The Mimic (HE/HIM VERSION)

167

One. More. Mission.

Just a few seconds after being sucked into the quantum realm with the rest of the team, y/n found himself stood inside of the Hydra facility that he knew far too well. Alone.

Despite the abnormally high ceilings, the cold concrete walls suffocated every single room. Every door was made of a thick metal, and they all required passwords and fingerprints - almost as if every room was one giant bank vault. However, the thick walls and doors didn't stop the horrific sounds of torture bleed through the building. They prided themselves on cleanliness and etiquette, but the walls and floors were never a solid colour. Mismatches of what they hoped to be the same paint were splattered across the walls and floors in a desperate attempt to cover up all of their 'messes'. All of the remnants of explosions. All of the desperate scratches at the wall, enough to rip a person's fingernails out. All of the blood stains. The many, many blood stains.

The facility had an upper floor, but that floor was never used. It was all for show. A fake factory to hide the absolute hell happening underground if any inspectors decided to turn up. The man in the suit liked to tell the inspectors that y/n was his son. It didn't matter what the weather was, he'd dress him up in the same yellow vest, white polo shirt, grey shorts, white socks, black shoes, and a grey 'newsboy' cap. Every single time. A bright smile was forced upon his face to hide the tears in his eyes, layers of makeup covered every single bruise, and something sticky was put in between his teeth to stop him from opening his mouth and speaking. It was all an act. An act that as a child, y/n was completely oblivious to. He thought that it was a game, that he had to be silent in the factory because people were busy working, that covering up bruises was a normal thing.

Y/n was stood inside of one of the many empty cells. The sickly yellow hue of the hallway lights crept into the dark room, acting as his only source of light. The heavy door had been left ajar only a few feet away from her, yet it seemed as if it were miles away.

Y/n's mind had been sent into a spin. His brain was trying to comprehend the fact that he was back in the Hydra facility, but it didn't seem possible. He felt like he was in one of his nightmares again. It was a trippy, confusing, terrifying feeling. His own brain was fighting with the decision of if he was in a nightmare or not. Y/n knew that he wasn't, but his body hadn't seemed to catch up on that yet. It was reacting with very fight-or-flight response possible. Shortness of breath, increased heart rate, racing thoughts, and his whole body feeling as if it had just been charged with enough energy to power a city.

Being back in the facility wasn't right in his mind. He had strived so hard to get away from it all, and now he was right back where he started - except this time it was voluntary. He chose to take the mission. To go back to the place of his nightmares. He didn't have to. Someone else could've gone. Hell, someone could've joined him on the mission. But no, he was stupid and had been thinking with what he liked to call his 'Captain America' brain. He didn't want to put anyone else through what he went through. He didn't want them to see him as a child, or be exposed to the man in the suit. It wasn't fair. (It wasn't fair on y/n either, but at least he knew the layout of the facility like the back of his hand).

One foot in front of the other. That was all that he had to focus on. Keeping his head down was the safest bet. Not because he'd be recognised - they wouldn't know what he'd look like as an adult - but because y/n didn't want to see anything that could possibly trigger him. There were certain faces and rooms that he remembered. But of course the 'star of the show' had always been the man in the suit. He wanted to avoid him at all costs. Hell, he didn't even want to hear his voice from down the hall. It was too much. Seeing him in the flesh again after so long was going to be scarier than anything y/n had ever experienced.

A loud crash was suddenly heard down the hallway, causing y/n to almost jump out of his skin. One of the many 'patients' that they had given powers to for y/n to mimic was rebelling. He had broken out of his cell, and by the sound of the yelling, it didn't seem pleasant.

Y/n had his back pressed up against the cold concrete wall beside the cell door, trying his hardest to regulate his breathing as he listened to all of the commotion. First came the thundering of hundreds of heavy footsteps, racing past the cell that y/n was in and toward the screaming man. It gave y/n enough time to catch a glimpse of one of the guards, allowing him to shapeshift into him with ease by mimicking Loki's powers.

The uniform was thick and heavy. Bulletproof vest, riot helmet, an array of weapons, everything that one could need to fight off an aggressive person. Yet nobody ever seemed prepared to be beaten up by a young child. That was why y/n was 'perfect', according to the man in the suit.

However, before y/n could even take a step in his new body, the sound of several guns preparing to shoot echoed down the hallway. In a matter of seconds, the gunshots started. One, two, three, six, eleven, y/n couldn't keep up. It was a mass spray of bullets at a single poor man. The yelling had definitely stopped, but so had his life. Now his blood was simply splattered across the nearby floors and walls, just like everyone else.

As much as y/n wanted to flinch and take cover, he knew that he had to keep moving. It was the perfect distraction, and the man in the suit was far too sophisticated to be wanting to get his hands dirty in a mess like that. So, she stepped out of the cell, a confident look on his face as he copied the way the other guards were walking. He had no idea where the Tesseract was, but he had a pretty general idea. They were probably trying to figure out a use for it in the labs. He could take it from the scientists easily. All he had to do was mention that it was the man in the suit's orders, and he'd be perfectly fine.

Easy mission. He just had to keep breathing. Keep breathing and-

"Come on, bubba!"

Oh.