Chapter 44: Army of One

Mika had never spent so long in a security line in her life.

Then again, perhaps it was a perfectly normal time to spend waiting to get through, but her anxiety made her feel like it was practically moving in reverse. She tried not to be that obnoxious person in line sighing dramatically and tapping her foot, but she was physically unable of keeping still. A trail of nail polish chips followed her like breadcrumbs, her fingertips almost sore from how aggressively she was picking at it. If Bucky were with her, he'd hold her hand in his to still the nervous movements. But of course, Bucky wasn't here, that was the point; he was on his way to Berlin, alone, arrested for a crime he didn't commit.

Halfway through the line, a welcome distraction came in the form of her phone ringing, the vibrations borderline painful because of how fried her senses were. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been this scared - probably the time Bucky almost died on her kitchen floor. Elena's name flashed across the screen, and she was so surprised that she hesitated for a moment. She had an inkling why she was calling, and she wasn't sure she wanted to have this conversation. If anyone was going to try and talk her out of this, it was her best friend. The call went to voicemail, and she breathed a sigh of relief. The air wasn't even completely out of her lungs before her phone started buzzing again. It seemed Elena was not taking no for an answer.

"Hey." she answered, not bothering with pretenses. Elena was never one for bullshit.

"Are you okay?" she asked immediately, her voice cracking with concern. "The news said there was a shootout at the apartment, that Bucky-"

"I'm fine, I'm okay." she interrupted. She was afraid of the questions that Elena was going to ask, because she knew that there was no way she could lie to her. She was silent for a long time, and Mika braced herself.

"Is it true? What they said about him?" she finally asked, her tone hushed as if she didn't mean to actually let it come out. Mika knew exactly to what she was alluding, but decided to play dumb instead.

"That he bombed the UN? No, not at all. He's been at my place the past three nights." she replied. She still couldn't believe that this was happening. The video from the news kept replaying in her head: the chase down the road, the fight, the guns all pointed at him. If she weren't so angry that they were accusing him of something he didn't do, she might have cried. She'd held her breath during the videos of the arrest as she waited for them to open fire on the innocent man. Instead, they'd just thrown him in a van like an animal, and were probably locking him up in a cage. Perhaps she was being dramatic, but she was pissed.

"Did you know? About…" Elena couldn't finish the question, and Mika couldn't tell if it was because she already knew the answer, or didn't want to know. She sighed, the silence heavy between them as she tried to figure out how to answer.

"Yes." she finally conceded, not bothering to elaborate. She did know about his past as the Winter Soldier, but she also knew that that was not him. Perhaps the Winter Soldier was a cold assassin, one that had skills beyond compare and killed without hesitation. But Bucky? Bucky was kind, and gentle, and fiercely protective. The Winter Soldier was heartless, uncaring. Bucky knew how she took her coffee and kissed her like she was made of glass.

"Before or after?" she persisted, and Mika knew that she was hoping that this news was a surprise to her as well. She clenched her eyes shut for a second, rubbing her forehead and preparing herself for the reaction she was going to have to deal with. "Mika? Did you know before or after?"

"Before. I knew before we got together." she admitted. How could she make Elena see that his past didn't define who he was? How could she explain that he was a victim, that he'd been held prisoner and forced to do these things? She didn't see the way his face fell when he got stuck in a memory, didn't know the way his hands gripped her sheets when he was trapped in a nightmare.

"Mika!" she admonished. Over the loudspeakers, a woman with a clear and cheery voice announced the final boarding call for a flight to London. "Mika, where are you?"

"...At the airport." she said, following the line as she finally turned around the final bend. The agents checking tickets and passports were no longer a far away goal; they were so close she could see the beads of sweat on the forehead of the overweight man in the last window.

"Mika, no. This is a horrible idea." Elena said sharply, and Mika winced. She gave in to her tendency to ramble defensively, if only to try and protect Bucky's honor.

"Elena, come on. You know him, you know he wouldn't do something like this." she rambled, feeling like her heart was in her throat. "And besides that, he was with me the whole time. There was no way he could have gone to Vienna and planted that thing. I have to go and tell them that they're wrong."

"You can't tell the UN that they're wrong!" she said, and while Mika knew she was just trying to be a good friend, she couldn't help but bristle.

"Maybe not normally, but I can for this. He's there, alone, with no one to help him, no one to speak for him. I can't just let them arrest him for something he didn't do! I've talked police out of things before, I'll just do it again." she said. She knew this wasn't her best idea, but it was the only one she had, and it was the one she was going to go with.

"This isn't talking a beat cop out of giving us public intoxications! This is the fucking UN! It's different!" Elena argued, and Mika rolled her eyes even though she couldn't see it.

"You're right, it is different. Because you and I were publicly intoxicated, but Bucky did not do what they're accusing." she said. She was next in line now, finally. "I have to go. I'm almost through security."

"Mika, I don't like this." Elena said, her anger reducing down to her concern.

"I know. I'll text you when I land." Mika replied. Her mother always said her stubbornness would get her into trouble, and perhaps this was finally the day. Oh well, if she was going to get into trouble, she would do it trying to help someone she loved.

"Be careful." Elena said, and she might have wanted to add something else, but Mika hung up before the could say anything more. It was her turn.

She had to sprint across the airport to make it to her gate before it closed, her cheeks red and her breath short as she skidded to a stop in front of the attendant. The man looked alarmed at her appearance, but she couldn't be bothered to care, instead just holding out her ticket. He scanned it, the confused look never leaving his face as she took it back and walked with a purpose towards the door of the plane. Everyone on the plane was boarded and seated, and gave her vaguely annoyed looks as she tried to hurry down the aisle without hitting anyone in the head with her bag. Once she was finally settled in her seat, the door closed and the captain came over the speaker, giving his introductions and information as the plane started to taxi. Finally, she was on her way.

Once the plane was at a cruising altitude, she pulled out her laptop and phone. The news didn't say exactly where the German task force was taking Bucky, and she doubted that they would tell her if she called and asked, even if she said she had vital information pertaining to his arrest. Luckily, she'd completely forgotten to figure out how to remove the location software she'd accidentally added to his phone, and she couldn't help but feel like for once her scattered mind actually came in handy. She'd have to do a little bit of something on her phone so that she wouldn't have to use her computer to find him, which was going to be her real issue. She eyed the "Find My Friends" app, and wondered if she was smart enough to hack the programming a bit during the two hour plane ride.

Turns out, she was just creative enough to make the program work the way she wanted it to, meaning she would be able to find Bucky's phone without the data transmitting beyond her device. She was finishing the final touches with her laptop cradled in her arms while the flight attendant chastised her angrily during their descent, but all that mattered was that she figured it out. Once the wheels hit the tarmac, she turned her data back on (international charges be damned) and opened the app, holding her breath and watching the little wheel turn. It took an extra long time to load, which had her worried, but as they pulled into the gate, it finally opened, and it showed a little blue dot where she sat at the airport, and a little green dot across town. Hopefully, that's where Bucky was.

Nicoletta was waiting outside for her, leaning against her little blue Volkswagen with her arms crossed and her foot tapping against the sidewalk. She perked up as Mika practically flew out of the front doors, pushing off the car and enveloping her sister in a tight hug. Mika held her just as firmly, the supportive touch just enough to make her want to break down and cry. But Nicoletta didn't allow that, pulling back and putting her hands on Mika's cheeks.

"You're alright." she said, and Mika nodded in agreement. "Have you had any updates? Have you been able to talk to him?"

"No, no I just know he's here. Well, his phone is here at least. I just can't believe…" Again, tears pricked at the back of her eyes, and her sentence dropped as she tried to keep her emotions from spilling out. Nicoletta took charge then, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her towards the car.

"It's okay, we're going to go there and get them all sorted out and everything is going to be fine." she said as they climbed into the car, Mika keeping an eye on her phone to see if the little green dot was moving. So far, it seemed to be stationary.

"Thank you, Nicoletta." Mika whispered, taking her sister's hand and holding it. After the conversation with Elena (who, to be fair, had a point), she needed someone in her corner. Nicoletta squeezed her fingers as she pulled onto the road.

"Of course. Now, where are we going?" she asked, navigating the traffic and waiting for Mika to answer. She hesitated; it was a bad enough idea for her to go running headlong into...wherever Bucky was. She couldn't drag her baby sister into it, couldn't risk her getting any more involved than she needed to. It was, perhaps, the most rational thought she'd had since the whole thing started.

"We're going to your house. I don't want you to get in trouble too." she said, and her sister looked at her affronted for a moment before turning her gaze back to the road.

"You are absolutely not leaving me behind." she said, her hands turning white as she gripped the steering wheel. Her sister was little, but she doubled in size when she was angry.

"I'm not leaving you behind. I'm just trying to protect you." Mika replied. Nicoletta opened her mouth to answer, but she cut her off. "It has come to my attention that this is apparently not a good idea, so I won't have you getting into trouble if things go south."

"If it's such a bad idea, then why are you doing it?" she asked, and while Mika wanted to give the cliche because I love him, she held her tongue, instead answering with,

"Because he would do it for me." she said. It was also the truth; she had no doubt that if the situations were reversed, Bucky would move heaven and earth to help her. And she was not going to leave him out to dry when he needed her most. Nicoletta looked at her from the corner of her eye before sighing, taking a turn at a light.

"Fine. But you keep me updated, and you come straight here when he's walking free, alright?" she said sternly, taking a road out of the city, past the suburbs, and into the country. Apparently she'd moved since Mika's last visit, giving up her downtown apartment for a cottage outside the city limits. She pulled to the front door, leaving the car running as they got out. She embraced her sister once more before reminding her of her promise, staying in front of the house as Mika got in on the driver's side and started making her way to her little green dot. She didn't know what was going to happen once she got there, but all that mattered was getting to Bucky.

Bucky thought the cage was overkill, at first.

He was coming quietly, obeying orders, and very clearly not in Winter Soldier mode. But the soldiers around him treated him like a deadly animal, locking down his arms and legs and putting him in a giant box made out of pressurized steele and bulletproof glass. It seemed so excessive. But then he thought about all his past missions, all the enemies he took out by himself, all the enhancements the scientists gave him, and figured maybe this is what he deserved after all.

He felt like a fish in a bowl, all the soldiers sparing glances at him every time he breathed too big, or shifted in his seat. The seat was uncomfortable. But he figured they'd freeze him again soon, just like they always did, and then he'd be stuck in blissful unconsciousness. He could lose his mind, could let the anger at the situation boil over and tear him apart, but what would that achieve? It would not get him back to Mika. It would only get him killed. No, he deserved everything that was coming to him, but he would not put her through seeing him executed.

And so he sat, eyes glazed over, and thought about every day with Mika since the beginning. He barely noticed as they wheeled the cage onto the armored truck, then transferred him from the truck to a plane. He assumed they were going somewhere in Germany, as that's what all the soldiers were speaking. He wondered if they knew he could understand them, and then he bit back a laugh as he remembered how mad Mika used to get when he and her sister would speak it in front of her.

The plane landed, and he was put in another armored truck. He thought about a day at the farmer's market; Mika had worn a sundress, the fabric soft and light and twirling as she turned to make sure he was keeping up with her. He should have told her then, how beautiful she was. God, why did he wait so long to say anything to her? He knew his reasons, of course, but now, after they'd been together for what felt like forever, he cursed himself for thinking that she would not be receptive to him. He would never feel like he deserved her, and would always think that she deserved better than him, but he loved her, and she wanted him, and that was all he needed to know.

The truck stopped, a forklift shifting the cage back out into the open world. Bucky's eyes tracked the soldiers as they moved around his fish bowl, but he wasn't registering them. He was thinking about that morning, seeing his girl in his flannel, dancing by herself in the kitchen. He caught a brief glance of Steve as they loaded the cage into the elevator, his face worried as he watched them. Bucky looked away without a second thought; Steve would not be able to save him this time. His time had run out.

They took him down to a lower level, not unlike the places where they used to hide him when they dragged him back to the Hydra base. He couldn't see behind him, but he felt like there was a machine and a cryogenic capsule waiting for him, just like they always were. His head prickled with pain of memories past, and he tried to think of anything, anything, besides having that machine on his head again. They could do anything they wanted to him - torture him, punish him, kill him - but he didn't want to be wiped again, didn't want to lose his memories. He finally had some good ones for the first time since 1943. What if, this time, they didn't come back?

He didn't know how long he waited, staring blankly at the wall between the two armed guards outside the door. But eventually, an unassuming man in glasses came in, his steps slow and careful as he crossed the doorway. Bucky didn't know why he was so scared, it's not like he could do anything immediate from this cage.

"Hello, Mr. Barnes. I've been sent by the United Nations to evaluate you. Do you mind if I sit?" he said, his English thick with an accent. He was moving oddly, like a man who was both confident and nervous at the same time. Bucky didn't want to know what this guy was here for, and didn't care what he did. He wanted to receive his punishment and get on with it. He chose not to answer the stupid question, which apparently was all the same to this man, as he sat down at the table without any invitation. His voice was already grating against Bucky's sensitive ears, and all his could do was lean his head back against his uncomfortable seat and try to remember one of the songs Mika played in her apartment. "Your first name is James? I'm not here to judge you. I just want to ask you a few questions. Do you know where you are, James? I can't help you if you don't talk to me, James."

"My name is Bucky." he finally spoke, his voice gravelly. He supposed he hadn't used it since his conversation with Steve that morning. Enough with the James nonsense. That wasn't who he was anymore. He was Bucky; that's how Mika knew him, and that's how he would stay. He'd died once as James Buchanan Barnes. This time, he would go out as Bucky. The man was quiet for a long time, writing something down on his paper. Bucky idly noticed that he never introduced himself.

"Tell me, Bucky. You've seen a great deal, haven't you?" he finally asked, after what felt like an hour of silence. God this guy was weird, and tedious. Bucky was already tired of him, and could only level him with an annoyed gaze as he continued to tap tap tap his pen incessantly against his notebook. What was he supposed to say? He'd been spending the past two years trying to move on from his past. He relived it enough in his nightmares, he didn't need to reminisce now.

"I don't wanna talk about it." he replied, his voice sounding tired and defeated even to his own ears. It felt weird speaking English after only speaking Romanian for so long. The only one who knew anything about his past - at least, from him - was Mika, and he was going to keep it that way; this guy didn't get to know the story just because he was chosen by the UN to do this.

"You fear that, if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop." the guy responded. Bucky thought he meant to make it a question, but it came out as a blanket statement. He wanted to roll his eyes and chide you know what they say about assuming, but he held his tongue. A phone vibrated in the man's bag, which seemed to distract him momentarily. He pulled it out and Bucky recognized it as his own, wondering how he got it from the security personnel that had taken everything he had on him. Even from here, he could see Mika's name on the screen. He felt his facade drop for a split second before he put it back up, not wanting to get her involved. He had to protect her, even now. "Who is Mika?"

"No one." he said immediately. The lie didn't hurt, because he knew it was necessary. It did not matter for this man to know who Mika was to him, it wasn't going to change what he was going to say. He smirked, and Bucky stopped breathing, his gaze never leaving the man in front of him. He couldn't see his eyes thanks to the reflection of his glasses, which made it even worse.

"She seems awfully concerned for 'no one.'" he said, a bit of a sneer on his face. If he was trying to interrogate, he was very bad at it. The phone rang again, and Bucky inwardly cursed her stubbornness. This time, the man held his finger over the grey arrow, as if ready to swipe and answer it. Bucky couldn't help but straighten up slightly, as if willing him not to do it. The man immediately saw the miniscule reaction, and put his hand down, that damn grin never leaving his face. "She is someone, then. Someone who knows you? The real you, that is."

She did know the real him, and loved him anyway. But Bucky would never admit that. "No. I don't talk about it." he replied shortly. The man laughed, as if he didn't believe him. Bucky wasn't sure he would believe the lie either. The guy got distracted again, this time by something on his tablet, and Bucky felt the familiar tingle on the back of his neck as he recognized a situation changing. Something wasn't right.

"Don't worry, I have no concern over your present. We only have to talk about one part of the past." One horror, he meant. He tapped the tablet a couple times before looking back to him. The phone, now silent, lay forgotten at his elbow. Bucky was immediately suspicious at that. No, something was definitely wrong, and if that man somehow hurt Mika...no cage or soldiers would be able to protect him. The power suddenly dropped, the room plunging into darkness for a moment before the backup generators started, the dimness of the room punctuated by flashing red lights as the system tried to reboot. The doors to the room slammed shut, locking out the soldiers stationed outside.

"What the hell is this?" Bucky asked lowly. His muscles started aching as he yearned to retreat. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong, and it was this man's fault.

"Why don't we discuss your home?" he asked, his voice still that same annoying calm that made Bucky want to clock him in the jaw. Home? Home was a thousand miles away, with a girl in a little apartment in Romania. What did this guy know of his home? He was pulling something else out of his bag, something Bucky thought he would never see again. This guy didn't want to talk to Bucky. He wanted to talk to the Winter Soldier. "Not Romania. Certainly not Brooklyn, no. I mean your real home."

Bucky wanted to believe that it had been enough time, that the words wouldn't do anything to him anymore. But his bones were aching to escape. The man took off his glasses, proudly displaying the red notebook with it's gaudy, black star on the front. He had a very specific look about him, one that Bucky recognized immediately: it was the look of a man whose plan was coming to fruition. The man stood up, flipping to a certain page. He needed a flashlight to see the journal page, a tiny spotlight over the source of all Bucky's pain.

Longing.

Bucky shook his head. "No." The words weren't going to work anymore. He kept telling himself that, even as he felt the pinprick in the back of his head. It was just a word. It meant nothing to him now. He leaned his head against the back of the chair, hoping to jar his brain enough to reset it, even as his lower lip trembled. Fear gripped his heart, and his muscles started to relax, just as they'd conditioned him to do. Accept the words, accept your fate. Don't fight it.

Rusted.

"Stop." he said. The pain was no longer a pinprick; it was now the size of a dime, right at the back of his head. He was supposed to be better than this, he was supposed to be a good man now. Mika thought he was good. How could he still not fight this?

Seventeen.

The man walked closer as he said it, and the pain spread to the entire back of his head. No, Bucky remembered when he'd finally given in to the tortures, when he finally let go and let their conditioning take hold. And he would not let that happen again. He clenched his metal fist, knowing that if he needed it to, he could free himself from the clamps holding his arms and legs.

"Stop." he said again, this time louder, much harsher. He wanted to be a good person, give this man a chance before breaking out of this cage and beating him into a pulp.

Daybreak.

Bucky couldn't stop the scream as the pain enveloped his entire brain, sending electrical pulses down his spine and into his extremities. The relaxation was gone, all he knew was the fire coursing through him. He remembered the day before, remembered how he'd been gripped in this very nightmare and Mika had pulled him out of it. He had to find a focus point, and she would be the best one. He had to get out, for her.

He ripped his metal arm out of its hold, ignoring the incredible pain as he moved away from what his body wanted to do, forcing himself to move. He had to get out, he would not go back to being the Soldier. He was done with all of this. He didn't want to kill anymore, but this man? He needed to die.

The clamps over his other arm and his legs were easily removed, and he could barely hear over the pounding in his ears as the man said furnace. He stumbled to the front of the fish bowl, grabbing hold of the bar that was there to keep him inside. He then used it as leverage, sending his metal fist into the thick glass.

Nine.

He didn't care what he was saying. He was going to punch through this glass, kill this man, and get out of here, no matter what. I'm sorry, Mika, he thought to himself. He didn't want to go back to being that man, the man that just solved problems by ending lives. But if he had to choose between that or becoming the Winter Soldier again? It wasn't even a choice, not really.

Benign.

He felt the pain in the center of his back, but he ignored it, continuing to hit the glass over and over and over. He had to get out, had to get out, had to get out. There were only three words left, and he could feel as his brain started to fog over, but he pictured Mika's face and pushed through it. A crack appeared in the glass, giving him something else to focus on.

Homecoming.

The word made him hesitate. His legs no longer felt like his, felt numb and foreign. He continued anyway.

One.

His memories started to fade, but he didn't need memories to get out and to stop this man. He just needed to focus. Ignore the pain, ignore the fog, ignore how it felt like his lower half was filled with lead. He pulled back once more, putting every ounce of his strength into it and finally forcing the door off his hinges. But as he stepped out, he heard the final words,

Freight car.

Silence.

Numbness.

Fog.

Darkness.

The Soldier stayed in his crouched position, eyes and ears open as he took in as much sensory input as possible, processing it quickly. He was below ground, with one man here with him - the man that called him, the man that would give him marching orders. The Soldier stood, levelling with the man in front of him; there was something about him he didn't like, but that did not matter. It was not his job to like people. It was his job to complete his mission.

"Soldier?" the man asked. He did not have the confidence of his previous handlers. Perhaps he was new. There had been many handlers over the years; the Soldier did not know who they were, he only knew that they were the ones with the instructions. Follow instructions, complete the mission. Shape history. That's what he was told.

"Ready to comply." he said. His throat felt dry, as it always did when he responded to the call. It did not matter. He did not require sustenance. They would give him what he needed whenever he returned to his cold, cold room.

"Mission report. December 16, 1991." he said, this time much more fearlessly. Good, he was direct. He would not waste the Soldier's time. The Soldier delivered the mission report in a succinct manner, as he was instructed, ignoring the men at the door as they tried to pry it open. As he finished, the other soldiers finally got the door open, rushing in with their guns drawn. The man didn't flinch. "Take everyone out except for me."

The Soldier didn't hesitate, immediately taking out the first guard and using him as a shield to take out the second, third, and fourth. He shoved his way through the doors, idly counting his enemies as they came at him, and crossing them off the list. It felt good to exercise his muscles again, to move without the hesitation of the weaker side of him. He knew about the Man of course, the part of him that some would call a conscience. He had no use for him. In this life, it was kill or be killed, and he had been ordered long ago to survive. When everyone was down, he returned to his commanding officer for further orders. The first two missions had been easy. He could handle more. The Man slowed him as he walked by the table the commanding officer sat at earlier. There was a cell phone on the edge of it. The Soldier didn't want to pick it up, afraid it could be tracked, but the Man made a good point: information, limitless information. That's what the phone held. He took it, sliding it into his pocket.

"All clear?" the man asked him, trust in his tone. He knew he could count on the Soldier. The Soldier never failed.

"Clear." he responded, his mouth still as dry as it was before. Water would be nice. But he could survive without it, if he needed to. He heard sounds above him, feet on stairs as someone hurried down towards them. He tilted his head to hear better; it was two people, one significantly slower than the other.

"Someone coming?" the commanding officer asked. The Soldier nodded.

"Two men. Likely hostile." he responded shortly. They should be close enough for the man to hear them now too. He thought of seven different ways to initiate an attack on them, but his planning was interrupted.

"Hide in the shadows. If they let me go, you're dismissed. If they try to hurt me, you take them out. Then you're dismissed."

"Yes, sir." the Soldier replied, fading into hiding. He waited as another man entered, a man he recognized - the man from the bridge, the man who made him fail his last mission. He would not fail this time.

"Get up." the man from the bridge said, pulling his commanding officer to his feet. The Soldier thought to step in then, but there was still the second man coming down the stairs. It would be easier if he had all information before engaging with the enemy. He moved to the opposite corner, so he had views of the door and of the men. The man from the bridge pushed his commanding officer against the wall and asked him why he was here, and what he wanted. Who cared? The Soldier bided his time. Waited.

"To see an empire fall."

The second enemy finally entered the room. After a quick assessment, the Soldier was unimpressed. He stepped to him immediately, sending his essential arm towards his head. The man managed to duck in time, the Soldier's fist crushing the concrete of the wall behind him. The enemy was quicker than he anticipated. But still not quick enough. The enemy tried to swing, but the hit was easily blocked. The Soldier sent a lightning fast punch to his abdomen before grabbing him by the jaw, throwing him towards the cage they tried to lock him in earlier. One man down.

Of course, this caught the attention of the man from the bridge, who released his commanding officer and lunged toward him. The Soldier tried to hit him with the essential arm, but once again it was dodged. The essential arm wasn't as responsive as it usually was, which was unfortunate, but not endangering. He would make it work.

The man from the bridge was much faster than the first enemy, standing up and hitting him with his fist. The Soldier did not feel the pain, and it was not hard enough to knock him off his feet. He swung the essential arm back, not planning to connect, instead just putting space between them. Just enough space to reach out with his leg and kick him in the chest. He stumbled back and fell on the floor, but was able to scramble up and block the next kick. The Soldier could see him shift his weight; he would go for his legs. He knelt, easily shoving his foot away. They stood to their full heights, the Soldier sending his metal arm once and twice to try and derail him. He was off balance, and another foot to the chest sent him careening backwards. He tried to crush his skull with the metal arm, but he was able to move out of the way, leaving nothing but a massive dent in the elevator doors behind him. He went for a larger target - his chest - but his arm was stopped in both his hands, the man surprisingly able to hold his own against the strength of the prosthetic. He pushed him back marginally; no, that wouldn't do. The Soldier shifted his weight, using his own and the other man's to completely shove him through the busted doors and drop him into the shaft below. A loud noise echoed from where the man hit his head on a metal beam, and an even louder crash sounded from where he landed. Good. He was done.

The Soldier turned to find the hall empty of conscious people. The commanding officer nodded; that must mean he was dismissed. But where was he dismissed to?

Just leave.

Again, the Man made a fair point. Though he had no extraction location, he was sure his handlers would find him. He stalked out of the hallway, finding the stairs and taking them two at a time. He would exit on the ground floor, and then go into hiding from there and wait for further orders. Footsteps sounded below him, and a quick glance told him the first enemy from earlier had regained his footing. There was no need to waste time going back for him, it was more efficient to simply outrun him.

Men with batons greeted him on the ground floor, but they were slow and sloppy. He incapacitated them easily, not bothering to hold back his strength as he landed hit after hit. He was finally able to obtain a weapon, but before he could subdue its previous owner, a wave of something hit him, momentarily stunning his nervous system. He turned towards its epicenter to find a man in a three piece suit with a red metal hand. Finally, a contender.

The red metal hand emitted a bright light, once again stunning the Soldier's senses. What the fuck. Why didn't his essential arm have these enhancements? His handlers needed to steal this technology. Perhaps he should amputate the hand and bring it back with him. The man in the suit tried to engage him, tried to take the gun away from him, but the Soldier would not have that. In a series of quick moves, he regained his weapon, and he was barely able to cover the muzzle of the barrel with his red metal hand before the Soldier pulled the trigger. His face showed surprise; he was not trained like the Soldier was.

He was, however, able to pull the piece apart, using the moment of shock to smack the Soldier across the face with it. A weak way to use an efficient weapon. He should have stabbed him in the neck, or the abdomen. The Soldier used his strength to punch the man in his stomach, knocking the wind from him and sending him sailing across the room. One down.

"Bucky?" a voice came. A familiar voice. But not the voice from the man on the bridge, who was the last one to call him that. Bucky. Who the hell was Bucky? He turned to see a young woman running towards him, and though her posture was not defensive or aggressive, he had to treat everyone as an enemy. The Man, who usually kept quiet, started pulling at him, trying to convince him to turn, to leave, to let the woman go. But the Soldier could not let her go. Her expression gave away her familiarity. She had to be eliminated.

Bucky's worst fear was realized: Mika was now face to face with the Winter Soldier.

Oh man, y'all. Writing Civil War is so much more stressful than I thought it would be! Are y'all stressed? I'm so stressed.

Thank you for all the amazing feedback! I'm glad everyone seems to be as pumped about Civil War as I am haha. It's fun making it even more dramatic than it already was! I hope you enjoyed the next installment, please let me know what y'all think!

-XM