"You should stay in the car," Sam told me as we pulled up beside a series of restaurants.

We were waiting for Jasper Sitwell, who was having lunch with another known member of Hydra. I didn't argue this time—we'd broken Sam's equipment out of Fort Meade a few hours ago, and I was sporting a cut in my left arm where a bullet had grazed me. I waved the man off, nodding.

Sam stepped out, leaving his gear behind, and ordered a drink from the nearest shop. He sat down in the shade, setting his sunglasses on his face, and waited. I settled down, a pencil in my hand, and started to draw. I wasn't drawing for fun, see. My brother and I both had been gifted with this particular ability, and I was using it to my advantage—drawing my surroundings. I'd have to notice details, and that way I'd notice if anything was out of place—a sniper, for example, or someone who refused to turn the page on their magazine for a suspiciously long time.

Nothing. No Winter Soldier, at least. I swallowed, breathing out. What if I had to face him?

"Sitwell is leaving the building," I murmured into the comms. I heard the others mutter in confirmation that yes, they'd heard me.

He spoke with the other man, their words inaudible even to me from this distance. Sitwell's friend embraced him, then left, limping slightly. A few guards followed, but some remained with Sitwell… at least until his phone rang. He glanced down at the caller ID, then ordered his men away.

Sam's voice came on over the comms I had pressed into my left ear, and I scowled at the bald man he spoke to. "Agent Sitwell, how was lunch? I hear the crab cakes here are delicious."

The man was instantly on guard. I could hear him through Sam's comms, and through the phone. He looked nervous. "Who is this?"

"The good looking guy in the sunglasses, your ten o'clock." Sitwell looked around frantically, scanning the street but completely missing Sam. "Your other ten o'clock." Sitwell finally locked eyes on him. Mine narrowed, and my fingers closed around the gun that rested in my lap, just incase something went wrong. "There you go."

Sitwell glared at him. "What do you want?"

"You're gonna go around the corner, to your right. There's a grey car, two spaces down. You and I are gonna take a ride."

Sitwell glanced around for the car in question, then looked back at Sam. At the same moment, a small red light appeared on his chest. "And why would I do that?"

Sam's answer was a growl. "Because that tie looks really expensive, and I'd hate to mess it up."

Sitwell panicked, scanning the horizon for the shooter, then followed Sam's instructions to the car. When he was about twenty feet away, I stepped out and held the door open for him. When he saw me, I thought he'd pass out. He actually stopped in his tracks, staring at me blankly. The hair obviously threw him off, but it was only a few seconds before my identity registered, and he panicked—it was clear that Hydra knew who I was. He made to turn around, only to run into Sam's gun. Sam was taller and larger than he was, and also armed, leaving him no choice but to enter the car, although he pressed himself as far away from me as possible. He sat behind the shotgun seat.

As Sam moved around the car to the front, I settled in beside Sitwell, keeping my gun in my lap pointed at him and sitting directly behind Sam. "Jasper," I purred, giving him a deadly smile. Sam slid into the driver's seat as Sitwell's face drained of color. "I have some questions that need answering."

Sam pulled into traffic and started driving—Steve and Natasha would only be a few minutes away.

"I don't know anything."

"Oh, I think you do." My tone changed drastically, and my grip on the gun tightened. "Tell me everything that you know about the Winter Soldier."

His lips moved soundlessly for a few moments before he finally answered. "The Winter Soldier?"

His terrified expression confirmed what I'd thought—he knew who James was. Rage burned so strongly within me that I thought the Angel would take over. Sam glanced back in the mirror. "What're you doing, Katie?"

"Tell me what you know about him."

"Katie, what are you doing?" Steve asked me.

"I've never heard of the Winter Soldier. What is it?"

"You know exactly who he is," I snarled, dropping all façades. Sitwell shrank back from me, terrified.

"Katie, that's enough!" Steve barked, silencing me. Sitwell stared at me in mute terror, unable to hear my brother's words. "Whomever the Winter Soldier is, we'll find him. He's not important now."

Sam dropped Sitwell and I off at the final location then went to park and change into his armor. I marched Sitwell inside, where I mat my brother and Natasha—they took over from there.

"Tell me about Zola's algorithm," Steve ordered, striding towards Sitwell on the roof. Sitwell stumbled backwards on the gravel.

"Never heard of it."

My brother continued. "What were you doing on the Lemurian Star?"

"I was throwing up, I get seasick." My brother forced Sitwell to the edge of the roof; he started to fall backwards, and Steve caught the front of his jacket.

Sitwell smiled grimly; it was apparent that he feared his brother far less than he feared me. "Is all this meant to insinuate that you're going to throw me off the roof? 'Cause it's really not your style, Rogers."

Steve nodded, and I grinned. "You're right. It's not." He smoothed out the creases on Sitwell's tux from where he'd bunched it up. He looked back at Sitwell and nodded. "It's hers."

Steve stepped aside, and I caught a brief flash of the terror that swept over Sitwell's face when he caught sight of Natasha just before she kicked him off the roof. He plummeted towards the ground, screaming.

Natasha snapped her fingers, frowning. "Oh, wait. What about that girl from accounting, L-Laura…?"

Steve tucked his hands in his pockets. "Lillian. Lip piercing, right?"

Natasha grinned. "Yeah, she's cute."

"Yeah, I'm not ready for that." San shot up from the abyss, holding Sitwell, and dropped him onto the roof. He landed, and his metal wingers folded into their jetpack. Steve looked immensely relieved at the interruption. When Natasha moved towards Sitwell, he lifted his hands in fear.

"Zola's algorithm is a program—for choosing—Insight's targets!"

I frowned. "What targets?"

Sitwell gasped. "You! Your sister, a TV anchor in Cairo, the Undersecretary of Defense, a high school valedictorian in Iowa city." He gasped for breath. "Bruce Banner, Stephen Strange, anyone who's a threat to Hydra! Now, or in the future."

Steve started. "The Future? How could it know?"

Sitwell laughed humorlessly. "How could it not? The 21st century is a digital book. Zola taught Hydra how to read it." I stared at him in confusion, and he elaborated. "Your bank records, medical histories, voting patterns, e-mails, phone calls, your damn SAT scores. Zola's algorithm evaluates peoples' past to predict their future."

Steve tilted his head. "And what then?"

What little color remained in Sitwell's face left it. "Oh, my God. Pierce is gonna kill me."

"What then?!" Steve pressed. Sam's fist tightened on Sitwell's jacket.

Sitwell swallowed. "Then the Insight Helicarriers scratch people off the list. A few million at a time."

It was all I could do to keep from pitching him off the roof. Steve managed to restrain me, and we al made it back down to the car in one piece. Natasha and I sat in the back, me in the middle, Sitwell on my left. We sped towards D.C., heading straight for the Triskellion.

Sitwell fidgeted. "HYDRA doesn't like leaks."

Sam glared at him through the rearview. "So why don't you try sticking a cork in it."

Natasha leaned forward to speak to the men up front, and I leaned back into the seat, my arms crossed. "Insight's launching in sixteen hours, we're cutting it a little bit close here."

Steve nodded. "I know. We'll use him to bypass the DNA scans and access the Helicarriers directly."

Sitwell stared at him. "What?! Are you crazy?" The others rolled their eyes in frustration and annoyance. "That is a terrible, terrible idea."

The following moments were a blur. The window to my left shattered, and an arm shot into the car, grabbed Sitwell, and threw him screaming across several lanes of traffic, where he was struck and killed by an oncoming truck.

"No!" I lurched forward, and Natasha yanked me back, tossing me into the floorboards as the man climbed onto the roof of the car. I struggled, frantic, and Natasha slapped me. I started, caught sight of the look in her eyes, and stopped fighting her. Sitwell was my one link to James, my one chance at finding out where he was—but he was gone. Natasha scrambled up front, pulling my brother and Sam out of the way of several kill-shots. The next thing I knew, the car had slammed on its breaks, throwing me forward against the seats and throwing someone else off the roof. I sat up and leaned forward, staring in horrified silence out the front window. A man in all black was rising to his feet, shaking concrete out of the plates of his metal hand—the grooves where his fingers had dug into the road stretched a good twenty yards long. Dark, unkempt hair hung loose around his face, and a dark mask and goggles obscured all but his forehead from view.

Cars swerved around us, intent on avoiding a collision, but no one in our car paid any mind to them. "Natasha, NO!" I reached to pull the assassin's arm up, to keep her from shooting him, but something slammed into the car from the back, sending me into the front seat of the car and propelling our little car along in front of it. Natasha's gun fell into the floorboards, leaving her to scramble to grab hold of it. Steve caught hold of my waist just in time to keep me from flying out the front windshield—the Winter Soldier leapt up and landed on the top of the car, his feet striking and chatting the back windshield as he did so. Sam slammed on the brakes and tried frantically to maintain control of the car—the tires squealed violently against the pavement. Before I could give a warning—to Steve, to Natasha, to Sam—the Winter Soldier smashed though the windshield and tore the steering wheel free, leaving us stranded.

My heart leapt into my throat, choking off my strangled cry.

Sam twisted around to look up at the ceiling. "Shit!"

Natasha shot blindly into the ceiling, but he leapt onto the car behind ours as Sam lost control. Our car ran into another one to our left and careened towards the median—the tank behind us hit the back of the car, and it flew to one side, twisting up the median and into the air. "Hang on!" Steve's grip on me tightened, he grabbed Sam, who wrapped his arms around Natasha and I as the car flipped and Steve tore the door off its hinges. We fell, me crushed between the other three. I held onto my brother for dear life. We slid, skidding across the concrete on a metal shield. Sparks flew up behind us, and Sam fell off, rolling down the road. I fell off, landing hard on my side, and rolled a few yards before struggling to my feet and immediately diving behind a stationary vehicle to avoid being shot. Bullets ricocheted off my makeshift shelter—I peeked around the edge in time to see Steve held his shield up in front of him to avoid being struck by a grenade, which instead blew him off the bridge. I didn't see where he went, though I heard the sound of a great crash, then the sound of cars honking frantically at one another. Pained and panicked screams filled the air.

Sam and Natasha joined me behind the car, but when machine guns opened fire, we scattered. Each hid behind a separate vehicle, ducking down to avoid being riddled by bullets as Hydra advanced on us. Natasha returned fire and leapt over the median as the car she hid behind exploded.

I pressed close to my car, gritting my teeth. There was a break in the gunfire— "James, it's me!"

I moved out of the way just in time to avoid being blown up as well—the Winter Soldier had launched a grenade straight at me. Some of the gunfire was drawn away from me, focusing on Natasha as she ran, returning fire when she could.

I watched in horror as he sent another grenade at her—the car that was her shelter went up in flames, and she disappeared from the bridge.

"NO!" I scrambled forward, finally remembering the gun I had tucked into my waistband an hour before. I took aim at the Hydra agents as I sprinted to another cover, purposefully avoiding taking any shots at James. The glass beside my face exploded, and shards dug into my shoulder as I fell down, curling into a small ball. Gunfire ceased—then a single shot was fired, and the Winter Soldier staggered back. Four more shots fired in rapid succession—Natasha was firing up at him.

I watched from under the car as the Winter Soldier fell back—he tore off his goggles, and for the briefest moment I caught sight of the barest flash of blue before and stood and then returned fire, not bothering to avoid the citizens who were screaming down below.

One—Natasha fired again, then fired six more times. It didn't stop him—he continued to fire upon the streets down below. I twisted, shooting to my feet, and fired on the soldiers—one of the agents fell, then another. The others took cover, but not him. A single shot ricocheted of his metal arm, grabbing his attention. His blue eyes flashed to me, freezing me where I stood.

"James," I whispered. He advanced on me, and I raised my voice, scrambling backwards. "James, it's me! It's Katie, James, please!"

He paused for the barest fraction of a second, his eyes dropping down. My heart leapt for a split second, and the next, the Angel's voice was filling my head.

Go. Get out of here, go!

For once, the Angel was right—and I listened. She was made to survive, but neither of us could harm James, and so our only option was to run. Without giving it a second thought, I turned and leapt over the side of the bridge, falling several stories but landing in a roll and coming up on my feet—at the same time I jumped, the Winter Soldier opened fire. I took off in a dead sprint.

The sound of shattering glass exploded behind me, and I glanced back in time to see the Winter Soldier sauntering off the roof of a car he'd just landed on, heading straight towards me. I went into turbo mode, flying faster on my feet than I had since I lost my wings, and then tripped—I rolled and ended up under a stalled truck, panting. I covered my mouth with both hands, startled—I hadn't had trouble breathing in decades.

Natasha's voice reached my ears, and I glanced over in time to glimpse a recording device replaying its message. "Civilians threatened. I make an LZ, twenty-three hundred block at Virginia Avenue. Rendezvous two minutes."

I scrambled on my stomach away from it and froze beside the tire, having just heard the Winter Soldier on the other side of the vehicle. The sound of metal on concrete echoed through the chilling silence, and I broke out in a dead sprint as the device exploded behind me. The energy from the blast sent me sprawling, and I groaned, rolling over onto my right side, my elbow tucked against my rib cage. Gravel dug into the curve of my wrist, rubbing my skin raw. I rolled onto my back in time to see the Winter Soldier's fist descending towards my head—I lurched to one side, narrowly avoiding having my head bashed in, and kicked up, catching him under the chin. He staggered back, glaring darkly at me.

My heart was in my throat. Please, please, please—

James lunged forward, eyes burning, and I leapt back, narrowly avoiding his fists but catching the tip of his blade on my ribs. I hissed in pain and snarled at him, dancing around him as he continued to charge at me.

"James, I don't want to fight you—" He backhanded me, and my shoulders slammed into the pavement as my lip split. I rolled backwards and continued to fight, remembering all my training, all the years of torment that went into making me who I was—and I pressed him back. "But I will if I have to."

The Winter Soldier kicked out, and his foot made contact with my knee, bringing me down. In the next moment, Steve appeared out of nowhere, attacking him. I scrambled back as quickly as I could, ending up in a patch of grass in front of a bank. From there I could see the two men fight—Steve almost caught James with the fallen knife—I screamed for him to stop, not thinking. Steve looked over at me and almost lost his life for it—

After what felt like forever, I saw Steve throw the Winter Soldier over his shoulder, tearing his mask off in the process. The mask hit the ground, revealing James's achingly familiar face, and Steve froze. The men faced each other, unmoving, and I dragged myself up against a tree, struggling to stand. It wasn't because of my knee; he hadn't made direct contact, not enough to keep me down—I had frozen in fear.

Steve looked as though he'd just walked through a war zone. "Bucky?"

"Who the hell is Bucky?" James made to move forward, and his words broke my heart—but not as much as the heartbroken, betrayed look that Steve gave me when he realized that I knew; I knew and I hadn't told him.