Sam pulled his head out from beneath the water, algae and congregations of small lily pads being disturbed, the rippling water taking them away from him.
He sputtered out what filthy water had gotten in his mouth, the taste foul. His hand wiped down his face over his goggles, well-trimmed beard sharp against his fingers, water bitterly cold.
Tall weeds and reads around Sam obscured his vison in places, the vegetation not used to being disturbed in such a manner.
The clouded sky had only recently decided to start breaking up, allowing the sun out occasionally, if the mood suited it.
Sam's hand found his shoulder, sore and bleeding. The blood oozing through the fabric, bog water just diluting it.
Pieces of his suit were indeed made of Vibranium, but not all of it. For the accessibility of flight there of course had to be some design adjustments.
The water level was up to his waist, and apart from the ripples he was making, the water was relatively still which in this case was alarming.
Where was Bucky?
The splashing of water and the crash of weeds being forced apart made Sam jump out of his skin, unable to turn around to meet it face on, an unknown force crashed into him.
He was back under the bog but this time only briefly. Able to get some purchase on the mucky mud bed bellow him, his legs lifted him clear of the surface.
Water cascaded down his face, kept from his eyes by his visor.
The solders short hair remained out of his eyes, water dripping from the combined strands. He was breathing heavy, chest visibly heaving in and out.
"This isn't you!" Sam managed to call out as the man charged him again.
Sam raised the shield, hoping for a similar reaction from when they were in the basement.
He didn't get it.
The soldier swung, Sam choosing to dip under the fist, instead of letting the shield take it. Sam knew his wings wouldn't find sturdy enough ground in this bog, taking a direct hit not the best idea.
Sam threw an uppercut into the soldier's gut; it was like punching stone.
The soldier attacked back, mimicking Sam he aimed for the stomach, knocking him back a few meters creating a slice in the water.
The surroundings were not in his favour, fighting in hand-to-hand combat in waist high water not ideal.
Sam couldn't bring his face to the surface before unmerciful hands pinned him down. Long green vegetation entangling around his limbs like snakes.
Sam kicked out but a foot stomped down on his leg, allowing for bubbles of precious oxygen to escape from his mouth. Green swirling water was ready to claim him, a darkness creeping at the sides of his vision.
Sam didn't have a choice.
He pulled Bucky's gun from his belt.
A vibration pulsed throughout the shallow waters. Single bullet hitting the soldier at close range.
It got Sam free from his grasp, now able to clear the water surface, allowing him those precious desperate gasps of air.
Bucky clutched his stomach.
Sam utilised his jet to get him back up on two feet, water boiling around the roaring blue flame on contact. He wasn't taking any chances, Sam's fist met the side of Bucky's head, the edge of the shield striking next in the chain of motion.
Bucky fell back into the embrace of the bog. Stillness starting to settle once more.
The tense landscape finally able to breathe.
Having great difficulty, Sam heaved Bucky out of the green water and onto the old wooden jetty. His limbs were tired, exhaustion gnawing at his strength. Both men flopped down onto the deck like dead fish.
On relativity solid ground, Sam pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, hacking up intrusive water from his lungs.
The gun and shield thudded against the wooden boards, Sam ripping the goggles from his face, pulling the white fabric cowl down to reveal both his head and face fully.
Water drained off them, clothes sodden, making the rustic pale wooden jetty turn a dark grey.
Manoeuvring on his knees with his hands Sam addressed Bucky.
The man lay on his back, legs dangling into the bog, Watery blood trickled down the side of his head, shield having cut his brow.
He was breathing, that Sam could thankfully see.
The familiar sound of Redwing approaching made Sam look up, the drone having faithfully returned having completed its designated mission.
"Redwing find a road, car, transportation." Sam still panted, brain going at a mile a minute as he gave the little drone his next orders.
A new plan was in order, Sam having to make it up on the fly.
Redwing was gone again, ascending with ease.
Sam couldn't help pondering over the thought that Steve would probably know what to do right now, or that maybe he wouldn't have never let it get this far out of hand. That he would have foreseen the trap, having noticed somehow that something was off.
Sam did his best to shove these unpleasant and unhelpful thoughts from his mind, them adding nothing usable to the situation at hand other than doubt and guilt.
Sam had gotten through to Bucky at the warehouse, he could do it again. But he needed help, aware that he couldn't do this on his own.
He brought his gauntlet up, looking down that the screen. Redwing had signalled a location not far from their position.
Sam gathered up his goggles, shield, and gun. He held the gun for a moment, not like the way it sat in his hand. He stored the weapon, shield attached to his back, goggles pulled back over his eyes without the white cowl. Dirtied white fabric remaining bunched around his neck.
Standing he found his left leg didn't appreciate the weight, Bucky having injured it during their scuffle in the bog.
With this aggravating injury hauling the dead weight of the soldier onto his shoulders was near impossible, Sam having to give it two attempts prior to success.
The jetty bent and warped under the weight of them both, Sam's knees wanting to give out as he limped along. He pushed on through, following the jetty walkway out of the bog just as Redwing directed.
Emerging into the dirt dead end road, Sam had built up a sweat. Having trekked through the woodland, uneven landscape having been unkind. Vegetation hiding potholes and protruding tree roots making him proceed painfully slow.
He hadn't been sure how long he would be able to keep this up, carrying Bucky taking everything he had. Thankfully, the road had come into view through the brush, giving Sam a finish line to fight for.
The rudimentary road situated within the woods had three cars parked along it. Signs pinned to trees told Sam this was a local fishing spot, explaining the rather nice cars parked in the middle of nowhere.
Sam decided promptly between the choice of vehicle. He approached a black hatchback, dirt in the rims and splattered on the bodywork alluded to a hard life off-road.
"Redwing, get it open." Sam ordered, the drone flying in from somewhere overhead.
The car lights blinked on and off, the doors unlocking. Redwing having matched the signal used by an electric key to intuitively gain access.
Sam laid Bucky down on the seat, head hitting the padded back seats with a slight bounce. He tucked his legs in before slapping the door shut.
Redwing hovered low, Sam taking the shield from its place on his back to allow the little guy to reattach to the jet, the massive wings concealed within not given away at all.
Sam hopped into the driver's seat, tossing the shield into the passenger footwell. Goggles tugged from his eyes again and discarded onto the seat beside him. He took the gun from his belt, trying not to look at the thing as he leant over and shoved it in the glovebox.
Sam sat there for a moment, just needing a second of quiet. Taking everything in. From
the throbbing of his bleeding shoulder, the spiking pain in his leg, and the water still trapped in his ears.
Having concluded that everything was pretty much awful he looked to his gauntlet, tapping at the screen to pull up communications. He stopped himself, something Bucky had said earlier coming back to him.
Bucky had suggested a mole in the works, that the Flag-Smashers had been warned. It was rather transparent now that it had been even more than that, a trap of all things, specifically for Bucky.
Sam's memory was prompted of the existence of the voice recorder, the one in a pouch on his belt. He reached for it, concern for the device's wellbeing making his fingers tumble on the clasp.
It was wet in his hand, not having been protected from the bog within the confines of the pouch. Sam didn't want to risk turning the thing on, he could do nothing more but set it aside to dry. It sat against the seat beside his red visor. Sam glaring at it.
He had a lot of questions, and that little recorder had the answers, or at least lead to answers.
If there was indeed someone working against them within the government, or even the military, Sam couldn't risk reaching out like this. He needed a secure line; someone he knew he could trust.
Sam in the cramped confines of the car removed the device from his back, theoretically clipping his own wings He shoved it down in the footwell with the shield, its removal allowing him to reach down under the steering wheel.
He got to work ripping wires from beneath. Not after to long the car hummed to life with the striking of exposed wires, engine purring in anticipation for the journey.
Sam pulled the handbrake up, putting the car into drive, allowing it to roll forward.
Sam shoved his suit into the boot of the car, the shield fitting neatly beside. He had pulled over a safe distance away, on the edge of the woods, just before the dirt road turned to tarmac.
The sun was now fully exposed, clouds from earlier having dispersed quickly, the winds high up in the sky still blowing strong.
Sam had removed the few fishing supplies from the boot, as well as a rolled up blue picnic blanket. With two hands he closed the boot with a thud, car shuddering briefly.
Sam wore a simple grey t-shirt, shoulder stained red from his wound. He was still wearing his blue combat trousers and boots from his suit. Now able to pass as a civilian.
Sam walked around the car, opening the back door on the side Bucky's head resided. He was very much still unconscious, Sam's jostling of the car doing nothing to rouse the man.
Sam pressed his lips together, not liking the sight of the pooling blood on Bucky's front.
It was hard due to the space and angle, but he leant over the man and unzipped his jacket, a black t-shirt underneath. Blood was slick around the wound; fabric having absorbed the crimson liquid. Peeling back the soaked t-shirt unveiled the angry red bullet wound. The bullet having struck the upper left side of Bucky's abdomen.
Sam shoved his hand between the seat and Bucky's back, looking for an exit wound. When he retrieved his hand, fresh blood covered it. The bullet had passed through him. This wasn't a surprise being at such close range.
Super Soldier or not Bucky was going to bleed out if he didn't do something, his spleen possibly being ruptured.
Sam wiped his bloodied hand down the interior of the car before taking Bucky's pulse. He was breathing at a normal rate and other than the fact he was bleeding from his stomach, as well as the superficial wound to his brow, he was alright.
He was alive, that was the important part for now.
Sam limped back round to the rear of the car. Rummaging through the cars boots content he had emptied onto the floor, he found a half roll of duct tape, most likely used for quick repairs in fishing nets and lures.
Struggling to manoeuvre the roll around the unconscious man, he had propped Bucky's head and arm against the back of the chair, allowing Sam to wrap the wound tightly all the way round, not hesitating to be liberal with the tape. It wasn't pretty but it would do.
Sam wiped his hands down again, blood also smeared on the nearly empty roll of tape. Sam tossed it to the side heading for the back of the car again.
He gathered up the blanket he had found, leaving the fishing supplies behind.
Sam covered Bucky the best he could with the woollen blanket, leaving his face uncovered for now.
Bucky had been a bit cold to the touch, but Sam's main concern was discovery. A bleeding man in your back seat not something that goes unnoticed too easily.
Shutting the back door and getting into the driver's seat Sam kept asking himself, what if Bucky woke up, and it wasn't Bucky.
Sam could only assure himself that he would deal with it if it came to that. His words not giving himself any form of comfort whatsoever.
He adjusted the rear-view mirror, catching sight of Bucky in the reflection.
Sam sighed, making the car pull forward onto the main road.
Authors Notes
Hey :P I'm not sure if this chapter is as strong as the others, was kind of stuck on it for a while. Hopefully it was still ok to read.