'𝐈 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐈 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐁𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐄, 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔.'
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Even if every memory from 1917 comes roaring back to you, being a former Hydra assassin means you can never get a break. Since Beverly is on a mission of redemption, she respo...
For the past 10 minutes, all of us have been silent. Sam flew us across many different fields, abandoned buildings, and burnt-down facilities, but they were all a bust. He thoughts that this would be our ticket to finding out who is causing all of this terror. To say he was disappointed is an understatement. Now, Bucky drove three into an unknown location, making the hairs on my body stick up. I trust him, no doubt, but old habits never die. I don't like not knowing where I am at every minute of every day.
Putting every ounce of our trust into Bucky, Sam and I don't speak after Bucky told us we needed to go to plan b. He himself seemed nervous the entire drive here. Now, he has parked the car on the sideway of a row of houses, outside a relatively small one. It is bigger than the surrounding houses but still doesn't look big enough to hold a family. It barely looks big enough to hold a large bathroom and bedroom.
Just before we all get out of the car, my eyebrows raise. I recognise this place. I don't know how I remember it, but I know I do. It's like a part of my brain is screaming at me to remember, and it is giving me a headache. It is annoying me how I don't know why I remember this, still not being able to fully trust my mind. We get out of the car, slowly looking the house up and down, judging it. The exterior feels familiar and recent like I have been here not that long ago, but I've been pretty busy these last years and haven't stepped foot near this neighbourhood.
The worst part about this off feeling is that I don't like the added fear I have about it. It's like a reflex inside me, telling me to not go inside. I had this feeling relatively recently, and I didn't listen to it. And because I didn't listen to it, it all went from bad to worst. If I'm being honest, I think that I am getting better at reading into the future. The last time I had this stomach-deep feeling, I was standing beside Bucky and Sam, watching Bruce send Steve off to return the stones. I saw it all play out, having this bad feeling, and I did nothing about it. Then, one of the most gut-wrenching things happened to us.
But, despite this horrible feeling, I am forced to ignore it. What can I do about it when I have no idea what I am feeling bad about? I have to follow Bucky and Sam up to the porch of the house, watching Bucky knock on the door. We all wait patiently, all of our nerves building up into a bomb, getting ready to blow. I pick at my fingernails, Sam constantly shifts his weight on his feet, and Bucky shoves his hands into his leather jacket pockets.
"How can I help you?" A young boy answers the door.
"We're here to see Isaiah," Bucky states.
"I'm sorry, you have the wrong house." He goes to shut the door.
Just before the door can shut in our faces, Bucky's hand slams on the wood, stopping it. The boy looks taken aback, but Bucky's expression is more prominent. He looks fed up with this whole situation already, and we only joined Sam a few hours ago. My head falls back slightly at Bucky's actions, not prepared for his little outburst.
"Please, just tell him that Bucky is here to see him. He will recognise me." Bucky pleas.
The boy is hesitant, but eventually, shuts the door, the sound of a lock chain swinging as he unlocks the door fully. We step inside the house, the prominent odour of old whiskey and strong cologne wafting up my nostrils. There is a yellow hade all over the house, the paper pressed up against the windows barely letting in any sunlight. The boy guides us through the house, and into a large living room, where a small group of people stand, laughing. Their laughter halts when they see us walk inside.
"My, god." Isaiah stands from his couch chair. "I never thought I would see you two again."
"Hello, Isaiah." Bucky smiles.
The two men hug each other, clapping each other's backs. A small part of me remembers the name of this man, but not the face. I remember why I know his name, and I regret knowing it slightly. I remember feeling fear for the first time in a long time back then because of this man, and knowing that my life lay in his hands.
"Hello, Beverly." Isaiah grins. "Do you remember me?"
"Somewhat, yes." I smile. "It's good to see you well."
"Well? I've always looked this good." He smirks. "It's good to see a smile on your face." He pulls me in for a hug.
"I'm sorry," Sam butts in. "How do you guys know each other?"
"We met Isaiah in 1951." Bucky answers. "Isaiah was dropped off in Goyang by the Government to take B and me down. We were both still under control, and the U.S. wanted us gone."
"That was the plan," Isaiah smirks.
"What happened then?" Sam asks.
"I took his arm and almost used Beverly's powers against her."
"Wow," Sam looks shocked. "You were able to do that? To them?"
"He was feared by HYDRA," I state. "Isaiah has supersoldier powers."
"Supersoldier?" Sam whispers.
"Anyway," Bucky changes the subject. "We are here to ask for help."
"Ask for help?" Isaiah looks taken aback.
"Yes, we need your help, Isaiah. We really need it."
"Are you joking?"
"No, this is serious. Please"
"I don't know who you think you are, but you have no right coming here and demanding things out of me like that." Isaiah is now angry. "Do you know the hell I have been through all these years?" He stalks towards Bucky. "All because I am who I am? Something that I can't change. And someone like you, with the things you have done? Why would you think you deserve my help?"
"I'm not that person anymore. We both aren't." Bucky defends.
"You don't get to decide that." He argues back. "You don't just get to say you are better without showing any attempt at repenting your sins."
We all look shocked as he finally shouts at us, the anger building up and eventually boiling. No one moves for a few seconds, still stunned by his actions, but when the young boy ushers us out of the room, we follow his instructions. We three don't speak, all of our emotions are different. Bucky looks hurt by the words and shouting, I am confused about the whole situation, and Sam looks mad. When we step out of the house, Sam stomps away from the house, away from Bucky and me. We both look at each other, eyebrows raised, but decide to follow behind him, eventually catching up to him.
