A/N A Fearless Knight's Fairytale - thank you for you review! If you liked Bucky and Alex's dance scene, I've just written a chapter that I think you'll like! It's not far off.
SHADOW
CHAPTER 34
The city around me gives another almighty rumble. An ominous crack cleaves the middle of the road in half and the very buildings themselves shake. My eyes are telling me what Bucky has said is true, but I still can't bring myself to believe it.
"He's kidding, right?" Sam shouts at me, shoving his way back towards me through the crowd. It's like trying to swim against a rip-tide.
The ground shakes beneath our feet again, and we both tense and crouch to keep our balance. There's a groan as if the earth itself is being torn in two and I stare in horror as the mountains in the distance begin to fall below the horizon.
Sam grimaces. "Okay – this is very bad!"
And just like that there's an explosion next to us like a geyser and a robot crawls out of the earth and shoots into the air like some over-grown insect. The civilians scatter in the panic – some of them running back into the un-stable buildings, some mindlessly pushing and sprinting for the bridge, even though there is no way out…
The panic and terror is everywhere. There are thousands of robots swarming in the sky and thousands of helpless people below. Portions of buildings begin to collapse and spider web cracks appear around my feet. It feels like Judgement Day.
A burst of bullets catch a man running past me and he falls to the ground, instantly dead.
"Get to cover!" I yell at the screaming crowd as they are picked off by gunfire. People are collapsing – either wounded or dead – everywhere I look. "Run!" Sam boots up his wings and soars up into the sky and Clint wrestles his way past terrified people towards me.
"I've gotta go find Wanda!" he shouts at me, over the confusion and gunfire. "You and Sam clear this area here!"
I nod once, and then out of the corner of my eye notice a cluster of robots heading straight for us. Clint crouches out of my way and shoots a well-aimed arrow, which ploughs right through the head of one and into the body of another. I nestle my gun into the crook of my shoulder and squint through the scope, barely taking a second to aim at my targets before I fire. Clint was right, the gun is wicked-powerful and the kick feels like it could dislocate my collar bone. I instantly mow three of the AI's out of the sky – the last one fires and I have to side-step to dodge, the bullets biting at the dust where I have just been. I re-adjust my grip and then fire again. The robot crashes into the ground at my feet, so torn up it is almost recognizable, it's circuits sparking.
"Fuck," I hiss in pain, rolling my shoulder in its socket.
"Yeah, I wasn't kidding about the kick-back," Clint smirks, before heading off in the direction we left Wanda.
It's hard to fight when I'm constantly diving for cover behind flipped cars and crumbled walls. I return fire as best I can from the ground, trying to pick off the robots which stubbornly stick to Sam's tail as he flips through the air above my head. Over the comm he sounds exhausted and sweaty – and at one point I have to cut through and sprint through the lower level of a deserted supermarket and out a hole that has been exploded in the wall on the other side to keep up with his acrobatics.
'Clearing the area' feels impossible when there seem to be hundreds of AI's everywhere – like some kind of flood. They crawl up the side of buildings like ants, swoop down from the sky and explode out of the ground in droves. Intermittently one of them will communicate Ultron's message before Sam and I can shoot it down. The words peace in my time rings in my head over and over, punctuated by terrified screams.
There are so many that when I look up for Sam, I realise I can barely see him in amongst the mayhem of robots.
"SAM!" I yell through my comm, panting as I vault over a wall as a robot shoots an explosive at the point I've just been standing. The eruption of dirt and cement behind me shatters glass in nearby windows. The enemy fire is unrelenting and unforgiving; I feel as if I'm in a war-zone, which is terrifying when I've never been a soldier. My gear and gun is so heavy that I feel rivulets of sweat running down my face, even though the temperature in Dorzhorvhez is barely above freezing. "GET DOWN HERE! THERE ARE TOO MANY UP THERE FOR YOU TO HANDLE!"
"I can't lose them!" He shouts back, his voice tight with concentration and something else – not panic, Sam's too level-headed for that – but a definite discomposure.
I race down the street after him as he tries to shake the three robots on his tail. We're almost at the edge of the city – the road stretches out in front of me before it cuts off at blue sky. I can't fire without potentially hitting Sam, and my heart is in my throat as the robots fire at him again and again. He can't shake them. I can't help.
…We're talking one second and the next, he's gone. It was like I was up there just to watch.
"Sam, you have to -!" I begin, his words echoing in my mind horribly. But it's too late – my stomach twists as they finally hit him. Not just once. But three times. First his wings are hit, then I distinctly see the bullets collide with his body. He instantly goes limp – drops out of the sky like a rock. "SAM!" I scream, the sound ripped from somewhere deep inside me.
I'm barely aware of Steve asking me over the communications what is going on. I'm too busy fumbling back over the wall. I'm running even though I know I won't get there in time, tracking his fall with wide, horrified eyes. Our whole friendship somehow flashes before my eyes. I see every moment I should have told him how much he meant to me, but didn't. He was my best friend.
Out of nowhere, Bucky charges up the roof of a car next to me and takes a running jump. He tackles Sam in mid-air and the pair hit the ground hard. They roll several feet before Bucky clambers upright again. But Sam does not.
"Oh my God," I say, my hands shaking as I finally reach them. I sling the strap of my gun over my shoulder and throw myself down next to Sam's body. "Oh my God. Is he okay? Is he –"
I reach out for him and feel for a pulse – shocked when I feel it strong and steady beneath my fingertips. I search for wounds, but find none. There's no blood. My searching hands come into contact with something solid on his chest, and Bucky looks at me, placing a hand on my shoulder reassuringly. "He's wearing under-armour," he says, pointedly, and my relief is so potent and abrupt, it almost stops my heart. I shove Bucky in his human arm. My heart-rate is still completely jacked, and I can feel the latent adrenaline pounding through my body.
"Okay Health-And-Safety Police," I say, knowing that this is his way of telling me 'I told you so'. On closer inspection, I can see that Sam's vest is the kind used in Afghanistan – the kind that's both explosive and rifle resistant, backed up by S.H.I.E.L.D's new technology that aims to work with the elasticity of the skin. I know that, because of this, Sam'll barely even be bruise. It seems utterly bizarre.
In fact, I realize that the reason Sam is unconscious is from a wound on the back of his head – a wound that definitely wasn't inflected by the weapons of Ultron's robots. I look at Bucky, raising both eyebrows.
He rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly. "I think I knocked him out by accident."
I half laugh, half release the breath I didn't know I'd been holding. "It's okay. He's alive. That's all that counts."
The rest of the team run over to us. Steve is with Nat, whilst Pietro speeds over carrying Wanda, dumping his sister unceremoniously onto the ground – it's clear he's pretty winded.
"Is he alright?" Steve asks, immediately.
"He'll be fine," I reply, straightening from my crouch the moment I see Natasha alive and well.
"S.H.E. are here – they're evacuating the city. We can load him up on one of the lifeboats."
I nod, my gaze on my red-headed ex-mentor rather that Steve. She's covered in dust but looks relatively unharmed. I can't help but be slightly jealous of her light, skin-tight suit. I feel like I'm baking alive in all my gear, and the temptation to simply rip off my extra padding and body-armour would be insurmountable had I not just seen those exact things save Sam's life.
"I'd hug you, but I'm currently carrying my weight in ammunition," I say to her, dryly, gesturing to the strap of rounds across my torso. "It's good to see you, Natasha."
"Good to see you too, Alex," she smirks, touching my elbow, and her eyes travel to Bucky, who is standing next to me. "Where abouts did you pick up this one?"
"Berlin," I grunt, by way of reply for him, and though Natasha barely reaches Bucky's chin, she somehow manages to look incredibly threatening as she fixes him with a deadly, level gaze. "Next time I receive a phone-call from Alex saying her partner abandoned her on the field, I'm coming after you myself," she tells him, poking him in the chest.
Nobody argues with her.
"Guys," says Tony, over the communication network. "I think I know how to stabilize the vibranium core." I look at Bucky in perplexity. I have no idea what that is, but I figure it's whatever's keeping us air-born. "We need to get to the cathedral. Stat."
"Roger that," Steve says, touching his earpiece. He turns to the rest of us, just as Clint jogs up – clearly exhausted. "Let's go."
"You've…got…to…be…kidding," Clint pants, bracing his hands on his knees as he tries to re-catch his breath. "I just…ran here."
Pietro saunters towards him and claps him on the back. "Keep up, old man," he teases, before grabbing his sister again and speeding off again.
"Urghh, I hate you," Clint gasps after him into the empty space, looking up at the sky and clutching a stitch in his side.
Bucky and Steve look between Natasha and I. "You coming?" Steve asks Nat, and I raise a single eyebrow. I have trained with Bucky and know that he can push 50 miles-an-hour when he wants to. There is no way that we'll keep up with the pair of them on foot.
Natasha gives him a wry smile, clearly thinking the same thing. "You go. We'll catch up," she states, walking across the road towards a large gritter truck. She climbs into the driver's seat and starts up the engine whilst I clamber in next to her; Clint stretches out across the cheap leather seats in the back of the cab.
"I'm gonna murder a pizza when this is all over," he mutters, closing his eyes briefly.
I laugh.
Nat steam-rolls a straight line through the city, using the snow-plough at the front of the truck to break through the general debris of crumbled buildings and crushed robots.
"So," I say, shooting her a look. "What did you do with your knight-in-shining-armour?"
She smirks slightly at the reference to Bruce. "Might've shoved him down a pit," she remarks indifferently, not taking her eyes off the road.
"How romantic."
She shrugs. "I try."
"Romanoff," Stark says, over the comm. "You, Barton and Tsvetkov can have your girlie little sleepover when we save the planet. Get your asses over here."
"Asshole," I mutter under my breath, at the same time as Nat replies: "relax, shell-head. Not all of us can fly." And then she crashes us through the North-most facing wall of the cathedral.
This time, I'm wearing a seatbelt, so the worst of my injuries is that I'm slightly winded. I hold my gun ready and kick open the door, jumping down out of the truck and onto the rubble. Clint climbs out and tries to simultaneously fix a crick in his neck and ready his bow and arrow.
"Took you long enough," snarks Tony, as we all gather round some kind of drill in the center of the cathedral.
"Literally someone make one more comment about us being a slow –" I snap at him, jamming another cartridge of rounds into my weapon and pulling back the slide with a foreboding click to secure the magazine into place.
I stand between Wanda and Bucky and as we watch Ultron summon up his army of robots…watch them crawl over cars and across roads towards us. I think about the people I have nearly lost – Bucky, Sam, Natasha - and look up at Bucky himself, my brow furrowing. Despite the situation, I allow myself to appreciate that he's here right now, at my side, instead of hiding out in some dingy apartment in Berlin.
"What?" he murmurs, his lips barely moving as he clearly senses me looking at him, though he doesn't take his eyes off the scope of his sniper, which he has trained on the on-coming machines. He shoots once with a loud crack, and the bullet cuts straight through the heads of three robots.
I shake my head. "Nothing."
But he must guess what I'm thinking, because he takes a brief moment to glance at me. I can see in his eyes that he's worried – not for himself, but for me; for his friends. "Stay behind Wanda," he instructs. "Pick off the air-born ones." I nod once by way of reply, holding my gun up to fire; the nearest of the robots now barely meters away. "And Alex?" I look at him, only to find him smiling slightly as he readies his own weapon. "I'm glad I'm here."
I grin. "Where else would you be?" I ask him. "It's the end of the world."
A/N Guys, I am completely blown away by all your reviews and support for this story - thank you so much.
I'm now at a point where I am writing the in-between months between Ultron and Civil War and it's a lot of fun. There's a couple of plot-lines I think you guys should enjoy.
Please remember to review! Lot's of love -
Last Of The Lilac Wine