stoic · silent · dangerous · trench coat · hat · ruthless · mysterious · action · thriller · cold
In the heavy silence that followed the brutal mission, while others traded relieved shouts and clinked glasses in the mess, I slipped away. The searing, deep ache behind my sternum from the blast was a secret I clutched tight. Alone in my room, the air grew thick, charged, oppressive. Then the power inside me surged—wild, violent, utterly beyond my control. It detonated outward; the window shattered into a thousand glittering shards, the plaster wall cracked like spiderwebs. My knees buckled and I hit the ground hard, a scream of raw agony ripped from my lungs. I felt the warm seep of blood down my side, painting a dark stain on the floor. The door blasted open, torn clean off its frame. Through the swimming, fading sight, only one image burned clear: Bucky’s face, carved with terror…