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agent-of-nothing-ward · 4 months ago

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*walks in, still ‘working’ with HYDRA, although it was more of a selfish thing. Stops when he sees Skye* “what’s going on, doctors?

"Are you, are you, hanging from the tree?" (Part 1) TW: mentions of bombing, su!cide, mentally deprecative thoughts. ________________________ (listen to the music for a better reading experience.)

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Skye Johnson had always known she was the weaker twin. The human twin.

Daisy was the warrior, the superhero, the one who could shatter mountains with a flick of her wrist. And Skye—Skye was just the leftover part, the shadow clinging to the bright light of her sister’s existence. They had grown up together, fought together, but the older they got, the more Skye realized her place was not at Daisy’s side, not really. She was the one they sent to do the things no one else wanted to do, the disposable asset that didn’t shake the ground when she walked.

So when the debriefing came the night before, no one really looked at her. Not really. The team spoke in clipped tones, discussed strategy, casualties, necessary risks. Skye listened, but her mind was already decided. She knew what they were truly saying, the words left unsaid: someone needed to go in first. Someone had to be the distraction. A suicide mission dressed up in noble sacrifice.

She volunteered before anyone else could.

Daisy had stared at her, lips slightly parted, about to argue—but Coulson’s hand on her wrist stopped her. She was too valuable, after all. Skye? Not so much.

“Alright,” was all she said.

That night, Skye sat on the edge of her bunk, staring at the wall. She wasn’t sad, not really. She was numb.

Useless. A burden. A scapegoat. She had heard the whispers, felt the unspoken glances that passed over her whenever things went south. If Daisy ever failed, ever hesitated, people always found a way to bring Skye into it. ‘You’re distracted because of her,’ ‘She’s holding you back.’

She used to think she had a place here. That she mattered. But now, she knew better. And tomorrow, she would prove them right.

She left before dawn.

No one stopped her, because no one expected her to leave. She had memorized the route, the way out of the compound where they had set up base. They were supposed to deploy in teams later that day, but Skye had never intended to wait. This wasn’t a mission for a team. This was hers. Alone.

The cold bit into her skin as she moved swiftly through the trees, her breath curling in the early morning air. The HYDRA facility was miles away, coordinates 47.5162° N, 14.5501° E, deep in the Austrian Alps, nestled in rocky terrain and heavy snowfall. Skye had nothing but a backpack of supplies, a pistol, and the quiet acceptance of what she was about to do. She had no illusions of making it back.

She forced herself not to think about Daisy. Not to think about how her sister would react when she realized Skye was gone. The heartbreak, the fury—it didn’t matter. Daisy would get over it. She had everything. A purpose. A family. Skye? Skye was just dead weight.

She ran until her legs ached, until her lungs burned. Then she pressed on.

The HYDRA compound loomed ahead, a dark monolith against the dawn. Guard posts were scattered along the perimeter, patrols moving methodically. She pressed herself into the undergrowth, watching, waiting. She had one shot at this, and she wasn’t going to waste it.

The intel suggested that inside was Project Nachtwächter, a classified HYDRA program meant to create enhanced operatives. Some were willing subjects. Others… weren’t. The files Skye had seen—images of broken bodies, names like Dr. Elias Koenig scribbled in reports—haunted her thoughts. If she could take down this facility, if she could end this, maybe she wouldn’t be nothing after all.

She scaled the outer wall, silent and quick, slipping into the shadows. Inside, the corridors were dimly lit, the hum of machinery echoing through the halls. She moved like a ghost, her footsteps barely making a sound.

Her heart pounded as she approached the research sector. The layout she had memorized told her the main lab was down the east wing, through a set of reinforced doors. If she planted explosives there, she could cripple their operations. She reached into her backpack, fingers wrapping around the small, but deadly, C-4 charges.

She crept forward, ducking behind a stack of crates as two HYDRA scientists passed. Their conversation was muffled, but she caught enough to confirm her suspicions.

“Dr. Koenig said Subject 17 is ready for the next phase.”

“He’s certain?”

“He wants a demonstration by the end of the week.”

Her stomach turned. Another victim, another experiment. She had to do this.

Her fingers tightened around the detonator in her pocket. One press, and it would all be over. One press, and she would be gone, just another nameless casualty.

Then—a voice.

“Going somewhere?”

She turned sharply, gun raised. A figure emerged from the shadows, tall, imposing.

“Did you really think we wouldn’t notice?” The voice was calm, almost amused.

Skye’s breath hitched. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

A step closer. Then another.

Pain exploded in her side before she even saw the blow coming. A sharp, electrifying jolt ripped through her, and she collapsed, gasping. The shock baton clattered against the ground beside her as she tried to move, but her limbs refused to cooperate. Her vision blurred.

Her body was failing her. Just like always.

The figure loomed over her, and she barely registered the weight of a boot pressing against her shoulder, keeping her down.

“Such a waste,” the voice murmured. “If you were half as useful as your sister, maybe they would’ve sent someone else.”

A hand closed around her throat, lifting her just enough for her to choke on her next breath. Darkness curled at the edges of her vision, and the last thing she saw was the HYDRA emblem on the soldier’s uniform.

She could feel her consciousness slipping, but she fought against it, her fingers twitching toward her belt, where a hidden blade was strapped. She had to do something. Anything.

With the last of her strength, she wrenched the knife free and plunged it into the soldier’s thigh. He roared in pain, his grip loosening just enough for her to drop to the floor. She gasped, chest heaving, rolling onto her side as he stumbled back.

Alarms blared overhead. Red emergency lights bathed the hall in an eerie glow.

She tried to push herself up, but her limbs were sluggish. Too much damage. Too much pain. She could hear more footsteps now, voices shouting in German, in English. Reinforcements.

She had failed.

A boot struck her ribs, sending her sprawling. The detonator skittered across the floor, out of reach.

A new voice now, colder, laced with cruel amusement. "Take her. She might be useless, but she’s still leverage."

Hands gripped her arms, dragging her upright. Her head lolled, vision swimming, but she forced herself to focus. Forced herself to remember Daisy, the mission, the reason she was here.

She had wanted to disappear, but not like this.

Then—blackness.

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Here's a much longer and more detailed version, drawing out her struggle, pain, and desperation in the water.

They dragged her through the corridors, their grip unyielding, as if she were nothing more than a broken machine being hauled to the scrapyard. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed faintly, casting a sickly glow over the steel walls. The cold bit into her exposed skin, but she didn’t shiver.

She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

Her wrists throbbed where the ropes dug into them, cutting off circulation, her fingers tingling from lack of blood flow. They had kept her bound for hours. Maybe days. The serum still burned in her veins, leaving her body feeling both fever-hot and ice-cold, her muscles aching like she’d been set on fire from the inside out.

The men in Hydra uniforms said nothing, their boots clicking against the floor in unison. There was no hesitation in their steps. They had done this before.

Ahead, a heavy metal door groaned open. The sharp scent of saltwater hit her first, followed by a gust of icy wind that lashed against her skin. The deep, rolling crash of waves echoed in the distance. The platform beneath them was slick with seawater, rust eating away at the edges of the metal.

Beyond it, nothing but the vast, endless sea.

A scientist trailed behind them, his white coat snapping in the wind, clipboard in hand. He barely glanced at her as he scribbled something down, adjusting his glasses with an air of detached boredom.

“She should survive,” he muttered. “If she wants to.”

One of the soldiers chuckled, the sound devoid of humor. “Not our problem if she doesn’t.”

The scientist hummed in agreement.

Another soldier—one gripping her arm too tightly—let out an irritated grunt and reached for the gag tied around her mouth. He yanked it free, the rough fabric dragging over her raw, cracked lips. She sucked in a breath, her throat burning from dehydration, but before she could say a word—

A hard shove.

The world vanished beneath her feet.

She was falling.

I woke up gasping—

Only there was no air.

The wind roared past my ears, a scream I couldn’t release. My stomach twisted violently as I plummeted, weightless for a single, terrible moment before—

Impact.

The sea slammed into me like a brick wall, a brutal, unforgiving force that stole the breath from my lungs in a choked, silent gasp. Pain exploded through my ribs, my skull, my spine. It was like hitting solid ground.

Then the water swallowed me whole.

Cold.

It rushed into every inch of my body, a vicious, gnawing cold that burrowed deep into my muscles, into my bones, sinking its claws into my very core. The shock was instant, searing, a thousand needles piercing my skin all at once.

And I was sinking.

I barely had time to process the pain before the weight at my feet yanked me downward, fast. The ropes burned against my wrists, cutting deeper as I instinctively struggled, my muscles spasming from the sheer, bone-deep chill.

No, no, no—

I kicked, thrashed, twisting violently against the pull of the abyss, but the thing dragging me down was heavy. Too heavy.

What had they tied to me? A cinder block? A lead weight? My mind was spiraling, panicked, grasping for a way out. I forced my body to move, forcing my feet to kick, but it wasn’t enough. The pressure in my chest tightened. My lungs screamed.

I needed to breathe.

I needed air.

I looked up—or at least, I thought I did. The water was thick, inky black, with only the faintest hint of moonlight bleeding through the surface far, far above. It was distant. Unreachable.

No. I couldn’t die here.

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to focus. My arms were bound, but my fingers still worked. I twisted my wrists, yanking against the ropes with all the strength I had left. The fibers cut deeper into my skin, but I didn’t stop. I dug my nails into the knots, trying to loosen them, but the water made everything slick, and my fingers were numb, shaking.

A burst of air escaped my lips, bubbling upward, vanishing into the darkness.

I was running out of time.

The weight pulled again, dragging me deeper, my ears popping from the pressure. My head pounded, my chest convulsing as my body begged for oxygen. My vision blurred. The cold was making me sluggish. My limbs weren’t responding the way they should.

The serum.

Whatever they had injected into me was working through my system, burning and freezing at the same time. My veins felt like they were on fire, my muscles twitching involuntarily, my pulse hammering so fast it was almost unbearable.

I fought through it.

I twisted again, forcing my knees up to my chest, wrenching my arms downward, pulling against the knots with everything I had. My lungs screamed, my vision darkened at the edges, but I ignored it. I had to.

Another bubble slipped from my lips.

No, no, no—

I clenched my fists and yanked, ignoring the searing pain in my wrists, the way the rope tore at my skin. I had to move. Had to survive.

Had to live.

My lungs seized, the lack of oxygen sending my body into pure survival mode. My instincts screamed at me to open my mouth, to inhale, to do anything for air—

But there was no air.

Only water.

The darkness thickened around me, the weight dragging me deeper, deeper—

And then something in me snapped.

A rush of energy flooded my veins, violent and unnatural. My heart pounded harder, my muscles spasmed—

Then I wrenched my hands apart.

The rope snapped.

I didn’t have time to process it. My body moved on instinct. My hands shot to my feet, fingers clawing at whatever was holding me down. The weight was thick, wrapped in chains. My vision swam, my limbs growing weaker, but I ripped at it, desperation surging through my blood.

I couldn’t—

I wouldn’t—

Another pull.

Darkness pressing in.

My body went still.

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To be continued...

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