01 | FIRE AT WILL

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☆ ☆ ☆

01 | FIRE AT WILL

01 | FIRE AT WILL

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"FIRE AT WILL!" I yell to the soldiers in the 107th infantry, which I've been the captain of since I was nineteen. It was considered impossible to do at that age, especially since I'm a woman, but I did it. I guess it was foreseeable since I have pretty much grown up in the army. My dad raised me after my mother didn't express any desire to keep me at all. I never bothered to learn her name; she may be my mother, but she's not my mom. My dad instead did all the mom things whenever he needed to. He was clueless about menstrual cycles, so when I got my period, he sent me to the nurses station in the army base we were in at the time. That will forever be one of my most favorite memories of my dad.

Releasing a sigh, I notice a Nazi to the left that nobody managed to down. Years of instinct kick into action as I squeeze the trigger of my gun, and the Nazi falls to the ground. I haven't kept count over how many people I've killed, but I know it's many. It sounds sickening, and maybe it is, but after awhile, you get used to it. It's sad to think you could forget how many lives you've taken, but that's just the way war is. You have to do what you have to do. War is definitely not for the faint of heart.

We make it to the door of the Nazi facility, and I push it open, allowing us free entry. "Go, go, go," I encourage as I hold the door open and wait for everyone to go through.

Bucky Barnes is the last one, and despite being in the midst of war, he smiles a million dollar smile, taking the door from me and gesturing for me to enter.

I do and try to ignore the way his hypnotizing blue eyes follow me as I go.

I remember when Bucky first arrived to the camp the 107th was based. He was our newest recruit, replacing Jimmy after he was caught by the Germans, brutally tortured, and killed. He was skeptical of me at first, not as much as many other men are, but skeptical nonetheless, but after I easily earned his respect during training, he seemed to take a liking to me.

A hand lands on my back, and I'm about to react violently when Bucky's reassuring voice cuts through the air. "It's just me. Relax, Aves."

I can't relax. Not in the middle of a mission, but I still sigh in relief at his words.

My relief is cut short when shots are fired from above us. The hallway we're in has holes in the roof. I suddenly want to scream in frustration, but I don't. That would not be very helpful.

One soldier gets shot in the chest on my right, and he falls onto the floor and starts to convulse. We have no time to stop unless we want to get shot. I ignore the bits of his blood that are now on my face as I peer through the gaping holes in the ceiling just to see that the snipers are all conveniently on the left side. It is either a flaw in their system or a setup. I'm hoping it's the former.

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