Author's note: i'm updating this supid chapter again because darn it, technology is annoying. thanks to mellia Bee for helping me figure out section breaks!
Warning for extreme peril required desparate efforts to stay alive.
The gun was pressed against the back of his spinning head. Steve blinked, breathing hard through his nose. His hands over his head, bracing himself against the wall as someone searched his clothes. To his left, Bucky was grunting angrily as he underwent the same rough treatment. Their weapons and supplies were long gone.
The world swam. Steve staggered a little, gripping the rough stones of the wall to keep himself from falling. Bucky's hand appeared on his shoulder before a smack from a rifle pushed it away. Steve blinked.
Of all the things the serum could have trouble fixing, it had to be a concussion. He thought dizzily.
"Turn around!" the officer ordered. They were roughly grabbed and spun around. Blinding fireworks went off in Steve's head.
"Names." The captain growled.
"Leopold Sterne und Johann –"Bucky began, before the captain lashed out, smacking Bucky's face back with a bolt-like punch.
Bucky tilted his head slowly back into place, a defiant smirk curving his bloody mouth. "One or two guns fewer at my back and I could give you better than that." His eyes sparkled dangerously.
The captain's eyes glinted at the taunt, but before Steve could start to worry, something else caught the captain's gaze. He reached out, his black-gloved fingers curling around the dog tags that glimmered on Bucky's chest.
Steve lurched forward, pushing the man's hand down.
"Stop moving!" a guard shouted.
"Sir, they are not his!" Steve panted, understanding of Bucky's incomprehensible actions finally dawning.
"Don't be a fool, Barnes!" Bucky snapped angrily, before cutting himself off as though he had revealed something wrong.
Throughout it all, the captain had not moved, his eyes were glimmering now, and he smiled at Bucky proud face in a way that made Steve feel sick. He lurched forward again, only to find his arms pinned by three large guards.
"It's not him." he shouted. "Bucky, tell them!"
The major flipped the dull metal disks up and held them flat in his palm, quietly scanning the stamped letters and numbers. "Herr Rogers," he said, his grey eyes quietly pleased as they met Bucky's sparking blue ones. "It is a pleasure to finally meet the famous Captain America in person." His voice was laced with a thick, smooth accent.
"The pleasure is entirely yours, I assure you." Bucky snarled.
"Buck, stop this!" Steve panted. The captain shot him an annoyed glance.
"Remove him." he ordered curtly, turning back to Bucky. "Put him with the others. If you would be so good as to attend me, Herr Rodgers, we must discuss a few things."
Bucky smiled grimly. The captain turned away and Bucky allowed his eyes to search for Steve, who was already being pulled away.
Why did you do this? Steve's glance asked, horrified.
You know why. Buck's set jaw and quiet glance to the ground said, before the guards twisted his arms back. He struggled reflexively as strong ropes were bound around his wrists. And, with a barked curse and a backhanded blow to his skull, he was led away.
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Bucky shifted in the chair, trying to distract himself from the surprising amount of pain his body was in. Apparently, the position of "Very Important Prisoner" entailed some vengeful beating from soldiers who had not been happy with his attempts to escape.
Behind his back, he could hear the sudden rise of conversation outside the cell door. He went still, tilting his head awkwardly over his shoulder to get a better hearing.
"- I insist on transporting him at once, Herr Sendler. The Fuhrer is most eager to meet him."
"But surely it would be better to extract what information would suit our purposes here at once. Our soldiers, dear sir, must be kept alive. To send a valuable source of information to Berlin, were it could take weeks to come back to us, could cripple our defenses here, do you not think?"
"My orders are clear. He leaves within the hour, as soon as the train arrives. The other prisoner will provide us plenty of information. You may interrogate him as soon as you choose."
"Thank you, but it seems to me that a lackey of Captain America would know far less than Captain America himself. May I, perhaps, ask him a few questions myself, prior to his extraction?"
"Very well, you may." The door bolt rattled and the door opened. Bucky looked forward quickly and dropped his head to his chest, faking exhaustion. (It wasn't all that faked) several heavy footfalls approached from behind and he glanced up wearily.
Every nerve in his body suddenly yanked awake with the screaming gut instinct of danger.
Dr. Zola was skittering beside the wall, a sheaf of paper clutched nervously in his fat hands. And behind him, tall, razor-straight, burning-eyed, hideous red skull concealed under a fake mask-
Johann Schmidt.
Oh, hell.
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Steve's head pounded like a train wreck as he bent over in the corner of the prisoner's barracks, his body concealing the small radio in his hands. It was a miracle that this was the one item the guards had over looked. He sent the frequency over and over, listening for any answer, warily looking for any sign that he was observed.
"Jay, its Eagle. Come in, over."
The crackle of static.
"Jay, its Eagle. Answer if you can hear me, over."
The crackle was interrupted by a garbled noise that sounded vaguely human. Steve adjusted the settings one more time and pressed the radio into his cheek. "Jay, is that you?"
"Brooklyn, Washington, Jackson."
"Fort Worth, Gettysburg, Chamberlain." The code for all clear.
"Position?"
"Alive, but imprisoned. Hawk is separated, location unknown." Steve bit his lip, chewing back his worry. "Situation requires back-up."
"Not a problem. What do you need?"
Steve resituated his aching ribs and breathed a quiet prayer. I really, really hope this works.
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I think this just went from bad to worse.
Bucky looked into the rage-filled eyes of Schmidt and internally winced. "This can't be good news for you." he joked lightly. Understatement of the millennium.
"You were with him." Schmidt snarled. "On the bridge at the factory."
Shit. I hoped he would forget that.
Schmidt leaned forward, his terrifyingly strong hand gripping Bucky's collar and yanking him forward. His eyes burned so fiercely that the mask was almost smoking.
If that thing melts off his face, I just might laugh. The snarkiest part of Bucky's brain whispered. Which would not be conducive to my general state of health. Shouted the part that was currently keeping him alive.
"Where is Captain Rogers?" Schmidt asked, almost politely.
"Not hiding under a mask." The snarky part actually answered out loud. The staying-alive-part winced. All of him regretted it when Schmidt's backhand reopened to cuts on his face. But only slightly.
"If your Captain America was as honorable as he purports himself to be, he wouldn't have you masquerading as him." He grabbed the dog tags that hung at Bucky's throat and looked at them contemptuously. "Then you wouldn't be in this position, would you?"
"You don't know a damn thing about Americans, do you?" Bucky asked, spitting out blood.
"Then let's see if this will help clarify matters for me." Schmidt turned to Dr. Zola, who was peering at Bucky closely through his spectacles like a large-eyed insect. "This man was one of your more successful tests, was he not, Doctor?"
Bucky's stomach clenched. Not the lab. Never again.
"Yes. He was." Zola adjusted his satchel and rubbed his fat fingers eagerly along the strap. "With your permission, I would be eager to recommence them."
"I think that would be a good plan." Schmidt smiled. "I shall inform Herr Sendler that the prisoner will attend us. I'm sure Captain America would be delighted to turn himself in when he hears that one of his Commandos is in Dr. Zola's possession."
Not Steve. They are not going to get Steve through me. I'll die first.
"Herr Schmidt, I protest. You know that my work is purely scientific."
"That I do, good Doctor, now if you would-"
A sudden far off explosion rocked the room, dust scattering from the tiles. Dr. Zola fell against the wall, his pens and papers scattering around him. Schmidt rocked back on his heels and looked up, glaring as though his gaze could pierce the concrete walls and reveal the source. A second explosion followed, then a third, and the vicious rat-tat-tat of bullets followed.
"This base has been compromised, Dr.. Let us evacuate quickly."
"What of the prisoner?" Zola asked, his beady eyes turning on Bucky from behind their wire spectacles.
"Radio the guards to come help you extract him."
Zola fumbled with a bulky hand-held radio in his pocket, his smile sharp and hungry as he met Bucky's eyes.
"Do not be concerned, Sergeant Barnes. My lab has been expanded from the one at Azzano. The processes will be far swifter than last time."
"I look forward to seeing the results. Now, hurry to extricate yourself. I shall meet you in two days' time." Schmidt said as he strode stiffly out of the room. Dr. Zola barked commands into the radio and began to tidy up the papers scattered around the room. Bucky could see a design on one by his foot that looked suspiciously like a torpedo. His eyes narrowed. Zola, looked up at the ceiling then down at Bucky. Bucky glared at him, while his fingers stretched towards the button at his shirt cuff. The one that Stark had hidden a slight razor edge underneath the cloth.
"You seem unreasonably calm, Sergeant Barnes." Zola remarked suspiciously.
"Maybe I'm a soldier who is used to the thought of dying by a mortar shell." Bucky drawled. The button was firmly between his left thumb and index finger and he began to draw it across the nearest rope on his wrist.
"It always puzzles me, how you idiots can be so desirous of destroying yourself. Do you think nothing of your own lives?"
"We actually have something worth dying for." Bucky snapped. "We don't live our lives under rocks like insects." The button slipped in his fingers and gashed his skin. Blood made the ropes slippery. He winced. I really hope that cut is not as bad as it feels.
"I at least will not be blasted to nothingness. You, on the other hand, do not even seem to be concerned is anyone knows which body is yours."
"We do care." Bucky snapped. "We have families. We are not forgotten. That's why we wear these tags." He felt familiar metal disks at his throat. One rope at his right wrist parted. He wrenched his wrists slightly at the give. "We know we are probably going to die. These remind us of that. But they also remind us that someone will find us and bring us home, even if we are so burned or torn that our own mother wouldn't recognize us. We are still going home, one way or another."
"Well, you are in good hands then, Sergeant Barnes." Zola said, looking up in relief as two guards entered the room. "We may not be leaving you in one piece, but we are taking you home." He snapped an order at the guard and slid the last folder into his bag. "Let us go."
The guard step forward and grabbed Bucky's arms.
The last rope parted.
"Not today." Bucky snapped, launching himself forward.
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Steve decked the guard and moved into the doorway. Gabe's honest smile appeared as the soldier reached out and gave him a quick clap on the shoulder.
"Good to see you alive! How does it look?"
Steve looked out over the scattered dead guards, the smoking barracks, and the race of prisoners towards the American lorries. Scattered pockmarks of guards were still putting up a sharp defense.
"Like I couldn't have done it without you, but there is still work to do."
"You're telling me." Dum-Dum grumbled, his bowler hat caved in and smoking. "Here, brought you a present." He pulled the round shield off his back and thrust it into Steve's hands. Steve slid it comfortably onto his arm, the familiar feeling settling him firmly into soldier mode.
"Have you located Bucky yet?"
"We haven't seen Barnes anywhere, and we've swiped every building we could, except the main admin."
"He's probably in there then, I'll go get him. You all-"
A sudden burst of flame knocked them back onto the ground. Steve lurched up, searching for the origin-
The admin building, half of it in smoldering piles of brick, the other half smoking.
"Gabe, radio them to not hit the building again."
"That's gonna be a little tough!" Gabe snapped, holding up his smoking radio, which had a bullet hole in the back of it."
Steve looked at it, then spun around. "I'm going in."
"Take this!" Gabe yanked a rifle off his back, a familiar one – Bucky's sniper- and handed it to Steve. Struggling hope burned in his eyes. "Get it to Buck. He'll want it."
Steve shouldered the gun, nodding. Yes, he will.
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Bucky picked himself off the ground, his head ringing. Hot air burned his face and he could barely see through the haze of smoke and dust. The walls were still standing, for a wonder, but he could hear the familiar creak of tumbling rubble just beyond them. He didn't have time.
The two guards were just beyond him, lying where his solid punches had laid them out seconds before the explosion. Zola was in the corner, scrambling up, his spectacles broken.
Bucky lurched forward, snatching up the satchel of papers were it lay on the floor. These have got to be important. He looked down on Zola, considering whether to deck him out and leave him to the flames.
Not right. Even if he is like that, it's not right.
A sudden thunder of footsteps in the hall startled him. He leapt to the door and peered out. Guards were coming down the hall.
"In here! Help me! He's getting away!" Zola sudden shrill voice burst out and Bucky gritted his teeth, whirling around. Blast the little worm!
Another bomb shook the whole building. Bucky tumbled to the ground, covering his head as rubble rained down around him, a large block smacking his left shoulder and sending screaming pain through his whole arm. He grunted and pulled himself up, cradling his arm against his side.
A hole in the upper part of the wall, flames shining through. Guards behind him, gathering in the door.
No choice.
He took a running leap, hauled himself into the breach, bullets snapping at his heels. Something burned his calf, a singeing pain that he prayed hadn't hit anything important. He rolled to the side through the flames, the hair on his exposed arms burning. He landed and pulled himself up, coughing and peering through the smoke for an escape. If I just leapt from the frying pan into the fire, I'm a bigger idiot that Steve jumping into a bar fight with a football team.
His aching shoulder hit something that chinked like glass. Using the satchel for a guard, he smashed his elbow into it once, twice, a crash, swiped the shards from the lower pane, leaned out, smelled fresh air, saw a drop, 15, no, 20 feet, into smoldering rubble, felt the fire suddenly surge behind him at the influx of oxygen…
Heard the whistle of an incoming shell.
Hissed a prayer.
Closed his eyes and jumped.
AUTHORS NOTE: PLEASE DONT KILL ME THERE IS ONE MORE CHAPTER COMING! believe me, if i didn't love my little bucky and steve babes so much i would never put them into so much danger. and since i love them, i would never KILL them, right?
right?
um...i'm gonna go hide in my bunker and leave my muse here for you to torment...its her fault anyway. ..bye...
