Chapter Text
The gas cleared as abruptly as it had arrived, leaving behind a stale, chemical stench and a profound silence. Groans rippled through the room as the remaining allies slowly clawed their way back to consciousness.
Luke was the first to stir, his enhanced physiology fighting off the sedatives with brute force. He pushed himself up, his head throbbing, his Alpha senses screaming at the unnatural quiet.
Jessica was next, her eyes snapping open, a snarl already forming on her lips as she struggled to clear the fog from her brain. “What the hell.....?” Wincing, she pressed a hand to her side, abruptly reminded over her earlier collision with the support beam. “Ow.”
Bucky was on his knees, head bowed, the metallic tang of the gas still assaulting his nose. His bond with John, usually a warm, constant hum in the back of his mind, was a frantic, desperate static that was fading in and out like a badly tuned radio. He pushed himself up, his eyes wide with dawning horror. “John?” His Alpha command, usually so strong, came out as a ragged breath. No answer. The clocktower was now eerily empty save for them and the unconscious agents.
Ava, her expression grim, was surveying the scene while Yelena was already moving, checking the fallen, her movements sharp and efficient despite the lingering haze. Alexei slowly rose to his feet, rubbing his head and grumbling, “What kind of trick was that? Like old Soviet gas.”
“Poindexter and Walker are gone.” Ava suddenly spoke up, turning to face the rest of them. “They're gone.”
The realization hit Bucky hard, and his hand flying to his chest, where the bond-mark throbbed with an aching emptiness. John, his mate was gone. The sudden, violent disruption of that psychic tether left him gasping, a primal scream threatening to tear from his throat. *JOHN!* As before, there was still no response.
“Fisk,” Jessica growled, eyeing the newly made exit where the armored vehicle had burst through. “He took them.”
Yelena slowly approached Bucky, a pristine white envelope she found pinned by a piece of rebar clutched in her hand which she then offered to him.
Bucky snatched it, his fingers trembling. The paper was thick, expensive, and smelling faintly of utter contempt leaving no doubt who it was from. He tore it open, his eyes scanning the elegant script.
The message was brief, brutal, and utterly devastating:
*To the Soldier, who so carelessly guarded his prize,*
*Your mate was always too much Alpha for you to contain, wasn't he? A magnificent Omega, wasted on your misguided sense of morality. He deserves a master who understands his true potential, not one who seeks to cage his fire. Consider him..... reclaimed. Perhaps you can console yourself with the knowledge that he will finally be put to proper use.*
*And tell the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, if you ever see him again, that his unofficial Omega has also found a new home. One where his unique talents will be truly appreciated. No longer will he be shackled by a blind man's pity or a hero's restraint. He will learn to crave the leash, and I for one, am eager to teach him.*
*A collection is only as good as its finest pieces. And I have acquired two masterpieces.**Sincerely,*
*W. Fisk*
Bucky crushed the note in his metal hand, the sound of crumpling paper swallowed by the guttural snarl that tore from his chest. It was a sound of absolute Alpha fury, laced with the agony of a disrupted bond. His eyes, usually cold and controlled, blazed with a desperate fire.
"He took them," Bucky repeated, his voice low and dangerous, vibrating with suppressed violence. "He took John."
Luke stepped forward, his face grim. "And Poindexter."
Jessica swore, running a hand through her hair. "That bastard. He's not just playing games, is he? He's making a statement."
Bucky stared down at the crumpled note in his hand. The message for himself, and for Matt. The casual cruelty of it, the dismissal of the humanity of both the Omegas, reducing them to "prizes" and "masterpieces".
He looked up, his gaze haunted. The connection to John, once a vibrant, protective hum, was now an aching chasm that was trying to grow bigger. He could feel the phantom echoes of John's rage but it was fading, becoming a memory and he knew what Fisk meant by "reclaimed." It wasn't just physical capture. It was the intention to utterly dominate, to rewrite the very essence of John's Omega nature.
And Poindexter. The image of the unbonded Omega, defiant and dangerous, flashed in his mind. Fisk wasn't wrong about Bullseye’s potential, or Murdock's inability to truly harness it but the Kingpin saw them not as men, but as weapons. And he intended to wield them.
"We find him," Bucky finally spoke, his voice flat, yet carrying a terrifying undercurrent of resolve. "We find Fisk. And we get them back."
Yelena nodded, her expression hard. "This is no longer just a retrieval mission. This is war."
The rain outside somehow intensified, mirroring the storm brewing within the building. Fisk had not just taken two men; he had declared war on their bonds, their identities, and the very concept of free will. And in doing so, he had united a disparate group of heroes against him, their shared outrage forged into a singular, burning purpose. They would find Fisk. And they would make him pay.
******************************
The remaining heavy door of the tower groaned open again, but this time, there was no dramatic entrance.
A large number of figures in dark, tactical gear moved in with practiced efficiency, their movements devoid of the power that had defined the earlier arrivals.
These were Val's cleaners, a silent, methodical force designed to erase problems, not create them. They began to sweep the area, cataloging the damage, hushing the remaining whimpering Fisk henchmen, and sanitizing the chaos.
Val herself didn't appear, but her presence was felt in the cold, almost clinical precision of her agents. They moved like a well-oiled machine, their focus solely on the task at hand.
Bucky’s gaze was fixed on the spot where John had last stood. His Alpha scent was a jagged, painful thing, radiating pure anguish and a dangerous fury. The world had narrowed to a single point: John was gone. Dex was gone. And Fisk had taken them.
Jessica, ever the investigator, was trying to get a read on the new arrivals. "Who are these guys?" she muttered to Luke, her eyes narrowed. “Government cleanup crew, looks like,” Luke answered, “The Director must've sent them.”
One of Val's agents, a tall, wiry Alpha with a permanent sneer, was surveying the scene of destruction. He gestured to where Dex and John had last been, a dismissive wave of his hand. “So, two Omegas, huh? Kingpin's really expanding his..... tastes. Didn't know he preferred blondes these days.” His chuckle was a crude sound, a smirk playing on his lips, his eyes flickering towards Bucky as if expecting a reaction.
Bucky however, didn't react. The comment, laden with derogatory implications, sailed right over his head due to his mind currently in a mixed state of grief, vengeful planning and the pain of his brutalized bond with his mate. He was deaf to the casual insult, lost in the immediate emptiness of John's forced absence.
But Ava and Jessica heard.
Ava, who had been flickering in and out of visibility as she assessed the remaining threats and potential escape routes, solidified instantly. Her eyes, usually calm, now burned with anger, the air around her dropping several degrees causing everyone nearby to shuffle away a few steps. Jessica's jaw clenched so tight her teeth audibly ground together. Her Alpha scent, already simmering with protective rage, flared into a dangerous inferno, locking onto the offending agent. “What did you just say?” Her voice was a low, dangerous growl that promised imminent violence. It wasn't a question; it was a threat.
The agent, caught off guard by the sudden shift in atmosphere, faltered. He had assumed the heavily bonded Alpha, Barnes, would be the one to react, but Barnes was clearly too far gone, and he hadn't accounted for the two (now rather) scary women standing nearby. “Just making an observation, ma'am,” he stammered, a flicker of unease crossing his face. “Kingpin, you know. Likes his..... toys.” He tried to recover, his smirk returning, but it was thinner now, less confident.
Ava was suddenly inches from the agent's face, her eyes boring into his. “They are not 'toys',” she stated, her tone low but somehow cut through the lingering noise of the clocktower. “They are people. And one of them is an Omega who just had his bond violently disrupted. You will show respect, or you will find out what happens when you don't.” Jessica didn't waste words. Her fist connected with the agent's jaw, the crack echoing through the suddenly silent room. The man crumpled, unconscious before he even hit the ground.
“Anyone else have an 'observation'?” She snarled, her gaze sweeping over the rest of Val's cleaners, daring them to speak. Her Alpha pheromones radiated a clear message: *try me*.
The cleaners, well-trained professionals though they were, instinctively took a step back. They looked at their fallen comrade, then at the furious Jessica Jones, and finally at the still-unresponsive Bucky Barnes, whose distressed Alpha aura was a palpable, suffocating weight.
Luke stepped up beside Jessica, his presence a silent, immovable wall of support to his bondmate. “I think that's enough 'observations' for today.” he said, his voice calm but firm, reinforcing Jessica's unspoken threat.
Yelena, who had watched the entire exchange with a smirk of approval, simply raised an eyebrow. "Some people just need to be reminded of their place." She remarked, dryly. The remaining cleaners quickly returned to their tasks, their eyes carefully avoiding the heroes. The message had been delivered. Fisk might see Omegas as property, but not everyone shared his twisted view. And while Bucky was lost in his pain, Ava and Jessica were more than willing to defend the dignity of those who couldn't defend themselves in that moment.
******************************
The air was thick with the metallic tang of old blood and the cloying scent of dominant Alpha.
John stirred, groaning softly as a dull ache bloomed behind his eyes. He blinked, vision blurry at first, then slowly sharpening to reveal blank metal walls, with a single bulb hanging overhead, casting long, dancing shadows.
Attempting to rub the ache brought attention to the fact that his wrists were bound in heavy metal manacles that chafed his skin. A low growl rumbled in his chest, an instinctive response to the confinement. He was an Omega, yes, but not one to be easily broken. However, he learned fast enough that the electro-magnetic dampeners from the net had been stuck very firmly to his restraints, rendering his serum-enhanced abilities almost obsolete.
He was stuck.
A sudden whiff of fear and something else, sharp and acrid, tickled his nose. Not his own reaction, he realized; he wasn’t alone. “Awake, finally?” The voice was low, raspy, and laced with an unsettling amusement.
John’s head snapped up. In the far corner, hunched against the wall, was another figure. Almost wiry, clad in dark, utilitarian clothing. Even in the dim light, John could make out the intensity in his eyes, a glint that spoke of barely contained violence. Bullseye. A quick glance told him that the assassin was just as bound by manacles and chains as he was.
“Poindexter,” He stated, his voice gravelly. “What the hell happened?” Dex merely chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. “The usual. Wrong place, wrong time. Or perhaps, the right place, for him.” He gestured vaguely with his chin towards the unseen forces holding them. “Fisk,” John hissed, the name leaving a foul taste in his mouth. All of it came rushing back; Karen Page calling Bucky, the team arriving at the clocktower, his own capture..... “He caught you too?”
“Smart boy,” Dex drawled, smirking condescendingly. “Though I doubt he brought you here for your intellect.”
John ignored the barb. His Omega senses, heightening back to their usual levels now that the effects of the gas had worn off, were beginning to pick up more.
The air, initially dominated by the scent of dust and blankness, was now subtly layered with something else. Something..... warmer. Softer. It was almost imperceptible, but it was there; a deep, resonant hum beneath the surface, a delicate shift in the usual sharp, metallic copper scent of Dex’s own natural pheromones that John now realized had been carefully masked. It was the scent of gestation; of life.
Dex was pregnant. The realization hit John like a two by four over the head, leaving him momentarily speechless. This changed everything. This wasn’t just about Fisk sending a message, this was now personal. Deeply, dangerously personal. “You’re pregnant.” John finally managed, his voice barely a whisper, laced with disbelief.
Dex’s smirk vanished, replaced by a flicker of something raw and exposed before his eyes hardened, becoming chips of ice. “Keep your voice down, soldier. Some things are best left unsaid.” “Unsaid?” John scoffed, pushing against his bonds, a surge of adrenaline coursing through him. “You’re pregnant, Poindexter. With an Alpha’s pup. You think that’s ‘unsaid’ in a place like this? With Fisk?”
Dex flinched, a subtle tremor running through his frame. He quickly regained his composure, but John had seen it. The vulnerability, quickly shuttered behind a mask of cold indifference. “It doesn’t matter.” His voice was flat. “Doesn’t matter?” John repeated, incredulous. “You’re carrying a child! How can that not matter? It’s Murdocks, isn’t it?” He knew the rumors; the twisted, violent dance between Daredevil and Bullseye. It made a horrifying kind of sense. Both the sheer irony and brutal poetry of it. Fisk, losing his own mate to this man, only to find this man carrying the child of his greatest enemy.
Dex’s head snapped up, his gaze piercing. “You know too much, Walker. And you talk too much.” There was a definite edge to his voice now, a simmering threat. “I know enough,” John retorted, meeting his stare. “Fisk wants Murdock. He wants to hurt him. And what better way than through his child and you, the vessel for it. He’s going to use you, Poindexter. He’s going to break you, then break Murdock with you.”
A muscle twitched in Dex’s jaw. He looked away, his eyes scanning the walls and the single light, as if denying the truth in John’s words. “He doesn’t know,” Dex finally murmured, his voice barely audible. “No one knows. I’ve kept it hidden. All of it.” “And how long do you think that will last in Fisk’s clutches?” John challenged, his own fear for Bucky fueling his resolve. “He has ways. He’ll find out. He always does.”
A heavy silence descended upon the cell. John watched Dex, seeing the facade of the remorseless killer beginning to crack, revealing the terrified Omega beneath. The scent of fear, previously masked by Dex’s own aggressive pheromones, was now growing stronger, tinged with a desperate, protective instinct.
“Why were you guys even there?” Dex asked, his voice low and suspicious, finally turning back to John. “You’re not exactly low-level thugs. And you’re an Omega too. What did you do to piss off the Kingpin?” “I’m part of the Thunderbolts,” John explained, his voice devoid of pride. “And we were asked for help. But as you know since you were there, Fisk wants to send a message so here I am. He wants to rattle my Alpha, Bucky Barnes, for daring to challenge him.”
Dex’s eyes widened slightly. “Bucky Barnes. The Winter Soldier. Right. So you’re a pawn. A very valuable pawn.” He chewed on his lip, a gesture that seemed uncharacteristic for the infamous Bullseye. “Fisk doesn’t just take pawns to send messages. He takes them to break them. To use them as leverage.” The implication hung heavy in the air and the silence lasted longer this time before John spoke again. “Does Murdock know?”
Dex’s gaze became distant, his eyes fixed on some unseen point. “Murdock knows nothing. We’re..... complicated. He’s an Alpha, through and through but he’s blind, in more ways than one. He sees a monster when he looks at me, not the.....” He trailed off, a flash of pain in his eyes gone as quick as it came. “He doesn’t see the Omega.” “He’s still the father,” John insisted. “He has a right to know.”
“Rights don’t exist in our world, soldier,” Dex shot back, his voice sharp, “Only survival. And right now, my survival, and that of the baby, depends on keeping this a secret. From everyone. From Murdock and especially Fisk.” “Why?” John asked, confused. “Murdock is the father; he’d protect his child.” Dex snorted. “Protect? Matt has a twisted sense of protection. He’d see it as a burden or a weakness and he’d try to keep it from me, for its own good, for my own good. He’d never accept it, not truly. Not me, and not this.” He gestured to his stomach again.
John stared at him, a strange mix of pity and frustration stirring within him. He understood the fear, the desperation to protect a vulnerable pup. But to deny the father? To deny the Alpha’s claim, especially one as dangerous as Daredevil? It was a serious gamble. “Fisk won’t care about your feelings, Poindexter,” John warned, his voice low and urgent. “He wants to break Murdock, and he’ll use you to do it. He might even..... force a bond. To truly twist the knife.”
Dex visibly shuddered, a deep tremor that shook his entire body. “He won’t,” He whispered, his eyes wide with fear John hadn’t expected from the ruthless assassin. “He can’t. I won’t let him.” “How?” John challenged. “We’re tied up in a basement. You’re an Omega who’s pregnant. I’m an Omega but mated. We’re both vulnerable and we’re both targets. He wants to own us, Poindexter. To assert his dominance. To prove he’s still the Kingpin by turning us into his tools.”
Dex’s eyes, which had been fixed on John, now darted around the cell, a spark of the old cunning returning. “There’s always a way. There’s always a weakness, even in a king. Especially in a king.” “What’s his?” Dex’s lips curled into a thin smile, but it held no humor only a chilling resolve. “He wants what he lost. He wants control. He wants to prove he’s still the Alpha. But he’s not the only Alpha in this game. And he’s not the only one who knows how to play dirty.”
The air crackled with the desperate strategies of two Omegas caught in a trap set by a vengeful Alpha. John didn’t know what Dex was planning, or if he even had a plan beyond sheer defiance but he knew one thing: Fisk had underestimated them. He had underestimated the primal instinct of an Omega to protect their child, and the fierce loyalty of a mated Omega to their Alpha.
The game had just gotten infinitely more complicated. And far, far more dangerous.
TBC.......