In 1943 Steven Grant Rogers was enlisted to the United States Army.
Everyone knows the righteous, patriotic Captain America and his story. People might have heard of his mother, Sara, who was a nurse and died of tuberculosis. Perhaps some have even...
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He was light on his feet as he jogged back the way he came, knowing the stock rooms were not places they held hostages. This time, he chose the only tunnel left, the right one. A couple of steps deeper in, he realized the scenery was immediately different. The walls reached higher, there were many wires running across the high ceiling, the cheap oil lanterns had been replaced with cold lamps, they seemed to be placed in neat lines, running from one end of the corridor to another.
William noticed the doors that all looked the same, there were no handles and no locks, two oddly shaped see through plastic windows where one could see inside. He peeked through one window, immediately tucking his head when he realized the room inside was filled with people wearing white coats. He could even hear the rapid speaking in German, there was too much adrenaline pumping through his veins for him to make out what was being said. He darted by the door, peeking in from numerous other windows as he desperately tried to find the one with hostages. He did not try to think about what all those white coats were working on, but he knew he did not want them to discover him snooping around. He stopped near the last door, noticing there was something inside, something that resembled cages. He huffed, trying to push the doors open, but they did not budge. He tried to brake the plastic window with the end of his rifle but all he managed were little scratches. He growled in frustration, taking a step back. He felt sweat tickling down the side of his face, his dirty hair sticking to his forehead.
He frowned, eyes desperately roaming the frame of the door, landing on a tiny box on the side. He tilted his head, immediately sticking his hand inside his pocket. A door further down opened with a hiss, making him suck in a breath at the sound of the doctors booming laughter. He swiped the card near the small box, making the doors slid into the walls as he hastily stepped inside, pushing his back against a wall as he held his breath, listening for hurried footsteps to announce that he had been spotted.
No one came towards the room he was hiding in. The room was a lot darker than the long tunnel he noted. His blue eyes flickered around the room, immediately feeling horrified by the sigh and the size of the room. There were no windows nor doors he could locate. But there were cages, pushed so tightly together and some empty ones were even on top of each other. The bars were rusty and made with thick metal, preventing anyone from sticking their whole hand out. The whole room smelt of rotten flesh, mold, dust and piss. He was frozen in fear, seeing all those humans in cages like circus animals.
He nearly turned around and fled, terrified that he would be the next. Whatever was going on behind these iron walls, William was afraid to know.
But then he was angry when he saw their bloodied bodies, ruined clothes and two women pressed into one cage, he was pretty sure one of them was dead while the other one was rocking herself. He could not tell how many of them were there, but he forced his numb legs to move as he latched himself onto the first cage, fixing the rifle over his shoulder that had nearly slid off due to his antics. The man stirred slightly, growling like an animal as he pressed himself further away. "how the fuck do these open!" Will hissed, his knuckles turning white as he shook the bars, he noticed a clipboard with numbers, nothing else, just numbers.
