January, 1944


Steve stood over the collapsed form of the train engineer. He hadn't meant to knock him out, but when the man pulled a large shotgun out of nowhere, Steve just reacted. Steve groaned as his limbs relaxed a little. Perfect. Steve had picked up a lot of tricks over the past couple of months, but operating a train was not one of them. He kicked the gun away as he tepidly approached the various cranks, levers, and knobs at the forefront of the train. The coal fire spat angrily at his ankles, like an animal in its cage. Steve looked anxiously between a long lever sticking out of the floor and a wheel with a large red handle. Either of them could have been a brake, and Steve wasn't certain either way. Moving his shield to his back, Steve made an official decision and wrapped a gloved hand around the lever.

"Not that one!"

Had it not been for the British accent, Steve might have accidentally taken Falsworth's head off on reflex alone. Steve turned as the man finished climbing up the ladder into the front compartment. He gave the unconscious engineer on the ground a confused look, then cast that look to Steve. Steve couldn't do anything but frown and shrug. Falsworth shrugged as well, walking past Steve. He surveyed the mechanization of the train with a knowing eye.

"Lucky for the both of us, trains were my fascination as a boy." Falsworth shouted over the engine. He reached up and grabbed a lever hanging down from the ceiling and pulled it all the way back. The train lurched as the front wheels stopped spinning and sparks flew against the rails. Steve and Falsworth braced themselves until the train stopped completely. Falsworth let go of the lever, letting it slide into its neutral position and smiling at Steve. "It's funny how things can come back to you like that."

Steve smiled and shook his head. The tally of how many times one of his team members could one-up him had just gone up. Falsworth climbed down the ladder from the engineer's compartment and looked down the length of the train. Car upon car sat silently in the distorted light of the setting sun, all enemy soldiers either knocked out, killed, or thrown off along the way to the front. Steve climbed up to the roof of the coal car, getting his bearings on the flat, dry Croatian landscape. Looking forward along the tracks, Steve could see the tell-tale lights that sat on top of the fences that surrounded Hydra factories. If he had to guess, the base was probably about ten miles away, but with the bad light it was hard to tell. Steve heard a whistle, and turned to look down the train. He saw the silhouettes of two of his team members standing on top of one of the cargo carriers waving their arms at him.

Falsworth jogged on the ground alongside the train while Steve jumped the roofs of the cars. As they approached the other two, Steve also saw that there was a third person, sitting on the roof the car and not moving. He slowed, the details of Morita and Dernier coming into focus as he approached. He looked down at the one who was sitting, easily recognizing Dugan's bowler hat in the twilight. What concerned him was the fact that Dugan wasn't running his mouth like usual.

"What happened?" Steve looked to the other two.

"Nothing." Morita sighed. "He wasn't ready when the train stopped. Hit his head when he fell down. Frenchy says he'll be fine." Dernier nodded the affirmative. Dugan looked up, scowling.

"If I had known that this god-forsaken death train was going to come to a screeching halt, I would have been fine!"

"That's what you get for opting out of a safety tether." Falsworth shouted from the ground.

"I don't want to hear it, crumpet!"

Steve chuckled and looked around. He had been a little worried there for a minute. They had managed to take over the train and get it to stop right at the edge of the time window that they were given. A hundred feet more down the tracks, and they would have been spotted by the Hydra base. But it was no easy task, accomplishing what they had. The train had been more heavily protected than they thought it would be. Steve thought it was odd that a train carrying weapons needed so much security, but they had gotten the job done and that was all that mattered. Another successful blow to Hydra for the books – and one step closer to Schmidt, where ever the bastard was hiding.

"Steve, you better come look at this."

Everybody looked up as Steve walked over the other side of the train, peering down into the shadow of the car to see Bucky standing there, eyes glued to the open cargo door. Steve dropped down from the roof of the car and walked over to stand next to Bucky, anxious to see what had his friend so transfixed. Bucky never took his eyes off the car. Steve peered into the car, his night vision taking a little longer to adjust than Bucky's. At first, all he saw was the sparse light glinting off of a bunch of pairs of... something. Then he heard a whimper.

"Oh, shit." Steve breathed.

The decrepit faces of dozens of men, women, and children peered out at Steve and Bucky, their eyes glistening wetly. Their expressions were a mixture of fear, sorrow, and confusion. Their faces were smudged with dirt, eyes were sunken in, and lips were chapped. The reek of bodily fluids and unbathed humans was almost too much. Steve's eyes fixed on a young girls face, aged far beyond her years by pain and stress. A tarnished necklace hung around her neck, a bent pendant in the shape of the Star of David sticking out from the darkness like its name. Steve's hands tightened into fists as his heart pounded with rage.

"I thought Hydra didn't do concentration camps." He hissed through his teeth.

"Well…they still need workers." Bucky said in monotone. Steve looked to his friend, a small spark of concern jumping in his chest. Bucky's face remained stone. "Chances are all these cars are full of prisoners. We need to get them out of here quickly, before that base sends out a patrol."

Steve huffed, knowing Bucky was right. He took a step toward the car, the nearest of the prisoners immediately backing away from him. Steve held up his hands, his throat tightening at their fearful reaction. Slowly, he undid the buckle of the strap on his helmet. When he removed it, the cool air prickled his scalp, making his hair stick out at odd angles. Steve placed the helmet on the worn boards of the car, never taking his eyes off the people inside. Steve spoke softly to the prisoners, uncertain of how much English they understood. He would have tried German, but he didn't want to send the wrong message.

A young man came forward and cautiously looked Steve and Bucky up and down. Steve helped him down from the car, keeping him steady as he tried to regain his feet. He was incredibly weak and very skinny, but he stood straight and looked back at his people. In a language that Steve did not recognize – Yiddish, if he had to guess – he helped coax the rest of them out of the car. As the little girl with the necklace came forward out of the car, Steve received a small shock to see that she was a winged-folk, pale-gray feathers ruffled and dirty. He looked to Bucky, who was staring sadly at the girl as he helped an elderly man down from the car.

As the prisoners regained their feet, Steve was relieved to see that many of them still had the common sense to high-tail it away from the train tracks, scattering across the hills and making for the trees as fast as they could, aiding their elderly and wounded. When it seemed that all the prisoners had gotten out, Steve covered his nose and mouth and peered into the car. There were a couple lifeless figures that laid in the corners of the car, unmoving. Steve sighed as he backed away from the car. The Howling Commandos set off in teams, heading opposite directions along the train. Just as Bucky had predicted, the other cars were also full of prisoners. Each car was in as worse shape as the first. But as more and more prisoners took off, it took less convincing to get them out of their cars as soon as they opened the doors. Some of the stronger ones stuck around to help with unloading the people.

Steve turned from the last car to the sight around him. Prisoners were fleeing all along the train, some of the few winged-folk that were freed took flight, eyes clear and even a little bit of hope in their features. Most of them probably had no idea what they were going to do once they got clear of danger, or how to find their way home – but they were free. As they passed Steve and Bucky, they grabbed their hands and spoke hurriedly at them, expressing what Steve assumed was gratitude. Steve felt a smile playing at his lips, a sense of accomplishment swelling in his chest. Turning to look for Bucky, he spotted his friend among the dispersing crowd. He was deep in conversation with another winged-man. It seemed intense, both of their eyebrows scrunched. Steve frowned as he saw the other man wave his arms around in hysteria as he spoke in rushed words. Bucky listened intently, then patted the man on the shoulder as he finished. The other man nodded his head as Bucky responded, then spread his wings and took off without looking back. Steve went to stand next to Bucky, and they both watched him disappear into the sky.

"He just so happened to speak Polish." Bucky commented. "Said the soldiers came to their town and ransacked their homes. They gathered all the Jews, winged-folk, and undesirables and packed them all onto that train three days ago."

Steve quirked an eyebrow, troubled by this information. What on earth would Hydra want with farmers, bakers, and shoemakers? It was bizarre for Hydra to take civilian prisoners, since they preferred to put their POW's to work. And what had happened to the weapons cargo that they had been expecting to intersect? Bucky looked at Steve, waiting for him to respond. When he didn't, he turned back towards the front of the train.

"We should go see if the others are finished." Bucky tapped Steve's arm, and they fell into step along the train tracks, heading back to the engine.

They had barely walked ten feet before a loud shot broke the silence and a red flare exploded into the sky, lighting up the darkness. Bucky and Steve shared one look before they both took off sprinting to the front of the train. As they ran, a second red flare burst into the sky, and the sound of a far off siren echoed across the land. Steve cursed and doubled his speed, Bucky just barely managing to keep up with him. Steve jumped on the ladder to the engineer's compartment to see Dernier and Dugan standing over the body of the same engineer Steve had knocked out just an hour ago. But this time the engineer was face-up, an empty flare gun resting in his limp hand. Dugan was holding the man's own shotgun away from his body, as if he had just finished using it. Steve looked at the other two.

"We need to move."

"There's still two cars that haven't been evacuated yet." Dugan stated. "We were right in the middle of it when-"

"We've got trouble, lads!" Falsworth's voice carried over from beyond the front of the train.

Steve stood straight as he peered through the front windows. What he saw sent a jolt of electricity up his spine.

The Hydra base was alive with lights and sirens. The wall surrounding it had separated into an opening, from which trucks, motorcycles, and a singular high-speed railcar came thundering toward them. At the speed they were traveling, Steve predicted that they had about five minutes before the first trucks got to them.

"Lieutenant!" Steve shouted through the window. Falsworth spun on his heel and ran back to the train. Steve turned back around just as Morita and Bucky entered the compartment. He looked to Dugan. "How many cars have you not checked?"

"Just these first three." Dugan jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "But only two of them still have people in them as far as I know."

"They'll never get away fast enough…" Steve thought outloud.

Falsworth was climbing up the ladder, his red beret slightly askew. "What on earth are we still doing here?"

"If we book it now, we can make it to that tree line with plenty of time to-"

"We're not going anywhere if there are still prisoners on this train." Steve set his jaw. "Lieutenant, get us rolling."

Falsworth didn't hesitate to take control of the train, but he had an uncertain look on his face that he shared openly with the rest of the team. Falsworth gripped the same lever he had to make the train stop and pulled it back again. The train rumbled to life and, at an agonizingly slow pace, began to move backwards.

"Rogers, they have a heavily armored railcar and we have a measly little coal train. They'll catch up with us long before we reach full speed." Dugan protested. "We need to abandon the train."

"Hate to disagree, but I'm with DumDum on this one." Morita stated. "What good are we to these prisoners if we get captured?"

"Enough!" Steve shouted. "Dernier, come up with something to slow them down. Dugan, Morita, you guys need to take positions on either side of this train."

"But Captain-"

"Do as he says."

Everybody looked to Bucky, but he had his eyes fixed on the sky. They all looked up, seeing a lone silhouette just barely standing out in the afterglow of the sunset. Steve didn't know what Bucky was seeing, but he looked at all of them with a confident smirk and a quick nod. Morita, Dugan, and Dernier all exchanged looks of uncertainty. Finally, Dernier sat down on the floor of the compartment and began working with his gadgets, scooping an armful of coal closer to him. Morita and Dugan climbed back to the top of the train and took their positions, rifles cocked and safety tethers fastened. Steve turned to Bucky.

"What's going on?" He asked. Bucky slung his rifle back and began to climb out the window, heading for the front of the train. The locomotive had picked up speed – though not enough to be considered dangerous.

"We just need to hold them off for fifteen minutes, maybe less." Was all Bucky said before he was climbing along the side of the train. Steve gulped. He hated not knowing vital parts of the plan. But he trusted Bucky, and his word was good enough for him.

Steve climbed out of the opposite window, headed toward the front of the train as well. The train was starting to speed up considerably, but already he could see the tracks being lit up by the light on the front of the railcar. Motorcycles sped past them, their drivers peering up at Steve and Bucky through goggles. They continued along the side of the train, seemingly with the intention to board. But Dugan and Morita were ready for them. Steve faced forward, the wind beginning to whip past him and catch on his shield and whip his hair. The railcar was beginning to gain on them, coming around a slight bend in the tracks and running with them. Bucky raised his rifle and began firing at the narrow windows of the conductor's compartment. There was a shattering of glass, but the railcar did not slow. A truck sped out in front of the train, a spray of bullets erupting out of the back window. Steve threw up his shield and felt the reverberations of the bullets. Bucky was quick to react as well, bringing up his own gun and firing back at the truck. The sharp ping's of the bullets hitting the side of the truck with deadly accuracy caused the driver to slam on the brakes and retreat back behind the railcar.

Within a few seconds, the railcar had almost covered the gap between their noses, and showed no signs of slowing down. They were going to ram them! Steve and Bucky braced themselves for the impact, praying that they had built enough speed to not get knocked off the tracks. The blaring light of the railcar blinded Steve for a few seconds, but he dared not raise his shield to cover his eyes for fear of loosening his grip.

The entire train rocked as the engines collided. The crunch of metal and screeching wheels filled the air as Steve's feet were jerked out from under him. The engine of the train pitched sideways, and for a second, Steve's back was at an acute angle with the ground. He thought for sure that the train was going to tip. He gritted his teeth and waited to be smeared between the land and the train. But the train stopped tilting sideways, paused in its proceedings for a brief second, then slammed back down onto the tracks. Hanging on with nothing but the strength in his hands, he looked over to Bucky. He seemed to be having the exact opposite problem from Steve; his hands were gripping nothing, but his boots were caught in the large grill of the locomotive. It probably hurt his ankles, but it was the only thing that was keeping Bucky from tumbling over the side of the train.

Steve's heart lurched as he jumped into action. He called Bucky's name as he swung across the front of the train like an acrobat. Bucky's eyes were wide and terrified and his scraggly wings had burst through the holes in his jacket. As Steve reached to take Bucky's arm, another truck zoomed up to them. Steve quickly yanked Bucky into an upright position – just in time to avoid being shredded by bullets. Like monkeys in a tree, they climbed over the train to the partial roof of the engine. Bucky had lost his gun during the collision. But the same little 'bump' seemed to give their own train the speed boost it needed to run in tandem with the armored railcar. Another collision seemed unlikely. Bucky and Steve squatted on the roof of the engine, the sounds of Dugan and Morita's guns fending of motorists behind them was reassuring.

"Falsworth!" Bucky shouted below as he pressed himself down to avoid the shooters in the truck. "I need your rifle! And for god's sake, punch it!"

A few seconds later, an arm with a gun poked out of the window. Bucky reached down to take it, dropping to one knee as the chimney of the engine spat fire and the rumble of the wheels crescendoed. Bucky immediately raised his gun and fired at the truck that was coming alongside the engine. Bullet holes appeared on the windshield, and the truck began careening wildly. Steve watched his friend, seeing the sparse feathers on his wings flutter in the wind. Quite a few had grown back over the past two months, but he was by no means ready to fly. It seemed that Bucky's flight feathers and covert feathers would make a full recovery, as even the tips of the new quills had started to grow in. But Bucky had grown ashamed of his mangled wings, and always kept them hidden in his jacket. Seeing his friend so insecure about something that once gave him so much pride hurt Steve – and it renewed his hatred for Hydra.

"Capitaine!"

Steve looked down into the engineering compartment. Dernier was looking up at him, holding a bulky sack with wires sticking out of the top. He tossed it up to Steve, who caught it and was momentarily thrown off by how much the sack weighed. He speculated that the bag was full of coal and whatever combustion gizmo Dernier had cooked up. Knowing what he did about Dernier, the bomb was probably impact sensitive. After all, Dernier used to make the same explosive packages that Bucky had used.

Steve turned and faced the railcar, taking in its heavy metal plates and the armada of trucks that swarmed around it. The distance between the nose of the railcar and the engine oscillated greatly, as each train tried to pick up more speed than the other. Throwing the explosive onto the tracks was out of the question. Steve peered through the light of the railcar, just barely making out the narrow windows on the front. One of them was a little darker than the other – the window that Bucky had shot out earlier. Steve took a couple steps backward as he transferred his shield to his back. Bucky turned around to reload a clip into his gun, glancing up at Steve. His head shot fully up as he took in Steve's crouched form and his focused gaze.

"Steve? What are you-"

Steve was already running. It only took four giant strides to get Steve to the front of the train with only about ten feet of air separating him from the railcar and twelve feet from a grisly death on the tracks between the two. Bracing both feet against the roof, the force of Steve's legs pushing him into the air would have been enough to clear a six foot fence. But height wasn't the problem; it was having enough forward momentum. Steve propelled his arms through the air, one hand clutching the burlap sack with his heart pounding as he quickly dropped toward the armored face of the railcar. Reaching an arm out, Steve's hand grasped at the edge of the railcar's roof – and fell just short.

Reflexes working quickly, Steve managed to wedge his fingers between two armor plates on the face of the railcar as gravity took over his course. He groaned as his chest and knees slammed into the railcar, the tracks speeding by only a couple feet below his heels. Steve's fingertips couldn't hold him much longer. Biting the sack in his teeth, Steve began to scale the face of the railcar, making his way to the narrow window just above. He could hear the rest of the commandos trying to keep the trucks off of him, but a small spray of bullets next to Steve's right hand made him flinch and almost lose his grip as a couple more bounced off the shield on his back. Finally, Steve was eye-level with the broken window. He peered inside quickly, but was met with nothing but darkness. Quickly – but carefully – Steve stuffed the bomb into the window as far as it would go. It didn't go far, but as soon as Steve was confident that it wouldn't fall out, he dropped down a few feet. Hanging in the face of the railcar, Steve looked back at the locomotive.

"Bucky!" Steve tried to shout over the sounds of the trains.

Bucky's head poked out from the side of chimney of the train. Steve frantically pointed at the bomb hanging out of the window, hoping his message would be understood. Bucky raised his gun, but didn't fire. First, he shot his gaze up to the sky. Steve looked up too, but with the glare of the lights and the night sky there wasn't much he could see. Bucky looked back down and leveled his gun. One shot was all it took.

Steve covered his face with his arm as the bomb ignited and flames lit up the night. The compartment of the railcar was ablaze, blowing out the other window and frying the controls. But the explosive was much stronger than Steve anticipated. With much of the force of the explosion going against the railcar, the front wheels jumped off the tracks as the entire engine lurched backwards, farther away from the train. Unlike the locomotive, however, the wheels did not line back up with the tracks. The horrible screeching sound of metal on metal filled Steve's ears as the nose of the railcar pitched forward, dirt and wood flying up on either side of the derailed wheels. Steve clutched at the front of the railcar, groaning as he desperately tried to think of a way to escape the flaming death-train. His own train was getting farther and farther away every second. The smooth metal face of the railcar made it difficult to get his feet under him, and Steve was quickly running out of options.

A truck rolled into view. Acting quickly, Steve swung himself like a pendulum. Heaving himself up at the peak of his swing, Steve let go of the railcar just as the wheels caught and the entire car pitched into a vertical roll, one end flipping over the other. Steve hit the side of the truck with much more grace than he had with the train, hands firmly grasping the rails on the top of the truck. Swiftly, Steve punched through the window, opened the door, and tossed out the driver. Taking his place in the driver's seat, Steve thrust the edge of his shield sharply into the back of the head of his passenger. Steve's ears began ringing as soon as he closed the door and grabbed the wheel. Without the wind rushing by and the thrum of large engines, the dark cabin of the truck was eerily quiet. His own breathing seemed loud. Steve huffed a single laugh, looking in the rearview mirror at the burning wreckage of the railcar.

As well as the small army of armored trucks trailing after him and the locomotive. There was no way they would be able to escape all of them, not enough bullets or coal to sustain any kind of standoff or getaway. Steve cursed, speeding up alongside the train. Bucky was watching him approach, his expression impressed and annoyed with Steve's acrobatic spectacle. Steve leaned out the broken window, trying to shout to Bucky. But his words were lost on the wind, Bucky put his hand to his ear and shook his head. Steve was about to try again, when a loud whump from his roof made him jump in his seat. Steve craned his head to look up, relief filling him at what he saw.

"That was quite the show, Captain." Gabe shouted, torso pressed low to the roof of the truck with his wings partially folded so as not to catch the wind. "Maybe you should have looked into Barnum and Bailey's."

"Don't count on an encore." Steve cast a glance behind them. "We won't be able to hold them off for long."

"We won't have to." Gabe was smiling, his white teeth matching the white stripe at the tips of his flight feathers. "As soon as I saw them rolling out of the base, I called for backup. I was signaling to Barnes, but I figured he didn't pass along the message…again."

Steve shook his head. So that was what Bucky had seen earlier. Only Bucky and Gabe had the eyesight that was good enough to see each other clearly from the ground and sky, and they both knew the same hand signs. Gabe was also the comms specialist in his own flight squad before being taken by Hydra. He could communicate with the rest of the Commandos on the ground through Bucky and still stay in touch with base through his comms unit while in the air. Gabe had become the Howling Commando's one-man flight correspondence squad.

"They should be here real soon. But right now, you've got company!" Gabe shouted just before spreading his wings and taking to the air once again. Another truck was gaining on Steve, the man in the passenger seat training his gun out the window at Steve's head.

Steve jerked the wheel, steering the truck sharply toward the other vehicle. The back end of Steve's truck rammed into the headlight of the other with enough force to send the truck spinning. Steve reacted as his own car started to spin-out, but managed to correct the skid in time. Two other trucks started to give chase, so Steve stepped on the gas and sped up along the cars of the train. A few bullets glanced off the side of the truck, but it was not enemy fire. Steve quickly stuck his arm out the window and waved at Morita. Morita immediately lowered his gun and waved back, an apologetic frown on his face. A split second later, though, Morita had his gun trained to just behind Steve. The truck gave a lurch forward as another truck crashed into Steve's tailgate. Steve struggled to keep his car steady, but after another bash from the other truck, Steve could hear the wheel wells grinding against the back tires. The car wasn't going to hold out for much longer.

A loud boom – like thunder, only deeper – interrupted Steve's thoughts. An explosion erupted only a few feet to the side of the truck behind him, sending dirt across Steve's windshield. Steve sighed in relief as he saw the truck retreat through the rearview mirror, along with other explosions and burst of dirt within the enemy cars that had begun to slow and turn around. Steve looked forward, a grin gracing his lips at what he saw.

Large cargo vans filled with soldiers and tanks were rolling over the hills, the American Flag painted on their sides. From the cockpit of one tank, Peggy Carter poked her head out and lifted a pair of binoculars to her eyes. She knew the force they had brought was a bit of an overkill as backup for Steve's team, but she too was on the tally board for one-upping Steve, so she seized the opportunity. It only took a few shots from the tanks to send all the Hydra soldiers in full retreat back to their base. Falsworth eased the train to a stop as their cohorts met them on the tracks. Steve pulled his battered truck up in front of the Allied line and stepped out. The headlights of the trucks lit up the area, chasing away the night. Peggy sauntered over to meet him, a barely concealed smile on her red lips.

"Captain." She greeted. "Lose your helmet again?"

Steve put a hand to his head. He hadn't even realized that he had never collected it from the first car of prisoners that he had set it in. It had probably fallen out of the car at some point along the way. He smiled back at her.

"What can I say, I have a knack for losing helmets."

Steve turned to stand next to her, both watching as the Commandos and some soldiers helped unload people from the last three cars – turns out there actually were people in the last car. The prisoners looked rattled, to say the least. They watched as the people were escorted to trucks and cars, tears of gratitude and relief streaming down their dirty faces. Steve heard a thump behind them, and turned to see Gabe walking towards them, his wings spread and warm from exercise. Gabe's feathers were interesting; his top feathers and longest flight feathers were a brownish-gray. But the flight feathers closest to his body were an iridescent green-blue, tipped with white. They reflected light like glass. His underparts were a lighter brown, flecked with black.

"All Commandos accounted for, Captain." Gabe reported. He reached a hand over to massage the soreness out of his wing-elbow.

"Very good, Private." Steve smiled and nodded. He felt bad for Gabe – he had been flying non-stop all day, and had to be exhausted and starving. That was the problem with having only one winged-soldier; there were too many duties that Gabe was entrusted with, and although the Private followed through on those duties admirably, it was a lot to take on. But Bucky promised, as soon as he was flight ready, that he would happily share the load with Gabe. "How are you doing, Gabe?"

Gabe shrugged, removing his helmet to massage his temple. "I'm fine, but all the chatter in my ear has given me a right-foul headache, you know?"

"We'll be heading out soon, and there's a big meal waiting for you." Peggy said. "You've certainly earned it."

Gabe never looked more happy.

They left the train on the tracks. Most prisoners were able to find spots on the benches and floors of the cargo vans. The rest were the lucky few that got to ride on the tanks. The Commandos and Peggy met for a short meeting, mostly just talking about how they thought the mission went. Steve's stunt with the railcar was the main topic of conversation. Afterwards, Steve spotted Gabe and Bucky talking to each other. They had grown quite attached since meeting each other at the joining of the Howling Commandos, which Steve was grateful for. It gave Bucky a chance to start over, though maybe not in the way he would have wanted. And Gabe got the opportunity to learn and improve as Bucky taught him everything that Brielle had taught him. Though, every now and then, Steve would catch Bucky shooting envious glances up at the sky. But Bucky had told Steve that he was just glad that Gabe hadn't been put under Zola's knife and needle like he had.

Steve walked over to Bucky when Gabe turned to find his own seat in the van with the rest of the Commandos. In unison, Steve and Bucky silently walked back to the train. Bucky's eyes were trained on the metal locomotive. His mind was working and Steve's was, too. Trying to figure out what this all meant. Finally Steve spoke.

"What I still don't understand," He said softly, even though no one was close enough to overhear. "Is what happened to the weapons cargo that we were expecting? How did our intel mess that up?"

"I'm not so sure they did." Bucky stated darkly. Steve looked over to Bucky, who just kept his eyes trained on the dark interior of the open door of the first car, now empty.

Bucky felt Steve's gaze. He said nothing more on the matter, but he did roll up the sleeve of his blue jacket, exposing his forearm. With the underside facing up, Steve's eyes were immediately drawn to the puckered crater-like scar near the crook of Bucky's arm. Angry red veins spread out from the puncture wound of the large needle that Zola had used, but they were much more faded than when Steve had first seen it. Steve stared at the mark, his mind coming to the same conclusion that Bucky had. Bucky pulled his sleeve back down as he finally met Steve's eye.

"I think these people are the weapons." He said. Steve could almost see the flashback behind Bucky's eyes. "Or they were going to be."

Steve scowled, an image of the young winged-girl strapped to a table like Bucky, her pale-gray feathers plucked bare. It set his stomach roiling and a fire in his heart.

"I guess human experimentation is starting to catch on." Steve sighed. He and Bucky turned back toward the vans, tired and hungry.

Bucky's wings were still untucked, his sparse feathers fluttering a little as he walked. Steve smiled; it truly was amazing that his wings were healing, given the extent of damage that had been done to them. Doctors had said there was only a slight chance that the feathers would grow back, the feather pores being too scarred. But no less than two weeks later, small little tufts of new downy feathers pocked the limbs, and Bucky's hope was renewed. Steve was relieved as well – if Bucky had lost his wings, he might not have survived. Now they were just counting the days till Bucky was fully fledged once again.

"You know what, Steve?" Bucky said, drawing Steve's attention away from his wings. "I've decided that I hate trains."


A/N: So the poll was unanimous with Gabe, so he is the winged-soldier for the Howling Commandos! I based his wings off of a wood-duck, as most ducks have those weird shiny blue-green feathers.

There's going to be quite a few of these Commando mission, to see how winged-folk are affecting the war. I'm excited.

As always, read, review, and enjoy!