𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸
The sound of metal striking metal filled the air as Bucky drove his fists into the punching bag, each hit harder than the last. His breath was ragged, muscles tight, and yet, no matter how hard he swung, he couldn't shake the sensation gnawing at him. That sound. That cry—haunting him night after night.
It wasn't a memory. Not really. At least, not one of his. But it felt so real. A baby's cry, distant and muffled, kept echoing in his head, pulling him from sleep, and leaving him drenched in cold sweat. It had been happening for days now. Maybe longer. He couldn't remember when it had started—only that it wouldn't stop.
His fists pounded harder into the bag, but the noise—that damn cry—kept pulling at him. Bucky clenched his teeth, exhaling sharply as he stepped back, trying to clear his head. He'd dealt with nightmares before. Years of them. The horrors of the Winter Soldier, the faces of those he'd killed. But this wasn't like that. This was... different. Quieter. But somehow worse.
There were quick and jarring flashes coming to him at the strangest moments. Sometimes, when he wasn't even asleep, he'd be training, walking through a crowded street, or just sitting alone, and then—there it was. A glimpse of something. Or someone.
A boy. His face would flicker in Bucky's mind like a half-forgotten dream, just on the edge of his memory, never clear enough to grasp. At first, it was an infant—a small bundle, wide eyes staring up at him. Then the image would shift, fast and disorienting. The infant became a child, growing with each flash until he was older, maybe a teenager, his dark brown hair falling in front of piercing blue eyes that glowed an unsettling, vibrant green. Each time the flashes came, they were sharper, more intense. They didn't last long—mere seconds—but enough to make Bucky's chest tighten in confusion.
He didn't know who the boy was, but with every glimpse, he felt something stir deep inside him. A faint sense of recognition, like he should know this child, though he had no memory of ever meeting him. The boy's face lingered long after the visions faded, unsettling in its familiarity yet foreign enough to leave Bucky questioning everything. It wasn't fear that gripped him, but a gnawing sense of unease, like a puzzle he couldn't quite solve.
There was something about that face—those glowing eyes—that made Bucky's heart race, though he couldn't understand why.
Bucky shook his head, trying to dispel the lingering image of the boy's face. It had been haunting him for weeks now, creeping into his thoughts at the most random moments. The flashbacks felt like they were coming from somewhere deep, buried beneath layers of programming and trauma that HYDRA had drilled into him. He didn't want to think about it, didn't want to give those visions any more space in his mind than they already occupied, but they wouldn't let him go.
Sitting on the edge of his cot in the Hydra safe house, he rubbed his temples, hoping to ease the tension building in his head. The night outside was silent, save for the wind rustling through the trees. But inside, it was a storm—a whirlwind of fragmented memories, dreams that felt too real, and flashes of that damn boy.
Who was he?
Bucky lay back on the cot, staring up at the cracked ceiling. As much as he tried to push it away, the boy's face hovered at the edges of his consciousness, like a shadow that refused to leave. Every time those glowing green eyes pierced through his mind, it felt like he was on the brink of something—some realization that danced just out of reach. He could almost feel the boy's emotions bleeding into his own: fear, anger, confusion, and... loneliness. That last one hit Bucky harder than he wanted to admit.
It wasn't just that he saw the boy in his dreams. Sometimes, in the stillness of the night, Bucky thought he could feel him. Like a distant echo, a faint pulse, as if the boy's mind was brushing against his. It made no sense, but that didn't stop the sensation from creeping up on him when he least expected it. Sometimes, it was so strong that Bucky would jerk awake, his heart racing, convinced that something was watching him.
As he drifted into a restless sleep, the visions came again that night.
This time, the boy was older, his face clearer than ever. He couldn't have been more than Thirteen or Fourteen, His dark hair fell messily over his forehead, and his eyes—those intense, glowing green eyes—were wide with a mixture of fear and desperation. He was standing in a lab, surrounded by cold steel and shadowed figures in white coats. The air crackled with a strange energy, making Bucky's skin prickle even through the haze of the dream.
Bucky could hear voices—frantic, hurried voices, though he couldn't make out the words. And then there was the boy again, restrained, struggling against the binds that held him in place. His eyes flared brighter, and suddenly, there was a surge of power. A deep, primal force that seemed to ripple out from him, warping the space around him. The boy's face twisted with pain, his lips parting as if to scream, but no sound came.
Bucky's heart pounded in his chest. He wanted to reach out, to stop whatever was happening to the boy, but he couldn't move. He was stuck, frozen in place, helpless to do anything but watch. And then, just as the energy built to a blinding crescendo, everything went dark.
Bucky woke up with a gasp, sweat slicking his skin and his heart hammering in his chest. The air in the safehouse felt too thick, suffocating. He sat up, running a hand through his damp hair as the remnants of the dream clung to him. His mind was racing, the images of the boy, the lab, the power surging from him—it was all too vivid, too real.
For a moment, Bucky wondered if it was another one of HYDRA's twisted experiments surfacing in his memories. Maybe the boy was someone he had seen during his time as the Winter Soldier, one of their victims. But no, there was something different about this... something deeper.
He couldn't shake the feeling that the boy wasn't just a memory, but a part of something much bigger. Something that was still unfolding.
As Bucky tried to steady his breathing, he became aware of the quiet hum in the air, a subtle vibration that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. His enhanced senses picked up on it immediately, and for a brief moment, it felt like the boy was close. Not physically, but mentally—like he was reaching out across some vast distance, searching for something, or someone.
Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, his jaw clenched tight. He wasn't sure if he was losing his grip on reality, or if the lines between dream and memory were blurring more than ever. Either way, he knew that the boy—whoever he was—wasn't just a figment of his imagination. He was real.
And Bucky was going to find out why he kept seeing him.
𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸
Meanwhile, miles away in the heart of a hidden HYDRA bunker, the air crackled with raw energy. Omega stood in the middle of the chaos, his body trembling as waves of psychic power rolled off him in violent bursts. His green eyes blazed with fury, fear, and something darker—a deep, primal instinct that had been awakened in him. The walls of the bunker groaned under the pressure, and lights flickered as his abilities surged uncontrollably.
Outside, the world was no less chaotic.
The Avengers had launched a full-scale assault on the HYDRA base, its defenses already crumbling under the relentless attack. Explosions rocked the ground above as the Hulk tore through fortified walls, Iron Man's repulsor beams blasting through HYDRA soldiers and machinery. Thor's thunderous strikes lit up the dark skies, while Captain America and Black Widow carved a path through the labyrinthine corridors of the facility. The assault had thrown the HYDRA forces into disarray, their carefully laid plans unraveling in the face of the Avengers' combined might.
He didn't understand the full extent of what he was doing, but he knew one thing: he was escaping. His psychic energy lashed out uncontrollably, bending the steel doors of his confinement, shorting out the power grid, and sending shockwaves through the facility. The scientists who had held him captive for so long were thrown back, powerless against the force he had unleashed.
Omega's thoughts were scattered, and erratic. He had to get out. He had to run. The wind and cold of Sokovia were waiting for him, and he could feel the ancient, primal pull of something—or someone—calling him to freedom.
In that moment, across the vastness of the world, the Ancient One felt the surge of power. Her eyes snapped open in the sanctuary of Kamar-Taj, her senses immediately attuned to the disturbance. Somewhere, out there, a being of immense psychic potential had just awakened—and the universe itself seemed to shudder in response.
And Bucky? Lying awake in the dark, far from that chaos, he felt the boy's presence stronger than ever, a haunting pulse echoing in his mind. He didn't know it yet, but their paths were bound to cross. The boy with the green eyes was out there.
And Bucky was a part of his story. Whether he liked it or not.
𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸