Then there came a day, when new legends stumbled upon a decrepit relic. No one tells that story. Not that way.
He was seen as the reason such legends were allowed the chance to continue what he had started. They were the reason he was allowed a chance to do what he could not back in the days of both the world's failure, the war, and his own.
He can't even remember how old Bucky would have been back then. He can't remember what age he would be now.
And he's not the only one who's stained his gloves redder anymore.
Clint, Jack, Scott, Vision, Jennifer…Wanda…
The sentinel of liberty.
And he couldn't stop it.
The personification of what this country was founded upon. And they still died. Or wish they had.
He's meant to be as strong as this country is meant to be and the Avengers still fell apart.
Now the only faith left in Americas strength and him is prisons, such as "The Raft" and security conferences as to why, thanks to the teams absence, they need to be stronger.
As strong as America is meant to be.
As strong as he was meant to be
"Sir?"
"Yes solider?"
"Sir…sir, I'm on orders from current S.H.E.I.L.D command… it's The Raft sir…"
"Solider?"
His grips the shield. For all the good it will do.
For all the good it ever did.
"…we have a breakout sir."