring them home." She gave him a light tap on his shoulder, "Damnit, you should know that!"
"Casey, I just-"
Bucky never got the chance to fully explain himself. From the front side of the house, tires were screeching to a stop. The couple on the floor glanced toward the general direction of the source. Multiple car doors echoed as they were slammed shut. The lack of movement between the two led Casey to clearly hear the thud of countless artillery boots. A few clicks and ticks of heavy guns being filled with magazines sounded through the thin walls.
He didn't say anything; rather, his training from the KGB kicked in. He tightly grabbed Casey's wrist and yanked her upward. They jumped up and he sprinted into her adjacent living room. Bucky pushed her over the couch and hopped over, using his mechanical arm to flip the top end of the couch with him. They kept their bodies crouched low to the ground and utilized the upturned furniture as a shield. Casey rolled herself into as small of a ball as she could and Bucky particularly laid on top of her.
A few seconds later, her peaceful suburban house in Seattle drastically changed into a war zone. Outside her tiny house, a firing squad began to rain bullets on the exterior. With hollowed shells, the small metal pieces shot through the outer frame of the house and pierced everything in their paths. The furniture Casey had accumulated splintered and broke apart as the squad continued their attack. Wood chips flew off of the cabinets, bits of plaster jumped away from the walls, and glass shards sprinkled the tile floors. The squad held their position for at least five minutes, aimlessly shooting into the house to increase the chance of hitting their target. The front windows were shattered, the front facing support wall was nearly bare of the cream paint and a myriad of shell casings lay on the feet of the squad. Once every member had completely emptied their first magazine into the residence, they quickly replaced it with a full one. Keeping their barrels raised and their fingers resting on the triggers, they approached the house that could easily be called Swiss cheese.
The team formed three groups; one to attack head on, another to flank from the rear, and the last to wait in the street, just in case their target escaped and continued to run. The flanking team rushed to the tiny backyard and hid by the sliding door, waiting for the signal. Once they were in position, the second team ran to the front door, stationing one man by the mangled window over the sink. A silent count down with hand gestures and the two teams stormed effortlessly the house.
Automatic rifles and machine guns were held up as they entered the house. Quick turns to check corners and down the hall. Over each members face was a night vision mask to improve their sight in the dark. The entire team from the rear surrounded the upturned couch, guns pointing at the holey furniture. A mutual hesitation before one member used his heavy foot to bring the couch back to it's original stance. They hardly had time to register what was under it before they simply shot at the ground causing bit of tile and grout to bounce up.