Don't Hide | Bucky Barnes |

[3]

"You didn't, trust me," I announce, smiling apologetically as I approach the case of sweets he stands behind, "I don't really know what to pick, so why don't you pick for me?"

The man smiles once more, excitement growing on his features.

"It's not often I get asked to pick" he informs as he grabs a plastic bag and stoops to view the clear case from his side. I watch, fascinated into silence, as he reaches over a few different delicacies before finally grabbing a small pastry resembling a filled donut without its hole. He places it into the bag and hands it to me from over the counter. I take the bag from him, opening it to survey it's contents. A part of me wants to be nervous eating something a stranger hands me, but I push away the thought.

Not only does this seem like a nice man, it's not like poison could kill me anyways.

"It's called papanasi, I believe you'll find it to your liking" he informs. I balance the bag in one hand and use the other to grab my money from my backpack. After I pay, I pull out the papanasi and gently take a bite. My mouth explodes with the sweet flavor of cheese and sugary, jam-covered dough. My eyes light up and I quickly glance up at the man.

"This is amazing!" I exclaim through a full mouth. He chuckles, nodding with more pride.

"Good. Now you run along and feel free to come back any time you like" he states. I nod, thanking the man before walking from the shop. I finish the pastry quickly, savoring each decadent bite. Even though I haven't found Barnes yet, this trip has proven to not be disappointing.

I begin walking down the sidewalk I was before, my stomach and heart content. My eyes sweep the area subtly, looking for signs of the Winter Soldier, but my examinations are cut off as someone bumps into me. I gasp slightly at the impact, the shoulder that the person hit me with being uncannily hard. My eyes are caught by the bag of produce the person was holding as it spills to the floor, immediate guilt coursing through me.

"I'm so sorry" I apologize immediately, stopping to help whoever it was that accidentally hit me pick up their wares.

"That's alright, my fault"

I pause, furrowing my brows at the smooth, deep, male American accent that rings out from beside me. I bring my gaze up, seeing the bent over figure of a man with long, dark hair covered with a baseball hat. I stand as he does, and I place the produce back into his bag. He finally raises his face and I have to bite my tongue to keep from letting out a laugh of victory. The bright blue eyes, the stubble along his jaw, the hair, the built frame.

James Buchanan Barnes.

He nods at me before turning and walking away. Just like that, with no warning, my mission's begun. I suck in a breath, stilling my humming nerves, and begin to follow Bucky from a reasonable distance. Whenever he stops, I stop a ways away so he can't see me tracking him. I follow every turn and block, making sure to commit the streets to memory.

He doesn't seem like a murderer right now.

Intrigue filters into me as I ponder over his movements and actions, analyzing them and memorizing what I can. From what I've seen, this isn't the same person who helped encourage the D.C. mess a year or so ago. He seems like just a normal person. I commit this observation to memory, making sure to log it in my missions file when I return home.

Speaking of home, Bucky's apartment is a mere five minutes from Ana's home.

I can't help but smile as I watch from behind the bend of a street corner as Bucky Barnes enters an apartment building that lies only minutes from where I stay.

"This is easier than I thought it would be" I hum to myself, making sure Barnes has fully entered his building before I walk inconspicuously around the corner and to the front of the apartment complex. Windows are littered throughout the floors and I carefully watch each one, waiting for some sign of new movement. After a few minutes, my eyes catch on the rustling of a curtain on one of the higher floors of the complex. I don't need to squint to see what lies behind the window, my enhanced vision taking it in easily.

The flash of hair tells me it's Bucky.

I smile, slight pride wrapping around me at the accomplishment of finding my target. I quickly turn and walk away in the direction of Ana's house, not wanting to linger any longer than I absolutely have to. As I do, I make a mental note to walk around this block tomorrow and hopefully trail him again. As I walk down the street that turns onto the residential lane, the afternoon sun begins to dip low in the sky, signaling the coming of evening. It sets me more on edge, makes me more aware of my surroundings.

As I pass by a certain dark alley, my senses light up. I continue walking, pretending like I do not know the man whose heat signature I detected is walking behind me.

"A pretty lady like you shouldn't be alone here" a gruff voice sounds. I freeze, whirling around and catching the arm I already knew he was swinging at me. His eyes widen, looking between his caught wrist and me.

"Neither should you" I shoot back.

I shove him away, and he stumbles back before turning and running down the street. As he does, I sigh. There are times when I'm beyond grateful for these powers. I never asked for them, but I wouldn't trade them for the world.

I was only sixteen when Hydra kidnapped me. They experimented with my chemical makeup for four long, excruciating years before Fury found me. Those elongated years were the most traumatic of my life, ones littered with an eternity of pain and hopelessness. Every week, they'd strap me up to a medical table and bring in a clear box.

A box with a jet black viper inside.

They'd open it and let the snake bite me, injecting me with its venom. Immediately, they'd begin to course electric shocks through my body as if I were some dead object they were trying to reanimate.

One day, the venom in my veins activated.

It bonded with my chemical makeup, enhancing me just as they'd hoped. From then on, my senses and agility have been dialed to eleven. The heat signatures of any warm-bodied thing light up within me like a sixth sense, but the true focus of Hydra was venom. The substance was a part of me, and they quickly realized that I could both tolerate and create it. It can kill a full-grown man in a matter of minutes. That is, unless I extract it. Hydra made sure to engineer me with Extraction, a way of not only removing the venom from the person's system, but healing existing ailments.

It was meant to be a cruel reminder to kill.

When I refused to let my venom take a life, they engineered the Extraction to direct any venom extracted into my own system. It wouldn't kill me, but it brings an agonizing torture that has taken me years to learn to tolerate.

The memories of this flash through my mind as I walk towards the quaint home of Ana-Maria, and I can't help the small smile on my face. Even when they tried to make me kill with the threat of my own life, Hydra couldn't do it. In a way, then, Extraction is my subtle form of rebellion, my way to show that they can break my body to its core,

But they cannot break me.