"Who is this man?" Asked the man with the blind eye. He tapped a screen with one smooth finger. The skin on his hands was soft and pale, as if he had never done a day of work in his life. The nails were clean and rounded, perfectly manicured. The screen showed some sort of security recording, repeating the same five second loop. In the video, a man with hunched shoulders staggered forward, leaning on a wall made of concrete for support. He sagged against the wall for a moment before the short video began again. His hair was long, shoulder length but the man's face was visible nonetheless. His eyes were dark, scarred, tired. Stained with pain and confusion.

A tall woman by the blind man's shoulder said, "I believe his name is James Buchanan Barnes, sir. Hydra was working with him for a time." She had a slight Russian accent that was barely noticeable. The tall woman handed the one-eyed man a folder, which he perused with some interest.

"It says here he died."

"He fell from a train in Russia, sir. He was found alive and Hydra fixed him with a cybernetic arm."

"He was brothers-in-arms with Steve Rogers, I see."

"Yes, sir."

"Friends, perhaps?"

"Yes, sir. So they say."

"Just what we needed. A gift from heaven, no doubt. Send Van Muthe to bring him in, will you darling?"

"Yes, sir."

The tall woman left, leaving the one eyed man to tap the screen in thoughtful silence. Perhaps, for once, luck was truly on his side.

Captain America pinwheeled his arms for balance, finally crouching down to clutch either side of the train's roof as the thing thundered through the calm country evening. The world sped by in a blur of darkness, interrupted only by the sudden flashing light of a house or car. The wind whipped over his face and his nose was numbed with cold, but Steve Rogers could not spare any thought for the welfare of his face. The train went around a gentle bend, but as gentle as it was Steve was nearly tossed from the roof onto the tracks below.

He crawled forward over the tin roof, inching his way over to the skylight that was tantalizingly close, but still out of reach. If he could just get to it without dying, the rest of this mission would be easy.

"Are you in position, Captain?" Asked Natasha Romanoff over his earpiece.

Steve shook his head before remembering that Natasha could not see him, then said out loud, "No. I just need one more second."

"Alright Captain, but we don't have many to spare. Hawkeye is already in position."

Steve took a breath and with a leap that nearly threw him from the train, gripped the edge of the skylight with a grasp like iron. "Alright," he panted, "I'm there. Hawkeye, on your count."

"Three, two," Hawkeye counted, also over the earpiece. "One. Go!"

At that moment, Steve broke the glass of the skylight with an elbow and plunged into the car below, the glass crunching beneath his feet. He landed easily and came up swinging his shield into the face of the first man. He could hear Hawkeye behind him, engaging in a fistfight with a second man. There were at three of them, all exclaiming in Russian.

"The switch!" cried Natasha, "Get the switch!"

Steve looked around desperately as the man before him fell to the ground. They were in what appeared to be a lunch car. Tables with neat white clothes and glass plates filled the room. Many of them had been pushed aside to make space for a giant wooden crate. Someone launched onto Steve's shoulders from behind. A wiry arm came around his throat and squeezed, choking the air from his lips. Steve Rogers gasped, reeling backwards as the weight pulled him down and back. He drove his elbow backwards into the ribs of his attacker and, as the man was stunned, threw the man over his shoulder. The Russian crashed into a table and lay as if he were dead.

The man attacking Hawkeye, who Steve suddenly saw was a woman, was doing her job well. Steve could see the switch clipped to her belt, but she was holding off Hawkeye's attacks with ease. Steve, while he disapproved of hitting women, it did not stop him from helping his comrade. He launched forward and pinned the woman's arms in a massive bear-hug. She kicked and yelled Russian obscenities until Hawkeye darted forward and plucked the switch from her belt. The Russian woman stopped shouting and stood there, panting heavily as Steve released her.

"Do you understand me?" Steve asked, "Do you understand English?"

"Yes," said the woman. Her Russian accent was heavy, but she seemed to understand what the Captain was saying. She took a few steps back and stood with her back to the crate. The unmarked wooden box was almost as tall as she was.

"Do you know what's in that box?" Steve continued, holding out his hands in a cautious manner.

The woman nodded, "Yes. It is a bomb."

Steve looked at Hawkeye and they exchanged a worried look. It was indeed a bomb. Tony Stark's scans had turned up high levels of explosive freely traveling the country.

"Why are you carting a bomb around? And who wants it?"

The woman laughed and shook her head, rubbing one hand fondly over the wood. "You would not understand. American boy would not understand."

"Okay then, who wants it? You can tell us. I can promise you absolute safety if you tell us what you or your employer is doing with it."

"You promise absolute safety?"

"You know we can do that, Steve," said Natasha over Steve's earpiece.

"I promise," Steve said and Natasha knew his words were aimed at her just as much as the Russian woman.

"Very well. My name is Vera Dominika and I work for Hydra. They plan on using bomb in New York. This train go there."

A chill went down Steve's spine. Hydra.

"You've got some dated information," said Hawkeye, "Hydra gone."

"You promised me protection, now you follow through with promise," said Dominika.

Steve pressed a hand to his earpiece, "Can she be right, Natasha? Tell me she's wrong."

There was static for a moment before Natasha replied, "I don't know. Arnim Zola was destroyed, there's no doubt about that. But I don't know. There may have been another hideout or faction, but it's impossible to tell."

Steve vividly remembered the day almost a year ago when Natasha and he had explored Steve's old camp. He remembered the rows and rows of computer banks and the mind of the man they held. But the mind and memory of the little scientist had been destroyed with the rest of the bunker when SHIELD bombed the place. There was no way he could be alive, could there?

"I'll stop the train," Hawkeye said quietly, slipping through the train door.

"Dominika, are you sure? Are you positive that it's Hydra?"

"Yes, America boy. I am sure."

Natasha sighed and said, "Bring her in. We'll question her back in HQ."

"Got it," Steve said. The train jerked suddenly, coming to a jarring, squealing halt. To Vera Dominika he said, "Come on then."

A small team of specialists were brought in to safely dismantle the bomb while a car with mirrored windows escorted Clinton, Steve and Vera Dominika to Chicago. After the mess with Hydra not six months before and the disbanding of SHIELD, Hawkeye, Captain America and the Black Widow had teamed together in a joint effort to find Bucky Barnes. Steve had thought Bucky dead for seventy years, but Bucky's reappearance hurt almost as much as his supposed death. When they met for the first time after Bucky's accident, Bucky had not even recognized Steve. He had not even recognized himself and his memories of being Bucky Barnes were completely wiped from his mind.
Steve could not accept that his friend was gone and, near the end he would swear that Bucky had begun to remember. He could see it in his friends eyes. Steve thought that if he could just get Bucky back, he could make him remember completely.

For six months they had been searching and Steve could see that both Natasha and Clinton had begun to lose their drive to find Bucky. It explained all the random jobs they had taken recently. Hunting down criminals, rescuing important political figures and now disarming bombs were common everyday occurrences. Chasing leads and searching had been pushed to the back of the shelf. Even Steve himself was beginning to wonder if he would ever see Bucky Barnes again.

Natasha stood in the parking garage to meet the new arrival. Two dark dressed guards took Vera Dominika by the shoulders and quickly escorted her into what was presently their headquarters. It was not much to look at; a five-story yellow brick building on the outskirts of Chicago, but it was good cover. No one would go searching this dump for high-profile government super heroes. Steve was about to follow Natasha inside when the phone in his pocket buzzed silently. He took it out of his pocket and smiled apologetically to Natasha. She shook her head and followed Vera Dominika into the building. Natasha herself had insisted that Steve carry a phone, carefully teaching the man how to use it. He did not often receive calls and he did not understand the caller I.D enough to see the caller's phone number was being masked.

He stood alone in the dark parking garage, dragging his finger across the phone's screen before holding it up to his ear. "Hello, Steve Rogers speaking," he answered.

"Ah, Steve Rogers. Hello. I won't trouble you with my name, but I will get right to the point." The voice was gravelly and most definitely male. Steve knew something was off the moment the man started speaking. He was threatening, imposing and above all, confident.

"Who is this?"

The man ignored him and continued speaking, "I have in custody someone I believe you are familiar with. Now, I'm here to make a deal. It would be a pity if anything were to happen to him. In fact, I believe the two of you were friends."

"Who is this?" Steve repeated forcefully. His voice echoed through the enclosed garage.

"You can call me," the man paused for a moment, thinking. "Perseus. Now, the man we have, you've been searching for him."

Steve knew the man was toying with him and enjoying it far too much. "Who is it?" he said in frustration. "Who are you talking about?"

"James Buchanan Barnes, Mr. Rogers. I believe you knew him as one 'Bucky' Barnes. Now, how about that deal?"