#gonna stall watching winter of rebirth

[starlightnavis]

part 3 of my falling down screenshots (I'm sorry akshdjdh)

[nicksstoryvault]

Steve politely thanks the doorman to the high-rise apartment building as he makes his way inside, carrying bags of groceries in his hands. Heat enveloped him as his body basks in the warmer temperature indoors, yet he can't repress a small shudder as the residual cold left from outside begins to wear off. He lightly shrugs off the collected flurries that remained on his shoulder. The dark blue ski-jacket he wore could only insulate him so much. Despite the super-soldier serum in his blood keeping his body-temperature to a high level, even he had his limits. New York winters were as dreadful as spending an afternoon listening to Tony spout about quantum-mechanics. He was thankful to have gotten Bucky's little guys over to Natasha's safehouse over in the Bronx before it got colder. The thought of the Russian filled Steve with glowing warm feeling that both alarmed and excited him. Seeing her as a blonde now had done more than just take him by surprise, he felt an infectious desire to try and make himself look even more presentable despite how scruffy and muzzled he looked. He was thankful that she at least seemed to like the small beard he was growing and insisted he keep it. The former Captain America releases a sigh, dismissing the rush of heat in his cheeks as his body adapting to the warmer temperature and not because he was flushing. He didn't flush…Not anymore anyway. He had chosen not to stick around long enough to find out as he promptly left the pups in Nat's care for the night while he went shopping for essentials Bucky might need. As Steve makes his way into the elevator, he sets the bags of eggnog on the floor then pushes for the 9th floor. Once the doors close, he removes his Dodger's cap and wipes off the residual flurries then smooths his growing hair back. A wistful sigh brushes past his lips as he looks over his appearance in the polished reflection on the wall. If it weren't for the blue ski-jacket, jeans and baseball cap, he wouldn't feel let alone look like himself. Precautions, he knew. Tensions still lingered due to the Civil War a year ago, and even if he and his friends were pardoned, he preferred to remain under the radar. Its how he lived for the past 20 months. Normalcy was a slow factor for him and the others. He was thankful that Bucky at least had found a new beginning and made himself a family, one he was grateful to be included in. He wasn't sure he'd have anything or anyone right now if it weren't for Bucky…and Natasha. Once the elevator doors open, Steve shifts away from his troubled thoughts and makes his way down the immaculate hallway towards the room around the corner. His approach was stalled as his hearing detected something familiar and dreadful coming from Bucky's apartment. The scent of mounting rage.

The dominant ferocity of the wolf spirit Bucky possessed have him feral cunning of poise and tolerance He avoided to engage the invader of his domain, her presence stoked murderous instinct to lunge for an effective attack of brutal --relentless force; he couldn't risk exposing the rearing beast inside. His baby pups were in the crosshairs of this malefic harvester who desired to snatch them away and butcher them into furry ensembles of clothing for the runaway. Anyone who murdered preciously adorable babies deserved to burn in Hell. Samone St. Claire resonated with unobstructed wickedness, an unsated hunger that felt nightmarish to reckon with. At the moment of standing in the doorway leading into the hall, Bucky remained unshakeable on his socked feet, his steel-aquamarine eyes slitted razor sharp under dark chestnut tresses as his pudgy, stubbled cheeks grew taut against the betrayal of aggression. His message was clear, as a seething growl vibrated up his throat---no one messed with his kids. His full lips pulled viciously into a sneer as he listened to the faint whimpers of his babies calling for him. The urge to morph back into a wolf couldn't be evaded. He dreaded to even fathom the scope of lives she already claimed for her fashion project. "Get it through your head, lady," he snarled, his deep timbre edged with a shred of resistance."My pups are never gonna be priced in that damn checkbook of yours..." His nose scrunched up, as he glared heatedly down at her purse."Get the hell out of my place, away from my pups, before M' gonna drag you out..."

The front door to the apartment was thrown open suddenly, pulling Bucky back from the edge of his composure before he could descend into rage. Steve entered with a poised stance, having left the bags outside, and immediately stands between Bucky and a mysterious woman he had never seen before. "Its all right, Bucky," he says with an assuring tone, despite the gleam of caution in his blue eyes hinting he was prepared for a confrontation if it came. Bucky himself appeared like a cornered animal that was seconds away from lashing out, his stare shifting from Steve to the woman behind him. "The lady was just leaving," Steve says more pointedly, this time directing his gaze to the well-dressed blonde woman standing near the couch. He'd never seen her before, but if he were to guess, she was Bucky's fashionably-sadistic boss that he talked about. She reeked of wealth and arrogance, yet oddly enough she didn't appear to even remotely fazed by his presence or Bucky's increasing display of hostility. "Ma'am, can I show you out? My friend has had a long day and needs to rest." Steve says, hoping the woman wouldn't be too stubborn and give him trouble.

Scowling in mocked disgust, Samone lifted a finger at Bucky's direction, aiming a merciless promise of her wrath at his chest. Her grayish-cerulean irises gleamed with a serpentine flare of green, as her polished lips arced into an insipid sneer."Mark my words, James Barnes those pitiful runts--piglets you risk to defend will taste death...I will have them, for there are many ways to glut a heart out." She gazed beyond Bucky's coiling shoulders, towards the darkness of his bedroom, and smirked malevolently, before turning back to the doorway with fluid, viperous grace. "You just need to know where to drive the blade..."

It was an interlude of her venomous wake of harnessing a new rebirth power; collecting a hundred infant wolf pups was the first stage of her reckoning over Asgard, now she was preparing for the ritual. Standing with causal poise, Samone sipped a glass of wine, relishing the potent taste as firelight gleamed in her serpentine cerulean eyes, exposing nake malice as she felt the vigorous essence surging in the air. Midnight would the hour of her murderous conquest. Blood would pour and fur stripped into a cloak fitting for a queen. Presently, she was waiting for the defiant mortal who recklessly dared to challenge her blade of vengeance --James Barnes, the father of the little runts she had stolen after subduing him into a dormant stasis. His worthless pups would be the first to feel a butchering ax...She might even make him watch their furry bodies squirm under her viperous shadow. "Soon I will ravage the souls of this pitiful realm, and gut out my younger brother's heart," she hissed sinisterly, her raspy voice, deep with cold malevolence."I will keep the Trickster alive at my heel, my dear Loki proves to be useful..."

There was only the slightest creek of pressure on the floorboards outside of the living room as two stealthy shapes hide behind cover outside of the living room. Blue eyes stare with concealed rage at the wealthy blonde woman who had her back to them, drinking from a glass of wine. She appeared disarmed and casual as if she didn't have a care in the world. The thought was infuriating given the heinous acts the fashionist had committed recently. She exuded a confidence and strength that betrayed her wealthy appearance. It meant she was either foolishly arrogant and overconfident, or she was quite simply: more-than-meets-the-eye. It didn't matter, she was alone and had much to answer for. Two sets of blue eyes meet each other's gaze and the silent message exchanged between them ushers them into action. "Samone," Bucky sneers, entering with his gun-drawn in a flanking position. Behind him, the imposing shape of Steve Rogers looms as a background enforcer should any surprises decide to come in.

“I must say, this intrusion is proving to be quite irksome, James," Samone haughtily laughed against the assailing fury clashing between them, her pale rose lips quickly curved into a devilish smirk, conveying her malignant intent. Her stern expression revealed vague irritant as she gazed unwaveringly into Bucky's arresting steel-blue eyes shadowed by damp brunette tresses, no doubt from the heavy snowfall outside."You think that a wrenched blade can obstruct me..." There was a pause in her spiteful words, as a continuous strain of high-pitched whimpers echoed through the floorboards, stealing Bucky's focus."Darling, you have no idea who I am...Your runts are dead."

A painfilled look appeared across Bucky's face at that, as if a knife had been pierced into his heart. His limbs unconsciously shook while he continued to hold the gun in his hands. Samone's vicious remark had nearly triggered him into a red haze where the only thing that mattered was putting a bullet in her skull. It was a testament to his self-control that he hadn't acted on that impulse. She was lying, he could feel it in his bones, despite a small part of his mind that was plagued by doubt, telling him its what he needed to believe. "Bucky…" Steve says worriedly, having no doubt expected some form of violent reaction to what he just heard. The First Avenger wouldn't have blamed him, he might've acted the same way too if not for his years of discipline. "You're lying," Bucky sneers at Samone, his steel blue orbs glistening with restrained emotion. "You wouldn't have gone through all this trouble for them just to butcher em into a damned coat like all the others. " He says pointedly, finding a mild reassurance by the thought. Either this woman was incredibly obsessive to go to such lengths to steal a litter of pups she could easily find elsewhere, or his children meant something more to whatever sick game she was running. "I don't care who the hell you are lady," his grip around his Beretta becomes tighter while his aim remains unshakable. "You broke into my home, attacked me, and took my kids. Either you tell me where they are or I'm gonna shoot your knees out. And that's just the start of it." He threatened, an edge of malice creeping in while the chasms of his eyes became ever darker.

Detecting the Bucky was on the verge of abandoning restraint, Samone advanced with fluid precision in her encroaching steps, with a vigor and intimation that an ageless warrior possessed. The assonance of the blood song she craved to hear again, was reachable as she shorted the distance between her and Bucky. A sinister aura gleamed menacingly in her icy blue eyes, like flash of a blade as she lowered her hands slowly to her sides, her tone markedly colder with no regard for mercy. Her unbidden blood-thirst was insatiable--the babies she kept locked inside chicken-wire cages were vessels of Asgardian power --her beloved wolf's essence was surging in their infant bodies, waiting to be extracted. Staring a the Beretta clutched in Bucky's metallic hand, she merely shrugged with indifference. "The weapons you arm yourself with, my dear James, have no effect on me---I am the one who brings death here..." To exhibit her threat, she bent her wrists down at black granite spikes emerged from the green tendrils of energy she conquered. "Either you kneel before me, or I will make you watch your little runts bleed as I squeeze the life out of them in my hands."

The tension in the room began to reach a boiling point as Bucky glared at Samone with muted shock. Steve had watched the confrontation unfold with mountain trepidation as he began to realize this wasn't just a malicious and crazy businesswoman they were confronting. She exuded power and dominance as if it were nature to her. The shimmering specks of light in her blue-green eyes were iridescent and brilliant. It was familiar as he'd seen such traits in one other being; an Asgardian Trickster. Dread sunk into the First Avenger's gut once he and Bucky witnessed her show of magic, conjuring sharpened blades that appeared other-worldly as well as fearsome. "Who are you?!" Steve demands with a determined look in his eyes, assuming his own fighting stance despite the fact he no longer had his shield.

Hearing the hitching tremor edged within Steve’s firm baritone, Hela merely shrugged in response, conveying her indecorous amusement, as smoky darkness enshrouded over the spectral ivory of her flawless skin, morphing her alluring visage into a menacing viper infused with venomous intent. She was aware of his relentless fire of repulsive virtue, he reeked of it. “Darling, you should know that I am more than anything you’ve seen in your nightmares...” She curved her pale rose lips deviously, raising an onyx spike to shadow over Steve’s board chest. “I sense you carry a noble spirit, one that many warriors of Asgard I’ve slain bled out, but you are something that I can relish in the pleasure of enslaving, once my reckoning of vengeance ravages your mortal realm.”

The illumination of the faulty bulb hanging above him seemed to bleed into his vision; he couldn't summon the momentum to move; his canine form was spent and fattening with a swelling girth that made it intolerable to carry. The stink of puppy piss was becoming nauseously potent to inhale, a reminder of endless torment. For the last few weeks, Bucky endured the immeasurable of horrific nightmares that a father wouldn't dare to bare in a damnable reality, he was detached from his pups--his babies that had been stolen out of his apartment.

They were starving and weakening to point they lost mobility to crawl within the steel caged boxes across from. The devil women were slowly killing them. With banking ferocity radiating a lethal aura, he wanted to slash her throat open with his incisor fangs, taste her blood as it smeared over his muzzle....The merciless spell cast she placed left him ineffectively dormant as a breeding, fat, Brooklyn sow,  forced to comply with the ravenous little mouths that latched onto the bloated expanse of his belly---orphaned pups who had been snatched away after Samone murdered she-wolves in cold blood. He couldn't keep with supply and demand for his milk reserves; his canine form wasn't used to having an oversized litter suckling, but his fatherly nature submitted when he stared at the little furballs, some of them were pudgy, pink snouted newborns--sightless and barely the size of his forepaw. The whelps needed him and being a generous Brooklyn boy at heart, he would never reject their hunger.

"Bucky?" The voice calling out to him seemed distant as if he were below water and all sound was obscured by the pressure bearing down on him. Once cohesion set in, Steve's familiar baritone voice reached his ears from the outside his cage he was locked in. Across the dimly lit chamber, a hulking large frame laid beaten and chained inside a magically reinforced cell. The bars were glimmered with a shining metal that couldn't be found anywhere on Earth, the energy emanating from it made the hair on Steve's skin rise as his hands were shackled to the floor. His serum-enhanced strength felt drained and non-existent.

He couldn't move, and could barely bring himself to speak after the harsh encounter with the mysterious woman who turned out to be more than a fashion-obsessed mogul. "Bucky, you hear me?" Steve tried for the third time, hoping the scratchiness of his voice could be hear across the room.

Responding to Steve's grated, sonorous tone, Bucky quelled back the rampant surge of nausea, lifting his long muzzle off the cement floor, grimacing at the sudden tension possessing his shackled. laden paws as he lay rigidly on his side, exposing the inflating roundness of his enlarged girth as milk swelled with pulsating sloshes. A whimpering groan emitted out of his raw throat, while he steered his luminous glacial blue eyes towards the gated cell, furrowing his brow as he searched for Steve. Heartache was naked in his steel-aquamarine depths when his pointed ears twitched up against the distressed squeaks of his captive pups. They wanted Daddy's warmth. "S--Steve," he slurred in a graveled undertone, his voice crackling from disuse. He was feverish and exhausted from nursing fifteen pups, but he still welcomed the anchoring presence of his best friend."It's good to hear ya....” he whispered breathlessly, using Steve’s stern timbre to anchor him out of vacuous despair. He couldn’t elude the damning reality of being detached from his pups. The extent of that heartache was knifing to relent against. “H--How are my pups, can't see em' from my damn end." 

"They're all right. Look like they're asleep," Steve grimaced as he made an effort to raise his voice so Bucky could hear him. His side ached by the bruising force of impact he felt by the formidable woman that attacked and kidnapped not just him and Bucky, but Bucky's children as well. Despite the many unprecedented things he'd experienced in his life-time, the First Avenger felt the universe was determined to surprise him every step through his life with something new. Once he heard the soft whine coming from his friend's cell, he struggled to shift himself towards him, only to be reminded of his predicament as he felt a jolt of electricity come from the shackles binding him. "Y-You all right, Buck? Anything injured or broken? He asked tiredly, grimacing at the beads of sweat trailing down his head the collection already splayed across his back. Why was it so hot down here? Where were they in fact?

or a long space of a moment, Bucky didn't answer, the stoking aggression he stowed back was receding each time he listened to the high-pitched whimpers of his precious babies, they were fading in volume--dying. He bared his fangs in uneasiness, drawing up seething growls as his muzzle ruckled up. Hearing them whine for him was a torturous--heart splitting echo that grew constant in the resonance of utter despair.  His hatred for Samone was unquenchable and deathless.

With effort, Bucky tried lifting the heaviness of his bulky form up, only to feel the gravity of his secured chains pinning him down to a level of pitiful submission. He reared his head up, and howled in a high pitch volume."Damnit, Steve, I can't move...The witch dame or whatever the hell she is as got me on the ropes..." he rasped, scathingly, dragging his claws over the floor. "Grah...I gotta break out of these, save em' before she..." He paused, refusing to say the dreaded word dissecting his heart. "We gotta get the little furballs out, save as many of em' as we can..."

Steve tensed up as he listened to the noises of distress suddenly coming from the sleeping little pups in the smaller cage to his off to his right. It sounded as painful as a vice-like grip tightening around the most vital organ in the body. He wasn't sure if their unease stemmed from a fear of their predicament or the absence of warmth and nourishment that came from their alpha. "We will, Bucky." Steve issued out assuredly, easily slipping into his role of Captain and friend. He knew that a distressed and panic-stricken Bucky wasn't one to think cohesively. Not that he'd blame him in this situation. Struggling against his own shackles, Steve looks around his cage for anything that could be used in his escape. Having been trained at Camp Leigh and from the greatest spy in the modern world, Steve knew a thing or two about picking his way out of locks, sadly his experience with handling magically enchanted chains was very limited. "We just need to think. Whatever that woman wants, she kept us alive for it, so we—"

"What I desire, mortal soldier is to devour the pure essence those little runts harbor," Samone replied in her polished spiteful raspy, looming in the darkness with changeable poise and menace of a cobra, venomous in her wake of coldness as she advanced closer to the gated enclosures, her grayish-emerald irises slitted into a luminous gleam a she cast a soulless glower at the squirming litters barred under musky reeking blankets--some of them only days old and staggering with threads of strength to survive another milking session. Her murderous intent was an infective poison that seeped into the pups', as pitches of whimpers increased with alarm, she merely smirked at the display of senility. "These little darlings carry the spirit of my beloved pet...An eternal reckoning will soon arise once every pup is drained...Their fur will make new royal garments to adorn my armor..."

“No!!” Bucky snarled in a thunderous, ear-splitting clamor. Stokes of rage were quaking for an explosive. detonation, as he bared his jutted fangs viciously at Samone, his steel-aquamarine irises shifted coldly into the vapid white of moonlit intensity, the darkness of his wolf spirit was repossessing his measures of thrashing restraint. He pinned his ears back, flatly, expressing his fierce intentness to comply with the rapid convergence of bloodlust, he was fully engaged to deliver a killing bite to her exposed throat. All blood rushed through his latent muscles, as the distressed whimpers of his baby pups fueled his desperate momentum, as Bucky strove to bash his head against the bars, knowing his enhanced strength would dent an opening. No one caged his kids---damn her for placing a fatal threat to their lives. The resurgence of instinct amplified into a dangerous tumult. "The only stuff you're gonna be wearin’ is blood spillin' out of your damn throat..." he growled furiously, in a cadence of impending death.

"Who are you?!" Steve demanded with a steel-edge in his tone. Despite his stalwart poise and saint-like patience, he felt his discipline begin to crumble as he watched this powerful and heinous woman torture not just his best friend, but three innocent little babies who were also defenseless. He showed no signs of fear as the woman's icy blue eyes turned on him. There was an age to their depths that betrayed her youthful beauty. She appeared amused by him but also indifferent to whatever he had to say. He recognized that arrogance too well. "Someone as powerful as you would've turn up on SHIELD or the Avengers' radar a long time ago. And you don't strike as the patient type, kidnapping three innocents from their father." He observed. "You fought like someone who's had decades of experience, which says a lot given it was two super-soldiers you just beat." His jaw clenching, Steve's passive eyes became knowing in their scrutiny. "You're an Asgardian aren't you?"

“Well, well, aren’t you a farsighted boy,” Samone berated with a raspy hiss, watching the First Avenger keep his guard up as she possessively caressed the steel bars of the cages with malefic intent, forcing the pups to tremble in unison against her imposing shadow as she encroached closer to Steve’s cell with predatory grace, trying to cut through his defiance. “You have no idea what horrors I can unleash if you don’t bite your tongue boy,” she warned, heatedly flashing him a lethal glint. “These little babies surge with the vitality of Asgard, a lifeblood to be wielded as instruments of death…They are descents to the great wolves of legend, and will soon help me conceive a true nightmare for devouring mortals…”

"Het," Bucky snarled bitingly in Russian, his bloated canine form resonated with a murderous aura —he thrashed his head against the bars in vicious sways, as his jutted muzzle brushed the corroded steel; his intent was resolved by continuous whimpers of his baby pups, evoking reserves of his feral strength into cold fusion. Each throb was pulsing as he lashed out, drawing his pointed ears against his skull, as his luminous steel-blue eyes morphed hauntingly into a deaden --menacing white. "You stay the hell away from my pups..." he barked out warningly, shifting his livid gaze at the shadowed cages. “Touch em' and you're gonna be sorry..."

[winterwolvesandstarbucks]

December 22nd..

Steve politely thanks the doorman to the high-rise apartment building as he makes his way inside, carrying bags of groceries in his hands. Heat enveloped him as his body basks in the warmer temperature indoors, yet he can't repress a small shudder as the residual cold left from outside begins to wear off. He lightly shrugs off the collected flurries that remained on his shoulder. The dark blue ski-jacket he wore could only insulate him so much. Despite the super-soldier serum in his blood keeping his body-temperature to a high level, even he had his limits. New York winters were as dreadful as spending an afternoon listening to Tony spout about quantum-mechanics. He was thankful to have gotten Bucky's little guys over to Natasha's safehouse over in the Bronx before it got colder.

The thought of the Russian filled Steve with glowing warm feeling that both alarmed and excited him. Seeing her as a blonde now had done more than just take him by surprise, he felt an infectious desire to try and make himself look even more presentable despite how scruffy and muzzled he looked. He was thankful that she at least seemed to like the small beard he was growing and insisted he keep it. The former Captain America releases a sigh, dismissing the rush of heat in his cheeks as his body adapting to the warmer temperature and not because he was flushing. He didn't flush…Not anymore anyway. He had chosen not to stick around long enough to find out as he promptly left the pups in Nat's care for the night while he went shopping for essentials Bucky might need.

As Steve makes his way into the elevator, he sets the bags of eggnog on the floor then pushes for the 9th floor. Once the doors close, he removes his Dodger's cap and wipes off the residual flurries then smooths his growing hair back. A wistful sigh brushes past his lips as he looks over his appearance in the polished reflection on the wall. If it weren't for the blue ski-jacket, jeans and baseball cap, he wouldn't feel let alone look like himself. Precautions, he knew. Tensions still lingered due to the Civil War a year ago, and even if he and his friends were pardoned, he preferred to remain under the radar. Its how he lived for the past 20 months.

Normalcy was a slow factor for him and the others. He was thankful that Bucky at least had found a new beginning and made himself a family, one he was grateful to be included in. He wasn't sure he'd have anything or anyone right now if it weren't for Bucky…and Natasha. Once the elevator doors open, Steve shifts away from his troubled thoughts and makes his way down the immaculate hallway towards the room around the corner. His approach was stalled as his hearing detected something familiar and dreadful coming from Bucky's apartment. The scent of mounting rage.

The dominant ferocity of the wolf spirit Bucky possessed have him feral cunning of poise and tolerance He avoided to engage the invader of his domain, her presence stoked murderous instinct to lunge for an effective attack of brutal –relentless force; he couldn't risk exposing the rearing beast inside. His baby pups were in the crosshairs of this malefic harvester who desired to snatch them away and butcher them into furry ensembles of clothing for the runaway. Anyone who murdered preciously adorable babies deserved to burn in Hell.

Samone St. Claire resonated with unobstructed wickedness, an unsated hunger that felt nightmarish to reckon with. At the moment of standing in the doorway leading into the hall, Bucky remained unshakeable on his socked feet, his steel-aquamarine eyes slitted razor sharp under dark chestnut tresses as his pudgy, stubbled cheeks grew taut against the betrayal of aggression. His message was clear, as a seething growl vibrated up his throat—no one messed with his kids. His full lips pulled viciously into a sneer as he listened to the faint whimpers of his babies calling for him. The urge to morph back into a wolf couldn't be evaded. He dreaded to even fathom the scope of lives she already claimed for her fashion project. "Get it through your head, lady," he snarled, his deep timbre edged with a shred of resistance."My pups are never gonna be priced in that damn checkbook of yours…" His nose scrunched up, as he glared heatedly down at her purse."Get the hell out of my place, away from my pups, before M' gonna drag you out…"

The front door to the apartment was thrown open suddenly, pulling Bucky back from the edge of his composure before he could descend into rage. Steve entered with a poised stance, having left the bags outside, and immediately stands between Bucky and a mysterious woman he had never seen before. "Its all right, Bucky," he says with an assuring tone, despite the gleam of caution in his blue eyes hinting he was prepared for a confrontation if it came. Bucky himself appeared like a cornered animal that was seconds away from lashing out, his stare shifting from Steve to the woman behind him.

"The lady was just leaving," Steve says more pointedly, this time directing his gaze to the well-dressed blonde woman standing near the couch. He'd never seen her before, but if he were to guess, she was Bucky's fashionably-sadistic boss that he talked about. She reeked of wealth and arrogance, yet oddly enough she didn't appear to even remotely fazed by his presence or Bucky's increasing display of hostility. "Ma'am, can I show you out? My friend has had a long day and needs to rest." Steve says, hoping the woman wouldn't be too stubborn and give him trouble.

Scowling in mocked disgust, Samone lifted a finger at Bucky's direction, aiming a merciless promise of her wrath at his chest. Her grayish-cerulean irises gleamed with a serpentine flare of green, as her polished lips arced into an insipid sneer."Mark my words, James Barnes those pitiful runts–piglets you risk to defend will taste death…I will have them, for there are many ways to glut a heart out." She gazed beyond Bucky's coiling shoulders, towards the darkness of his bedroom, and smirked malevolently, before turning back to the doorway with fluid, viperous grace. "You just need to know where to drive the blade…"

It was an interlude of her venomous wake of harnessing a new rebirth power; collecting a hundred infant wolf pups was the first stage of her reckoning over Asgard, now she was preparing for the ritual. Standing with causal poise, Samone sipped a glass of wine, relishing the potent taste as firelight gleamed in her serpentine cerulean eyes, exposing nake malice as she felt the vigorous essence surging in the air. Midnight would the hour of her murderous conquest. Blood would pour and fur stripped into a cloak fitting for a queen. Presently, she was waiting for the defiant mortal who recklessly dared to challenge her blade of vengeance –James Barnes, the father of the little runts she had stolen after subduing him into a dormant stasis. His worthless pups would be the first to feel a butchering ax…She might even make him watch their furry bodies squirm under her viperous shadow. "Soon I will ravage the souls of this pitiful realm, and gut out my younger brother's heart," she hissed sinisterly, her raspy voice, deep with cold malevolence."I will keep the Trickster alive at my heel, my dear Loki proves to be useful…"

There was only the slightest creek of pressure on the floorboards outside of the living room as two stealthy shapes hide behind cover outside of the living room. Blue eyes stare with concealed rage at the wealthy blonde woman who had her back to them, drinking from a glass of wine. She appeared disarmed and casual as if she didn't have a care in the world. The thought was infuriating given the heinous acts the fashionist had committed recently. She exuded a confidence and strength that betrayed her wealthy appearance. It meant she was either foolishly arrogant and overconfident, or she was quite simply: more-than-meets-the-eye. It didn't matter, she was alone and had much to answer for. Two sets of blue eyes meet each other's gaze and the silent message exchanged between them ushers them into action.

"Samone," Bucky sneers, entering with his gun-drawn in a flanking position. Behind him, the imposing shape of Steve Rogers looms as a background enforcer should any surprises decide to come in.

"I must say, this intrusion is proving to be quite irksome, James," Samone haughtily laughed against the assailing fury clashing between them, her pale rose lips quickly curved into a devilish smirk, conveying her malignant intent. Her stern expression revealed vague irritant as she gazed unwaveringly into Bucky's arresting steel-blue eyes shadowed by damp brunette tresses, no doubt from the heavy snowfall outside."You think that a wrenched blade can obstruct me…" There was a pause in her spiteful words, as a continuous strain of high-pitched whimpers echoed through the floorboards, stealing Bucky's focus."Darling, you have no idea who I am…Your runts are dead."

A painfilled look appeared across Bucky's face at that, as if a knife had been pierced into his heart. His limbs unconsciously shook while he continued to hold the gun in his hands. Samone's vicious remark had nearly triggered him into a red haze where the only thing that mattered was putting a bullet in her skull. It was a testament to his self-control that he hadn't acted on that impulse. She was lying, he could feel it in his bones, despite a small part of his mind that was plagued by doubt, telling him its what he needed to believe.

"Bucky…" Steve says worriedly, having no doubt expected some form of violent reaction to what he just heard. The First Avenger wouldn't have blamed him, he might've acted the same way too if not for his years of discipline.

"You're lying," Bucky sneers at Samone, his steel blue orbs glistening with restrained emotion. "You wouldn't have gone through all this trouble for them just to butcher em into a damned coat like all the others. " He says pointedly, finding a mild reassurance by the thought. Either this woman was incredibly obsessive to go to such lengths to steal a litter of pups she could easily find elsewhere, or his children meant something more to whatever sick game she was running. "I don't care who the hell you are lady," his grip around his Beretta becomes tighter while his aim remains unshakable. "You broke into my home, attacked me, and took my kids. Either you tell me where they are or I'm gonna shoot your knees out. And that's just the start of it." He threatened, an edge of malice creeping in while the chasms of his eyes became ever darker.

Detecting the Bucky was on the verge of abandoning restraint, Samone advanced with fluid precision in her encroaching steps, with a vigor and intimation that an ageless warrior possessed. The assonance of the blood song she craved to hear again, was reachable as she shorted the distance between her and Bucky. A sinister aura gleamed menacingly in her icy blue eyes, like flash of a blade as she lowered her hands slowly to her sides, her tone markedly colder with no regard for mercy.

Her unbidden blood-thirst was insatiable–the babies she kept locked inside chicken-wire cages were vessels of Asgardian power –her beloved wolf's essence was surging in their infant bodies, waiting to be extracted. Staring a the Beretta clutched in Bucky's metallic hand, she merely shrugged with indifference. "The weapons you arm yourself with, my dear James, have no effect on me—I am the one who brings death here…" To exhibit her threat, she bent her wrists down at black granite spikes emerged from the green tendrils of energy she conquered. "Either you kneel before me, or I will make you watch your little runts bleed as I squeeze the life out of them in my hands."

The tension in the room began to reach a boiling point as Bucky glared at Samone with muted shock. Steve had watched the confrontation unfold with mountain trepidation as he began to realize this wasn't just a malicious and crazy businesswoman they were confronting. She exuded power and dominance as if it were nature to her. The shimmering specks of light in her blue-green eyes were iridescent and brilliant. It was familiar as he'd seen such traits in one other being; an Asgardian Trickster. Dread sunk into the First Avenger's gut once he and Bucky witnessed her show of magic, conjuring sharpened blades that appeared other-worldly as well as fearsome.

"Who are you?!" Steve demands with a determined look in his eyes, assuming his own fighting stance despite the fact he no longer had his shield.

Hearing the hitching tremor edged within Steve's firm baritone, Hela merely shrugged in response, conveying her indecorous amusement, as smoky darkness enshrouded over the spectral ivory of her flawless skin, morphing her alluring visage into a menacing viper infused with venomous intent. She was aware of his relentless fire of repulsive virtue, he reeked of it. "Darling, you should know that I am more than anything you've seen in your nightmares…" She curved her pale rose lips deviously, raising an onyx spike to shadow over Steve's board chest. "I sense you carry a noble spirit, one that many warriors of Asgard I've slain bled out, but you are something that I can relish in the pleasure of enslaving, once my reckoning of vengeance ravages your mortal realm."

The illumination of the faulty bulb hanging above him seemed to bleed into his vision; he couldn't summon the momentum to move; his canine form was spent and fattening with a swelling girth that made it intolerable to carry. The stink of puppy urine was becoming nauseously potent to inhale, a dismal reminder of endless torment. For the last few weeks, Bucky endured the immeasurable of horrific nightmares that a father wouldn't dare to bare in a damnable reality conceived by a venomous denizen of the realm of Niflheim (Home of the Mists), he was achingly detached from his pups–his babies that had been stolen out of his apartment.

They were starving and weakening to point they lost mobility to crawl within the steel caged boxes across from. The devil women were slowly killing them. With banking ferocity radiating a lethal aura, he wanted to slash her throat open with his incisor fangs, taste her blood as it smeared over his muzzle….The merciless spell cast she placed left him ineffectively dormant as a breeding, fat, Brooklyn sow, forced to comply with the ravenous little mouths that latched onto the bloated expanse of his belly—orphaned pups who had been snatched away after Samone murdered she-wolves in cold blood.

He couldn't keep with supply and demand for his milk reserves; his canine form wasn't used to having an oversized litter suckling down his milk reserves, but his fatherly nature submitted when he stared at the little furballs, some of them were pudgy, pink snouted newborns–sightless and barely the size of his forepaw. The whelps needed him and being a generous Brooklyn boy at heart, he would never reject their hunger.

"Bucky?" The adamant voice calling out to him seemed distant as if he were below water and all sound was obscured by the pressure bearing down on him. Once cohesion set in, Steve's familiar baritone voice reached his ears from the outside his cage he was locked in. Across the dimly lit chamber, a hulking large frame laid beaten and chained inside a magically reinforced cell. The bars were glimmered with a shining metal that couldn't be found anywhere on Earth, the energy emanating from it made the hair on Steve's skin rise as his hands were shackled to the floor. His serum-enhanced strength felt drained and non-existent.

He couldn't move, and could barely bring himself to speak after the harsh encounter with the mysterious woman who turned out to be more than a fashion-obsessed mogul. "Bucky, you hear me?" Steve tried for the third time, hoping the scratchiness of his voice could be heard across the room.

Responding to Steve's grated, sonorous tone, Bucky quelled back the rampant surge of nausea, lifting his long muzzle off the cement floor, grimacing at the sudden tension possessing his shackled. laden paws as he lay rigidly on his side, exposing the inflating roundness of his enlarged girth as milk swelled with pulsating sloshes. "Grah..."

A whimpering groan emitted out of his raw throat, while he steered his luminous glacial blue eyes towards the gated cell, furrowing his brow as he searched for Steve. Heartache was naked in his steel-aquamarine depths when his pointed ears twitched up against the distressed squeaks of his captive pups. They wanted Daddy's warmth. "S–Steve," he slurred in a graveled undertone, his voice crackling from disuse. He was feverish and exhausted from continuously nursing fifteen pups, but he still welcomed the anchoring presence of his best friend." S'it's good to hear ya…." he whispered breathlessly, using Steve's stern timbre to anchor him out of vacuous despair. He couldn't elude the damning reality of being detached from his pups. The extent of that heartache was knifing to relent against. "H–How are s'my pups, can't see em' from my damn end."

"They're all right. Look like they're asleep," Steve grimaced as he made an effort to raise his voice so Bucky could hear him. His side ached by the bruising force of impact he felt by the formidable woman that attacked and kidnapped not just him and Bucky, but Bucky's children as well. Despite the many unprecedented things he'd experienced in his life-time, the First Avenger felt the universe was determined to surprise him every step through his life with something new. Once he heard the soft whine coming from his friend's cell, he struggled to shift himself towards him, only to be reminded of his predicament as he felt a jolt of electricity come from the shackles binding him.

"Y-You all right, Buck? Anything injured or broken? He asked tiredly, grimacing at the beads of sweat trailing down his head the collection already splayed across his back. Why was it so hot down here? Where were they in fact?

For a long space of a moment, Bucky didn't want to answer, the stoking aggression he stowed back was demolished each time he listened to the high-pitched whimpers of his precious babies, they were fading in volume–dying. He bared his fangs in uneasiness, drawing up seething growls as his muzzle ruckled up. Hearing them whine for him was a torturous–heart splitting echo that chillingly grew constant in the resonance of utter despondency. His hatred for Samone was unquenchable and deathless, engendering a depth of lethal malice that he restrained for the sake of his pups. Damn her for stealin' em'...

With a strained flex of effort, Bucky tried lifting the heaviness of his bulky form up, only to feel the gravity of his secured chains pinning him down to a level of pitiful submission. He reared his head up, and howled in a high pitch volume."Damnit, Steve, I can't move…The witch dame or whatever the hell she is as got me on the ropes…" he gnarled out, scathingly, dragging his silver claws over the floor. "Grah…I s'just gotta break out of these damn chains, save em' before she…" He paused in a space of a heartbeat, refusing to say the dreaded word dissecting his heart. It wasn't only his triplets on the line for butchering, but a whole encampment of stolen pups. Every day the inevitable nightmare grappled him deeper into a chasm of desperation when cages were unlocked and babies seized and taken outside. Their yelps left a haunting wake of death to instill terror over the other captive litters. "We gotta get the little furballs out, punk, save as many of em' as we can…She can't win."

Steve tensed up as he listened to the noises of distress suddenly coming from the sleeping little pups in the smaller cage to his off to his right. It sounded as painful as a vice-like grip tightening around the most vital organ in the body. He wasn't sure if their unease stemmed from a fear of their predicament or the absence of warmth and nourishment that came from their alpha. "We will, Bucky." Steve issued out assuredly, easily slipping into his role of Captain and friend. He knew that a distressed and panic-stricken Bucky wasn't one to think cohesively. Not that he'd blame him in this situation. Struggling against his own shackles, Steve looks around his cage for anything that could be used in his escape.

Having been trained at Camp Leigh and from the greatest spy in the modern world, Steve knew a thing or two about picking his way out of locks, sadly his experience with handling magically enchanted chains was very limited. "We just need to think. Whatever that woman wants, she kept us alive for it, so we—"

"What I desire, mortal soldier is to devour the pure essence those little runts harbor," Samone replied in her polished spiteful raspy, looming in the darkness with changeable poise and menace of a cobra, venomous in her wake of coldness as she advanced closer to the gated enclosures, her grayish-emerald irises slitted into a luminous gleam a she cast a soulless glower at the squirming litters barred under musky reeking blankets–some of them only days old and staggering with threads of strength to survive another milking session. Her murderous intent was an infective poison that seeped into the pups', as pitches of whimpers increased with alarm, she merely smirked at the display of senility. "These little darlings carry the spirit of my beloved pet…An eternal reckoning will soon arise once every pup is drained…Their fur will make new royal garments to adorn my armor…"

"No!" Bucky snarled in a thunderous, ear-splitting clamor. Stokes of rage were quaking for an explosive. detonation, as he bared his jutted fangs viciously at Samone, his steel-aquamarine irises shifted coldly into the vapid white of moonlit intensity, the darkness of his wolf spirit was repossessing his measures of thrashing restraint. He pinned his ears back, flatly, expressing his fierce intentness to comply with the rapid convergence of bloodlust, he was fully engaged to deliver a killing bite to her exposed throat. All blood rushed through his latent muscles, as the distressed whimpers of his baby pups fueled his desperate momentum, as Bucky strove to bash his head against the bars, knowing his enhanced strength would dent an opening. No one caged his kids—damn her for placing a fatal threat to their lives. The resurgence of instinct amplified into a dangerous tumult. "The only stuff you're gonna be wearin' lady is blood spillin' out of your damn throat…" he growled furiously, in a cadence of impending death. "I bet you're not gonna look pretty in that."

"Who are you?!" Steve demanded with a steel-edge in his tone. Despite his stalwart poise and saint-like patience, he felt his discipline begin to crumble as he watched this powerful and heinous woman torture not just his best friend, but three innocent little babies who were also defenseless. He showed no signs of fear as the woman's icy blue eyes turned on him. There was an age to their depths that betrayed her youthful beauty. She appeared amused by him but also indifferent to whatever he had to say. He recognized that arrogance too well. "Someone as powerful as you would've turn up on SHIELD or the Avengers' radar a long time ago. And you don't strike as the patient type, kidnapping three innocents from their father." He observed.

"You fought like someone who's had decades of experience, which says a lot given it was two super-soldiers you just beat." His jaw clenching, Steve's passive eyes became knowing in their scrutiny. "You're an Asgardian aren't you?"

"Well, well, aren't you a farsighted boy," Samone berated with a raspy hiss, watching the First Avenger keep his guard up as she possessively caressed the steel bars of the cages with malefic intent, forcing the pups to tremble in unison against her imposing shadow as she encroached closer to Steve's cell with predatory grace, trying to cut through his unshakeable defiance. "You have no idea what horrors I can unleash if you don't bite your tongue boy," she warned, heatedly flashing him a lethal glint. "These little babies surge with the vitality of Asgard, a lifeblood to be wielded as instruments of death…They are descents to the magnificent wolves of legend, and will soon help me conceive a true nightmare for devouring mortals…"

"Like hell they will, lady," Steve jerked on his chains, ignoring the searing burn of the magical energies as they cooked against his wrists. His blue eyes burned with determination that was unyielding and fearless despite the helplessness of his situation. He knew it wasn't wise to provoke the wrath of what was undoubtedly an Asgardian sorceress or demigod, but any time he could buy to spare Bucky's babies was preferable. Grimacing against the stinging pain in his arms, and the sweat profusely running down his temple, he licked his lips and continued. "I don't care whatever sadistic plan you've made, I won't let them be a part of it."

"I was hoping that would change your mind, little boy," Samone curved her pale lips into a mephitic sneer, chuckling against the modicum of spirited defiance that vigorous radiated off his tensed cords of muscle, liquid heat gleamed in his unwavering azure irises as their stares clashed into a deadlock. She was starving for a moment to seize his virtuous soul, gouge him deep to his core until he complied with her insidious demands of ravaging bloodlust once the infinite birthing scourage of her merciless power infected the captive pups.

With regal poise, she hauntingly advanced closer with shifting the momentum of a slithering viper, her polished lithe fingers caressed the bars, as Steve clenched his broad jaw, evident to the fierce light in his eyes. He was intractable against thralls of submission, and she detested against mortal valor, soldiers were instruments for death, and he would make a definite weapon for her to wield in the orchestrated wake of hellish carnage. Her deadened grayish-emerald irises reflected back a vacant illusion of mercy as she remained in a quiescent stance.

"You see what I desire is to have a new wraith of execution, I was going to use your dear friend, but I prefer him to swell with more babies..." She raised her husky resonance into a beguiling pitch. "With you, I can make you indestructible, the greatest soldier in this wretched realm and all you need to do is obey me, Steven."

A pit of dread formed in Steve's gut at that. Samone's eyes gleamed with a manic light that he'd only once before seen in the eyes of Loki while under the influence of the Tesserect. Having fought would-be conqueror's before, Steve had never been unsettled as he felt now. Even the Red Skull, as evil as monstrous as he was, had never made Captain America feel as uncomfortable as he did now. Hela didn't want just his service, she wanted his soul. Steve never feared taken a beating, nor dying on the battlefield; but losing himself and everything he stood for. The answer "no" lingered on the edge of his tongue, ready to pour off in a defiant retort.

The only thing that prevented that was the sound of Bucky and his babies whimpering in their cages, too helpless to fend for themselves with little hope of escaping their captivity. Remorse gripped Steve's heart while his willpower betrayed him as he felt himself falling into consideration. Maybe if he offered himself willing, she would release them in exchange…maybe he could fight if he were free of these shackles…Maybe…

"Don't you dare let yourself get stacked against the damn ropes, punk," Bucky snarled bitingly, his graveled timbre morphed viciously into an unhinged snarl- his fanged incisors jutted when he scrunched up his muzzle up, conveying his murderous intent. His large canine head brushed against the corroded bars as his desperation was fueled by the continuous whimpers of his baby pups, evoking his predatory instincts to merge with feral resolve in the passing second as he sensed his best friend was offering his soul for the sacrifice of their freedom. Blood in his veins was pulsating in cold fusion, as he parted his muzzle and bit against the bars with brutal force of his powerful jaws.

"Grah...Damn it, don't be stupid, it's my damn fault that you're in here with me, but you gotta save yourself, Steve," A blear of tears feverishly hazed over his vision as sob dismally caught in his throat."He didn't care if he existed as a fattened slave for dormant compliance. He couldn't lose Steve in this battle-instinctive brotherly fear gripped his bones like a defense mechanism that wouldn't impede; he pinched his eyelids shut when errant tears dampened his fur. "M', not a Brooklyn kid anymore, hell, M' not even a man, but these little furballs are my mission and I will do whatever it takes to keep em' alive."

His eyes flicking towards the protesting wolf, Steve felt a warring turmoil in his body. The heroic and emotion of Steve Rogers contending with the logic and discipline of Captain America. One was eager to sacrifice and the other to fight on and defy. Samone stood in front of his cage expectantly, unfazed by Bucky's outburst nor giving any indication that she had heard him. She exuded confidence and a deadly power that made Steve feel cautious and uncertain of what she could be capable of. Despite the searing pain in his arms, he withheld any sounds of pain and discomfort knowing she would prey on weakness like a lurking predator. A predator that would use him to help her consume and threaten the lives of countless innocents—man or animal.

"I'd rather die a good soldier, than live as your slave," he grunted a soft smile as he sees a flicker of irritation in her once stoic blue orbs. Being refused by a mortal was probably not just an insult but a blow against her ego. Though it probably wasn't the wisest of decisions, Steve couldn't control his Brooklyn-pride and continued in his defiance. "Whatever you have planned for us, you should know its gonna fail. Like Loki and the Chitauri before you, we'll find a way." With a soulful look at his best-friend in life, and the pups who shared his blood and heritage, Steve found his conviction once more. "We're kids from Brooklyn. No matter how hard you hit us, we'll just keep getting' back up."

Smirking with a devilish glint, Samone narrowed her carnal stare at the broad sculpt of muscle shaping his thighs, the intensity of her gaze fixed on the rigidly curved intents of his abdomen that impressively formed a warrior's battle-honed visage of steeled vitality. A ghostly calm arrested her sleek hawkish features, as she thrust her hand up to the rusted barrier of the cell's door, summoning sorcerous tendrils of verdurous auroras resonating from her tensing veins-the convergence of power was growing increasingly rapid with each flex of her fingers. Her eyes blackened into cores of soulless malice, as she faintly chuckled at his furrowing brow. "Oh, I have no plans of lashing you to the level of mortal docility, my imagination is relentless when stout-hearted men refuse to let my wrath reign in their hearts...They become devolve into ineffective creatures that I amuse myself with, by serving them to the wolves, since the babies haven't tasted the fresh meat, I guess you'll be a vassal to their nightly thirst for milk."

Her words had a triggering affect on Steve who immediately seized up with trepidation while doing his utmost to mentally prepare for the worst. The bars to the cage holding him seemed to pulse with green energy before scorching with fire. They ignited and flared around Steve as if they were alive and seeking to ensnare him in their fiery licks. He was a man, despite the enhanced strength in his blood, he was still mortal and not immune to the gripping frailty of fear. He could only face whatever fate awaited him with the courage that saw him through ever war he'd ever fought. Samone's words didn't spell death, but rather something much different.

His eyes find Bucky's across the room, ignoring the Asgardian as she laughs evilly as her magic envelops him. "Don't look Buck," Steve called out to him. He didn't want to add another nightmare to the burdens his best friend carried with him.

"Het...No," Bucky howled back in a frantic pitch that grew heavier in his pants, the feral intensity within his luminous steel-blue orbs became owlishly widen against the glare of morphic energy that was blindingly searing his line of vision, extracting out unbidden tears. A tenfold of undeniable anguish rigged his canine form to respond, as he thrashed his head against the bars with bashing force, trying to break out of his cage. His rage was clamourous as his bulked muscles lethally poised to deliver an effective killing bite. "No...Steve, you can't do this, I'll take your damn place..." The sonorous tenor of his pained voice barely caught his despondent beckoning. "I can't lose you, my pups need you to bring em' home."

Bucky's wolfish cries were obscured by the roaring of the magic bearing down on Steve who trembled and crashed onto his side. The chains holding him disintegrated, allowing him a wider-berth for the first time since they were captured, only to find himself ensnared by a draining heat permeating his body. He gasped and groaned amidst the entangling fury of Samone's magic. It reeked of sulfur and seared him like pins and needles, turning his veins into glowing roots spread across his flesh. Closing his eyes. Steve fought with every fiber of his being to overcome this magical torture, but felt as small and helpless as he was before the Super-Soldier serum made him into Captain America.

"N-Nooo…" His voice sounded deeper, too much to be human and more like the braying of an animal, while he beat his hand against the floor.

As the detached echoes of his masculine resonance morphed into an explosive bellow that held a distinct pitch to a bovine, Hela's serpentine pupils absorbed the bluish-emerald of her irises into a deaden black, coveying her alighted relishing of morbid harvesting. The caged infant pups blenched against the sickening volumes of humanity being divested. The flares of spectral arcs of dissecting-invasive energy scythed over the broadened mass of muscle as sprouts of golden-blonde fur slitted out of his tensing, youthful flesh.

Her plight of the virulent seize of merciless power was immobilizing him in an agonized onslaught, grunting heavily, Steve consciously tucked his knees against the rigid planes of his stomach, his forehead pressed on the floor, as his grimacing full lips scraped bruisingly over cement. He choked down a stifled yelp and clenched his hands into balling fists. Apparitions of dread wreathed over his convulsing form when he alarming felt a sickening trek of heated liquid gushing rapidly between his stiffened thighs, drenching the denim of his splitting jeans."What you're feeling, Steven Rogers, is the beginning of a new rebirth of your damned mortality," she murmured in a husky undertone, listening to him bellow deeper. "It won't take long until your wretched existence belongs to me..."

"St-Steve...Urgh..." Bucky slurred out dismally, his graveled timbre becoming croaky, feverish influxes of exhaustion was beginning to grip at his bones. He pinched his furred brow, the menacing tumult of feral momentum receded, as he felt the pressure of milk expanding within his inflated girth. Flitting his bleared gaze with muted dejection, he fixed his stare of vacant steel-aquamarine at his whimpering pups. Unshed tears edged in his eyes as he parted his long muzzle, wincing against throaty breaths laced with pain. A low, raspy groan arrested the depth of his voice, he collapsed down on his throbbing belly registering the hunger cries emitting from the captive babies."Steve...Don't quit fightin'..." He drawled shakily."I-I need you to save em', Cap...My life doesn't matter anymore, but theirs does."

"Moooouckyyyy!" A deep and ominous howl bellowed from Steve's throat, carrying with it all the raw agony his body was being put through beneath Samone's onslaught. A tightness in his abdomen bore with it a strangling sensation as if his stomach was being twisted and pulled. His bones dislocated and realigned as if he were a marionette being misshapenly strung. A broken cry lingered at the back of his throat, stuck in a muted bubble that showed no sign of shattering. He wondered if he was dying; if this was all a sadistic torture that would test his threshold for pain and suffering until his body finally gave out. His unyielding spirit fought against the despair but his body could not best the magical assault that continued to twist and deform every inch of his human body that slowly but surely turned into a cow.

Reflecting in the gleams of sadistic malice in Samone's eyes, Steve's once hulking mass of muscle began to swell and expand with globs of fat. His clothing tore from his expanding body. His facial features reshaped like clay into the dull and expressionless visage of a bovine, muzzle and all. His flesh covered skin was swathed with patches of fur that thickened into a shimmering blonde coat. An utter sack jutted from the expanding folds of his belly. His hands and feet molded from digits into blackened hooves. In the span of minutes, the once handsome and astonishing visage of manly perfection had turned into an unremarkably dull creature used only for breeding and milking. Steve Rogers was no more.

Tilting her neck, as blond cascades darkened into a pitch of raven black, Samone indulged her demented conquest of stripping down a virtuous mortal warrior into a fattened, dormant bovine vassal was captive in her sorcerous thrall. For a moment as shadows flitted a haunting contrast over her polished, hawkish features, she eerily appeared ghoulish, deadened like a venomous spider waiting to ensnare her prey into a suffocating web that she weaved to her relenting thirst of power.

Assailing burgeoning flares receded in her wake of intrusion as her lithe hand caressed the bolted lock of the cell. Utterly dumbstruck by the morphic onslaught that possessed his humanity, the golden-blonde furred Avenger tipped his boxed-shape muzzle dismally to the crushing gravity of docility. His bleary azure irises gleamed with unshed wetness as pain induced against his swollen girth. "What's a matter, no longer strong enough to voice your tongue of defiance," she taunted, huskily, sneering at his alarmed reaction, as bellowing grunts throttled out of him when his pinkish utter protruded in breadth against his thickened hind legs, and Steve grimaced against the intolerable pressure of nauseous inflation. "Darling boy, if you deny me, you get punished with a conjuring fate worse than mortal death..."

"What have you done…" Steve couldn't recognize his voice. English words and syllables didn't flow off of his scratchy tongue. Nothing did but braying moos of a distressed bovine. He felt larger than life, larger than the cell he was trapped in. His glassy blue eyes trailed over the expanse of fur covering him, dread clawing each step of the way. "Why…"

"Simple, you denied my bequeathed fate of being an instrument of death, so now you will serve me as a bloated vessel of life-gifting milk," Samone hissed with a slight rasp, gesturing a lithe hand maddeningly to the ballooned expanse of his pulsating utter, almost relishing at the disgusting mounds of flab that devoured hard cords of enhanced muscle. His imprisoned bovine existence would soon harvest his mortal spirit; changing him fully into an indolent cow who accepted the behest of his gluttonous-pitiful instincts to fattened and deliver the vital essence of unbridled strength. Her malicious grayish-cerulean eyes glinted wickedly with morbid intent against his efforts of shortlived insurgence."Very soon, my young boy, you will surrender to my inane curse and sate those little whimpering runts, since you vowed to save them."

Unlocking the small cage with a flick of her pale wrist, Samone reached inside, seizing a little infant pup that flinched and shivered against the encroach of her merciless grapple, and coiled her fingers securely over the baby's pudgy neck. She wasn't apart of the Barnes litter of runts, a stolen newborn from New Jersey, after Samone pierced her arcane blade into the young she-wolf's heart, leaving a macabre trace of spilled crimson and a vacant den. The quaking baby whimpered in distressed pitches, sensing detachment, as she was hauled out with a fierce thrust and instantly blinded by the glare of light.

"This little motherless whelp if I choose to cede her life, will become a true wraith of shadow and bloodlust...An executioner." She allowed those harrowing words suspend into malevolent gravity while shifting a sidelong glance at the massive dark furred wolf resting on unconscious on his bloated side."Just like I intend to evolve your dear friend once the lethal cadence invades his resisting spirit, he's called a dire wolf for a reason, but for now, dear James will recommence to deliver more runts for my harvesting and you, defiant boy, will quench the babies relentless thirst while your world falls to my command..."

Her words faded into a muffled backdrop that made Steve feel as if he were being smothered and suffocated. His breathing became erratic and his vision darkened at the corners like fading picture. His lips moved but he couldn't hear any words nor sounds above the ringing in his ears. His composure having long since fallen, the former Captain America found himself hoping for the blissful embrace of slumber that would shield him from this waking nightmare. The sharpness of his vision became duller with each passing moment until he could only see blurred shapes moving in the darkness. A shape clad in white with a flaming orange top revealed itself to be Samone; the witch approaching his cage with a furry bundle in her hands.

She spoke but her words sounded distant as if he were below water. The cage to his cell was opened and the witch set the small furry bundle inside with him. His furry skin crawled with both anxiety and anticipation when he felt two timid little paws brushing against his aching torso. "C-Can't…I..can't…" Steve tried to speak but the words on his tongue became foreign even to his own ears; it felt as devastating as losing a limb, a vital part of himself that he depended on. His anxiety increased his blood-pressure to a dizzying point until finally, Steve felt himself fall into sweet nothingness, just as he sensed the timid little pup nuzzle his utter.

Reveling in the dormant compliance emanating from the bovine Avenger, Samone cast a darkened gaze down at the shivering infant pup instinctively edging a breadth closer to suckle on the plump teat swelled with milk. The odious stench of froth liquid pervaded the cell, as Steve drifted into a vacuous stupor, a warbled bellow drew out of his leathery muzzle while his large head remained slack, and the rebellious blaze melded in his azure irises receded into a dulled gleam."Get used to it, defiant boy," she taunted with a cackle, listening to her fattened captive snort breathy in response."You're not going to receive my mercy."

Despite the stoke jaded exhaustion, the high-pitch whimpers of his babies amplified in volume, attempting to regain consciousness, Bucky flashed open his eyes, the world bleared as glints of light struck his spaded pupils, he winced reactively, growling under breath against the pulse of his jutting incisors.

Riding out the unpleasantness of his expanding girth could only be abated by the pups nursing. He didn't want to become a damn slave to countless little snouts greedily latched onto his belly like a life-line. He couldn't discard their desperate hunger; after all the orphaned pups needed his thermic warmth and fresh milk to survive the hellish agony of being motherless captives on death row. "M'here," he rasped quietly, with hitched breathing. "S'okay little guys, I've got plenty of the good stuff to go around..."

Suddenly, Bucky jerked awake upright, staving off the sluggish infective force as his pointed ears instinctively spiked up when he became disturbed by retching grunts resonating from the blackened capacious space that flickered ominously with vaporous, spectral energy. A new, invasive scent pervaded against the rank air, it wasn't the virile smokiness of Gucci Guilty cologne that Steve casually wore or the cool vetiver and peppermint of aftershave; the odious stench pervaded a furred and milky tinged, that wasn't puppy fur. "What the hell is that..." he murmured groggily, rearing his muzzle up to catch a stronger whiff, instantly regretting it. 'Urgh...Kinda smells like a barn..."

As the suckling noises of the infant wolfling grew increasingly ravenous with every supping nuzzle against the dormant bovine's slack teat, Samone brandished a vitriolic sneer across her ashen lips, conveying the awaking wickedness imbued in her veins that she was exigently siphoning from the obscurity of her unmerciful domain of butchering innocent souls.

Shifting a raw gleam cold malice of her deadened irises to the massive-subdued direwolf; she merely shrugged with insipid amusement, as Bucky's exposed girth protruded outwards, a telltale visual that he was bloated for the next litter to drain his milk reserves. "I believe the time has arrived to serve the little hungry runts again, don't you think so, my dear James..." she flashed a sheathed hand intently towards a tiny cage locked in her morbid sight. "There will be no defiance bleeding on your wolfish tongue since I have your precious babies under the shadow of my blade..."

The unveiled threat should have reacted as a cooling deterrent against the boiling hot rage inside of him. But the alpha wolf couldn't simmer down from the increasing inferno within. His malicious blue eyes glowed like hot sapphires in the darkness of his confinement, promising nothing short of a slow and grisly death to anyone unfortunate to be on the receiving end of his anger. It had been a long time since he felt an irrepressible urge to kill someone. The remotely installed commands Hydra implanted within him triggered that chemical response: an unyielding need to obey and achieve his objective. Until now, nothing had ever triggered such a visceral response from him by natural cause.

"You hurt them, any of them…" He growled with chilling tone, "And I'll rip your throat out. I don't care if it's the last thing I ever do, I'm gonna end you, you evil witch."

"I had expected more from you, darling," Hela seethed in discontent, the depth of her grayish- emerald irises grew vapid-callous as contrasts of darkness eclipsed over her pale features, like an apocalyptic tempest over a serene horizon. Her silken raven tresses swiftly cloaked over her shoulders as she advanced with murderous intent echoing in her regal paces. She glared down through the eroded bars at the snarling canine barring his jutted fangs at her. "It seems that you need a little compliance in your veins, dear Bucky if you desire your pitiful runts not to become empty husks," she hissed, sourly as the resonance of her deriding tone lowered a pitch into a grated whisper of death, and she curling her thinned lips into a viperish smirk."You can threaten me all you want, but it won't save your babies..."

"Where are they? I want to see them now!" Bucky growled, unwilling to calm down or release his aggression in the face of this evil woman who was putting him, his children and best friend through unspeakable hell. All he could hear surrounding him were the squeaks and cries of hungry wolfings, each one about as devastating as a knife to his heart and he had no way of consoling them locked inside a damned cage. He could only fathom that his babies were among those distressed cries, each of them afraid and yearning for the warm comfort only he could provide them. "…Please," he found himself whining, voice distressed as anxiety crawled over his body the longer those cries persisted.

Relishing the edge of despair straining in his whimpering tone, Samone pivoted on her spiked jade heels, deceptively casting a glance over one of the cages that had a musty blanket draped over to block out the sconces of faulty light. A subtle flex of her unwavering hand ghosted over the blanket, as high-pitch cries of three infant pups railed in unison against the covering of darkness-blinding them from the nightmarish shadow keep of her domain. She wanted to create a rift between them, challenging the measure of a father's unbreakable-lasting devotion as crimson would glisten over her ebon blade. Desperation would evolve into compliance if she bought one of the little females to executioner's row behind the closed door on her left. "What will you do, if I grant your wish, my pet?" she murmured huskily, with an insidious taunt playing off her tongue. "A father's love can be tested in many ways, so tell me, Bucky, what is the cost you're willing to pay?"

Bucky didn't think it was more possible to feel like a cornered animal, but all it took was that one question for Samone to make him feel every bit as helpless as he actually was. The flame of fury that had been sustaining him had been effectively snuffed out, and the cinder-furred wolf felt all fight leave his massive form. He knew the answer to her question, just as he was certain she knew it too and this was all just a sadistic game to prolong his suffering. Its what she wanted—to humble him into nothing but an obedient pet capable of nothing except following the whims and orders of his master. Ruefully, it appeared he was doomed to be enslaved and used.

"What do you want?" He finally asked her after a moment of prolonged tension. He felt like a thousand needles were piercing his body, but the discomfort couldn't be compared to the piercing agony in his heart if something were to happen to his babies.

The echoes of involuntary surrender pervaded in the dank, chilled air, Samone gazed haughtily over her poised shoulder, mirroring the glacial intensity of the wolf's searing gaze, undying embers of luminous blue; a lethal convergence of bestial aggression and undeterred bloodthirst.

The young Brooklyn alpha would be easy to tame by her command as stoked up predatory intent to kill relentlessly possessed his modicum of hinged restraint. A quick flash of his slavered- jutted fangs, tellingly revealed he on the brink of unleashing greater fierceness that any wolf could harness. The inevitable clash of hunger-madness was testing his bounded soul-anchoring limits. She grinned in rapture at the snarling breaths seethingly emitting from his scrunched, whiskered muzzle, his pointed ears drew back ferally against his canine skull and his widened pupils hauntingly slit against the infuse of the phantom cast of moonlight light-the dormant aura of her beloved Fenris was beckoning to become awakened."I think you've just shown me..."