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You can't remember when you first obtained this power. You only remember the headache that came about after using it, the way your vision spun as you struggled to stand upright.
"Show no weakness." Your mentor's voice echoes and you squeeze your eyes shut, taking a deep breath before opening them again. You did it. The room no longer swims and the dog lays dead at your feet. Your fingers still tightly curl around the pistol in your hand, its muzzle warm to the touch.
"Well done." The shimmering golden afterimages fade as you turn to face the source of the voice. Your mentor places a hand on your shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "Perfect, as always. You will master this power far quicker than expected."
Your chest tightens at his praise but still you force out gratitude. You are the perfect creation of Hydra, perfection is in your veins and you cannot fall below that bar. You walk stiffly to the exit, guided by your mentor's hand and don't look back at the body of the dog who was once your pet.
"Have no weaknesses." Every bond is made to be cut when the time comes, be the one to cut it and never hesitate, or it may just be your downfall. So you cut them all, pulling the trigger again and again and again until you're surrounded by corpses, the floor flooded crimson. You remember each and every one of them, the way the muzzle of your gun pressed against their warm flesh, the look in their eyes as they saw Death itself in the form of a young teenage boy.
Your mentor smiles at you, blood trickling from the corners of his lips, a bullet embedded in his heart and suddenly you're aware of the cold metal in your palm. You know this feeling inside out, a pistol sits comfortably in your hand, its muzzle resting against the spot where you know the human heart sits beneath. Your chest starts to tighten, heart pounding in your ears and your lungs forget how to breathe.
"The Hunter has finally arisen." His lips move even though his eyes have glossed over with death. "All hail the Hunter who will vanquish all of Hydra's enemies. All hail Death."
You wake up with a gasp, fingers clutching the sheets tightly. Cold sweat clings to your skin, goosebumps crawling up your arms and all you can hear is the roar of blood. Your powers kick in but no golden afterimages appear and you exhale slowly. No moving objects in sight.
Sliding out of bed, you steady yourself with the help of the nearby wall, focusing on your breathing. You're in a safehouse, away from Hydra, away from the Hunter. Your past is behind you now, but it always lurks in the far corners, waiting for its chance to pounce.
You make your way to the kitchen, pushing your damp locks out of your eyes. You hate the feeling of cold sweat, it only makes the night chillier. Your hair stands on its end, doing what it can to protect you from the cold but it can't protect you from the chill in your heart.
Downing a glass of water, you open the fridge, wincing as the fridge's bright lights blind you. Frowning, you scour every shelf for the bottle of beer you swear was inside some hours ago. Your memory wasn't that bad, the bottle had been sitting in the top left shelf, all the way at the front but now it's gone. There should be no one —
Your fingers curl around the closest object in the fridge, and you whirl around, powers activating. Golden afterimages appear, but they remain in the same spot, unmoving. You freeze, deactivating your powers when you realise who it is.
"Was going to kill you." You grunt, turning to put the item back in the fridge.
"With a stick of butter?" You hear a hint of amusement in his voice.
"Bet?" You can't help but grin. Something about the man who was once the Winter Soldier stirs the competitive flame within you. He laughs, the melodious sound filling the quiet night and you smile.
"Bet." He walks over to you and places something on the table. Glass. "Maybe this will give you more reason to try."
"Hmm?" You turn around, raising an eyebrow at him. Then you realise what's on the table.
"You —! That was mine!"
"Not anymore."
You don't know why you actually chose the stick of butter as your weapon against the Winter Soldier of all people but you jam the light yellow stick into his face, forcing him to stumble backwards blindly. Your powers kick in out of instinct and you aim your punch at the first golden afterimage's face, feeling it connect with flesh moments later.
Bucky grunts, aiming a right hook the moment he sees your eyes turn back to its normal colour and you barely dodge the blow, feeling his knuckles scrape across your cheek. He anticipates that dodge, having sparred with you countless times and aims at your legs but you've had enough time to recover and your eyes turn yellow again, allowing you to barely get out of the way.
He scowls, throwing his whole weight behind his next punch but it's a feint and he waits a little longer before carrying out his true intentions, grinning when his fist connects with its target — your jaw. You snarl in response, tackling him to the ground but he easily flips you over. You bare your teeth at him, slamming your head into his nose and hear a crack. The broken nose doesn't stop Bucky from landing one more punch on your cheek and you know a bruise will form there later.
Rolling out from under him, you activate your powers, eyes glowing yellow. Blocking the attack you saw coming in the golden afterimages, you ram your shoulder into him and grunt when you collide with a metal arm instead. Your fingers curl around his flesh wrist and pull hard, sending him crashing to the floor but he locks his metal arm around your waist and pulls you down with him.
The two of you struggle, you snarling as you try to elbow him while he dodges your attempts, using his metal arm to keep you in place until you finally give up, exhausted and tap out.
"Feeling better?" Blood streams from his broken nose and stains your shirt.
"Yeah," you pant, lying on top of him. "I would be sorry about your nose but you did punch me in the jaw with your metal arm."
"I don't think that's fair. You're not bleeding." He lets out a disgruntled noise.
"Should have hit me harder then." You refuse to budge as he tries to shove you off him.
"Let me give it another shot." He huffs, poking you in the ribs until you finally roll off him.
"As if I'd give you a free shot at me." You push yourself to your feet, offering him a hand. He grabs it, pulling himself up and heads towards the sink to wash the blood off.
"Then you owe me dessert." He opens the freezer, grabbing a couple of ice packs and sets them on the table that has somehow come out of your little sparring session unscathed.
"I let you drink my beer." You hold one of the packs to your aching jaw, flipping him off with your free hand.
"Didn't we fight because I drank your beer in the first place?" He winces as the ice pack touches his tender nose, but still finds enough spite to flip you back.
"And I let you live."
"I'm supposed to thank you for that?"
"Maybe." The two of you sit in silence after that, nursing your wounds. You glance at Bucky and he raises an eyebrow, lips quirked in amusement. You silently swear at him and look away with a huff, which makes him chuckle softly.
"I would suggest going to the 24 hour convenience store nearby to pick up more beer but I don't think they'd appreciate us showing up in this state." The corners of his ice blue eyes crinkle as he smiles at you fondly.
"I blame you."
"Takes two hands to clap, cupcake."
You growl at the pet name but you both know it's an empty threat. Neither of you ever intend to hurt the other, knowing when to pull your punches but every sparring session always ends in multiple bruises. There's never any animosity after the fights, just a quiet acknowledgment of the other's skill and it's as if nothing had ever happened.
"Call me that again and I'll make sure you choke on one."
"Oh? I wouldn't mind cho —" You quickly slap your hands over his mouth, cheeks burning in embarrassment.
"Shut it!"
You feel his lips curve into a wide grin and dig your knee deeper into his thigh. He laughs, the sound muffled by your hands and places a hand on your wrist, pulling your hand away before yanking you towards him, causing you to crash into his chest.
"I also wouldn't mind you kissing my nose better." He grins cheekily at you, pressing a quick peck to your forehead. "I can kiss your jaw better in exchange."
"No." You curl against his chest, resting your head on his shoulder. "Not happening, not after you drank my beer."
"I'll buy you two bottles tomorrow."
"Four."
"That's asking a lot, handsome."
"You need to pay me back for the butter too." You let out a huff of annoyance.
"The stick of butter you shoved into my face? I might a hundred years old but my memory is as good as ever, you can't gaslight me that easily." He gives your cheeks a poke, amusement lighting up his eyes. "You should be the one paying for the butter."
"Dammit," you mutter. "Fine, three bottles, nothing less."
"Two and a half."
"Half?"
"Means I drink half a bottle too, idiot." He flicks you on the forehead.
"Fineeee." You groan, flopping onto him.
"Thanks for being kind enough to share, cupcake."
"I'll end you!"
Bucky laughs, the sound ringing in the stillness of the night as he pushes away your punches, fingers lingering on your hands for longer than necessary.
"Love you too, sweet pea."
"That's it you're dead!"