A/N: Heyyyy! Welcome, welcome! Thanks for the reviews for the first chapter, you guys are the best!

I have a question for the readers! I was speaking to Bucky Flavord Skittles tonight and asked what she thought Lacey looked like, if she were to be played in a movie or something? Opinions? I will give you the answer in the next chapter, but I am really curious to see what my readers think!

Anyway, I had fun writing this chapter, so I hope you enjoy!

Musical Inspiration:

Father Said by Skrillex (Warning: Dubstep song. I wouldn't recommend listening to the song until the last portion of this chapter. Dubstep is bad news for brain work.)

Uprising by Muse

Falls Apart by Thousand Foot Krutch

Chapter 2

Within But Without


Bucky strode along, trailing a length behind Steve as they arrived at Fury's old apartment building. They'd driven to his place in a cab, getting strange looks from the cabbie at their odd get-ups. Bucky felt self-conscious about his prosthetic for the first time since it'd been installed. He felt relieved to get out of the car to escape the cabbie constantly glaring at him through his rear-view mirror.

They'd only reached the walkway when Fury jogged out of the building.

"Stop that cab before it leaves!" he called.

Bucky's snappy instinct to obey orders took over. He was in reaching range from the cab that just began to pull away from the curb. He spun around, reaching out with his bionic hand and grasped the bumper before the car could pull away.

Unfortunately, his actions weren't thought through fully.

The cheap Ford cab was far weaker than his arm. The car groaned only a bit before the bumper snapped off in his firm hold.

Bucky stared at the long yellow bumper in his hand in shock. Since he'd been awoken from his machine-killing stupor, his own strength in the cybernetic arm surprised him from time to time.

"...I don't think he literally meant 'stop' the cab, Buck," Steve said after a short pause.

Bucky gave Steve a bitch-face, and saw Fury rolling his eyes in exasperation out the corner of his eye. Bucky dropped the bumper do the ground as the cabbie leaped out of his car.

"What the hell did you do to my cab?" the cabbie squawked, glaring at Bucky.

Bucky held his metal arm behind his back and flourished his flesh hand towards the car, "Uh...I thought...your tire was flat. I wanted to stop you before you left before you wrecked. But thank God it isn't flat because we need to go somewhere else."

The cabbie spluttered, "If you think I'm going to take you anywhere after this-"

"We're wasting time," Fury interrupted, storming promptly to the vehicle, "I'll pay for your damn repairs plus the distance to the airport."

The cabbie grumbled under his breath, picking up the bumper and shoving it into the trunk. Steve clapped Bucky reassuringly on the shoulder as got inside after Fury.

Bucky stood there for a moment as the cabbie pointed a finger at him, before stepping into the driver's seat, "Try to keep your destructive tendencies to a minimum, Iron Man."

"Iron Man...?" Bucky scoffed under his breath, sliding in the cab after Steve.

Nick stayed completely silent the entire car ride to a private airport south of D.C. Bucky knew this mission was covert, so neither he nor Steve pressed for answers.

It wasn't until they were out of the cab, walking towards a private jet that Steve finally inquired, "What's going on, Nick?"

"I'm not sure..." Fury responded shortly.

"You're really not sure? Or do you just not want to tell me? Because we've gone through this before and you know that answer doesn't satisfy me," Steve growled, adjusting his shield on his back more securely.

"I'm really not sure, Rogers. Agent Barton requested a team to come to New Jersey to help with a problem Natasha and he are having there," Fury answered, boarding the plane.

Bucky stepped inside after Fury and Steve. He felt mildly surprised at how nice the jet appeared on the inside. He didn't know that Fury still had that kind of money for such utilities. He was also shocked to see two women sitting down across from one another in the cushy seats.

"Rogers, Barnes. These are the other two past SHIELD agents that will be working with us on this mission. I believe you've met Agent 13, also known as Sharon Carter. And this is Agent Jillian Rue."

Steve gave a friendly nod to both, sharing a small smile with the blond Agent 13. Bucky's brow furrowed and he curiously glanced at the girl sitting across from Agent Carter. She wore all an all-black, skin-tight jumpsuit and a gun belt strapped to her waist. She wore her suit zipped down to show her cleavage at a pointlessly low level. Bucky averted his eyes as she leaned her body, resting her elbows on her knees as grinned up at the two of them, "It's nice to meet you, Captain. I've seen a lot of your footage and what you've done to protect this country is unbelievable. And you..."

Bucky swallowed hard, forced to look back at her as she addressed him. He looked at her raven-black hair pulled back in a tight pony-tail and her bangs that framed her pixie face. She gave him a saucy smile with her ruby lips, "Bucky Barnes. I'm pleased that you've come back to work for SHIELD."

Bucky felt like running. He remembered in the 1940s, he always tried to coax Steve to go out on double dates with him. Bucky really never stuck to one girl. But he did go out, he always chose the perky, witty women to occupy his free weeknight. He'd go out with a pretty lady, eat dinner, catch a movie, dance, and end the night maybe share a sweet kiss.

He didn't date these flamboyant types of women. These kinds of women lived to vex men. They prided themselves on making men fall to their knees at their impertinent attitude and alluring body.

"I-I'm pleased as well," stammered Bucky, feeling like jumping off the plane before it took off.

A ringing noise sounded overhead and a voice said over the intercom, "Everyone, please take your seats and buckle up, we'll be taking off in five minutes."

They all did so, Bucky sitting down between Steve and the window. He stared outside while Fury sat down across from them, talking almost immediately about the obvious precautions they needed to take.

"This is a mission that could have a lot of variables, so you need to stay on your toes. I've been given little information besides that fact that we know Barton and Romanoff are in trouble. They've put their lives on the line many times for us, now I want to return the favor," Fury explained as the plane took off.

"We don't know anything at all?" inquired Sharon, worry coloring her tone.

"Nothing, Barton refused to speak specifically over the phone. I suspect that he feared they'd been tapped," Fury responded.

Rue's voice started, "By who? I mean, it seems like..."

As they discussed the possibilities, Bucky felt his mind come alive. His high functioning brain thought of every variable and every situation. Pierce programmed him to function this way, he couldn't stop himself from immediately working out strategies.

He didn't like to speak unnecessarily when Steve was near. He wasn't the leader, after all. He never wanted to step on his toes. But he spoke up this time, "They're being hunted down by HYDRA."

Everyone in the plane turned to look at him. He felt his pale cheeks tinge pink with embarrassment, but he continued, "Just because Pierce died doesn't mean HYDRA is gone. The organization name literally describes beast that if you cut off one of its heads, two more will grow in its place. They won't stop until their only threat, SHIELD, is gone. They're going to start searching and picking off the leftover SHIELD agents."

Steve gaped at Bucky's sudden burst of speech, but Fury merely nodded, "You're most likely right, Sergeant Barnes. In that case, scratch being on your toes. Watch your back sounds like a better warning."

"It would take a lot more than a sniper to take down Hawkeye and Black Widow though," Steve suggested, glancing at Bucky, "Not to bring up the topic, but they'd need an assassin as good as you."

Bucky nodded slowly, knowing Steve was damn right. As Winter Soldier, he saw Black Widow in action. She took him by surprise, a difficult thing to accomplish.

"We'll know better how to plan once we get to Jersey and get briefed by Barton," Fury told the group, leaning back in his chair "So until then just sit back and shut up until we get there."

Bucky looked out the window again, thinking back to the time he was last in jet...it had been almost half a year ago...


"Well, are you comfortable?"

I tore my eyes away from the jet window slowly and looked at Alexander Pierce who stood in front of me, sneering.

"I don't understand," I said.

Was he angry?

"Let me be a little clearer. Why are you sitting on your ass?" Alexander growled.

I tilted my head in confusion and eased myself out the chair, a deadpan expression on my face.

Pierce sat in the seat I'd just occupied, crossing his arms, "You'll stand until I tell you otherwise."

I stood against the wall of the plane, my flesh hand resting on the machine gun strapped to my side.

"You aren't human, Soldier. You are what I say that you are, and that's nothing but a tool. You're a war dog, nothing more. You don't mingle with people like myself, someone who outranks you. You stand at attention when on duty," Pierce informed me harshly.

I didn't say a word. I could only obey.

How could I not? He was the only person I knew, I could do nothing else but trust in him and obey his every command.


Bucky almost frowned outwardly at the recollection. I took a calming breath and continued to stare out the window, not speaking to anyone for the rest of the trip to Jersey.

I was still the pariah. But only emotionally. The SHIELD agents were distant, but at least they allowed Bucky to sit down with them. That was more than he could have ever hoped for.


That night, miles and miles away from SHIELD's traveling agents, a lone warehouse stood in the middle of a vacant forest. Not even animals ventured so far out into the wood. The shack was a rickety, old warehouse where cotton was once made. It hadn't been used in years, so it was a convenient hideout for those who wished to make themselves invisible.

Inside, for the first time in years, people tread the dusty cement floors. A short man in a grey suit paced back and forth around the warehouse and spoke angrily in a German accent, "This is the fourth time we've attempted on target Black Widow and failed. I'm getting sick and tired of missing. We're like children running out, unsuccessfully throwing rocks at a bird!"

Another man, taller and more severe, leaned against the unused cotton gin watching his acquaintance run back and forth.

"Patience, help is coming. We won't miss this time," the man said in a deep, Spanish accent.

"How? I hear you have a secret weapon? Are we really going to use the spear again? That worked so well last time!" exclaimed the shorter man in the suit sarcastically.

"Do you really wish to see the weapon?" the Spanish man inquired, sitting up and putting his hands in his pockets.

"Yes, of course!" snarled the other.

The Spanish man huffed and responded, "If that is what you so desire."

The Spanish man stepped back and nodded to several of the black-suited, helmeted officer standing by, "Bring in El Angel de la Muerte."

"The what? The Angel of Death?" scoffed the German.

The officers disappeared into what once was the enclosed office of the cotton factory. Shortly they returned, dragging a thrashing body with them.

The creature appeared humanoid, its head covered with a black sack secured by a rope around its neck. Its arms clamped to its sides by a black straitjacket. The thing wore tattered black pants and a loose black jacket and gloves. Around the wrists and ankles were thick metallic shackles that chinked together when it moved.

"What's that?" the German laughed, "You're going to let a mental patient go against the assassins?"

"Well, why don't you tell me how you feel about this 'mental patient' after you see its performance, Mr. Franz," the Spanish man said darkly, unlocking the chains around the thing's legs.

"Levantaran, Angel de la Muerte," the Spaniard instructed the creature.

An odd, strangled noise that sounded like a laugh came from the being as it got off its knees, stumbling to its feet. It stood limply, much like a zombie.

"Mátalo," the Spaniard hissed.

From under the bag on the things head, Franz could see it look up at him through the loose threads. The human-like beast tilted its head to either side, popping the joints before clenching its freed right fist.

"What did you tell it?" Franz squeaked as the thing advanced.

"You'll find out soon enough," the Spaniard yawned, walking away from the scene as the brute dashed forward.

Franz screamed and tried to run away, but with a quick dance of the being's feet, it stood in front of him. Franz slid to a halt and another cry caught in his throat as the creature balanced itself on its right leg and kicked out powerfully with its left.

The blow struck Franz directly in the ribs, a sickening crunch following shortly thereafter. Blood spurted out of the German's mouth as he fell to the floor.

He looked up to see a fist flying towards his face at a frighteningly powerful speed. He only had time to blink and open his mouth to scream in horror, but the fist collided with his skull.

And then he knew no more.