#this scene was fully 500 pages ago in my reread but i’ve been thinking about it for days | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

marvelous-heroimagines · 7 years

Text

Suspect: Part 4

Pairing: Reader x Bucky (we’re getting there) Word Count: 2.5K Warnings: Angst, death (lil’ graphic), mentions of previous same sex relationship (should that even be a warning?), swearing

A/N: I was hoping to have this posted a few days ago, but I got lazy, sorry! Thanks for being patient!

Feedback is always appreciated. Let me know if you want to be added to the tags list.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

After hours of tossing and turning, you gave up. You couldn’t get your mind off what you had witnessed on the bridge, the man - if he could be called that - was heartless, cold, bloodthirsty, and above all, a killer.

Still dressed in the same clothes, you grabbed your bag and a jacket, knowing exactly where you were headed, but unsure if you’d be able to find anything. The streets were mostly empty, as to be expected at 4am, so the drive to the DCPD building was quick and quiet.

The security officer jolts awake as your steps click towards him, “Hey Shaun,” you say, giving him a kind smile,

“Detective Y/L/N,” he says with a groggy voice, “I was just... Resting my eyes,”

You force a chuckle, making him relax as you scan your key card and make your way to the elevator, not wanting to stand around and chat. You’re getting impatient, and your foot subconsciously taps as the elevator seems to crawl upwards. Finally the doors open and you make a beeline for your desk.

Once logged in, you repeat the same process that you had at home; searching for anything and everything you could find that related to yesterday’s events. This time you had more luck. Your search seemed to return one file, labelled S.H.I.E.L.D.

Eagerly clicking on it, you let out a groan when the file contains nothing but redacted pages. You slam your fist on your desk, the frustration finally getting the better of you. Something about the metal armed man seemed off, and not just that he was a killer, something in your gut told you there was more beneath the surface.

You needed someone who was better at computers that you were. You could hit a target from 500 yards, but you couldn’t hack into anything to save your life. And you had a feeling that finding out about the metal armed man was a life or death situation. You knew exactly who you had to call. Quickly grabbing your phone, you scroll through your contacts until you find the name you need. Taking a moment, you consider whether calling her was a good idea; the two of you hadn’t talked for almost 4 years. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you press it and hope that she still had the same number.

“H-Hello?” Riley’s voice sounds through the phone after a few rings,

“Hey, Riley,” you say, “I know it’s late... Or early. But I need a favour,”

“Y/N?” she queries, sounding a lot more awake after hearing your voice, “Y/N Y/L/N?”

“Yeah, hey,” you awkwardly reply, scrunching your eyes closed as you scold yourself for making the call, “I know it’s been a while, but I wouldn’t have called unless it was urgent,”

“Is everything okay?” she asks, sounding worried,

“Yeah... Well, kinda,” you admit, “I just need your skill set,”

“Well, I haven’t heard you say that since college,” she teases. You were thankful that she couldn’t see your cheeks starting to burn,

“I mean your computer skills,” you say, rolling your eyes, “I need you to find some information for me,”

“Can’t this wait, Y/N?” she groans, “It’s 5am,”

“Not really, no,” your tone was more blunt than you’d intended.

Riley let’s out a sigh, and you hear what you think is her bed sheets moving, “Fine, what do you need?”

“Thank you,” you breathe out, relieved that she’d agreed to help you, “I need you to try and find anything you can on someone... Or something, called The Winter Soldier,”

“Uh, okay? Can you give me anything else?”

“Also try The Asset, Rumlow, or metal armed assassin,” you wait silently and listen to her typing,

“Alright, I can’t find anything that hasn’t been redacted or under a pile of encryption,” you let out a frustrated sigh, burying your head in your free hand, “This seems important, so I’ll keep digging, try and see what I can find. Maybe I can work through this encryption,”

“Thank you,” you breathe out, relieved that you hadn’t hit another dead end. Yet.

“I’ll give you a call when... If I find anything, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you again, Riley,”

“You owe me one,”

Riley hangs up, and you hope to god that she finds something. Anything would help put your mind at ease right now. All you had to do was wait, for however long it took.

The elevator dings, and voices flow out over the open planned office floor, startling you from your deep, repetitive thoughts. You had completely lost track of time, and didn’t realise that people would be starting the Sunday shift already. You quickly grab your things and give awkward, half smiles to the detectives around you but not really making eye contact with any of them. Thankfully no one says a word to you, only shooting you odd looks before they return to discussing the scene on the bridge yesterday.

The whole drive home you can’t stop glancing at your phone every 5 seconds. You were so distracted that you had to slam on your brakes and narrowly missed rear ending a car in front of you. A little shaken, you force yourself to watch the road the rest of the drive home.

You were feeling fatigued, starting to feel the affects of being up all night after a physically and mentally exhausting day yesterday. Shuffling into your bedroom, you collapse on the bed, fully clothed and your eyes immediately snap shut. You were more at ease now that you knew Riley would be getting back to you with something about the killer that was going to haunt your nightmares for weeks.

A loud ringing jars you from sleep. You refuse to open your eyes, but can’t help the annoyed frown that forms. Almost forgetting what day it was or where you were, you suddenly bolt upright. You start to panic as you fail to locate your phone. Looking like a crazy person, you thrash around your bed, your arms flailing around the sheets.

Your heart is pounding when your fingers finally grasp your phone, and you don’t even bother looking at the caller before answering.

“Riley?!” you shout into it,

“Nah, it’s God,” she deadpans,

“What’d you find?” you ignore her sarcasm, not having the time nor mental state for it right now,

“Everything,” she breathes out, sounding distracted,

“What?” you ask in disbelief,

“It looked like an impossible task, this shit was so heavy guarded. But then it was like every single file that had anything to do with your search suddenly appeared out of nowhere, free and un-redacted,”

“Holy shit,” you whisper, mostly to yourself,

“You need to come see this stuff,” she tells you,

“Meet me at the DCPD,” you immediately respond,

“On my way,” she says before hanging up. The moment the line goes dead, you jump out of bed. Shedding off your almost 2 day old clothing, you throw on a clean pair of jeans and a flannel and smooth out your bed hair. Your need to find out information ASAP outweighed your want to look nice in front of Riley.

The whole drive to the precinct you couldn’t take your mind off what Riley had found. You had been so preoccupied by the newfound files that you hadn’t even thought what seeing Riley again would be like. You hadn’t seen her since college, before you became a cop, before Jake. While the two of you had split on amicable terms, you still paused to breathe as the elevator, that held her, climbed.

“Hey,” you politely greet her as the elevator doors slide open,

“Long time no see... Or talk,” she says, a playful tone in her voice,

“Yeah, sorry,” you awkwardly rub the back of your neck, “A lot’s changed,”

“You haven’t,” you swear there’s a hint of affection in her voice, but you can’t be sure. You never could with Riley, “Okay, enough of the small talk. Is there a room we can go? I need at least one computer,”

You give her a quick nod and she follows you back into the elevator. You both ride it in silence, your hands starting to tremble with the anticipation of what she had found. You lead her into an empty intel room, and she settles herself in front a few monitors.

“Okay, you will not believe this,” she breaks the silence, you watch as she pulls out a large harddrive and plugs it in, “It was the weirdest thing. There was absolutely nothing to be found that hadn’t been redacted or was heavily encrypted - as I said. But then suddenly a shit load of files just appeared on the internet. Me and my friends went crazy. It didn’t take me too long to scan through the files and compile everything that relates to your Winter Soldier suspect,”

You stay silent and intently watch her work. The screen is flashing as she pulls up more than a dozen files, you aren’t able to decipher what any of them say yet, but your heart stops when you see the glint of his metal arm.

“There are dozens of files that directly reference a Winter Soldier. From what I’ve been able to learn so far, he’s a myth. Supposedly accredited with more than 2 dozen assassinations in 50 years. So good that most of the time, the deaths were considered accidents,” she pauses to glance at you,

“What?” your brows knit together, “That can’t be right... The guy I saw wasn’t older than 30,”

“I thought it had to be more than one guy, right? Like a title that was just passed on after a decade,” she clicks on a file, “It’s not,”

You stare at the screen, taking a moment to focus on just one detail. Your eyes first focused on the photograph. A gorgeous looking man in what appeared to be a war uniform, an old war uniform. You move onto the text, having to read and reread the information.

Name: James Buchanan Barnes Infantry: 107th Rank: Sergeant Serial number: 32557 D.O.B: March 10th, 1917 Town: Brooklyn, NY

“1917?” you mumble, not believing what you’re seeing, “How is that-?”

“They froze him,” Riley interrupts, “And that’s not even the worst part,”

Flicking to another file, your mind is more ready for the flood of new information, and you’re able to comprehend it better. Another photo of the handsome soldier was prominent, except his hair was longer and his facial hair unkept. It looked as though he was inside some kind of chamber, with what looks like ice frosting the glass. There was a lot of science, medical mumbo jumbo; but you understood the gist of it. Your stomach churns as you read what a group called ‘HYDRA’ did to this poor soldier.

“Essentially they scrambled his brain,” Riley says with a somber tone, “They put his brain in a blender every time he tried to fight the programming, so much that he forgot his name, his family and friends, even what country he was from,”

“Programming?” you query, having not read that far ahead. You were stuck on the mind control,

“It gets pretty convoluted and there are a lot of big words,” Riley says, “In plain English, they put something in his brain. They say a bunch of words and he turns into a killing machine. Isn’t able to do anything that his handlers don’t tell him to. Doesn’t remember who he is,”

“God,” you whisper, “So he’s being forced to kill without even knowing who he’s serving?”

Riley nods, “It’s inhumane,”

You and Riley spend the next few hours going through the files. Learning about how many times Hydra froze and defrosted him, wiped his brain and reset it. How they had cut off his arm and replaced it with a metal one. There were files on every process he’d suffered and every mission he’d gone to. Every word you read made you want to be sick. You can’t imagine the life this man had to endure.

The next file Riley brings up is a video file. She glances at you for a moment, the still image displayed a metal chair with restraints and a contraption above. You swallow past the lump in your throat, and give her a small nod to play it.

It was worse than you could have imagined. Barnes is thrown into the chair, he’s silent but you can see the fear in his eyes and face. The restraints snap around his limbs, making him jump. You watch with horror as he starts breathing heavier and faster. He knew what was coming, and your stomach was churning more than ever. The contraption above the chair rotates down and he looks like he was living a nightmare. The machine fires up and from the moment it starts, so do his screams. They’re low, guttural screams, but they aren’t grunts. They’re screams of anguish. Screams of unimaginable pain.

You can’t take it anymore. The churning in your stomach has become too violent. You dart from your chair, while a hand clamps over your mouth.

“Y/N?” Riley asks as you slam the adjoined bathroom door shut. You just make it to the toilet in time. You hadn’t eaten anything all day, so your stomach has nothing to get out. But that doesn’t stop you from dry heaving into the bowl. Your eyes water, but not because of your attempted vomit. You can’t get the images of James Barnes out of your head. His screams are deafening.

Slumped next to the toilet bowl, you take a second to breathe, to make sure that there wasn’t anything to be thrown up. Once you’re sure, you slowly stand and find that your knees are weak. Taking slow steps towards the door, you take one last, deep breath as your hand grips the handle.

“Sorry about that,” you mumble as you emerge. You look up to see Riley staring at you with worry.

But then her head lurches forward. You watch as blood and brains are sprayed against the computer monitors in front of you. Letting out an involuntary scream, it takes you a moment to move. But then your instincts kick in. Spinning around, you slam the door behind you.

“They found me,” you whisper to yourself, “They found me. Oh god, Riley,” tears start welling in your eyes. You did this. You dragged your ex girlfriend into this mess, and now she’s dead.

You freeze as you hear footsteps approaching the door. Your hand flies to your belt. You’d left your gun in your bag. In the other room. Sitting beside Riley’s lifeless body. Your hand muffles your cries as your try to get a hold of yourself. If you were lucky, there would only be 1 or 2 people here to kill you. More if you weren’t. You were doomed if The Winter Soldier was here.

“Y/N,” a familiar voice coos through the door. Your stomach drops, “You are just too nosey for your own good,”

You push away from the door slightly, you hand moving from your mouth, to the wood of the door, to your forehead. It was Dale.

“We didn’t want you finding out about Hydra until we were ready for you,” his voice is laced with fake seduction and charm; it made your skin crawl, “But, lucky for you. I’m here to make you an offer.”

Next Part

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