章 91: Bucky?! -89
Steve declared with a resolve that only seemed to strengthen in the face of adversity. Peggy nodded, her expression a mix of admiration and determination. "Then let's not waste any more time. We'll need to be quick and stealthy. Hitler won't be unguarded, but if we're smart, we can use that to our advantage."
They moved with purpose, Steve's strength returning more with every step, fueled by the urgency of their mission and the adrenaline coursing through his veins. They navigated the facility's maze-like corridors, avoiding patrols and taking down guards with swift, silent precision. Peggy's intelligence work had clearly paid off, her familiarity with the layout guiding them towards their target.
As they neared the location where they suspected Hitler might be, they could hear the faint sound of voices. Steve pressed a finger to his lips, signaling for silence, and they edged closer, using the shadows to their advantage.
Peeking around a corner, Steve spotted Hitler, surrounded by a handful of high-ranking officers. They were in heated discussion, maps and documents spread out before them. This was their chance.
Steve looked at Peggy, nodding once. They had one shot at this, and timing would be everything. Peggy returned the nod, readying herself. With a deep breath, they sprang into action. Steve took the lead, barreling into the room with the element of surprise on his side. The officers reached for their weapons, but Peggy was already on them, her own gun drawn and steady.
"Nobody move!" she commanded, her voice leaving no room for disobedience. The room fell into a tense silence, all eyes on the unexpected intruders.
Steve moved directly towards Hitler, who had risen from his seat, shock and fury etched across his face. "You!" he spat, recognizing Steve immediately.
Steve grabbed Hitler by the collar, pulling him close. "The game's over, Hitler. You're coming with us."
Panic and realization dawned on the faces of the officers as they recognized the direness of their situation. One tried to reach for a hidden pistol, but Steve was quicker, disarming him with a swift move.
"Where is my blood? Where are you keeping the samples?" Steve demanded, his grip on Hitler tightening.
Hitler, however, suddenly started smiling widely, the fear and nervousness completely vanishing from him. "You want the blood? But what about Bucky?"
"Bucky? What do you mean!? Tell me!" Steve lost his cool as he heard the name of the friend he had lost.
Hitler just laughed. "You must choose Mr Rogers, me or your friend?"
Steve, however, didn't let the worst of the German get to him. "I pick the third option, both of you."
Hitler simply continued to laugh. The pitch of his voice growing higher and higher until it just sounded like a peeping sound.
Steve, now conserved and confused looked to Peggy for help but gasped in shock when he saw her, now dressed in a German nurse uniform.
"What do you choose, Steve? My dance, or Bucky?" She asked, her voice having lost the British accent and instead gained a German one.
Steve's mind raced, trying to process the surreal shift in his reality. The shock of hearing Bucky's name, the bizarre transformation of Peggy, and Hitler's unnerving laughter combined into a maelstrom of confusion and fear. It was like the world around him had twisted into a nightmare.
"None of this is real," Steve muttered to himself, the realization dawning on him that he was caught in some kind of psychological warfare or manipulation. He remembered the strength of his will, the clarity of his mission, and the real Peggy's unwavering resolve. "You can't confuse me with your tricks," Steve declared, his voice gaining strength.
He focused on Hitler, seeing through the illusion now. "You can try to mess with my head, but it won't work. I know what I'm fighting for." Steve's determination seemed to break through the bizarre facade, and then, he woke up.
Gasping he tried to sit up, only to feel the chains holding him in place. "It was a dream, just a dream…"
Steve took a moment to collect himself, the remnants of the dream still clinging to his consciousness. The stark white of the hospital room around him served as a cold reminder of his current predicament—truly a prisoner, with chains binding him and a harsh reality waiting beyond these walls.
He shook his head, dispelling the last of the dream's influence. His heart still raced from the adrenaline, from the imagined rescue by Peggy and the confrontation with Hitler. It was a bitter pill to swallow, realizing it was all a figment of his imagination, spurred by the direness of his situation and perhaps a subconscious manifestation of his deepest desires and fears.
Steve looked down at the chains again, a renewed sense of purpose hardening within him. The dream, although a cruel tease, had reignited the fire in his belly. He was Captain America, and no chain, no cell, would keep him from that promised dance.
"Wait for me Peggy." He whispered as he laid down fully again, listening for any clues as to how long he had been asleep.
While taking stock of his surroundings once again, he noticed that the separated had been moved, allowing him to see the patient in the other bed. It was also the source of the peeping sound he was hearing.
From the looks of it, the other patient was in a far rougher state than Steve himself. All kinds of machines were hooked up to them. Probably all to keep them alive. Steve even noticed that they appeared to lack at least one arm and a leg.
Despite his own situation, Steve felt a surge of compassion and a renewed sense of responsibility. Whoever this person was, they were a fellow victim of the war, possibly another soldier who had faced the unimaginable horrors of the battlefield.
The realization that he was not alone in his suffering, that others were enduring their own battles, solidified his resolve. He wasn't just fighting for his own freedom or to return to Peggy; he was fighting for everyone who had been unjustly caught in the crossfire of tyranny and oppression.
Curiosity and a deep-seated need to connect with his fellow inmate compelled Steve to attempt communication. "Hey," Steve whispered, hoping to get a response, to learn the story of the person sharing his room. "Can you hear me?"
There was no immediate response, only the steady beep of the machines. Steve sighed, understanding that the other patient might not be in any condition to speak or even aware of his presence.
Silently, Steve continued to test the chains that held him down, doing everything he could to try to free himself.
With time, he saw some minor success. He managed to move himself a little; it was a far cry from freedom, but it was a start.
Testing his new range of movements and a new range of sight, he found that he could now just barely see the face of the person lying next to him.
Almost immediately, despite all the tubes and the longer hair, Steve recognized him. "Bucky!?"
For a moment, Steve was paralyzed, his heart caught between the joy of finding his friend alive and the horror of seeing him in such a state. Bucky's condition spoke volumes of the suffering he must have endured, the battles he fought not just against the enemy but for his very survival.
Steve strained against his chains, an urgency flooding through him stronger than any he had felt before. He had to get to Bucky, had to speak to him, to find out if he could hear him, if he even knew he was there. "Bucky, it's me, it's Steve. Can you hear me?" he tried again, louder this time, desperate for any sign of recognition, any hint that Bucky was still there inside the broken body before him.
But the room remained silent except for the beep of the machines, a stark reminder of the reality they were both trapped in. Steve's gaze shifted from Bucky's face to the machines that surrounded him, to the tubes and wires that seemed to tether him to life. The sight steeled his resolve further. He had to escape, not just for himself but for Bucky too. They had fought side by side before; now, he had to fight for both of them.
Steve struggled with renewed vigor after seeing Bucky. His need and desire to get free were far greater now that this wasn't just about himself.
Yet, try as he might, he wasn't getting free easily. His shouting for Bucky also didn't get him any response, neither for the man himself nor for any of his captures.
Soon enough, Steve calmed down again. Clearly, mindlessly struggling didn't do him any good. Looking closer at the state Bucky was in, Steve quickly realized that getting him out wouldn't be easy.
He wasn't even sure if he could survive without the medical equipment hooked up to him right now. At the very least, missing both an arm and a leg, he wouldn't be able to walk out on his own, meaning that in the best-case scenario, Steve would need to carry him.
Clearly, it wouldn't be easy getting out of here. If he was lucky, he would be rescued, though he doubted it would be as easy as it had been in his dream. With Hitler here, this place was bound to be heavily defended.
He also didn't know how the war was going currently. If the eastern front had indeed been dealt with, then the western one would also be in danger. It was entirely possible that they would be pushed entirely out of the continent.
Clearly, getting out of here had to be carefully planned. Having to bring along the heavily wounded Bucky would make this a whole lot more difficult. Looking over at his friend, Steve felt that any extra trouble would be worth it.
The first thing he would need was to gather more information. He needed to figure out where this place was, as well as the current situation with the allies.
This plan, however, did have the danger of needing some time. Bound as he was, he couldn't gather much information. He would need to slowly pick up hints and other bits from the staff.
Giving them time, however, was dangerous since they might be able to reverse-engineer the serum and start building their own army. The chance wasn't likely, but who knows what kind of stuff they had been able to pick up from the ruins of Hydra.
Shifting back down in the same position he had originally been in. Steve slowly started to grind away at the chains and the bed, making sure he can break free when the time is right. All while waiting, waiting for the right opportunity.
As he lay there waiting, Steve couldn't help but think about Peggy. She must have been devastated when she learned he had crashed the plane; she probably thought he had died. God knows Steve hadn't expected to survive himself.
Then the next thing she would hear was that he hadn't died but had been captured by the Nazi's power. That could very well be a fate worse then death. A fate that might still be in store for him. Not until they had their serum, though.
He was sure the only reason he was alive was that, their hope for being able to make it using his blood. He was sure Peggy and Stark knew that as well. Probably be able to guess that he was alive.
The Allies would never allow Hitler to get his hand on the serum. Which meant that they were probably thinking about how to rescue him.
Yes, the best-case scenario would be that he could somehow time his escape with their attempt, meeting them halfway and having them around to help with Bucky.
Steve couldn't help but turn his head towards his friend. He had thought him gone, grieved for him, yet he seemed alive, if only barely. The loss of his limbs… "Perhaps Howard can do something…" He whispered.
Steve knew how devastated Bucky would be if he woke up and learned what had become of him.
At first, Steve didn't like Howard much. But over time, he had learned to respect the man and saw him as a friend. If anyone could somehow help Bucky, it would be him.
A/N
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