What If...

The MCU

"Damnit," I hear the soldier curse through his comm. "New positions. Sam blow her out of the sky. Natasha block the alleyway. And I'm gonna need some back up, Buck."

I tug desperately at the laundry line as a dark skinned man with silver wings enters my peripherals, diving straight for me. The falcon just misses me overhead as I push off from the wall, taught line finally snapping from the force I exert upon it. His hands brush my stained locks as I descend rapidly to the ground, rolling to ease the land and sprinting once more for the exit. 

Knowing that the super soldier is not far behind me, my legs are encouraged to pump faster, the adrenaline doing wonders for the injuries I have surely sustained throughout this entire ordeal. 

The falcon swoops down behind me for another shot at my head, and I pivot sharply, throwing a hand out in front of my face and pressing my eyes shut tightly. I focus upon the frequency of his comm link and the pulsing radio waves emitting from the compact device, tuning them to a suitable station. 

As expected, a blaring pitch enters his eardrums and he swerves off course—crashing into the alley wall. I observe, satisfied, as he crumples to the ground unconscious.

The moment is short lived however as a pair of arms encircle my waist, lifting me up and suspending me above the ground with the bulk of their arms. A strange pair—one pale flesh and the other entirely of metal.

"Leave me alone!" I struggle, but the soldier's grip on me is overpowering. I sense him remove his mask, not breaking a sweat as he imprisons me with only one arm. He lets me down but I am offered no room as he cages himself around me—preventing my escape. I can feel him pressed up against my back, basking in my weakness as he leisurely tucks away the frightening visor. Yet I do not see him. 

"Not gonna happen, doll." The winter soldier leans down to whisper in my ear. "Comply." A beat. "And you won't get hurt." 

Somehow I don't believe him.

"Barnes," a female voice bites out, and Natasha Romanoff slinks into my line of sight, her eyes flickering from the passed out bundle known as falcon to the towering super soldier. Her cat-like suit is pressed to her frame, red locks of hair curling pleasantly around her face. The assassin's lips are stained ruby—a gentle reminder of the numerous lives she has claimed in service to the avengers. 

"Romanoff."

"The hell did you come from?" She directs her statement towards the winter soldier, jaw ticking irritably.

My mouth opens in protest before a calloused limb descends to cut off my air supply. He grunts as I jab my head back into his nose, although his hold never loosens. In one swift movement, he constrains both my wrists behind me—grip firm and unyielding while his human hand clamps tightly over my lips.

A small smirk graces Romanoff's countenance before she raises an eyebrow, evidently curious as to how Barnes got the jump on me. I for one would like to know also.

He speaks to the woman in Russian, tone rigid and coarse as he converses with the redheaded assassin. She relates back equally, stoic and swift, hands subtly drawing ever closer to the gun tucked away at her belt. My eyes widen as I observe this, thrashing even harder against the super soldier's hold. 

Then I hear his voice, and my blood runs cold. 

My eyes remain plastered to his boots, which cease in their movements only when he is stopped right before me. A large and intimidating hand stretches out to my face, locking around my chin and forcing my head up. My hazel orbs connect with an azure blue.

Captain America.

Earth's deadliest avenger.

Hair that might have been blonde once now resembles a darker hue, brushed back neatly—aside from the few loose strands that poke out, jostled sometime during the night. A bushy beard is set against a stone-like face, the dark suit he bears clinging to his toned form. He is beautiful—a deadly siren, and I am struck by a fresh wave of terror as his crystal-like eyes bore into my own.