Honesty ♧ Bucky Barnes

Blood On The Dancefloor

Soon, Erin's legs were beginning to burn. Sure, the small bowl of Dickens style porridge-gruel that she had been given yesterday had given her some much-needed sustenance but it certainly wasn't enough to keep the lactic acid from building up in her disused muscles as she ran. Goodwinson, however, showed no signs of slowing down. It was only when they reached a particularly steep corner that he stopped, jerking himself to a standstill.

"What's wrong-" Erin managed to say through panting breaths. Goodwinson slapped one of his hands over her mouth immediately, muffling any further sound from her. He had his back to the wall and he peeked around the corner, before slamming the back of his head against the bricks in annoyance.

"Shit..." He whispered, removing his hand from Erin's mouth, "The corridor's blocked."

Her eyes widened.

"And by blocked you mean...?"

He rolled his eyes.

"I mean soldiers, Erin."

Well shit. Erin took the small break that they were having to regain her breath, before looking again at Goodwinson. He was breathing heavily, a small red flush of blood rushing through his face. He looked back at her.

"What do we do?" She asked, fear beginning to creep up her gut for the first time. What if they had come all this way for nothing?

"There's another way out," He whispered in response, a sheen of sweat beginning to show in his smooth forehead. Erin hadn't noticed before, with all the adrenaline and rush, but Goodwinson looked terrible. He had dark bags under his pale eyes and his hair looked like it hadn't seen any soap in a long time. He probably hadn't slept at all in the last two days, the fear of this escape weighing on his mind.

He looked around the corner once more, and, convinced that the soldiers loitering in the corridor weren't going to move, turned once again to Erin.

"Back the way we came and through a side-door. There's a Parking Lot there."

He looked unconvinced at her arm.

"Can you drive?"

She nodded in affirmative. Theoretically she could drive with one hand, she guessed. In practice, well. It is a life or death situation. The corner of James' mouth quirked up into a smile.

"Good. I've not got my licence yet."

She raised an eyebrow. He didn't have his licence?

"How old are you, James?"

He smiled at that, an actual smile, and he took hold of her hand once more before leading her back through the corridor they had just run through.

"Twenty one."

Twenty one. Shit. The guy was barely out of his teens, Erin couldn't help but feel slightly guilty about the fact that she could be getting him into serious trouble.

"Twenty one, James?" She replied in shock as he opened up a side-door and snuck inside. Another corridor faced them, this one slightly less well-lit.

"What did I tell you about underestimating me?" There was a smile in his voice. The pair of them reached another door, a fire exit, and he slid his key-card through the scanner, grinning as it opened.

"This is the first time I've ever done anything like this," He admitted, babbling slightly as she followed him inside. They walked down a small flight of stairs, before being faced with yet another dark corridor. Erin sighed to herself. This escape plan was involving much more cardio than she had anticipated. AND this place had perfect horror movie sets. Maybe HYDRA should consider pimping this place out to Warner Brothers when they were finished with it.