#haha get it graphic bc the violence is really graphic-- anyway i'll see myself out

[fucking-hydra]

On the serum thing, what if you had Steve and Bucky (or if you’re extra sadistic, add the other two as well) and forced them to pick between things. Like one of them would be forced to suffer for the other and because they’re both self-sacrificing assholes it would just end up in one agreeing to suffer and the other hating it.

*sighs dreamily* Yeah. Yeah that’s exactly the kind of good shit I’m here for. This definitely got away from me so it’s really really long, I’m sorry.

Warnings for this one because it’s particularly brutal (as if my other ones aren’t, but still): human experimentation, hallucinations, paranoia, body mutilation, unintentional self harm/self mutilation, needles, drugs, gore, emetophobia, graphic description, body horror/gore, hand and mouth gore, so much blood, using one character’s torture to whump another character, and, because this one goes pretty far, dead dove: do not eat.

Most of HYDRA’s operations have been shut down, but there’s still the stray operation that had slipped through the cracks, so far off the books that their information wasn’t even encoded in SHIELD’s data during the leak. While these operations are rare, they’re vicious and strong, with knowledge and resources that are beyond anything that previous HYDRA intel could tell the Avengers.

Which is why Steve and Bucky are in a room with vibranium walls and flooring, a vibranium reinforced door, and vibranium chains keeping them on opposite sides of the room from one another, both of them groggily waking from the drugs they were dosed with in battle. There’s two other sets of bonds on the other two walls, but no one in them.

Steve comes to first, testing his bonds and looking up at Bucky. “You okay?”

Bucky blinks, nods slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, things are a little fuzzy, but I’m good.”

Steve doesn’t have a chance to ask anything else when a HYDRA agent walks into the room with a briefcase in hand, grinning brightly.

“Ah, gentlemen, you’re awake! Good, because I have a proposition, and I think you’re going to love this.” The man sets the case on the floor, opening it to reveal a single large syringe. “This is a very high dose of injectable LSD, mixed with a few other fun ingredients, modified to last in the bloodstream longer than normal, but with no less potency.”

“How much did you take, because you clearly can’t count that there’s two of us and one syringe,” Steve says dryly, and the agent laughs.

“You’re right, there’s only one. Which means one of you gets to choose who takes it. And since you’re being so rude, I’ll let Barnes pick.”

Bucky doesn’t even hesitate. “I’ll take it.”

“Buck, no, I can take it,” Steve says, and the agent laughs.

“Mr. Barnes has already made his choice, Rogers. So let’s see what this does, hmm?” The agent approaches Bucky with the syringe. “Attack me, and all you will accomplish is more pain for yourself and Rogers. I do not have the keys to release you, so it isn’t worth fighting.”

The agent injects the drugs into Bucky’s arm, Bucky stiffening slightly at the insertion of the needle, and then the agent steps back, smiling. “It should only take a moment for the drugs to start working.”

In seconds, Bucky’s head lolls back, thumping against the wall behind him, eyes rolling into the back of his head. It only takes a few more seconds for Bucky’s entire body to seize, Bucky’s eyes snapping forward, pupils blown wide, as he screams, throws himself at the end of his chains and thrashing wildly.

“I’ll fucking kill you! Get off of me! Get the fuck off of me!” He screams, growling low in his throat and biting at the empty air in front of him.

“Bucky, Bucky it’s okay, no one’s going to hurt you!” Steve shouts across the room, but Bucky doesn’t seem to hear him, his growls turning into genuine snarling noises as he starts to foam at the mouth like rabid dog, lunging at the ends of his chains strong enough that Steve can already see the blood starting to drip from Bucky’s wrist and ankles where the cuffs sit.

“Buck! Buck you’re okay, you’re going to be okay, just breathe,” Steve says, pulling at his own chains in a desperate attempt to reach his best friend.

Almost as suddenly as Bucky had become aggressive, he goes limp, dropping into a heap of limbs on the floor as he sobs, tucking his knees to his chest and curling up in the fetal position, rocking back and forth as the force of his sobs wrack his entire body.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please, please I’ll do better, I’ll do better, not the cane, not the cane, Commander, please,” Bucky pleads, words slurred and muffled behind his knees, and Steve freezes, stares at Bucky and tries to figure out if Bucky’s hallucinating or having a flashback.

“Buck, you’re safe, it’s okay, he’s not here, you’re here with me, and you’re going to be okay,” Steve says, and he can’t help the tears that start to stream down his own face just watching his friend suffer.

“Oh, don’t worry, Rogers, this will only last another thirty minutes or so. Then I’ll leave, and your next presenter will arrive with the choice you get to make,” the agent says, and Steve glares at the man, so angry that he’s speechless.

As promised, the drugs wear off 30 minutes later, and Bucky collapses, panting and whimpering as he sees the damage he’d done to his own body from pulling at the chains.

The door opens and another agent steps in with a new briefcase, trading places with the current agent, who packs up his own briefcase and leaves.

“So, Captain Rogers, you’re the one who gets to choose this time, and this time the injection is–”

“I’ll do it,” Steve says, and the agent raises her eyebrows.

“So eager,” she says, “But okay.”

She opens the case, bringing the syringe over and injecting it into Steve’s arm.

Bucky watches as Steve squeezes his eyes shut, groaning and shifting uncomfortably on the floor, face turning red like he’s overheating, and Bucky could recognize a fever anywhere after the years he spent trying to take care of a young Steve.

Then Steve leans to the side and throws up, coughing and hacking up vomit filled with swirls of blood. The puddle spreads across the floor until Steve is left sitting in his own vomit, shivering and wrapping his arms around himself, bruises slowly spreading out from under Steve’s clothes and covering his body.

Bucky watches in horror as Steve’s hands and feet start to turn black, as Steve starts to wheeze like he can’t breathe properly, sounding even worse than he used to when he was asthmatic.

“Steve?” Bucky asks, and Steve moans, curls in on himself clutching his stomach.

“Hurts, can’t… can’t feel my hands,” Steve says, whimpering, and then he collapses on his side, his body seemingly giving up on him as he lays curled up on the floor in a puddle of vomit that grows larger as Steve heaves, throwing up stomach acid.

Bucky pulls forward on the chains before he realizes what he’s doing, then turns to the HYDRA agent, eyes shooting daggers.

“What the fuck did you give him?” he demands, and the agent smiles.

“It’s a lovely mix of ebola and various types of the plague. Fascinating, isn’t it? This is truly beautiful to watch, we’ve never had anyone last this long.”

Bucky growls, lunges at the agent. “Help him! He’s going to die like this, you can’t just let him die!” He shouts, and the agent just shrugs, too far away for Bucky to reach.

“I doubt it, but if he does, we can deal with that. In the meantime, enjoy the show.”

Bucky turns his attention back to Steve, who’s still curled up on the floor, gasping for breath and whimpering in pain, body shaking and shivering, and Bucky can’t tell if Steve’s cold, crying, or just in pain.

“It’s okay Steve, you can make it, you can, you’ll be okay,” Bucky says, more for his benefit than for Steve’s, because he doesn’t know that Steve will make it but he can’t lose him, he can’t.

It takes another 20 minutes for the injection to wear off, Steve’s skin slowly repairing itself and returning to normal, but Steve just lays there, limp and unmoving, hair covered in vomit.

“Steve?”

Bucky waits anxiously for Steve to say something, needs to know that Steve is still alive, and he finally gets his answer in the form of a groan. Bucky lets out the breath he was holding. “Thank god.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that. We have some more friends coming in to join you, just wait a moment and I’ll go get them. It was lovely studying you,” the agent says, and then she leaves, the door closing behind her with a resounding click.

“Friends?” Steve asks weakly, and Bucky shakes his head.

“I don’t know. But we’re going to get out of here, Steve, we’re going to make it, I swear to god,” Bucky says, and Steve just nods, not lifting his head from the floor.

Bucky counts four minutes and twenty-seven seconds in his head before the door opens again, and agents drag in two limp bodies, chaining them up in the two empty sets of bonds.

“Nat?” Steve says.

“Peter?” Bucky says at the same time, and they stare at each other and at their teammates, confused.

It only takes a few minutes for Natasha and Peter to wake up, and when they do, both of them immediately evaluate the situation, looking around.

“Are you guys okay? You both look kinda bad, like you actually look your ages,” Peter says, and Bucky rolls his eyes.

“First of all, respect your elders you little shit. Second, no we’re not doing so great, and third, why the fuck are you two here?”

“Oh, because you got captured intentionally,” Natasha says, and Steve coughs, finally sitting up again with his back pressed against the wall to keep him upright.

“Can we not do this? Until we figure out how to get out of here, it might be a good idea to just focus on surviving.”

The others trade glances, shrugging. “Yeah, okay,” Peter says, seconds before the door opens and a woman comes in carrying what looks like a tool box, smiling.

“Ooh, are we building something? I was in robotics club, I can help!” Peter says cheerily, and the woman laughs while Bucky and Nat glare daggers at Peter, silently willing him to shut up.

“Cute, he’s so excited to get to work. But I’m a bit of a traditionalist, and I like to think ladies go first,” the woman says, turning to Natasha. “So, the option goes to you. I’ve got a plan for these tools, and I can either work with you or the kid. What’s your choice?”

“Me,” Natasha says without hesitating, and Peter whines.

“Aww, come on, Nat, don’t steal all my fun.”

Natasha shakes her head. “You’re like 13, so shut the fuck up.”

“Actually, the quote is ‘I’m 11, so shut the fuck up,’ but that was close. Besides, I’m 16, so you’re wrong.”

The HYDRA agent laughs. “Family bickering, how adorable. We have work to do though, so let’s get to it.” She opens the toolbox, pulling out a wrench.

“The goal today is to learn how quickly your bodies heal, because all four of you have some very strange metabolisms. For this particular part of the experiment, I get to be creative. I’ll admit, I’m a little disappointed you didn’t let the kid do it, I wanted to hear him scream. Please resist, I really want to hit him.”

The agent grabs Natasha’s left leg, squaring up the wrench and swinging it into Natasha’s knee, shattering the bone. Natasha bites down on her scream, only letting out a small whimpering noise, and the agent sighs.

“See, you’re ruining my fun. This is why I like the kid better.”

The agent grabs Natasha’s right arm, smashing at her elbow twice until there’s a sickening crunch and Nat’s arm is bent the wrong way, Natasha actually screaming in the process. “You’re going to fucking die,” she gasps, and the agent laughs.

“Some day, sure, but not today.” She digs in the toolbox, pulling out a set of pliers.

“So, how long do you think it’ll take for your hands to be manicurable again?” she asks, and Natasha stares at the pliers, eyes wide.

“I don’t…”

“Hey! Why not mess up mine? My nails could use a good trim,” Bucky tries, but the agent just laughs.

“You already got to play the game once today, you don’t get to take her fun away.” The agent uses the pliers to get a hold of Natasha’s thumb nail, yanking the nail out quickly and efficiently, and Natasha lets out a sob, staring at the blood dripping from the wound.

The agent pauses. “Ooh, I just had an idea.” She grabs Natasha’s jaw, prying her mouth open and using the pliers to reach in and rip out one of Natasha’s molars, quickly pulling her hand out as Natasha screams. “Yeah, that’s pretty, let’s keep doing that. Do you think you can regrow teeth?”

Natasha shakes her head, clenching her mouth shut even as she winces at the pain in the back of her mouth. “No, please,” she says softly, and the woman sighs.

“Fine, fine. We’ll find something else.” She digs through the toolbox and pulls out a box cutter, grinning. “Hmm. I’ll make you a deal. This can be the last part, but only if you let me pull two more teeth. Deal?”

Peter watches in horror, pulls at his bonds. “Hey, no, I might be able to regrow them! Why not test on me? It’ll be fun, come on, I promise!”

The agent shakes her head. “Nope, not your turn kid. As much as I wish it was. Well, Romanova?”

Natasha hesitates, considers her options, then opens her mouth. The agent grins, picks up the pliers. “See, you’re smart, I admire that.” She pulls out one of Natasha’s top canine teeth and one of her bottom incisor teeth, gathering the teeth in a small pile on the floor. “Oh, I’m definitely making a necklace out of those later.”

She picks up the box cutter. “Now let’s see, I’m not a very good artist, but I’m sure we can make this work.” She cuts the lower half of Natasha’s shirt apart carelessly, paying no attention to the stray cuts that dig into Natasha’s stomach as she moves the fabric aside, leaving Natasha in a modified crop top.

She carves the box cutter into Natasha’s stomach, tsking when Natasha flinches away. “You’re ruining my drawing, hold still.” When she’s done, she leans back, revealing the HYDRA logo sloppily carved into Natasha’s stomach. “Beautiful. We can see how those cuts heal, and then I want one last thing for us to look at.”

She extends the blade of the box cutter as far as it will go, then plunges it into Natasha’s collar bone, laughing when Natasha cries out, tears streaming down her face.

“Cute.” The agent yanks the blade out, wiping it clean on her pants and placing everything back in the tool box. She stands, walking back to the door. “That’s it for today, but tomorrow, the kid gets to choose! Until then, sleep well, you’ll need it.”

The door shuts, and everyone looks around at each other, terrified.

“So, what else do you think they have planned for us?” Peter asks, and Steve shrugs.

“Don’t know, but it can’t be good. I hate to say it, but she’s right. We’re going to need to rest of we have any chance of making it through this. We can figure out more later.”

Bucky, Steve, and Nat, exhausted from their injuries, fall asleep quickly, but Peter stays awake, staring at the floor, aware of the puddles of blood and vomit in his peripheral vision. Enhanced metabolisms or not, their bodies can’t take this, and eventually they’re going to die. Peter needs to find them a way to escape, and fast.