Chapter Text
Your team was sent to uncover the Red Room. There were whisperings everywhere, but they were invisible. Nobody knew where they were. Anyone who presumably located them never returned.
Your team was filled with highly trained soldiers—special forces. The last team sent to find the Red Room had gone rogue. Half ended up dead, and the other half, no bodies were found. They were assumed compromised, and you were supposed to eliminate them if seen. If they weren’t dead alongside the others, they were traitors—a strict order from the US government, particularly from SHIELD.
Technically, you weren’t a part of SHIELD, but your team worked with them closely. Something felt wrong in your bones as soon as your team set foot in Belarus, but there was no turning back. You located one of the leaders of the Red Room almost too easily.
This set you on edge, and you instructed your team to be mindful of their surroundings. The first night was just scoping out the territory, watching who came and went. Nothing happened, yet your unease never dissipated.
The next night, one of your closest friends and second-in-command was on the night watch. You did everything together—growing up, training, joining the military, and working alongside SHIELD. You woke up in the dead of night. Since you knew you wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep, you went to keep her company. As soon as you approached the designated spot assigned for watch, no one was there.
Instantly, your gun was in your hand as you surveyed the area—nothing—not even a soft breeze. As you secured the makeshift camp, you released a breath. No one was there, but one of your own was still missing. You strolled over to take your place at the large rock when you heard the click of a gun hammer pulling back.
You trained your gun towards the sound and swallowed hard. A man had his gun pressed against your friend’s temple, her face composed, but her eyes betrayed her.
Fear.
The near moonless night cast shadows over his face.
“Who are you?” You spoke in Russian. It wasn’t the best, but it was what you knew. He had to be a part of the Red Room, or someone aligned with the Soviets. Why else would he be here? He dug the barrel of the gun harder into her temple. She winced, keeping her chin held high.
“You come with us.” He had a thick Russian accent when he spoke to you, but in English. You stepped forward, but your friend shook her head. He tightened the arm he had around her throat, her hands gripping his forearm tightly.
“What do you want?” You asked, gun held firmly in your grasp. You should all have been dead if this was who you thought it was, so what was this? Did they want information?
He didn’t respond, just observed you. You stepped forward again.
“Drop the gun.” Your friend gasped in pain as the barrel whipped against her head.
“Okay! Okay,” you crouched, setting the gun in the dirt before standing back up.
“Kick it over here.”
You did as he said. You were part of a team, and they were the only thing that mattered to you. He kicked the backs of her knees, sending her to the ground. She barely caught herself before her face ended up in the dirt. The gun pressed against the back of her head as you watched helplessly.
“Unload it.”
He shoved her head back down, the gun sitting just beside her. She didn’t hesitate. It was something they had all done a million times. She removed the clip, setting it on the ground beside the gun. Her eyes turned to you, the fear replaced by something else.
Acceptance.
Your eyes screamed what your mouth couldn’t say. Neither of you was going to die today.
The man picked up the clip, pocketed it, then retrieved the gun and inspected it.
“Now, let’s chat,” your voice was composed despite the circumstances. You were trained to endure torture, not to say anything, and you would die before betraying your country. He smiled cruelly.
“I think not.” He fired his gun. You flinched, expecting pain from the bullet, but there was none, just a strangled gasp.
No.
Your eyes fell to your squadmate, your friend.
No.
Her face relaxed as she clutched her chest, blood coating her hand as she pulled it away.
NO!
You screamed, except you couldn’t hear it, the ringing in your ears deafening. The ground bit into your knees as you fell, gathering her up in your arms. Her eyes were already dull, the life fading from them. She wheezed, coughing as she tried to speak.
“In the—” She coughed up blood, lungs rattling with her last few breaths. “Next one.”
Her body slumped in your arms, her lifeless eyes staring up at the night sky. You screamed again, her hand clenched in your fist as tears fell down your cheeks.
You were dragged backwards by the collar of your uniform, away from her body—away from your friend. You kicked at the ground, hoping to catch your boots on anything.
The man threw you to the ground, landing a solid kick to your ribcage.
“I’ve got the target.” He spoke into a radio.
“Confirmed. Sending in backup now.” A deep voice responded. You spat into the dirt, pushing up to your knees.
“You’re gonna wish you were dead.” Your voice was soft, deathly calm. A switch had flipped inside of you. Everything you had felt in the last minute dissipated. You felt nothing except burning hot rage.
He laughed, and the sound only fed that fire burning inside of you. You leapt from the ground, tackling his legs. A shot rang off in the air as you took him to the ground. Both of you landed with a solid thud. You quickly crawled up him, trapping him underneath you, but not before wrenching the gun from his hand and throwing it away.
This would not be a clean death.
He caught your fist before the first punch connected, but you headbutted him, ignoring the pain that shot through your skull. It disoriented him enough that he released your wrist, and you swung.
Again. And again. And again.
Until you heard a voice, “Y/L/N? Where are you?!” Your other squadmate shouted. The man beneath you groaned, his face bloodied and bruised, nose crooked.
“Get out of here! NOW!” You commanded, temporarily halting your brutal attack.
“No! Not without—” He staggered, his words cut off. This pulled your attention away to look in his direction, finally. You saw the bullet hole in his forehead before his body crumpled to the ground. Your eyes squeezed shut.
Everything you had worked for, spent your life working up to—gone. You realized you weren’t going to be getting out of this alive, but you sure as hell weren’t going without a fight.
You saw a figure in the distance. A man, dressed in tactical gear as dark as the night itself, held a sniper rifle against his shoulder. He ejected the bullet, sliding the bolt back into place before slinging the gun over his shoulder.
There was a glint of silver underneath the fingerless gloves he wore, the only color visible on him. The sight distracted you for too long. The man beneath you held your arms and slammed his forehead into your face. You felt your nose crack, blood dripping down your throat. He flipped you to the ground before you could recover. You kicked at him, but he pinned your legs between his. He held your wrists to the ground on each side of your head.
“You will regret that,” He hissed, spitting blood into the dirt beside you. You bared your bloodstained teeth.
“Soldat!” He yelled.
A large shadow loomed over the two of you. You tilted your head backwards to look up at the man.
Goggles covered his eyes, and a black tactical mask to match the rest of his ensemble. It looked more like a muzzle to you, going all the way down his neck. Shoulder-length dark hair framed his face. It was clear he was an assassin—dressed to kill, armed to the teeth.
He said something in Russian that you didn’t understand. His voice was low and raspy, as if he only spoke when ordered to. The man grimaced before responding to the soldier, presumably an order, if you had to guess. Their eyes both fell on you, but you closed yours.
Defeat. That was what it felt like.
You saw your best friend’s eyes as she died, your squadmate’s expression as he fell to the ground lifeless. You’d go down with your team, because you sure couldn’t go back home after this.
The weight of your assailant lifted off you. Your eyes shot open just in time for you to be dragged up by the soldier in black behind you. His grip was solid—unyielding. You struggled in his grasp, stumbling forward as they started walking.
You hissed in pain when the barrel of a gun smacked the side of your head.
“Behave. Makes this easier.”
You spat in the man’s face. Both of their movements halted, and you were yanked back against the soldier’s chest.
“I won’t let you take me alive.” You rasped just before the man backhanded you. It wrenched your head to the left, your eyes falling to the silver underneath the holes in the soldier’s glove.
You didn’t get the chance to die honorably or among your team.
“Knock her out,” were the last words you heard before darkness consumed you.