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The pair traveled quickly down the snowy road, passed occasionally by a car or a truck that rattled by ominously in the bitter cold. Steve found himself increasingly grateful for his altered condition: he simply had no idea how ordinary people managed to live their whole lives in a place where the cold seemed to crawl into your very bones as it did here. Bucky, on the other hand, seemed curiously at ease, his head held high and his eyes continuously darting to and fro, always on the lookout… Steve found himself mimicking the ex-Winter soldier's behavior, understanding they had to be, from here on out, always watchful. The gravity of their mission was finally settling in.

They made it to the outskirts of the great city, where Bucky was quick to hail them a cab. He spoke to the driver in flawless, fluent Russian, seating himself next to the burly, bearded man, as Steve took a seat in the back without peeping a word, trying to hide his amazement. Bucky looked right at home: his period under cryo sleep had frozen him in time, so he looked exactly as Steve last recalled. His hair was still shoulder-long, and his face bore just the beginnings of stubble, giving him a carefully uncared-for look. Steve, on the other hand, had changed quite a bit: he'd let his blond hair grow out to change his appearance as much as he could, and he now favored a furnished beard over his usual clean shave. He could only hope no one would recognize either of them in this frozen corner of the world, and that they would blend in like nothing more than a pair of Russian workers…

The driver quipped something at Steve, who responded with a non-committal grunt. Sure… if he kept his mouth shut, they just might pass for locals…

Bucky directed the driver in a manner that showed he had previous knowledge of the terrain. Steve had studied a map of the city when Okoye flew him to Wakanda, but he'd mostly focused on the area surrounding the safe house where Lianka was supposedly hiding out. There was no way he could have memorized the city as Bucky seemed to know it, which led him to believe that his friend had at least some memories left over from his life as the Winter Soldier.

The cabbie dropped them off a while later in front of what appeared to be a pub. Bucky thanked him and tipped him well, but not so well that the man would remember this pair of taciturn, heavily built men. Steve remained expressionless as they both headed into the small building, Bucky guiding them and he kept all questions silenced until after they were seated at a small table near the back of the lightly illuminated establishment, and the pretty waitress had come to take their order.

"We're nowhere near the safehouse, Buck… what gives?" He mumbled at last, careful not to be overheard.

His friend was giving the waitress at the bar an appreciative once-over, which she returned with a shy smile and slight reddening of her lovely cheeks.

"We're throwing off our tail, if we have one." The soldier explained softly. He fell silent as the waitress returned to their table with a small bottle of crystal-clear liquid and two shot glasses. She gave Bucky a very cute smile and walked away again as the soldier poured them each a glass. Steve was not big on drinking, considering his accelerated metabolism prevented him from feeling the effects of alcohol, but he followed his best friend's lead, trusting him completely.

"Do you think someone is following us?" He asked at last, after grimacing briefly as the vodka drew a line of fire down his throat.

Bucky poured himself another shot, but spared Steve this round. "No, but it never hurts to be too careful."

A moment of silence passed, and they listened to the soft conversation nearby, coming from the only other two people in the pub: an oblivious couple that was speaking lowly, their heads together, and generally seemed unaware about their surroundings. Behind the bar, a television set that would have seemed right at home in the nineties was spewing an uninterrupted babble of Russian news, not a word of which Steve could understand.

Bucky poured himself a third shot and a second one for Steve, who drank it grudgingly, fighting with himself to keep a straight face.

"She could be bleeding out, for all we know." He finally said, not particularly at ease with this method of working through a mission. He was all about action and fighting… infiltration, covert operations, patience and sneaking were not his strong suit…

"I know." Bucky said grimly. "But if we lead her attackers to her, they'll get a very good chance at killing her." He rose, placing a few rubles on the table next to the half-empty bottle, and gestured for Steve to follow him.

The pair made their way to the bar, where Bucky exchanged a few soft, melodic words with the slightly flustered girl. She smiled shyly at Steve, laughed a little and nodded, before leading them wordlessly to the back of the bar and into the kitchens.

They passed an unobservant cook and were quickly ushered out the back door and into a tight alley, but not before the pretty girl said a few more things Steve did not in the least bit understand, her cheeks pinks as she smiled at Bucky. The soldier winked at her and gave her a cryptic smile, before she shut the door behind them, leaving them alone in the cold alley behind the establishment.

"What did you tell her?" Steve asked, in wonder.

Bucky smirked. "That we were trying to ditch our wives for a night on the town. Made her promise not to say she saw us if anyone came asking." He looked quite pleased with himself. "She made me promise to come back and see her next time I want to ditch my wife."

The soldier started walking through the alley with a very determined step and Steve followed, a look of pure disbelief covering his face.

"You make it look so easy…"

Bucky snorted. "It is easy, golden boy. And it should be easy for you too… that girl barely saw me with you around." He paused as they reached the end of the alley and the street beyond, peering cautiously around the corner. "Give yourself some credit, Stevie. You're not the scrawny kid from Brooklyn anymore."

Steve grumbled something, but it was non-committal.

The coast was clear, and they set out on foot anew, their heads bowed to the biting frost and wind that howled into their ears, keeping to alleys when they could and making a beeline for the safehouse. Steve knew that alcohol had little to no effect on him, but he almost swore that he felt warmer after those two shots… or maybe it was just the climate growing on him.

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They were closer to the safehouse than Steve had initially thought. Bucky led them there with ease, forcing a detour on them twice when he wasn't sure if someone he'd spotted was following them, or simply out for a stroll in this glacial temperature. It took around an hour and a half to get them to their destination, and when they reached it, both men fell into an instinctive, cautious stance as they approached the small house, which stood inconspicuously, sandwiched between a nicer, bigger house and a fenced graveyard.

The lights were off and it looked as though no one was there, or had been there in a while.

Bucky led them around to the back, his hand crawling under his coat to retrieve the handgun he'd been given, as Steve unsheathed the blade from within his coat, his face grim and tense and red from the cold. Thankfully, night had fallen during their trip and they had the cover of darkness to creep around in without being spotted. Bucky pointed soundlessly to the ground, and Steve managed to make out a trail leading in the same direction they were taking, behind the small house. He wasn't particularly good at tracking, a skill which he believed Bucky must have down to a science, but he could tell those tracks were neither very old, nor very fresh. They had to have been made a day or two ago, at most.

As they turned the house's corner and entered the yard, both men spotted slight, red dots in the snow. Lianka had surely come through here, unless her attacker had been wounded severely enough to bleed as well and had followed suit…

They reached a back door, which was slightly ajar. Bucky, now holding his gun in front of him with steady, trained hands, a finger slipping over the safety to remove it, nudged the door open with the weapon and looked down a flight of steps, which led to a second door that apparently accessed the basement. He glanced at Steve, who managed to make out the downward passage as well, and both men nodded at each other.

Bucky went down first, slow and steady, his booted feet barely creaking the rickety steps as he placed his weight upon them carefully. Steve followed just as quietly, his jaw set tightly as he kept his fists raised and anticipation high.

When they reached the bottom door, it took but a moment of silent staring and a few brief nods from both to establish who would do what and in what order. Both men were actually pleasantly surprised at just how naturally communication seemed to be flowing between them, almost as if they had not spent seventy years apart.

Bucky stared at Steve and mouthed a countdown.

When he reached 'one', Steve twisted the doorknob viciously, breaking through its lock and shoved his weight against the door, forcing it open so suddenly that he actually had to roll forward into the room beyond to regain his balance, all while Bucky entered right behind him, gun aimed and sweeping the perimeter.

For a nanosecond, it was as though the world had stopped spinning around them.

Then something moved like lightening from behind a nearby sofa and just as suddenly, Steve was facing the gaping barrel of a gun as it was pointed right between his eyes. He hadn't even had the time to rise and he immediately froze, his knife still held loosely in one hand, completely useless.

Bucky snarled something behind him, in Russian, which Steve could only assume was along the lines of 'Drop your weapon'. He hoped it was, at least…

The figure aiming back at them snarled something that sounded quite alike.

There was a tense, angry moment during which Steve managed to unglue his eyes from the loaded weapon in his face to find the person holding it. If he was hoping to discover a reassuring sight at the other end of the gun, he was sorely let down. He found himself staring at an obviously battered young woman with shockingly blue eyes and matted hair that could have been any color, were it not filthy and bloody. Her face was set with a fierce determination and boundless rage, her lip pulled back slightly into an almost bestial snarl and she was breathing hard, but her gun was aimed so steadily that Steve knew he'd get shot before he'd ever manage to tear it from her.

Yet she was shaking. There was no denying she was in pain and possibly barely standing. Steve did the only thing he could think of to defuse the situation.

He spoke to her.

"Where does a black panther rest?"

Her eyes had been flitting from Bucky to him and back, but they suddenly focused on him alone. Doubt shined within them, then sudden recognition.

She took a step back but did not lower her weapon. "Where the flowers glow blue and the nights are eternal." Her voice was a little hoarse, with just a splash of Russian drawl tainting her English, and just barely faltered as her very breathing obviously caused her pain.

At those words, Bucky slowly lowered his gun and clicked the safety back on. With unhurried, trained motions, he showed her how he placed the weapon on a nearby table and raised unarmed hands up. Steve rose slowly, setting his knife down at his side and mimicked his friend. The girl's jaw clenched momentarily, but after yet another brief moment of hesitation, she lowered her gun, activated the safety and set it aside.

All three of them let out a sigh no one knew they had been holding.

"Do you have the mark of a War Dog?" Bucky asked at once, refusing to take any risks.

She nodded curtly and pulled her lower lip down as Okoye had, revealing an identical, glowing blue tattoo on the soft skin within her mouth.

"You're Lianka." Steve said. It was not really a question. He thought he could recognize the young woman before them from the picture he had been shown in T'challa's office, even if one of her eyes was slightly swollen, a large, black bruise had formed around her neck, her lip was split from a blow she'd taken and her hair was absolutely filthy with dirt and blood.

"I am." She sounded gruff, which both men attributed to her obviously having been chocked with surprizing violence. "And you're Captain America and the Winter Soldier… of all the people they could have sent…"

It was hard to tell if she was glad or disappointed. The young woman seemed utterly exhausted and on the verge of passing out as she limped towards one of the two sofas in the small room, into which she simply collapsed. Steve and Bucky were next to her at once and while the latter started rummaging through their packs for the first aid kit, the former took a moment to asses the girl's situation.

Her bright eyes were half-shut and her breathing was labored. Her reaction to their intrusion had obviously exhausted what little strength she had left. He looked her over and noted at once that she was oozing copious amounts of blood from a very deep wound to her thigh, beneath a wad of gauze and bandages that had come loose in their short bout.

She noticed his concern with a shrug. "He stabbed me. Cut the artery. I would have died, but I managed to pinch it shut… must have opened again just now…" Was her tone slightly accusing? Again, it was hard to tell.

Steve realised he had never really been in a position to deliver critical first aid in a competent manner. He glanced at Bucky, who had retrieved the kit prepared for them by Shuri and the soldier gestured his friend away dismissively. Obviously, he'd had the necessary training to do this sort of thing…

Steve stood and decided to keep watch, letting his friend tend to the girl. He instead walked around the room, checking through the high windows to see if anyone was outside and explored the adjacent rooms rapidly. They were all empty save for a little bit of sparse furniture, and dust coated everything, indicating that no one had been here in quite a while.

Bucky had fished a small flashlight from the pack and handed it to the girl, who took it into trembling, blood-stained hands. "Hold it steady." He said softly, gently. He hadn't yet seen the extent of her wounds, but it was no secret she had endured pain that would have left most human beings completely void. He had to admit there was something very compelling and ferocious in those dashing blue eyes of hers.

Since she'd spoken of being stabbed in the thigh, and he could indeed see blood seeping from beneath her slightly torn and very dirty dress pants, he chose to start there.

"What happened, exactly?" Bucky asked as he seized a set of angled scissors from the first aid kit and began cutting into her pants deftly, removing everything around the wound to asses the damage. He ended up cutting the whole pant leg off and pulled it down to expose the ugly incision, along with most of her leg. He was quick to note the hardness of muscles beneath her skin, as she appeared to be almost abnormally toned… had she received special training? He could not recall anything of the sort in the report he`d received about her.

Lianka grimaced. "You mean in general, or the stabbing…?"

"Start with the stabbing."

She held the light steady as they both stared at the deep gash in her leg. It was not spurting blood, which was as good a sign as any, meaning the artery had not completely opened. However, Bucky noted grimly that the tissue around the short cut was a jarring sort of red when he wiped some of the blood away, which was a clear sign of inflammation and possibly infection. He hoped Shuri had packed something for that…

"He came at me in my apartment." She stopped as he touched the wound gingerly, pulling at the sides to see if he could spot the artery within. The skin was taunt and the muscle had been cut very cleanly and deeply, so he could perhaps hope to reach it. Bucky felt her shake on the couch as she held her breath and allowed the pain to pass over her, but he found, with some surprise, that the hand she used to hold the flashlight barely moved at all. This girl was made of some stern stuff. Perhaps it was the Russian in her. "I can defend myself, but he was… bigger… stronger… he…" She clenched her teeth as Bucky pulled as much at the wound as he could, still searching. "He caught me off guard. Hit me and tried to choke me. I pulled away, but he managed to stab me right in the leg. Left his knife there though, so I pulled it out and think I managed to stab him in the flank, but I'm not sure… I ran… there was… so much blood… thank God it was not a serrated blade, or I would have died…"

He couldn't see anything in there, and she was still bleeding profusely. As Bucky looked up, he saw just how pale she was, her face ashen and her breathing labored. He knew he had to act fast.

"Steve, come here and apply pressure to this. I need to see what exactly is in that kit."

He had pulled out several gauze pads and handed them to his friend, who had returned after assessing the presence of more bloody gauze near the other sofa. He felt that he could at least do this right, pressing the white material hard into the girl's thigh. She bit back a cry of pain and her hand finally faltered, the light going down… Steve grabbed it and took over flashlight duty as she closed her eyes and trembled violently, sitting back into the sofa.

Meanwhile, Bucky opened the kit fully and gazed in some awe at the organized syringes, needles and IV bags he found there, all of which had a neat little label on them with a concise description of what they were meant to do. He recognized that his topmost priority was to stop the bleeding, so he took each of the syringes in turn, reading over their description rapidly. The first was an antibiotic, to be administered intramuscularly and two more such syringes were available. He set all three aside for later and read another one: it was a hormone meant to stimulate red blood cell production, to be injected intramuscularly to the stomach. He set that aside too and grabbed a third one. It read: 'Cauterizing nanites, high dosage. Inject at site of hemorrhaging. Will cause severe discomfort'. There were two more such needles in there, but he figured he'd start with a single dose.

"You're not going to like this, doll." He said softly as he pulled the cap off the long, sharp needle and positioned it right next to the stab wound, near where Steve was still pressing down on that rapidly reddening gauze. He aimed it so it would go sideways into her thigh and towards the obviously damaged artery and pushed it into her skin without eliciting so much as groan from her. Then, he pressed down steadily on the depressor.

The injection had just barely begun entering her body that they got a reaction from her. Lianka's eyes flew open at once as she sat up violently, gasping, but Steve was quick to push her back into the couch, forcing her to remain immobile by pressing his free arm against her upper chest as strongly as he dared. One of her hands grasped Bucky's wrist in a vicelike grip and he almost jumped out of his skin at the touch: she'd grasped his metal arm, and he had actually felt it, forgetting for a moment that he now could… With her other hand, she seized Steve's coat, all nails out. Bucky was about to hush her, worried that a scream would prompt neighbors to call for help, but he saw with some amazement that the girl simply bowed her head, stifling a sob-like groan and clenched her teeth so tight he heard them grate.

The injection seemed to take for ever. Not once did she let out anything more than a chocked gasp. Bucky thought he saw a tear or two stream down her cheeks, drawing lines in the dirt of her pale face, but he said nothing. When the syringe was finally empty and he pulled it out slowly, pressing a ball of cotton to the slight wound it left behind, the girl finally released both him and Steve and went limp against the couch, eyes shut and breathing in short sighs.

With Bucky's approval, Steve slowly lifted the gauze from her leg. It was ill-advised to remove padding from a wound, but they had to see if it was still bleeding…

The gash was still there and still inflamed, but there was no more blood flowing from it. Bucky sighed, relieved and likewise impressed by this surprizing technology. He wondered if the nanites would work on shutting the stab wound as well, but decided to clean it up and stitch it, just in case they didn't. He washed it out with a sterile solution from the kit, making sure to flush out any contaminants, and pinched the sides of the clean cut together deftly, before using a medical stapling gun from the kit to stich the wound together with metal pins. Lianka twitched every time the metal hit her flesh, but she kept mercifully silent. When that was done, Bucky pressed fresh gauze pads against the wound and bandaged it up tightly all around her thigh.

The first aid kit also contained a bag of saline solution which, if the label upon it was to be believed, contained a mixture of chemicals meant to help with tissue regeneration and replace loss of blood. By this point, Lianka had half-opened her eyes and was saying nothing and resisting nothing, but following his every move with amazing sharpness, those ice-like eyes never missing a thing. Bucky took her forearm and looked around for a vein, which was in no manner an ordeal: the flesh on her inner arms was so ghastly that it was more than easy to find a suitable vein. She did not even flinch when the thick needle found its way into her skin, but at this point neither Bucky nor Steve were surprised: she'd shown remarkable resilience thus far… Bucky placed the IV bag above her on the sofa and let the fluid within slowly find its way into her body.

"How are you feeling?" Steve finally asked, still very concerned.

She scoffed weakly. "Fucking great…"

"If you want, we can call for someone from Wakanda to come pick you…"

"No." She growled. Both men glanced at each other. Neither was surprised by her reaction, given what they had been told about her and what they had seen so far, but they also wondered this: would she be a hinderance to them if they allowed her to stay? She must have caught their look and understood its meaning, because she continued. "I cannot go now, whether you want me to stay or not. I don't think I can move. And if you try and lumber me around like a sack of kartofel, we will be spotted and killed, most likely. I am sure you have what you need to help me get on my feet in that little kit of yours… give me a day to heal, two at most… if I cannot care for myself by then, you can send me off. But only then."

She was in no position to make any threats or deals, but she did not care. And that ferocious glint in her eyes… it prompted both men to glance at each other and exchange silently… could they stay here a couple days? They had food… but what if someone came to attack? Well, they were both super-soldiers… What if her condition worsened? They could always call for Wakanda's help then…

She saw them hesitating. "You need me." She assured, putting as much conviction into her voice as she could. "I can bait him… you will not be able to find him so easily… but he will come for me again, you can be sure of it."

In the end, they nodded slowly, agreeing.

Lianka sighed. "Thank you. I want to… I need to get back at that bastard myself. The nerve…"

"Right." Bucky said, reaching for the syringe containing the antibiotic. "You were saying that you fled after you were attacked… who exactly attacked you? And how did you manage to stop your artery from bleeding out?"

"I told you: I pinched my artery shut." When he glanced at her with disbelief, she shrugged, wincing slightly. "What? You think I have survived all these years as a spy for Wakanda by fainting every time someone tried to attack me? I reached into the gap left by the knife when I managed to rest for a moment, I found the artery and I held it shut until it sealed… which might be why the wound is infecting… I think my hand was very dirty…"

Steve could not hide the amazement on his face. If he still had any doubts about how insane this woman was, he had them no more… he didn't think anyone would have the inner strength to literally reach into an open wound and rummage around until they would a gushing vessel. Then again, neither did Bucky. He'd done it before on himself, sure, but he was an augmented soldier… he positioned the antibiotic and slowly injected that too, but in her other thigh as to give the wounded one a break.

Lianka seemed almost amused at their reaction. "Mudak tried to choke me to death… when I slipped free, he threw a few punches… hit me on the face and in the ribs, but I don't think anything is broken." Yet her breathing was still labored, and Bucky wondered if she wasn't glossing over her wounds to convince them she was in better shape than she looked.

"Did you know him? What did he look like?" Steve asked gently as Bucky grabbed the injection that was meant to stimulate red blood cell regeneration.

"I did." She said bitterly. "We'd been seeing each other for a little while, a few months… I thought I knew him… but I think he somehow knew I was a spy. He took his time, we got to know each other… or so I thought." She sighed angrily. "Stupid girl." She growled at herself in an undertone. Bucky gestured at her to lift her shirt and expose her stomach, which she did without hesitation. The third needle was a short one, meant to be injected into the topmost layer of abdominal muscles. He found that he had to hold it back a bit, because there was apparently nothing but abdominal muscle on that woman's stomach. Every part of her he had examined thus far was hard and strong, belonging to someone who worked out ferociously, daily. Perhaps it was indeed not a wonder that she survived as long as a spy and had managed to flee her assailant. Bucky figured that if this girl was even somewhat trained in combat, she could have held her own again the Black Widow if push had come to shove.

He grabbed a fourth needle from the kit, curious as to what it contained, seeing as he hadn't even checked it yet. It read: numbing agent; inject before cauterizing nanites.

He set it down without a word, his face a mask, briefly wondering why it had been placed in that order within the kit. Nonetheless…

"He is Russian, or at least he said he was." Lianka continued, thankfully oblivious. "He called himself Liev Dovanoff. He was tall, around six feet, with short dark hair and grey eyes. Told me he worked as a translator in the Russian embassy in London. I'll admit that I saw in him the potential for a recruit and a set of ears in London… never thought I'd be the one to get played." She looked disappointed in herself. "I am better than this…" She whispered dejectedly.

Neither men knew what to say.

"Do you think he worked with others? For an organisation, perhaps?" Steve asked.

She shook her head. "I have no idea. Like I said, he was not who I thought he was…" She seemed utterly exhausted. "I swear… as soon as I am better, we can talk about baiting him out."

Bucky was looking at her critically, taking in the bruise on her throat, her swollen eye and lip, the general greyish tint of her skin... "Sorry doll, but… I'm willing to wait two days for you to get your footing back, but you'll be in no condition to do anything for a couple weeks, I think."

Lianka scoffed at him gently. "They have not told you, in Wakanda?" When both men sent her confused glances, she grimaced. "Of course they have not… but then again, I was hoping they did not know. It seems they don't…" She turned her blue eyes away, tired and somewhat sad. It took a moment for her to speak again. "They must have told you how my family has been loyal to them for generations. How we are War Dogs, such a high honor… but they have not told you that my parents have died, years ago, in their service… how I was left alone here and how they could not help me because of the tightness of Russian security, but how they also did not want to bring me to Wakanda and lose the agent I was here… they left me alone. I was… afraid. This is not a kind world and it is all the more terrible for a woman who must parade behind enemy lines, pretending to be no more than a brainless courtesan… so I decided to become strong, so that the fear would go away." She raised the hand that did not have the IV attached to it and flexed her fingers. The muscles on her forearm moved like wound springs beneath her skin and her hand curled into a tight fist that was obviously as hard as iron. She glanced right at Steve. "There was a drug, on the cherny rynok… they said it came from America… a serum, like the one used to make Captain America." Steve's jaw clenched. He understood where this was going… but how was she still alive, if she'd taken it? So many had perished when Hydra tried to augment them…

Lianka answered his unspoken question bitterly. "It was not the same serum, it was a weaker dose… but it worked. I became stronger, faster… my body healed better. I took it more than once and each time, I felt better… until a friend of mine, a very dear friend, was given a counterfeit dose and I… I saw him die, right in front of me." The young woman seemed shattered. "I stopped. But my body has never returned to how it was before…"

Bucky had sat back on his haunches, listening to her story carefully: he'd at least spotted from the start that there was something unnatural about her… so, she was a little bit like them… the knowledge left him feeling strangely lonely. However, if what she was telling them was true, she could indeed be potentially healed within a couple days. He briefly recalled some nasty bouts he'd gone through when he was on missions as the Winter Soldier, the memories a tad unclear, but he remembered that he would bunker down in a spot he considered safe and wait for a few days, giving his rapid metabolism the time it needed to heal even the most serious of injuries. Bucky glanced at Steve, who returned to gaze… both were thinking along the same lines.

"Alright, then." Steve eventually conceded, nodding. "Rest. Let's see how you feel tomorrow, okay?" She nodded gratefully. "Are you hungry? We could make something to eat…"

"Yes, but not now. I would rather sleep for a time."

Bucky looked around and spotted a thin, dusty blanket on the other couch, along with a small pillow. He reached over and grabbed both, noting they were dotted in blood… Lianka had probably slept in them while she waited here. He handed her both and she immediately curled into the sofa gingerly, sighing with content and exhaustion as her head came to rest on the pillow.

"There is a kitchen in the next room." She whispered, her eyes already drooping. "Make yourselves at home, but be careful: no one thinks there is anyone here…"

The soldiers did not answer, as she had obviously drifted off to sleep right at the end of her sentence.

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