-Big TW for pain and abuse-

My long-haired partner ripped me around to face him and twisted my wrist out and down in an attempt to force my knife out of me hands, but before my grip loosened I lifted my leg and and twisted while extending it into his rib cage. Traitor. I thought. As he recovered from the blow I took the opportunity to send a shockwave towards the sink, causing it to explode with water, spraying it at the two men, who's faces were still disguised by the darkness. I rushed towards them, only to be thrown sideways by a fourth body- a woman this time. I recovered with a roll to my feet and faced the group of them. 3 unidentified avengers, and my traitor partner.

I was smart enough to know that I couldn't try to fight them all at once by rushing them, so I feigned surrender. I slowly moved my knife back into its pocket at my waist, and raised my hands in the air carefully, palms forward.

"On your knees, Y/n, we don't want to hurt you." My traitor said. I rolled my eyes internally, but nodded to their faces.

"Please don't hurt me- they made me do it. I'm so sorry!" I made my voice get high and wobbly, as if I was about to cry and hunched my shoulders forward in defeat. The four of them walked towards me briskly, and surrounded me. The shorter man came around my my back, and pulled my arms down, placing two metal rings around them, trapping them together. Amateurs. My 'partner' and the tall man each placed a firm grip on my shoulders, and the shorter man kept his hands in my wrists. The woman was smart enough not to touch me, and it paid off when shockwaves rippled out of me, slamming into the chests of each of the men attacking me.

While she was caught off guard by the surprise, I kicked her square in the chest, sending her flying to her back, then whipped out my knives again. I exchanged blows with all four of them, slowly but surely exhausting them. Even the super soldiers were beginning to sweat. However, while they grew tired, so did I, and my blows were becoming weaker and sloppier. My traitor landed a strong uppercut to my gut and I bent over at the impact as it forced the air out of my lungs. I sent out wave after wave, but I was running out of steam. As I tried to recover from the blow to my stomach, someone kicked me in the back of my knees, sending me to the floor. Survival instinct kicked in as I realized I couldn't win, and I used a shock wave to propel myself into a standing position. I ran for the window by the stairs and sent a blast towards it as I ran, shattering the glass to dust, and threw myself out.

The cold wind whipped at me face as I fell, my stomach lurching into my chest. I braced for impact as the parked car below me grew closer, and I hoped it wouldn't kill me. I landed on my side, caving in the roof of the car, and groaned in pain. I laid them for a moment, just until I was able to once again fill my lungs with air, and the. I heaved myself to my feet. I pressed my earpiece and requested a jet, and walked around until I found a dark enough alley to wait in until the jet arrived.

-Bucky's POV: about 24 hours later-

I sat on the white couch, holding my face in my hands as I explained to Nat, Tony and Steve what had happened on the mission two months ago. I told them how I was kept aware, and blackmailed into doing Hydra's bidding, but that Y/n was melted and follows their orders without a sense of independence or understanding. I was grateful to sleep, but dread pulled at my heart knowing that Y/n had gone back to Hydra alone, and with a failed mission. We were trying to capture her and then hold her until she regained some sort of consciousness, but she had gotten away.

"It's not your fault Buck. She was completely under their control, of course she got away. It's not anyones fault." Steve spoke firmly, but I didn't agree.

"It is someone's fault, Steve! It's our fault. She told us she couldn't do the mission, and she told me she wouldn't be able to go in that room, yet we pushed- no, we bullied her into doing it. We refused to listen to her and it got the two of us captured, and her brainwashed. It's our fault Steve." I spoke loudly, I was getting upset. I felt nauseous at the thought of what was happening to her right now, and that nausea came to life when Sam walked in with a package.

"Guys... it's addressed to Bucky. It has no return address." I took the package from his hands and tore it open, revealing nothing but a USB stick. I handed it to Tony and he plugged it in to the USB insert on the TV, and called the rest of the group to the living room. As the team filed in, we waited for the file to load. A black and white security tape began to play on the screen, glitching every 30 seconds or so.

"Winter soldier, we told you what would happen if you didn't comply with orders. This is the price you pay for your freedom." A Russian accent spoke over the video, and then we see a girl, barely clothed with wet hair being dragged into a room an hung limply from her wrists by cuffs chained to the ceiling. Her body hung about 6 inches off the ground, and she is left there alone for a moment. Soft cries and whimpers are heard from the speaker, and each one breaks my heart.

After an agonizing moment, a tall man walks in, with the Hydra symbol embroidered into the patch on his jacket arm. He speaks lowly in Russian, and the sound quality is too old to coke through clearly, but at his words Y/n becomes visually more worked up. She swings a bit in the air from jerking her arms around and kicking her legs, but stops when it avails to no use.

The man walks out of view and returned with a white-hot poker, and holds it up, circling the poor girl hanging from the ceiling. He moves the poker slightly forward until the tip of it pressed against her bare stomach, and circles around her, trailing the hot poker with his movements. Until now, her hair has hidden her face, but as she tilts her head up and screams in pain, he'd hair falls down the sides of her face, clearly displaying her expression.

The group remains silent as the circling goes on for another few minutes, until he stops in from of her, and drive the poker deep into the scar tissue of her bullet wound from a few months ago.

The scar she received from trying to protect me and Nat.

I look over at the red-headed spy and see wet eyes and a flushed face. This pains her to watch. Y/ns screams echo off the walls of the stone room as he dips a pair of old pliers into the fresh and oozing burn on her body. I have to look away as she sobs and begs, because the look on her face makes me want to die.

He finally pulls away from her and steps out of view again, granting her a few movements of peace to try to recover. I hope this is the end of it. I hope that was the only pain she receives in exchange for me leaving. My hopes go unanswered as he walks back into view with a short whip, there the end has a nail attached. My god.

The torturing goes on for hours, and the group sits and watches and listens to every minute of it. Wanda is the only one not here. I don't know where she is, but she's not here.