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Summary
This was supposed to be a recon op. In, out, grab the intel. Easy.
Instead, John Walker finds himself trapped in a buried Hydra lab with cracked ribs, Hydra agents on his heels, and a feral science experiment staring at him like he’s dinner. She's fast, terrifying and somehow, she’s helping him.
He doesn’t know what she is. He doesn’t know what she wants.
But one thing’s clear: she’s not the only failed experiment that escaped during the chaos.
Now, John’s running out of time and options.
Trust the monster… or become the next meal -
Bookmark Notes:
Finished chapter 8
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Bookmark Notes:
Really good! At chapter 7! :D
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Bookmark Notes:
6
Bob knelt in the center of the chaos, breath shallow, body shaking. Dust clung to his skin. His ears rang. Lights flickered overhead like dying stars. He blinked, disoriented.
What the hell…? What was he doing in a nightclub?
Around him, devastation. The floor was cracked and cratered. Chunks of concrete had been ripped from the foundation. The ceiling had a hole blasted clean through it, letting in rain and night air. Rubble and shattered glass glinted across the floor. Tables overturned. Furniture burned.
And then he saw her.
A few feet away. Still. Silent. Watching.
The same face he’d seen strapped to that gurney barely breathing beneath a white sheet. Only now… she was awake.
And she was alive.
He didn’t know her. Not really. But something in his chest clenched at the sight of her, hard and instinctive. She was barefoot, soaked in blood, hospital clothes ripped and stained, clinging to her like battle-worn silk. She looked like she’d clawed her way out of hell.
Her silver eyes stood out and they were locked on him, cold and burning all at once.
Bob couldn’t breathe.
Dear god.
He looked around again, really looked at the crumpled floor, the torn walls, the devastation. The hole in the roof. The blood. His chest tightened with dread. The Void had taken over.
What the fuck did I do?
His legs trembled as he forced himself upright. Shame pressed down on his shoulders like chains. He took a hesitant step toward her, voice cracking.
“I’m… I’m so sorry.”
He didn’t know what he was apologizing for, not exactly but he felt it. Felt the weight of whatever had been done through him. The horror his alter ego must’ve unleashed.
She hissed when he got too close, a deep, guttural warning.
Bob stopped cold.
Before he could speak again, the doors slammed open.
Agents in black tactical suits poured into the ruined club, guns raised, shouts filling the room. Red lasers danced across Bob and the woman's chest.
Ava. Yelena. Alexei. Weapons drawn, bodies tense. Then Bucky appeared, arm still wrapped in bloodied bandages, face carved with disbelief.
All of them stared.
All of them wore the same expression; shock. Worry. What the hell just happened here?
And then, last to enter, was her.
Valentina.
She entered like a queen surveying her conquered kingdom. Her eyes swept the destruction. The cratered floor. The hole in the ceiling. The shattered remnants of whatever nightmare had just played out.
As her eyes absorbed every shattered corner. Her gaze fell on Bob- then on her.
Back and forth.
A smirk tugged at the edge of her mouth.
Behind her eyes… something moved. Calculating. Scheming.
There was a plan forming. And it had just found its centerpiece.
Notes:
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Bookmark Notes:
4