[ He's right - none of this makes sense. It has to be HYDRA, she is sure of it, for some reason they've thought to keep her around all the same, instead of simply shooting her down and ending it. They have plans for her, it's the only thing that comes to mind, and that thought alone, that gut-wrenching awareness is what has her running as fast as she can, even when her lungs ache, even when her heart races, even when the very air she breathes makes her insides burn.
She will end this. Here and now - if she doesn't make it out of there, then she will end it with a bullet. One way or another, they are not getting to her.
But it seems that things are even more complicated than she thought they could ever be. When she rounds a corner and there's someone standing right ahead, she lifts the machine gun, aimed dead centre at their head. She doesn't see it, not right away. Her sight is blurred with sheer panic, focus coming slowly, though the voice-- the voice filters through.
She lets out a sound that's all too close to a sob when she hears it, even before her eyes recognise the features of the man standing in front of her. Her aim falters, as does her grip on the gun, and it lowers just so as she stares wide-eyed at him. ]
Steve?!
[ It's a dream-- it has to be. She really is dead somehow, and she ended up in a Hell of sorts, but then why would the best man she has ever met would be here too? None of it makes sense, none of it connects in her mind, and her insides ache and clutch at the feelings washing over her - panic, relief, sadness, grief, fear and an unadulterated kind of joy -, swallowing her whole. ]
No, [ Her tone is weak, but she shakes her head, raises her weapon again, though her aim is feeble at best. ] No. He's dead. Dead. What have they done? Who are you?
[ The last words spoken in a louder tone, deaf to the footsteps coming up behind her, as the other agents catch up and get into position just a few feet behind her, their weapons trained on her. ]
no subject
She will end this. Here and now - if she doesn't make it out of there, then she will end it with a bullet. One way or another, they are not getting to her.
But it seems that things are even more complicated than she thought they could ever be. When she rounds a corner and there's someone standing right ahead, she lifts the machine gun, aimed dead centre at their head. She doesn't see it, not right away. Her sight is blurred with sheer panic, focus coming slowly, though the voice-- the voice filters through.
She lets out a sound that's all too close to a sob when she hears it, even before her eyes recognise the features of the man standing in front of her. Her aim falters, as does her grip on the gun, and it lowers just so as she stares wide-eyed at him. ]
Steve?!
[ It's a dream-- it has to be. She really is dead somehow, and she ended up in a Hell of sorts, but then why would the best man she has ever met would be here too? None of it makes sense, none of it connects in her mind, and her insides ache and clutch at the feelings washing over her - panic, relief, sadness, grief, fear and an unadulterated kind of joy -, swallowing her whole. ]
No, [ Her tone is weak, but she shakes her head, raises her weapon again, though her aim is feeble at best. ] No. He's dead. Dead. What have they done? Who are you?
[ The last words spoken in a louder tone, deaf to the footsteps coming up behind her, as the other agents catch up and get into position just a few feet behind her, their weapons trained on her. ]