As we emerge from the helicopter, a cold front hits, freezing winds biting at our skin. We found one coat on board and wrap Mira in it, using some straps to secure her on Bucky's back. Guns drawn, we run to the bunker entrance, the door still ajar from the last time anyone was here. Unsure what we'll find, we step inside cautiously.
We make our way down the first set of stairs. Snow has blown inside, ice encasing the steps. At the bottom, I flip the large switch to start the generator. A few lights flicker on, barely illuminating the cement hallways.
We move carefully. Bucky stays right behind me, figured that was better since he has our kid and I'm for all intense and purposes indestructible. I can tell he isn't a fan and wants to be guarding me, a little sweet, but not the time for it.
We're both more alert than we need to be. Every step echoes, bouncing off screaming ghosts of the past haunting this place. Memories flash, vivid and terrible. Despite thinking I've grown numb, beads of sweat dot my forehead, my hands tremble, and shivers crawl along my spine.
The place looks different, damaged from their previous battle. Walls bear odd burns I assume came from the Iron Man suit. We pass the cryo chamber room. Decomposing bodies remain in the ruined pods. The support beams in there are unsteady; we glance inside but decide it's not safe to enter and that there probably isn't anything in there anyways.
Eventually, we relax our grip slightly on our weapons, though fingers remain tight on triggers. I stop in front of a metal door I know all too well. Others may have been taken here after I escaped, but the years I stained this room with my blood can never be erased. This will always be my room. I imagine this is what it will look like when I get to hell.
"You okay?" Bucky whispers.
I nod over my shoulder, catching a glimpse of Mira resting her chin on his shoulder. They look like a mother koala carrying her baby.
I take a deep breath and swing the door open. The metal creaks loudly, slicing through the silence. Inside is an abandoned lab. The table I was once strapped to and tortured on now serves as a counter, covered in dusty tubes and beakers. Rats scurry into the corners, slipping through cracks to hide.
Bucky steps in behind me. Together, we sweep the room. I try to keep my thoughts at bay, but my ears ring with echoes of my own hoarse screams. My boots seem to stick to phantom stains of blood on the ground. My limbs ache to the bone.
We flip through every drawer and cabinet, finding only common chemicals and mundane lab tools. Nothing useful. Grateful to be done with the room, I leave in a hurry, heading back into the hallway to continue our search.
This place is truly abandoned now. Only dead agents, ghosts, and vermin remain. Although, I suppose the Hydra operatives from before also count as vermin.
We move on, finding a few rooms resembling military bunks. They're stripped clean except for a few Hydra uniforms. Nearby is the medical bay I once dragged Bucky to. This time he flinches at the sight. Despite what he says about his memories feeling like phantoms, I know it still hurts. I nudge him and gesture to keep moving.
Past the bedrooms is the thick iron door. Behind it lies the padded room of torture we each were locked in at one point or another. We don't even glance at it, pressing on. Ignoring our phantom screams that seem to call out for help behind that door.
Finally, we come to a door neither of us recognizes. It's more standard than the others, wooden, basic, less like a prison. Still locked. Without hesitation, I kick it down. It lands with an echoing thud.
If we weren't certain the place was empty before, we are now.