Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mechanical whirs and clicks sounded as I landed at my destination. The muscles and tendons in my shoulder blades pulled and stretched unnaturally to support the weight on my back. Wings that I had been gifted with by an organization who claimed they wanted better. The organization that controlled my every move.

As of right now my mission was to assassinate one person. One person who in any other circumstance would be no problem. This one however was. As one of the failed super soldiers hydra had ruined themselves with he was a challenge.

And there he was, James Buchanan Barnes. Sitting in the front seat of a sleek black military vehicle with another unknown face at the wheel. With James Barnes being elected congressman, my organization sought to end it immediately. They’d attempted to end the winter soldier program as it was a direct competitor to their own super soldier forces.

This was my first mission out in the open. I’d killed many a man before but in quiet dark rooms where no one could hear their screams. Today was a test of my ability to kill and get out without too much trouble.

As the vehicle approached I tensed ready to leap. With the change in posture the weight on my back whirred and clicked noisily. They would have to fix that if they wanted me to go stealth in the future.

I adjust the bird mask covering my face and count down silently awaiting the vehicles approach.

Five James Buchanan Barnes.

Four he is my target.

Three he must die.

Two if not….

One I go back in the bubble.

I leap from the bridge as my cloaking device turns off. I land squarely on the hood of the car and kick the windshield in sending glass everywhere.

“Holy shit!” Someone exclaims from inside. “Who the fuck-“ they’re cut off as I reach into the car and rip out the driver and throw him aside. The car immediately lurches at the lack of a foot on the pedal.

“Wings, she has fucking wings!?” A man I didn’t notice before exclaims from the back seat. Not just any man, the new and improved captain America, Sam Wilson.

I stab those very wings through the engine of the car and halt it completely. I use my wings to hold my balance as the cars tires screech along the pavement. Ripping my gun from its holster I fire it squarely at Barnes’ head. For a moment he poses no reaction, no attempt to save his own life. Because of course Wilson is right there with that annoyingly colored shield to defend Barnes.

The bullets ricochet elsewhere as Wilson flings his shield at me. I release the car and fly up avoiding the shield that would have broken my ribs.

Captain America was going to prove a problem. He was supposed to be out of the country on some sort of political visit. Seems the informant was wrong, and if they were wrong, that means they’ve been caught.

Groaning with frustration and strain I land ready to fire again but Barnes is ready. He’s already exited the car and is charging at me shoulder down going for a tackle. I barely hold back a laugh at the move. I dodge to the side and slash out with my blade like feathers. They catch his metal arm but barely scratch the vibranium.

I can hear the wind shift behind me and I push up just in time to avoid another blow from Wilson’s shield. Though as I hover there ready to turn something cold and metallic attaches itself to my back between my wings. I look back just in time to see what is notoriously called red wing. The annoying little drone that does fifty percent of Wilson’s fighting for him.

I go to rip it off but an electric buzz shoots through my body locking up my muscles before I can pry it off. I land hard on the pavement barely standing. There’s pain in the electricity but it’s not debilitating. I reach around my shoulders with unnatural flexibility and rip the drone off and throw it to the ground. As I raise my foot to stomp on it, it darts away. As I try to reorient myself and find my target I’m knocked to the ground with the feeling of a boot on my back. Then there’s pressure and pulling at one of my wings. I turn back to see Barnes attempting to rip one of my wings off.

For a moment panic flares in my chest. Then I remember I still have one wing free. I bring the wing out ready to slam it into Barnes to throw him off. Before the blow can land white hot pain sears through my shoulder. I can’t contain the scream of frustration and absolute pain. My other wing thrashes in an attempt to throw Barnes off but my control over it is fading as I lose focus to the pain. In the thrashing my mask has slipped off. Barnes halts his attempt to rip off my wing and stands one foot on my back staring at me in shock.

I take the pause to rip a blade from my hip and fling it backwards at Barnes. It lands squarely in his real arm and he stumbles off of me stunned. I stand quickly and free another blade from my vest and charge at Barnes aiming to slit his throat. Another shift in the air alerts me to Wilson’s shield. I barely block it with my now damaged wing. The pain shoots through my upper body at the hit and the vibranium of the shield dents the metal feathers on impact.

“Sam, wait!” Barnes shouts to his companion but Wilson is on me a heart beat after I recover from the shock and pain. He lands a solid punch to my jaw with a sickening crack. I steady myself and start throwing hits of my own. In a slew of thrown fists and kicking legs I only land a couple blows and they don’t seem to impact Wilson.

As Wilson goes for a shot that would likely snap my neck Barnes wraps his arms under Wilson’s and cages him in. “Dammit Bucky what the hell?” Wilson grunts in frustration. I stand for a moment shocked at this turn of events and at the name. Bucky. Do I know that name? It sounds familiar. But I don’t know names, not names I haven’t killed anyways.

“That’s Y/n!” Wilson stops fighting Bucky as a stunned silence passes between the two. Y/n, that name sounds familiar too. But I’m not Y/n I’m The Hawk. I don’t have another name.

Barnes lets Wilson go and stares at me in an uncomfortably knowing way. “Y/n, it’s me Bucky. Do you remember me?” A flash of Barnes flits across my memory, but he doesn’t have a metal arm and he’s wearing a military uniform. “You do, right?” His face slackens as if he’s found some relief.

I harden the features on my face. “The only thing I know about you, is the blood that should be on my blade.” I rip a blade from another hidden pocket and fling it at his throat. He blocks it with his metal arm but before he can return the blow I’ve grabbed my hawk mask, reengaged my invisibility cloak and taken off.

I have to admit this is a fight I can’t win. Not with Captain America here. We’ll have to try again at another time and with a new informant who isn’t a liability.

Chapter Text

Bucky~~~

“You're sure that was her?” Sam asked again as if the answer would change the tenth time he asked.

“Yes I’m sure. It was her. God how did this happen?” I rub my hands across my face. One warm one cold, both trembling.

“The last you saw her was New York? Before you were shipped out?” Sam asks as if he hasn’t heard this story before. Yes, that was the last I’d seen Y/n before I was shipped out to serve in the military. She had been such an innocent person and how she’d managed to be turned into a mindless soldier, as I had once been, I had no clue. I swore I saw recognition in her eyes if only for a moment.

“Yes. Fuck she hasn’t changed, except she was giant mechanical wings apparently.” I throw my hands up and lean back in the office chair I’m currently occupying. We were currently in Sam’s base.

“Alright, Joaquín, get me all the information you can about Y/n L/n. Look as far back as the nineteen forties.”

~~~~

Hours later I finally land at the base with my shoulder throbbing in pain. I’d barely made the flight back after the damage Barnes had done to my shoulder. The dented feathers didn’t help with wind resistance either. As I approach the solid metal gate with red tail feathers painted on it I hear guns being cocked ready to fire. “Hawks mate for life.” I barely stumble through the code phrase nearly blinded by pain. The metal gate which is shoved into a mountain side begins to grind open.

“Welcome back Hawk One.” The robotic voice sounds through speakers as I enter the anti-chamber. Air whooshes around me as the door behind me closes and the ones before me open. The clean white interior of the lab hits me like a flash bang and I have to stand for a moment and adjust to the difference in light.

Once my eyes adjust I take slow deliberate steps into the base. Soon I’d be thrown back into the bubble because I failed. It wasn’t my fault the information was wrong but they wouldn’t see it that way. I failed and that’s all they would care about.

I pass by many rooms that house other hawks. Most of them are not as well developed as I am. My wings were, while still early in development, entirely functional. With each muscle and tendon fully in control of every movement, I felt the mechanical weight as if it were truly a part of my body.

Now as I walked through the base, passing soldiers screaming in tanks, my whole right side flared in pain. The tendons and muscles that had been so delicately and diligently sewn into the wing were strained and sore. I’d nearly lost my wing and not just the fight alone. That would have been a worse failure than I was already dealing with.

Finally I approach the large metal door and place my hand on the scanner next to it. “Welcome Hawk One.” It’s robotic tone says after scanning my palm. Within the room one long table is situated at its center with the very men and women that held my life in their hands.

“Hawk One.” The head of this operation says in way of a greeting, and not a good one. He already knew the failure I dragged in with me. It occurs to me I don’t know any names in this room. I haven’t taken time to learn them.

“Hawk One reporting.” I flatten my palm and bring it to my heart but not in a typical salute but as if I were slicing my heart in two. The salute of our organization.

“No need. We’ve seen the news and the president has already made a statement regarding what transpired.” With dread clawing at my stomach I fear the next words. “You failed your mission. I’d like to hear why.” He was laying a trap. Whether I got caught in it or not didn’t matter, I would be punished either way.

“The information we were given was incorrect. Sam Wilson was in fact not out of the country and seemed to know that James Buchanan Barnes was being targeted.” That was all I would give. It wasn’t an excuse while still being an answer.

“That’s no excuse. You are the pinnacle of our research here, you should not have failed.” The look in his eyes tells me what I already know. “I suppose you need more work. It’s back to the bubble, and doctor, double her stretching.” Cold dread creeps through my body. The bubble I expected but double stretching. My body tensed at the reminder of the kind of pain that came with stretching.

“Yes sir. Let’s go Hawk One.” I salute the table once more before turning and resign to my punishment. There was no use fighting. If I did it would only lead to more pain. There was an implant and the base of my skull that would trigger the pain receptors in my body. Pain any normal person couldn’t imagine. All over all at once and at a level ten.

Following the doctor through the hospital-like base I could smell the electricity buzzing in the air. We were drawing close to the room that held the bubble and the electricity that made the hair on my arm stand on end only grew. Entering the room felt as charged as ever.

There stood the massive round tank designed to hold people of my build, wings and all. Without the doctor I ascended the stairs to the opening and took the oxygen mask set aside for me. I slipped it on, tightening it around my skull and took my first breath of pure oxygen. I did none of this with prompting, I already knew the process and it was likely to go faster if I just complied. I slip into the cold water of the tank and fully submerge letting my body go limp.

“Hawk One submergence seventy-three.” The doctor's voice echoes from beyond the water and glass of the tank. “Count down to reset.” Despite my best effort to relax my body goes tense in fear. I count down with the machine.

Five, I failed today.

Four, I won’t do that again.

Three, who is Y/n?

No, that's not right.

Two, I will complete my mission.

One, I am Hawk One.

The surge of electricity wracks through my body with a painful burn. My limbs twist and contort with spasms and pain. My brain goes haywire as images of future torture flit through my thoughts. This won’t happen again. It won’t. I’m not going to come back to this bubble. I will kill James Buchanan Barnes.