Chapter 28


At 6:28pm, local time, we stepped out of a private jet at Berlin's Brandenburg Airport. Our ISID ID got us and our weapons through customs with no questions asked, and a taxi was already waiting to take us to the Dahlem Cube, where the conference was being held.

As soon as the car came to a stop at our destination, Natasha paid the driver and leapt out. "Tony starts any minute now," she said as we set off up the tree-lined path towards the Cube.

The trees were leafless skeletons at this time of year, and thick snow covered the smooth lawns like a blanket. I could see the Cube up ahead, two three-story structures with walls made almost entirely of glass. The larger building was U-shaped and separated from its square counterpart by an open exhibition area. Warm light from the windows illuminated the snow outside, and I could see the silhouettes of many people in the third level of the square building. That must be where the conference was happening.

"Bucky."

Natasha's voice drew my attention to a crumpled shape lying at the base of a nearby tree. A closer look revealed the form to be the body of a security guard. He'd been shot.

"Hendricks said he'd warn them," Natasha said, staring down at the body.

"I guess something went wrong with that plan." I looked back up at the Cube and saw something move briefly on the roof of the larger building. Someone was up there, and I was pretty sure I knew who. "Get to Stark," I told Natasha. "And alert security."

She gave a nod. "Where are you going?"

"After my clone. He's on the roof. Watch out for Rogan."

"Got it." She hurried away towards the doors of the conference building and I followed at a distance, keeping to the shadows.

I reached the edge of the open space between the buildings and looked up. A steel and wire framework rose up from the ground down the center of the U-shaped outdoors area – probably to support the growth of some sort of climbing plant during the warm months. It was connected to the buildings on either side at roof height by horizontal beams laid out in a grid pattern.

Without hesitation I moved to the frame and began to climb. The metal was cold against the bare skin of my human hand. As I reached the top and swung myself silently onto the highest beam, applause rang out from within the conference room. We didn't have much time left.

I got to my feet on the beam and ran along it easily, reaching the solid footing of the roof before the clapping had finished. Something about my clone's presence up here didn't fit with kidnapping Stark to brainwash him, and when I saw the other me crouched a few yards away with a sniper rifle in his hands, my suspicions were confirmed. For some reason, Rogan had decided to kill Stark instead of capturing him.

I glanced at the other building. From this angle I could see into the third-floor conference room, see the familiar dark-haired figure standing in front of the seated audience.

My double shifted his aim slightly, too focused on his target to notice me.

Then Natasha burst into the conference room.

My clone started slightly in surprise at her arrival, then quickly corrected the movement. I leapt forward as he squeezed the trigger and crashed into him as the gun went off. There was a sharp crack, muffled by the silencer, and then screams broke out in the opposite building.

I looked up in time to see Stark lying crumpled on the floor and the audience rushing in all directions. Natasha was engaged in hand-to-hand combat with a man I took to be Rogan.

This was not going well.

My clone's fist crashed into my face and I jerked back, rolling away from him and getting to my feet. The sniper rifle was lying at my feet so I kicked it over the edge of the roof as my double straightened up.

I dashed forward as he raised a handgun, grabbing the muzzle in my metal fist. It crushed easily in my grip. That got rid of the firearms, giving me a better chance.

It also meant I was within my double's reach, and he took that opportunity to draw a combat knife and slash at my torso with it.

I moved back in time to avoid being gutted, but the blade still sliced through both my shirt and the skin beneath. The wound stung fiercely and hot blood trickled down my stomach.

I backed up a step to avoid a second strike of the long blade, but my clone followed, making the most of his advantage.

I ducked his swipe at my face and dropped into a crouch, sweeping my leg out to trip him up. He crashed onto his back and I threw myself on top, grabbing the wrist of his knife hand in my metal grip, trying to pin him down.

"We don't have to fight," I said.

He tore his weaponless hand free of my grip and rolled, flipping us over so I was now the one pinned. I barely managed to keep my hold on his knife hand.

"Of course we do," he replied. "You want to stop Rogan and I was created to follow his orders."

I was finding it difficult to breathe with my clone's weight pressing down on my chest. "He'll never make the world a better place by having you kill everyone who disagrees with him," I replied, struggling to get free without letting go of his knife hand. "He's using you just like HYDRA used me."

"Shut up." My double's fist slammed into my face and black spots danced in my vision. My grip on his wrist loosened and he pulled free, raising the knife up. Then he brought it plunging back down towards my throat.

I threw up my cybernetic arm to block the blow and felt a jarring impact as the blade forced its way between the joints of my hand and pierced through the other side. A jolt of electricity shot up my arm and the fingers of the hand spasmed a couple of times before going limp.

The two of us stared at the limb for a moment. No one had ever come close to doing that kind of damage before. No one had been strong enough.

Then my double wrenched the knife out of my hand and stabbed it into my bionic arm close to the shoulder twice, causing another spark of electricity. And with that the limb went completely dead.

Immediately, my clone struck at my neck again and I jerked to the side as best as I could. The blade sank into my shoulder, striking against bone. I cried out at the pain, finally breaking free of my double's grip and rolling out of his reach.

I staggered to my feet and faced him, my left arm hanging limply at my side. He moved forward to attack once more and this time I caught the knife in my human hand, gripping the blade tightly so that it stopped inches from my face. The razor-sharp edges cut into my palm and blood ran freely down my wrist.

I took a shaky breath, meeting my clone's cold, angry gaze. "It's not too late to stop this," I said through gritted teeth. "You don't have to become like me."

"I am you," he hissed, tugging the knife blade from my grip. Then he reared back and kicked me hard in the chest.

I crashed backwards and rolled off the edge of the roof, wrapping my good arm around one of the metal beams at the last moment to prevent myself from falling. I groaned as my lacerated hand screamed in protest.

"You're right," I said as my clone walked to the edge of the roof and looked down at me. "You are me. And that means that whatever Rogan did to make you, you're still human and you know this isn't right. Rogan will never achieve peace through anarchy. You can keep letting him control you or you can fight back. It's your choice."

I saw a flicker of doubt in my double's eyes. He hesitated for a long moment.

And then he nodded once.

Crack!

My double didn't utter a sound as he pitched forward and fell from the roof, revealing Rogan standing a few feet back, dark suit rumpled and gun in hand. His expression was one of cold fury as he walked forward to the edge.

"You just can't stop ruining my plans, can you, Barnes?" he hissed.

"Maybe it's deliberate," I replied coolly. It was getting hard to hold onto the steel beam with my blood-slicked hand, but I didn't let go. Running from a man with a gun across open ground was pointless, and as soon as I tried to escape, he'd shoot.

Rogan chuckled humorlessly. "You know, I never wanted any power for myself. Not once. All I wanted was justice. With the right people in control, the world could have had that."

"Maybe to start with," I replied. "But power corrupts. Things would go back to how they are now and then what would you do? Kill the President and start afresh?"

Rogan shook his head. "Maybe, maybe not. But all of that is irrelevant now since your people captured my base and learned all my secrets this morning. It's over for me, but the bigger the mess I make here, the more people will hear about what I was trying to achieve," he added. "Which is why you have to die."

He raised the gun to aim at my head and I closed my eyes.

There was a muffled gunshot, but I didn't feel any pain. I opened my eyes and saw Rogan take a half step backwards, a surprised expression on his face as he looked down at the red stain spreading across the front of his shirt.

Then he collapsed to the roof and lay still, eyes staring sightlessly up at the night sky.

I released my hold on the beam and dropped to the ground, landing in a crouch in the snow.

My double knelt a few feet away, the sniper rifle lying discarded beside him. As I watched, he collapsed onto his side in the bloodstained snow.

I moved over and knelt beside him. The entry and exit wounds of Rogan's shot showed that the bullet had missed my clone's heart by inches. "Rogan couldn't get anything right, could he?" I said quietly.

The other me gave a wry half-smile, his breaths shallow and fast. He began to cough up blood and I took his hand in mine, holding it tightly. He returned the grip, rolling weakly onto his back as the coughing ended. His breaths were barely perceptible now.

I squeezed his hand tighter. "Thank you for saving my life."

His gaze met mine and he nodded ever so slightly. Then he closed his eyes and stopped breathing.