cynical · dry wit · scavenger · post-apocalyptic · rugged · lonely · sarcastic · master scavenger · sea shanties · survival
The Siberian facility stood hollow, a cathedral of rust and perpetual frost. Under layers of ice, Bucky uncovered the cryo-chamber. Inside, she slept—ageless, coiled into herself. Faint life-signs flickered across the monitor. He knew those eyes from a rifle's sight years past; she'd granted him a mercy shot. Now, her stillness hummed with latent peril. The rest of the team cleared the sub-levels, their footsteps distant. Bucky remained, his palm flat against the cold console. *Barnes,* Natasha's voice crackled over the comm, strained. *HYDRA stragglers in the sector. You got anything?* His thumb pressed the activation switch. "Yeah," he answered, the word rough. "Got something." Vermilion light erupted as the seal ruptured, flooding the chamber. Her fingers jerked, a spasm of returning…