Steve found the hospital. It had taken him ten minutes to get there; he'd walked fast, with a determined strut that reminded him of Peggy. It gave the impression that he wouldn't be hurt by his circumstances, and Steve decided that he needed that, right now, to show off a little confidence he didn't really have. Is that what Natasha always does?
He had to hide three times on his way, three times a police car drove past him and didn't notice the man leaning down to tie his shoes or the man hiding behind a guy in an inflatable Hulk costume. A look at a pharmacy's clock told him it was past midnight already. When he finally looked at the hospital's doors, it dawned on him that he would need a different way in. There was no way he could sneak past the front desk unnoticed and even if he did, the main hallway was long and full of people. Just as he decided to turn around and scout out the building for the ER section, a hand grabbed his arm. They found me, his shocked brain screamed. The hand dragged him behind a couple of bushes lining up between them and the parking lots.
Steve grabbed the hand that held him and pulled the person to him, risking his life. If they had a shooter positioned - it was Nat. She looked at him, the early dawn giving her straight red hair a warm glow.
"What are you-"
"Come on. I have Sam in the car. We need to leave. You look terrible, too."
Steve followed her, but couldn't grasp the concept of Sam, poisoned Sam in the car and not under medical observation, where he definitely should've been.
"Why do you - Nat, stop. Sam is supposed to be in there and you - you just brought him here. What were you thinking? It's not safe for him."
She frowned. Clearly, she'd hoped to get more support from the soldier.
"He's better. Get in."
"You can't just-"
"Hey brother", Sam grinned, stretched out on the back row, smiling with his eyes half closed. He gave a lazy wave to Steve, who wasn't done with his scolding-speech.
"Hey, Sam. Nat, that's just irresponsible. Give me a good reason why you got him out. Did someone recognize you?" The car moved and she got them away from the parking lots. At this point, he could just hope Sam had a decent amount of medication inside him.
"No."
"Did you see the Remnant?"
"No, I..."
"Were you in danger? How did you carry him to the car? No offense, but he's not a lightweight. And the car? Where did you get it?"
"There was a guy next room who helped. The car? Some guy died this morning, I got his personal stuff, car keys and voilà - a car for your majesty."
"Just like that?"
"Steve." Nat sounded firm, she sent Steve a look that could've scared him off, maybe 70 years ago. Women - the only thing to scare Steve back then and now, he noticed with a hint of nostalgia.
"What did you do for it? Don't look like that. It can't have been nothing."
"It was an emergency situation. I did what I had to."
Steve wasn't convinced, but he didn't like not knowing what happened. His eyebrow was raised and Nat frowned at him. She steered the car through the few streets that were still passable in this celebrating city.
"So, what we know about Sam is that he wasn't poisoned, not really. The doctors couldn't detect a foreign substance in his body, there were no traces of anything suspicious. When they said that, I knew immediately what it was. A short term neurotoxin that usually doesn't kill. It just gives your body the impression that there is no oxygen and incapacitates the victim."
"So, he was choking, but in reality, he wasn't."
"Yes. Ten years ago, Hydra developed the formula for the toxin. It appeared on the black market but vanished after two months. The Remnant is one of the few who still use it." Nat's eyes flitted over Steve's body quickly and she raised an eyebrow.
"Where's the gun I gave you?"
"She took it."
"You shot him though, right?"
"No, Nat. She's still alive."
Steve couldn't see if the spy actually paled a little, next to him, in the low light of the night, but the uncomfortable silence he found himself in said enough.
Despite the bad news, it didn't slip past Steve's tired, but still attentive eyes how often the spy checked the rearview mirror.
"Someone is following us. I can feel it", Nat whispered while hitting the gas pedal a little harder.
Sam raised his eyebrows.
"Yeah, you mentioned that twice now."
She sent him a half-serious glare, but made her way around a black jeep, driving way too slow for her liking. She sighed dramatically, earning a grin from both Steve and Sam.
"What! Driving isn't just fun and games."
She sent more than just one look into the mirrors and looked dissatisfied.
"I swear, someone is after us."
Steve shrugged.
"Let's disappear. You can do that, right?"
Natasha gave him a thumbs up and took a few turns that would shake any pursuer.
Steve looked around, hesitant to enter the unspectacular motel the redhead had chosen to stay in for the night. Would they be safe here?
He followed Nat though, through the front and the hallways she treated like she'd walked past a hundred times before. The key she held said Room 14, but Room 14 was five rooms back and Natasha wasn't slowing down.
Steve didn't say anything, he was just glad they could lie down somewhere and let their recent discoveries sink in. Although, maybe he didn't want them to sink in, into his soul and into where it really hurt. His ears weren't doing their job, he'd observed that during the last few hours. Everything sounded dull, as if he was in a daze. Maybe it was the sniper's fault, messing up his left ear that soaked the gauze around it again. Natasha would give him a glare for it, but she'd fix the mess, that was for sure.
But maybe it was just what she'd said earlier, fatal words echoing through his mind.
"Bucky is gone", captured his mind completely. How? How did they manage to do that? Did they take him or what happened? Were the others fine?
That, he could answer - sort of. He knew Wanda wasn't. She'd blame herself for everything, especially when Steve had given her the responsibility not for someone, but for Bucky Barnes.
Natasha had led them into a room that looked really nice, with one big bed, a chest, a desk and even an armchair. This wasn't a hotel room, it was hers only, Sam realized when Nat opened the locked chest and the first thing in there was a tazer. Steve still stood around, gazing into nowhere.
"Steve?", she asked, touching his shoulder. He tried to blink away his sorrows but didn't do a good job with that, because Natasha frowned.
"Okay, who sleeps where?", Sam changed the topic. "I can take the bed, I don't mind."
He grinned cheekily and got a pillow in his face right away for that, shot with ultimate precision.
"Yeah, you'd like that, huh?" A pillow fight commenced, one of the kind that you take serious, no matter how old you are. It lasted long enough to push away the horror that this day had been. For a few minutes, it felt like nothing bad had happened, like the three of them were just friends on a trip to a different country.
Nat blew a strand of hair out of her face and looked at Steve. He smiled. Mission accomplished. Good.
"You can have the bed if you want." The offer was all Nat could give him right now. Barnes was gone, they were running, T'Challa was probably furious and they'd lost their only source of information, this was crap, all of it. He could have the bed. He deserved it.
Sam interrupted, apparently still not satisfied. "Nah. He's got a super-back. He can have the armchair." Another pillow followed and laughter bubbled through the room. "Just sayin'."
But Steve shook his head. Sam noticed the expression in his eyes; he'd seen that one before. It was one Captain America couldn't even do, this was what insecurity looked like, in concentrated form. Steve is afraid of hurting us. We couldn't hold him down if he got a nightmare.
"I'll keep watch. If someone is following us, we should keep our eyes open."
You feel that if you open your mouth close your eyes, the horrors might never end.
Nat touched his shoulder, not sure what to say.
The sky had transformed into a dark mess of clouds and stars and the city's thousand lights lit up in the distance. Nat had slipped into bed already, going through the brown files again, for the fourth time, still looking for clues, but Sam was still up, seated on the armchair with his wings on his knees, checking for loose screws and grazes. They still wore their normal clothes, only Steve was running around in just a pair of pants. His shirt was drying on the heater. Also, the cool air soothed the burning bruises on his back.
He looked around, suddenly remembering that he had packed an extra shirt. If they'd need to get up quickly to leave or if Natasha became uncomfortable with him running around half-naked, he'd need that shirt.
"I left something in the car, I'll be back in a minute. Do you guys need anything?", he asked, quickly pulling on one of Natasha's hoodies that couldn't have been hers, not size-wise, not smell-wise. Steve didn't say anything, but they smelled like Clint. He always left his stuff in all kinds of places and then wondered who had taken them. Since the Battle of New York, when the archer had moved into the Stark Tower, later the Avengers Tower, he must've lost half his wardrobe. Soon, everyone started wearing Clint's clothes.
Steve's bare feet tapped over the hallways of the relatively empty motel which wasn't crappy, but not chic either. Perfect for hiding. He smiled, wondering if Nat had more rooms like this one, in different places all around the globe.
London
"Sir? We have incoming visual from Cologne. You wanna see this."
Both Colin and Janet's heads whipped to the agent who'd called them. He was pointing at the main screen in the operation's room. A video stream pulled up.
What they saw was a bridge that looked normal, at first, with civilians walking over it, a train passing, nothing special. Then, suddenly, a tall man came running with some kind of bar in his hands and jumped over the fence. Another figure appeared, on a police horse, approaching the blonde very fast, jumping off before he could reach him.
A fight evolved, a fight neither usual nor harmless. The agent zoomed in and the blonde turned out to be Captain America. The fight went on for minutes, until the unknown attacker was on the ground. Henderson already assigned tasks.
"Who is this other person? Find out who this is - I wanna know everything. Nigel, Lance and Freddie, search the databases for anything you can find. Johnson, can you get closer? There's a face. Show me the face."
"Not possible, Sir - Ma'am. The guy is right out of the camera's range."
"Alright. Trail back to where they came from. Get anything you can, street surveillance, eyewitness statements, anything you can. Work with the police." She noticed how most of the agents from Colin's team were hesitant to oblige to her commands; she'd address that later, in a private talk with him. Colin stood apart from the group, watching them like a hawk from a little afar.
The video resumed, the oncoming train quickly dispersing Steve Rogers and the attacker, who disappeared in the bridge's steelwork, getting into the camera's focus only once, very shortly.
"Pause, right there!"
The picture was sharp but useless. The attacker wore a mask over the face, hiding every feature the CIA would search for. Every agent knew that after ruling out facial recognition, the next thing to look for would be fingerprints. The mercenary, if that was who this guy was, wore knuckle gloves. Henderson had noticed how one arm broke in the fight, but the guy just pulled himself up the steel bars with the other arm as if it was nothing. From the top, he jumped, holding onto a helicopter's landing skids just when Janet thought they'd lost him.
"Dammit!", Janet cursed. "When did that happen? Why was there no police in the area?"
"It appears this individual was positioned as a sniper, on a roof nearby, and assisted by what looks like police forces. They took down an entire police dispatch on Opladener Straße."
Whittaker moved now, conversing with his agents, giving them directives.
Janet shortly spoke with Neesa; her assistant hadn't yet found any new details concerning the Avengers's life that would provide a basis for their momentary investigation, but slipped a photo into her hands. It showed Rogers, Wilson and someone else in Brussels, in front of the hotel where the explosion had happened. Luckily, there hadn't been any serious injuries or death of civilians. It just added to his list of crimes. Next to Rogers stood another person, identity hidden by a hoodie, but holding his hand.
"We both know the rumors about him and Carter", Janet whispered.
"Rumors, nothing else. But I already checked Carter. She was in the office, logged into the system, working on a case in Italy at the time. She was definitely not in Belgium."
"Alright. Neesa", Janet said under her breath to avoid Whittaker getting on her nerves again, "don't drop Brussels. Do we know what they did there?"
"The apartment that blew up was occupied by a former scientist called Dr. Aaron Vreis. We don't know much about him, but it seems he was working for Hydra, five years ago."
"Maybe this is a revenge mission", Janet thought, "but Rogers isn't one for revenge. What is he doing?"
"We're following his car so far, but we lost the trail in Belgium."
"That's not a problem, I think. Keep Brussels in mind, but find out why Rogers is in Cologne. What is his motive? Where does he go next? We need to be a step ahead of him. This is Captain America. He always has a plan. Put half of our unit to work and search for anything you can find. The other half will be assigned with whatever Whittaker's", she made quotation marks, "'great plan' requires."
She hated this - having to go behind her partner's back to find out why certain things happened and what people's motives were, but just asking Colin to share information wasn't an option either. He'd just mock her for whatever she didn't know and Janet had learned very early that it was best to just get the job done herself and stand above him and his opinion. He'd see what his reward was for being a jerk.
"So, what do you suppose we do?", she asked, walking towards Whittaker with a special tone she knew he hated, to provoke him, sure, but much more to mask her own research squad already communicating tasks with Neesa in the back.
"I activated the local assets in Cologne already", he started, eyebrows raised when his gaze fell onto the necklace Janet was fiddling around with, "and I ordered them to find Steven Rogers."
"Isn't it still too early for that? I mean-"
"Jan, our mission is to locate Steve Rogers and put him back where he belongs - into prison."
"I agree."
"Do you, now? How reassuring." Colin snorted and rolled his eyes, which frustrated Janet to no end. But she bit her teeth together and continued.
"Nevertheless, we need to find out what his motives are, what he is looking for. It might be relevant to us too, given his record of activity."
"Listen, Jan. His motives don't matter if we detain him. How about you put a little more effort into finding him, detaining him and then, you can find out all you want in a neat interrogation."
Janet just huffed and decided to drop this topic.
"How many assets are available?"
"Two, at the moment. Four in three hours, I called in two more to come in from Düsseldorf."
"Good. Do we know anything about the attacker? What do the databases say?"
"There is nothing, not even in higher clearance, so in terms of our collaboration I convinced a partner from Wakanda's intelligence agency to join and assist us. He mentioned that he knew something. He'll be here by tomorrow morning."
That left the redhead speechless. What happened to the "This stays between our units?" Well, she got why the Wakandan intelligence was preferred, but this was definitely not protocol.
Thanks for discussing this with me beforehand. How am I a task force leader if I'm left out when we get to making decisions!? I bet Colin is immensely satisfied with himself.
But she didn't say anything - if he'd communicated that change of plans with Kinney, she'd accept it. He knew something. But what was it?
The video screen had been paused, still showing an image of the waves of the Rhine, just where Steve Roger's head had popped up for a few seconds, pointing at the same direction as the CIA's eyes. And just like the mercenary who'd fought him, he disappeared.
"Sir, we have a lead on Captain Roger's location", an agent called out. "He was spotted an hour ago."
"Good. Follow that. We'll get him this time."
Natasha's stolen car was parked in the inner yard that held space for five or six parking lots. Only two of them were occupied now. No one else was outside, it was eerily quiet. They had closed the gate to the street, no one could see him or come in, a hint of safety. Their car still stood exactly like they had left it, a few steps away from the other car in there.
Cold wind surprised Steve, who walked along the house's wall towards the car. Just when he wondered if the other car had an oil leak, a soft thud sounded him. Immediately, he turned around. A dark figure came running at him, approaching fast, with determined strides. A mercenary!? Where did he come from!? Did he just jump down the roof?
Steve's trained eye knew this figure, the movements, he'd seen them often enough. Bucky.
But he didn't slow down. The solider rushed at him, pressed him into the wall, hard and with violent intentions.
"Buck?"
No answer. A knife glinted in the stranger's hands, one of them silver.
It was Bucky, no one else moved so fast, caught knives out of the air, pressed all the air out of Steve's chest with one hit. Hydra didn't wake Bucky, they sent him to sleep. This is the soldier.
Steve rolled to the side but was treated with a kick to his stomach. When he came back up, stones hit his back again, but this time, sharp metal touched his skin. His throat. Now, he didn't dare to move anymore, he was tense. The hoodie was not made for combat, he was terribly exposed.
The Winter Soldier stood so close Steve could feel the calm breath on his face. The soldier displayed his strength, the cold force that made him a killer.
"Buck", Steve croaked. "Прослушать!" A word Nat had taught him. Listen.
Blue eyes focused on blue eyes. The Russian assassin waited, his face hard, the expression he'd learned from the beginning, the one he wouldn't get punished for.
What now? The knife still nagged on Steve's throat.
His position, knife not far from inside his throat, frustrated him less, to be honest, than the face of his friend right before him. Because Steve couldn't read it.
Sam stepped into the yard.
"Steve! What are yo-", his eyes widened.
Next, Sam jumped back behind the door. A knife shot right at him. It stuck deep in the door, exactly where his head had been. He couldn't pull it out. Damn metal muscles, throwing knives never go that deep.
Exactly that metal dug into Steve's throat know, making him gasp for air. His windpipe was crushed, breathing was a strain. The fingers on his jaw, digging upwards, denying him access to air, were relentless. His muscles already started to feel heavier from the lack of oxygen. For the second time today.
The Winter Soldier was very well aware of the situation. He kept both his targets in view, making his kill order dependent on his victim's strategies. He moved one hand to his back, where his Skorpion rested in his armored vest, ready for an execution, if necessary.
"Don't! What do you want?", Steve rushed and paid for that. The metal fist connected with his face, leaving a bleeding nose. You don't get to ask questions.
"Steven Rogers, mission objective", the assassin's voice recited, mechanical, cold. It gave Steve goosebumps. His name sounded foreign from the lips of this Bucky.
"What orders do you have?", he inquired, cautious, expecting another punch to the face, but it didn't come. The Soldier's grip on the blonde loosened a little and he stepped back, with a face impossible to read. Steve sucked in air hungrily, his knees had almost given out under his body.
"Need to find Steven Rogers", he said, but his voice cracked.
"You found me, Buck."
Was that enough to deactivate him?
"Don't... don't say that name", he whispered, his wide eyes signaling panic. Out of instinct, the metal hand went up a little, before his slightly ducked head, enough to make Steve notice. A defensive motion, so subtle Steve almost doubted he'd seen anything. It dawned on him though. Bucky got punished for remembering names.
God, this was a terrible, terrible dream. How do I wake up when I'm not even asleep?
Sam walked towards them, the unscrewed door grip in his hands, in case he'd need it to defend himself, defend Steve or whoever. He eyed the multiple guns and knives on Bucky, in his holsters, and on his back. The metal arm glinted dangerously in the night and even though it was a broken man standing before him, Sam decided not to trust him this time. Hydra had messed him up again and this time, he might actually kill them. Yes, Sam had spent time with Bucky, even fought for him, but no, Steve was too optimistic and if any trouble was approaching - and it always was with the former hope of America - Sam would be prepared.
He huffed and decided to walk back to the warm hotel, trying to get some distance between the killer and himself. His breath puffed out before him.
Sam didn't dare to turn his back on the Russian assassin, he had thrown a freaking knife at him, after all, and kept looking back to have an eye on the situation.
Bucky had started trotting after him but stopped when he noticed that Steve wasn't following them.
The blonde still stood in the same spot he was in before, shoulders sunk and head down. It was a downright depressing sight that gave Sam goosebumps.
Steve sighed a deep sigh, a big cloud went up to the sky, and as if he'd just breathed out every burden on his soul, he turned around, his face going back to the normal level of dutiful hope.
They managed to smuggle Bucky past the foyer and through the hallways without being noticed. On the way, they met Natasha, who looked more than worried and was armed in case something had happened to her two friends. She didn't hesitate to rush toward Bucky, who dodged her in a swift motion, pressing her against the wall, her arm behind her back.
Sam's heart pounded hard when he saw that the metal hand was resting on the grip of one of the knives. When the para-rescue lunged forward, Steve held him back.
"Bucky", the blonde said and earned a growl. The knife was still stuck in the belt.
Then, Natasha mumbled something soft and melodious in Russian that had the solider relax. He released her with nothing more than a warning glare. Sam breathed out. If this happens a few more times today, I'll go insane. The woman gently pushed the soldier before her and they walked quietly.
Before they entered the room, Sam grabbed Steve's arm, holding him back.
"Look", he said with his face pulled into a frown, "this is intense, I know. But are you sure you can help him right now?"
That was a good, but terribly painful question Steve couldn't answer, not in words, not for himself. Hope, however, was all that held his heart together, it had always been the source of his power. He knew very well that he needed to climb the highest and roughest mountain to witness that most breathtaking sunsets and night skies. As usual, he gave Sam an encouraging smile.
"Buck will be fine."
"I'm worried about us. Hydra found a way in again. We can't trust him."
"What are you saying, Sam? What am I supposed to do!? Leave him behind? Tell him to sit and wait until we come back to get him? You know I can't do that."
"No expectations. Just don't press him into any shape he cannot take yet. Don't trust him right away. Who knows what Hydra told him to do."
"Why are you telling me that?"
"Because, Steve. You're the only one who needs to hear it. You're reckless when it comes to Bucky. I can't have you dying on me again."
"I won't. Bucky won't hurt me." Steve sounded the most certain he could, like this was a universal truth he'd just recited. But this, Sam thought, this was just desperation packed behind a serious face.
"You say that now."
That had Steve annoyed. Sam couldn't know that. He hadn't been on the Helicarrier with the Winter Soldier. Hadn't been there when the Winter Soldier pulled Steve out of the Potomac. Not faced Bucky in his crappy apartment in Bucharest. Hadn't seen him in Siberia. Hadn't lived with him for the majority of his life.
"What is your issue? Why can't you just trust him?"
"Because you do in the blink of an eye!"
Steve just huffed and pushed past Sam. An argument was the last thing he needed right now.
With another person in there, the apartment was getting packed. At least they had food in the small kitchen cabinets. A strange atmosphere settled over the four people, it felt like a sizzle went through the air, making it somewhat electric as no one dared to say anything.
Steve's eyes were sharp on Bucky's figure.
He noticed when the assassin analyzed every single feature of the room with just a glance, how he planned escape routes in seconds and how his eyes lingered on the chest that Steve knew Nat stored weapons in. Without any commands, the soldier didn't move, however, just took in the situation.
Nat prepared a snack, well-deserved after their run and hide in the carnival.
"Don't you want to eat anything?", she asked the soldier in between bites. No response. Steve winced on the inside, when was the last time Buck had gotten food? If he'd left right upon waking up in Wakanda, he must've traveled days without eating. A mission objective like the one he followed right now didn't say "get take-out on the way". He doubted Hydra would let him do that, from what he'd witnessed.
"Buck?", he questioned and blue eyes met his. The soldier reluctantly moved towards the table and Nat placed a small bowl of rice salad before him. The chicken and the rice in there were steaming.
Bucky still wore his gear, the sharp contrast to the casual clothing of the others a warning. Under the light of the lamp on the ceiling, blood stains became visible and even cuts on his skin appeared. Some of his hair stuck together, strands glued together by sweat and blood.
His dirty fingers curled around the warm bowl, but he didn't eat anything. Instead, the longer he stared at the food, the tenser he became, anxiety rolling off him in waves. Steve and Nat exchanged worried glances. What is going on?, Sam mouthed.
Nat slowly reached over to place her hand on the assassin's, but the man pulled it away.
"Conditioning", she whispered. "He can't admit hunger."
Just then, the brunette turned his head towards Steve. His mouth didn't move, but his eyes screamed fear. A shiver ran down Steve's back. Hydra really knew how to make weapons out of living beings, of humans. They'd shut him down completely. Steve could only imagine how often Bucky must've gotten punished for asking for food until he developed a fear of it.
"You will not be punished", Steve said, gently and full of hope. The soldier nodded slowly, but remained stiff when lifting the fork to his mouth.
Yes, you can do it. Just- just put it into your mouth. Eat. Steve was so impatient to see his friend overcome Hydra's orders that he almost cheered him on loudly. Instead, he just held his breath.
Bucky had the salad in his mouth, and his teeth clanked together, but instead of chewing, he just panted heavily. His whole body was heaving. Natasha's eyes were wide, but what could she do? Bucky's jaw was hard, his whole body showed his struggle. His metal hand crushed the metal knife he held. Sam eyed him nervously, this guy could explode at any second. Who knew he would take it out on? So he grabbed his handgun from the waistband of his jeans, keeping it underneath the table, finger ready to pull the trigger.
Steve jumped up, rushing to Bucky's side.
"командир", the soldier coughed. Commander. Steve froze. Does he think I'm his new handler? "Pазрешение?"
Steve's head whipped around to face Natasha. "Give him permission!", she yelled, panic in her eyes.
"Eat!", Steve shot, "Eat, dammit!" Steve almost threw up right there. This was so sick.
The metal fingers released the broken knife, its parts clanged against the table. Bucky chewed, releasing the tension of his jaw, but froze again.
"Swallow!", Steve ordered, watching the man struggle still. But he swallowed and when he looked back up, Steve gulped. Shame was plastered on Bucky's face and fear filled his eyes.
"готовность к наказание."
"What does he say?"
Natasha eyes went wide. "My god, Steve. He says he's ready for punishment."
Anger was all that Steve could feel, it crushed him from within. A fiery, blazing anger aiming for destruction burned away all reason. How dare Hydra take away not only memories, but basic needs from Bucky!? Steve fumed and he would've taken it out on any Hydra goon instantly. His fists burned, ready to give these sick bastards what they deserved. But right now, he stood at the dinner table, before Bucky, who'd shrunk back at the sight of his seething handler towering over him. Nat stepped before Steve, snapping him out of his hot trance. At the sight of the cowering Winter Soldier, Steve cursed and turned away.
He went to the other side of the room, opened a window and leaned against the cool glass, his eyes never leaving the night outside.
Sam's heart almost crushed his chest. He knew Steve wasn't one to storm out of the room, smash the door and make the whole hotel shake by crushing the apartment. Because Steve could. And Sam would've understood. Many war veterans used violence to create stress relief. But Steve didn't. He just swallowed everything. And that was even scarier, because Sam started wondering what this murderous expression on the super soldier's face meant. Also, when he would get to see that one in the field.
"I can't eat anything", Sam whispered and left the table. He pushed his back against the wall, sliding down, his head in his hands. He started to feel Steve's burden on his own shoulders. What else did he have to take? How could fate be so cruel to a man already shattered? Dear Lord, have mercy on him.
Natasha stayed at the table with the Russian soldier. He didn't move much, he had looked at her a few times, with a short but confused gaze. The bowl of salad was empty now, he had eaten.
"Take off your shirt", she said. "I know you're bleeding under that."
Sam sent her a look, but Natasha moved towards the assassin.
He was more than hesitant, but when she stood right before him, he looked up. In her hands, a bowl of water, lukewarm, and a towel. He allowed it, to be washed, but he always made sure to keep Steve in his line of sight. Natasha frowned. Barnes didn't respond in any way to anything that happened to him, how the towel wiped over open wounds and scars. It should've stung, his breathing should've hitched a few times, there should've been a wince. It was human to hurt. This was like cleaning a gun. An object. Her hands moved through the brunette's hair, shampooing them thoroughly, scraping the dirt and the blood off his scalp with great care. Steve and Sam were pulling out a map in the background and started to talk about it. She hoped they found a new angle to work from. To get Hydra. Get revenge.
Suddenly, something cold touched her belly and she sent a look downwards. A metal finger softly slid over the scar on her abdomen. The scar the Winter Soldier had created. Barnes' eyes were completely fixated on the old wound. Natasha continued her cleaning process while watching the man sitting before her. She stood in between his legs now, to get to his neck without having to pull him out of his moment. It was precious, she couldn't risk ruining this. Then, two hands were carefully placed on her hips. It was a subtle touch, too gentle to be the Winter Soldier's. Metal caressed skin. James searched her eyes.
"Natalia?"
She couldn't help but smile at the man who'd held her this way a hundred times before, but had forgotten every part the affections he'd confessed to her, back then, in the rooms behind the big dance hall, after her ballet performances. In Russian, back then, just like now, but his tongue still made the same sounds, the same soft pronunciation. Sounded familiar like nothing else.
"Yasha."
"Where are we?"
"In a safe place, for now."
"Good."
Natasha would've liked to laugh out loud, but her heart's joy belonged to her alone, if she shared it with the men in the room, none of them would understand the meaning of what had just happened. She continued to wash his head. Natalia couldn't help but put more tenderness into her movements. She could tell he enjoyed it, too, because the corners of his mouth were pulled upwards and his eyes almost closed. He trusts me. He'd never close his eyes as the Winter Soldier.
"Do you still dance?"
"We have more important things to deal with."
This look on his face was different; she saw sympathy on his features. He saw her. Her.
He remembered. It wasn't possible, not with all the wipings, but James had surprised her plenty times before. Natasha held onto all the hope she could reach right now; what else could she do? James whispered, there was a particular gentleness in his words.
"You left yourself behind."
"We all did."
Steve turned around. He smiled when he saw Bucky and Natasha talking quietly. It was a peaceful picture, the redhead standing in between his friend's legs while he smiled softly. He couldn't deny the little ache in his heart at that picture, he wouldn't deny it but he wouldn't dare to speak about it either. It was one of the many things the old blonde would keep locked up in his chest forever, as one of the little treasures labeled with Peggy's name.
Whatever they said, Steve couldn't understand the Russian words that wrapped those two in a bubble for the moment they were in. Maybe it was better that way, he thought.
The soldier turned back to Sam, who was still going on about all the things that had happened in the last 48 hours. Had he really meant that? That they couldn't trust Buck and-
"Steve?"
"Um, sorry. I, uh, I agree."
"You agree? On what exactly? I asked what happened after Nat dragged me away." Sam frowned at Steve, who stood next to him with one hand on his chin and his brows furrowed. All he could see was regret, tons of guilt and other emotions indecipherable.
"You haven't been listening, man. You really gotta stop doing that."
"Sorry, Sam. It's just", Steve sighed, quietly, to not have Buck notice, "what would you do if he was Riley?"
There was no answer to that. Would there ever be?
"Sorry, pal. I didn't-"
"No, it's alright. You're dealing with this way better than I would. We should probably just figure this out real quick. Whoever this Remnant is, there is no way we can have", Sam shifted, arms crossed before his chest, "her running around shooting people with these darts of death."
Steve wasn't sure what to say. Yes, they needed a plan, yes, they needed to protect people and yes, again, yes, they needed to stop Hydra.
But could he tell Bucky that this asset was his twin sister? He sent another look to the assassin, his best friend, who was whispering something into Natasha's ear. She smiled. Buck did too. No, not now, he couldn't tell him right now. He swore to himself that this time, he wouldn't let the situation escalate like it did with Tony.
"I said", Sam drawled out loud, pulling Steve back to the one-sided conversation, "that we should ambush her, so that you can draw her out and Nat can shoot her. That way it wouldn't matter if you got your head stolen."
"No. We can't kill her."
"Whatever you say, brother. Spare me the "she's just like him- speech", I get it. Second chances and brainwashing and all. You might have to convince her, though." Natasha. Kill him, she'd said before.
Just then, Steve noticed how Nat and Bucky sat on the edge of the bed, close to the couch Steve was on. When had they sat down there? I really need some rest. I'm not as perceptive as I should be. Steve sent a look through the room. Sam seemed a little sweaty. Was he still afraid of Bucky?
"We can't kill the Remnant and we won't. We'll save her."
From the corner of his eye, the blonde noticed the slight reaction in Bucky's face, in his posture. Does he know? Does he know it's Rebecca? What if he does? He'd say it if he did, right? That we had to save her? Bucky would never have her die to end this. Right?
"The Remnant", Bucky murmured, repeating the name as if it triggered something in his mind.
"What do you know? Any metal limbs?", Sam inquired.
"I... I don't - there was something", he trailed off, lost in surfacing memories.
"That's impossible. Her arm broke and the other one was normal. I would've felt it. No metal."
"But- she had an arm like me... before. I saw it... I think", Bucky looked confused, his face pulled into a desperate scowl. How terrible must it be to not be able to recollect your past, to not know what things are real and which aren't.
"What do you know about her training?"
"Not much. The first years must've been in analogy to what developed into the Black Widow program, at least in some aspects. She completed the test, returned after years, but got transferred in '68."
Everyone turned towards Natasha, whose eyes looked a little glassy, focused on something behind the windows, something beyond what could be seen with the eyes.
"The test", she repeated, dragging the words out as if a heavy burden hindered her voice.
"When we were in training, they always kept us girls together. We were friends, played with each other, shared a bedroom, danced together. When they set us out in the tundra, there was only one survival kit."
It was quiet for a few seconds, a serene silence settling in the room. Steve was the first to speak up again. He needed to come up with a plan.
"Well, what we know for sure", the blonde said, "is that she's really fast, she's really strong and will try to choke us. Or shoot you with poisoned darts."
"Yes", Bucky's face lit up; he'd grasped a new information, "she doesn't need any weapons. She'll take whatever you bring. But...poisoned darts?"
Sam nodded and recollected his experience with the darts. The assassin's eyes widened at the story.
"What you went through was only the first part. Tonight won't be fun."
Just as the brunette said it, Sam could feel something rumbling in his stomach. He'd written it off as stress and exhaustion before, but now, everything rebelled wildly within him. A second later, he was running to the bathroom. He retched into the toilet for minutes, Steve at his side, Nat getting a cold, wet towel ready for him. Barnes only mustered a pained expression of sympathy.
When Sam had finally calmed down, it was already late, getting closer and closer to midnight.
"Just go to bed", Steve ordered. "All of you. I'll take watch. We'll figure out what to do tomorrow."
Sam was put onto the armchair wide enough to lie in, with a bowl at his side, just in case. Natasha took the bed, carefully staying on her half while trying to convince Barnes to get some sleep as well. Steve didn't pay attention to the whispering, just stood and watched the city through the room's windows. His stomach growled and he grit his teeth in annoyance. Damn that fast metabolism. But he went to the small fridge hidden in one of the cabinets and fixed himself a few slices of delicious and, he smiled, nutritious German bread.
After minutes of silence, he allowed himself a look through the room. It had quieted down. Besides Sam's raspy breathing, there was only a low hum that seemed to come from Bucky. He'd ended up in bed, at Natasha's side, and to Steve's surprise, the two were cuddling somehow, with the redhead completely disappearing in the strong brunette's embrace. A sweet view. It didn't take long, though, until their blanket rustled and the wide-shouldered man left the bed to join his old friend at the table.
Their eyes searched the other's, attempting to read all the unsaid words and stories they daren't talk about, to understand each other more deeply in a time of running and hiding.
"I know her", Bucky said, voice grave. "The Remnant." A burden fell from Steve's shoulders. So he knew.
"I've seen her in training and in the field. She's dangerous, even to us, Steve. Tell me exactly what happened."
So the super soldier told him, every little detail, the scene playing anew before his ever vigilant, but now, tired eyes. Only Rebecca - he left that out.
"To be honest, I don't think she meant to kill you. If she hasn't, it means the mission was to scare you, to remind you of Hydra's power. Make you feel helpless."
And it worked, Steve realized, deep down, she had. But she'd also given him something to fight for. Maybe Hydra was stupid, maybe they were blind. But they had fueled his fire and that would ensure their fall.
"What do you know about her, Buck?"
"Not much... at all. I was frozen a lot and she was kept somewhere else most of the time. Her first mission was to protect me and since then, it took them a long time and tons of recalibration to get her ready for other missions. She - protected me, instinctually. That's why they made her my backup operative after a few years."
Crap. He doesn't really know. How do I tell him?
"Do you know how old she is?"
"I lost track of time, but she was there early. How long was I in the tube after what happened in Siberia?"
"Half a year."
"They were faster than I thought. Damn, Hydra is desperate. Listen, Steve", at that point, Steve was looking at someone else again, he thought, at the distant assassin they'd created, "until now, you've done everything Hydra wanted you to do. They planned this, all of this."
"But they don't know you found us. And our countermove will be unpredictable. Buck- there's something you need to know. I said we can't kill her - we really can't."
"What do you mean?"
"I saw her face. It's Rebecca." Steve's voice was soft.
Bucky sat completely still, only breathed silently, into the darkness and Steve wondered if the brunette even understood the message. No reaction.
Crap, that was insensitive. What if he doesn't even remember Rebecca? What if he'd worked with her and didn't realize it was his sister? I should've started differently. The entire thing.
"I'm sorry, Buck. I shouldn't have..."
"It's not possible, Steve. Right? No, it can't be her." Bucky's voice trailed off, like a spark falling apart in the night air.
"I hoped you knew..."
"No...", his voice trailed off.
In the dark, the blonde couldn't really identify the slight wetness on Bucky's face, but he thought it was a tear. He didn't blame him, not at all.
"She can't have been - she lived in Illinois, for God's sake. In Illinois. How would they-? The Remnant, Predator, whatever, came from New York. It's all wrong. I saw her return from the test. I worked with her, had her back while she had mine. We did kill missions together. That's not Becca."
"I thought so too. I've visited her grave in New York, Buck. An empty grave, that's not possible, right? But then again, it was right next to yours, two empty coffins in the earth. With Hydra, anything is-"
"It's not her."
Bucky didn't wait for a reply, just turned around and walked back to the bed that Natasha still slept in. The blanket rustled and for once, it was completely silent, although Steve knew Bucky was hesitant to sink into sleep, to be at the mercy of his night terrors. He'd doze, a form of sleep practised a thousand times before, the sleep every soldier knew.
Steve was breathing hard, he felt restricted for the second time after the serum. He didn't have siblings, he wasn't sure how it would feel to lose a sister, but he knew the feeling of losing a brother. While he didn't see Rebecca often, the image of her sweet eyes and loving smile was burned into his mind.
We'll find you, he promised to himself. Hydra will pay.
London
It had been hours since the search for Captain Rogers. Yes, someone had spotted him, but that trail had ended at the St. Antonius Hospital and even with the thorough search, there were no traces of him. The nurses there refused to give information about patients - which yes, was the law, but also slowed down everything. It was the first setback this morning.
The agents in the operations center grew restless, and Henderson noticed. The windows were tinted, but not a single ray of sunlight came through anymore; it had been a long night and everyone around here was slowly getting tired. Janet was on her third coffee and watched Colin, who was really getting on her nerves by now. It wasn't even what he said or did - just being in the same room for so long was nerve racking and almost unbearable, especially when Janet was supposed to give directives, unite the units and get this mission done. She groaned inwardly. All of this - this mess - would be noted underneath the mission report plus her own permanence records. It could be the one factor to lead her superiors to turn down mission requests or even position applications. Janet frowned. All because of Colin's stupid ego. It had ruined everything. And they'd been so close, for a little while. Maybe that was all she'd ever get from him. Maybe it had been an illusion, the calm before the storm, but Janet swore she'd loved him during that time and she'd always keep that version of him locked away in her heart.
Neesa appeared next to Janet, her dark hair tied into a messy braid. Annoyance hung over the room by now. It was the little things, the ticking of watches, the relentless clacking of keyboards and strands of hair that just fall into your face every five seconds.
Not that the big things weren't less annoying, but they stirred way more emotions than just simple annoyance. For example that new decisions had been made, apparently, new directives had been given every single time Janet had stepped out of the room, to just clear her head or to go to the bathroom.
It was frustrating, but it made her unit's success even more victorious. It had been her team that found the trails of Steve Rogers in front of Cologne's Cathedral and close to the hospital. But now, everything stood still, the seconds dragged by and Janet clicked the pen in her hand open and close faster than the blink of the eye. The agent next to her looked up, irritated.
"Sorry", she mumbled and walked away.
All of the sudden, several things happened at once. Neesa's phone made a strange sound, causing both women to look onto it and on the other side of the room, two agents ran into each other, spilling coffee everywhere, which included Janet's notes. At the same time, the door opened and someone stepped in.
"Shit", Janet yelled, completely oblivious to their visitor and ran over, completely ignoring Neesa, who took the call. Janet hadn't even seen the caller ID, but there had been one, maybe it was one of their own guys. Coffee was on the carpet, between the shards of coffee mugs, on the desks, keyboards and even on the wall. Of course, the two agents quickly mumbled their apologies, grabbing towels to clean up the mess, but still, Janet's notebook looked like she'd dunked it into the brown liquid. She cursed. Everything was in there. Everything Neesa and her had worked out.
"Ma'am", an agent of her own team nudged her carefully and earned a frustrated look.
"What?"
"Our associate from Wakanda is here."
"Great", Janet huffed. "Thanks, Liam." Great. Now I can't do anything. Can't present my ideas, theories, suggestions, anything. That will be one hell of a first impression. The little notebook was completely soaked. Useless even with millions of words in it that could mean the world. That could change the world.
Nevertheless, she went to greet Mr. Lomawu, at least that was the name his visitor pass stated. He appeared very formal, in a suit and drenched in politeness. Firm handshake, a man with a mission. He smiled at her and she wondered how much the SIW knew about the CIA's activities. But he seemed nice, with a voice deep and soothing to her ears. Lawrence. She could probably listen to this man for hours, she felt like finally, someone was listening to her. He watched her whenever she spoke up and replied with that warm, foreign accent of his, even encouraged her ideas. She wanted to deny it, but it felt good to be finally acknowledged and reassured by someone not just Kinney. Neesa ended the call in the back and returned to Janet.
"You remember Miami, the big break-in at Stark Tech?"
"As if I'd forget that. Any news?"
"Apparently one of his high-tech machines went online and they could trace it right before the connection was hacked and cut. What they came up with was an address in Munich.
"Okay, good. Send a team in. They are supposed to examine that address, check it out, look for anything that could give us further clues concerning Rogers and Wilson. They're friends with Stark, or, were, so I'm sure there will be a connection."
As soon as they briefed Lomawu on the situation in Cologne, and the unknown attacker was mentioned, Lawrence demanded the footage from the bridge. Whittaker tried to steer them back to Steve Rogers and Lomawu nodded, saying that finding him might take a while but as soon as that was done, they'd definitely have to deal with the other attacker.
"Do you know who that is?"
"I do have intelligence on this asset, but I need to inform you that this is not a real person. There is no identity assigned to the body of this operative. You can pull your agents out of there; even if you found fingerprints or DNA residue, I can guarantee that none of your databases will come up with a result."
"What do you propose we do instead?"
"I know how averse your agency is to trusting others with your targets and objectives, but in the name of his highness, King T'Challa of Wakanda and incumbent Black Panther of our entire people, I politely request to take on the unknown target. We have specialized agents with unique backgrounds that I would like to put in the field."
"Yes. We should-", Colin started, but Janet interrupted him.
"Shouldn't answer that immediately. Please grant us discussion time. We'll come back to you."
Lomawu nodded respectfully and Colin pulled Janet back.
"Why did you do that?", he hissed.
"Just consider our options for a moment. I know, we're in no position to deny anything to a king, let alone the King of Wakanda, but we joined units. Don't tell me we're short on agents with field experience. Secondly, we're in no position to grant or deny the request on our own, Colin, and you don't get to ignore that. Leave this to Kinney."
"You're in no position to decide over my unit. Also, everyone is busy, we're drowning in work. I can already see the mountains of paperwork looming on my desk." He paused, glaring at the woman right in front of him. "What happened to you trying to claim any mission in reach? And, especially, the ones that are not yours?" Colin knew he'd have to push her a little.
"What happened to you being such a jerk? Behind my back - that's fine. In front of my unit, even visitors - that's just low, Colin. Get over Hendrik."
"You're stupid if you think that this is about your husband."
"Great. If it isn't, you have no excuse to behave like an asshole."
Colin snorted and with a dark gaze, he added, "don't think I don't know what you're doing."
With that, he walked away. Great, that was better than what I'd hoped for.
Janet held her head up. If Colin wasn't able to talk to her in a respectful way, he shouldn't be surprised if she'd decide over his head. She rang Kinney's office a couple of times, but no one answered. Fine. What if this is an emergency decision? She could claim that this was an emergency, that it was a question of death-or-life, but she'd be no better than Colin. It wasn't life or death right now. Every agent learned the criteria. They were not fulfilled right now. Henderson knew what their superior thought about this topic.
"Mr. Lomawu, I cannot say that the agency appreciates giving responsibilities out of hand. Please consider waiting for our director's decision."
"Of course. My king asks me to express our gratitude, should we be granted authority to intervene in this mission." Lomawu smiled kindly and nodded. He went back to the streams of intelligence running through the big screens. He knew from the beginning that they'd said no. Just another step in the big plan. Soon, they'd be able to actually start with the executions. No matter if she didn't want to allow his team yet, soon, there'd be no other way. She just didn't know that yet.
Colin stood next to his friend, Lawrence. The two men watched Janet rush through the room.
"She's a problem, Colin."
"Don't think I don't know that. She needs to leave."
"She's a stubborn mule. Like you."
"And a risk to the entire operation. If she finds out I give order to shoot on sight, even if she finds out that the Black Widow is with them - and that we knew all along - she's gonna report to Kinney and get us all beheaded."
"Let me take care of that. She trusts me, at least she wants to. You did a good job in rushing her to a decision, even if it was a no. She needs to feel like everything is in her hands. I'll get Barton, Maximoff and Lang prepped for the hunt of the Remnant."
"Your asset, the unknown attacker. Why would you send them to kill it?"
"How else do you want to get Rogers in? Or Romanoff? I've hunted a lot in my life, but they're game that doesn't want to get caught. They know we're after them and both are smart. But we have aces up our sleeves they couldn't dream of."
Lomawu checked his laptop and clapped his hands to get everyone's attention. Colin continued from there. Whatever Lomawu had planned, the CIA units needed objectives.
"Listen up, units, we know exactly where Captain Rogers and Mr. Wilson are right now. They are located in a nondescript motel in Cologne. Instruct our assets and direct them to Engelsstraße. We can't afford to lose them tonight. Get on it!"
The night was calm for the most part and that was a blessing. Steve watched over his sleeping comrades, rushing to the Falcon's side three more times, getting him to the bathroom.
Other than that, his thoughts always circled around the same questions. How did Hydra know how to get into Wakanda? They had a mole in there, but for how long? What did they know? There was so much to think about. Steve blamed it on the tiredness that at one point, all the questions and assumptions turned into wild theories. No, he scolded himself, Natasha was not working for the Red Room anymore, she did not call us out of Wakanda to get Hydra's plan rolling. She was trustworthy. But what if Hydra had known Natasha would call them? Was there a possibility-?
Steve sighed and made himself a cup of tea. His face was in his hands; this was all so confusing. They'd left Wakanda on behalf of Nat's call, to help Bucky. The CIA was after them, but that was to be expected. At this point, it wasn't even about Bucky anymore, well, to a certain degree, yes, but now, Zola was looming over the horizon again like a dark cloud and everything this man did resulted in death and destruction. How would they get his location? It made sense that the biochemist and geneticist stored his mind in more than just one place, to make sure it wouldn't get lost at the first hit.
Steve balled his fists. He'd take Zola down. But they needed an Agent Sitwell right now, with confidential information to spill.
Suddenly, a phone pinged and Natasha groaned in her sleep. Peeling off Barnes' metal arm from her waist, she sat up, pushing red hair out of her face with one hand before grabbing her phone. Steve observed her from the darkness, grateful for the serum's effect on his visual abilities. He made out the Russian's eyes, which were open wide, quickly reading through the text on the screen. She gave Steve a nod and leaned down to the assassin in her bed, gently patting him awake. Steve quickly walked over, awaiting more information.
"They're coming", she explained, "the CIA found us. They just left their safe house."
"And how much time does that leave us with?" Bucky looked up, quickly pulling on his suit.
"Four minutes. We need to get out of here as fast as possible."
Steve nodded and went on to wake up a pretty groggy Sam, who just groaned and dragged himself to the bathroom to get cleaned up. Nat scurried to pack some stuff, handing Steve and Bucky guns. Especially Barnes' face lit up when she put something into his hands and the two Russians shared a meaningful expression Steve couldn't understand. Two minutes left. Crap.
"We're not going to be out of here quick enough. Can you buy us some time?"
Natasha raised an eyebrow, quickly going through all the different possibilities when Sam appeared, pale, but standing and eager to get his stuff together.
"How far is the local police from here?", Bucky asked.
"A minute away."
"You're still the same. Always living on edge, huh?"
"Well", Nat grinned. "Anything else is no fun."
"Agents, confirm your location. Are Agents Cologne and Agents Bonn with you?"
"Copy, Sir. We're a minute from Nießestraße right now. Give us two minutes."
What happened next was completely unexpected. Bucky took his gun and fired two shots, while typing 110 into Nat's phone. Steve and Sam almost jumped to the ceiling.
"Polizei? Ich habe Schüsse in der Engelsstraße gehört. Bitte beeilen Sie sich."
"Good. Get in there."
"Sir. Permission to shoot?"
Colin hesitated and looked around. Lomawu was faster than he expected, he'd already started to involve her in a conversation.
"Permission granted."
Sam just stared at him, waiting for the assassin to hang up. He didn't need a translator to understand what Barnes just did.
"Are you crazy!? What are you-"
He stepped right before the assassin and sent hostile glances towards him.
"I just saved all your lives. You'll see. Let's go."
"Copy. Reached Nießestraße. One minute."
They rushed through the hallways, Nat had locked the door to her room, securing all traces. They didn't even manage to put their stuff into the car's trunk, they just drove off. Police sirens screamed through the night.
"Sir, we hear police. What is going on? Sir?"
Steve's hands shook lightly while he kept the speed slow, despite all flight instincts.
Several cars appeared in the short street and armed CIA mercenaries in civilian clothes jumped out of the car, guns ready.
"Police force? We didn't send them. Agents, do you copy? Get in there!"
The mercenaries stood before the building, waiting for the doors to be opened. The police arrived just a few seconds later, immediately alarmed by the armed men before the building.
Bellowed commands echoed through the street and in the rearview mirror Steve could see that the police was detaining the wildly complaining CIA undercover operatives.
"Sir, they're detaining us! Sir, I repeat, what's going on?"
"Sir, we lost them."
"Shit. Don't worry, we'll get you out."
Bucky smirked.
Sam was back to sleeping in the back row of the car, thankfully, he was getting better and hadn't thrown up again. Steve was driving but kept watching Natasha.
"How did you know?"
She looked up, pretended to look surprised, or maybe she really was, he couldn't say.
"There's an informant who owes me."
"Mind telling me where I'm driving?"
"The files don't say anything, so I'm not sure as to..."
Bucky interrupted her by grabbing the files she'd managed to get a hold of in the chaos of scrambling out the apartment. His eyes flew over the pages of Russian.
"These are useless. I looked through them five times already."
"But you don't know what to look for", Bucky stated, "this letter in this spot here doesn't make any sense. Hydra is hiding stuff, obviously. Give me my file, please."
He read through them, comparing them.
"This is fake. I never had a mission in Augsburg. I've been to Germany many times, but this is wrong. Go there."
"Are you sure? If this is not where Zola is, we'd lose half a day."
Bucky huffed, still looking at the papers, tracing the Russian letters with his metal finger. It made an eerie, scrubbing sound in the low hum of the car.
"I'm sure. It says that I shot an officer of the Military Intelligence Brigade, but didn't kill him, leaving after visual recognition confirmed the Winter Soldier's presence. That's bullshit. Before Fury in DC, one bullet meant one corpse. Besides, Germany was always kill mission or recalibration. This would just categorize as intimidation, nothing else."
The hair in Steve's neck was raised. Just intimidation. As if that was a good thing. What would happen if they visited those places in Germany? Could he trust Bucky to not have another relapse?
"Is there anything special in Augsburg?"
Natasha looked up.
"You missed out, Rogers. After the war, troops didn't get pulled out of Augsburg. The US Army main quarters for Germany remained there, plus one for the War Crimes Groups. The city still is basically a US town with all the soldiers there. A lot of the area consists of army buildings and Zola could've easily hidden his brain in there."
"Exactly. Hydra dug deep roots in Germany."
"We're not gonna touch his brain, though, right?", Sam murmured, half-asleep, "'Cause that's gross."
"Yeah, you're definitely not gonna touch anything", Nat chuckled and felt his forehead. "How do you feel?"
"I don't think I'll throw up again."