"They're not going to expect us back this early," Rhodey remarked as he settled in the seat across from Tony, finally finished with his obligatory inspection of the train car. A woman with a tray offered him a drink, which he politely declined, and Tony accepted with a wink. "We weren't supposed to leave for another two days."
Drink in hand, Tony leaned back in his seat and grinned lazily at Rhodey. "It's just two days. We finished all the demonstrations, and Obie told me to get done and head back as soon as possible." He took a long sip of his drink, then kicked lightly at Rhodey's shin. "You telling me you wanted to spend two more days in the desert?"
Rhodey made a face. "God, no. This place is like Satan's armpit, and after spending a few days there I think every asshole in the army gets sent to Fort Mira."
Tony laughed and tried to kick at him again, but Rhodey was expecting it this time and lifted his legs. Tony moved his legs, too, just in case, but Rhodey didn't kick him back like he knew he would have had they been in private.
"Then what's the problem, Honey-bear?" Tony huffed, setting his glass down and stretching. "You're the one who's always telling me to be more punctual. Leaving early instead of late should be a fantasy of yours."
Rhodey rolled his eyes. "I think you grossly overestimate your importance in my fantasies," he said as he reached over to the seat next to Tony and picked up a piece of paper Tony had been doodling on.
"Really? Because I distinctly remember you saying you had a fantasy about getting me back on this train when we got to Mira," Tony said, batting his eyelashes and propping his feet up on Rhodey's lap.
"No, I said I had a fantasy about tying you to the roof of this train when it was time to leave," Rhodey replied, mouth twitching, then pushed Tony's feet off. "What's this?" he asked, holding up the schematic he'd picked up with raised eyebrows.
Tony sat up and made sad eyes at Rhodey for rejecting his own brand of physical affection, but Rhodey was unmoved. "You're cruel, my love. Too cruel," he sniffed, ignoring a scandalized gasp from one of the servers and slumping down in his seat dejectedly.
"I'm a monster, milord," Rhodey agreed, straight-faced and in tones of utter professionalism. "Thank God Lord Rogers is saving you from my reign of terror." He turned the paper around until the drawing was facing Tony and gave it a shake. "What is this?" he repeated. "I've never seen anything like it."
Tony gave it a glance and shrugged, then picked up one of the drawings and the charcoal stick he'd taken to keeping in his pocket. "Just an idea I had. Something to do with those strange mineral samples the folks at the fort were good enough to give us." He made a few adjustments to the schematic and then looked sideways at Rhodey. "Which is another good reason to get back early. I want to get those samples down to the workshop as soon as possible."
Rhodey hummed and leaned forward to admire Tony's handiwork, then chuckled. "Admit it - you just wanted to ride the train again," he huffed, amusement coloring his tone, as he tapped the schematic - Tony's very own (and very detailed) rendering of the train's engine.
"And you didn't?" Tony asked, adding another adjustment and then holding the paper up so Rhodey could see it better. "It's the only of its kind in the entire kingdom! State of the art, capable of moving cargo long distances on land in less than half the time it would take with the normal means." He wiggled in his seat excitedly and lifted his arm to the window, where nothing but sand could be seen for miles.
"It's better than trekking across the sand," Rhodey offered amiably, mouth twitching with the effort not to smile, as though Tony had said or done something particularly funny.
Tony scoffed and dropped his arm. "You're missing the point, though. Just think if we could get a railroad - no, an entire line or railroads - to connect the whole kingdom," he said, bouncing his knee up and down and leaning forward eagerly. "We could get supplies all over the realm twice as fast, we wouldn't be so dependant on river or canal access, we'd be able to travel long distances without horses or wagons..."
He dug through his pile of drawings and pulled up another schematic of an engine, this one more crude than the first, yet somehow more sophisticated as well.
"Not only that, think of the applications the engine could have elsewhere. I've already made improvements on it here - well, in theory, I'd have to get to the workshop to actually try and implement any of them, but let's face it, it's me, so we know it's going to work. But anyway, I think if we reduced the size and increased the power - definately do something with the fuel efficiency, too, of course…" He bit his lip and grinned, plans and machines building themselves in his head. "Just think, Rhodey - a train that didn't need tracks. A whole fleet of trains that didn't need tracks! A - why do you not look impressed?" he demanded, stopping and squinting at Rhodey suspiciously. "You're wearing your 'I'm not impressed' face. In fact, you're wearing your 'I'm-no-longer-listening-but-I'm-going-to-humor-you' face, which is very annoying, because I'm the one who taught you that face. Are you not listening to me? Because that was a lot of brilliance all at once, and I -"
"No, no, I was listening to you," Rhodey assured hastily, cutting Tony off before he could get his second wind. "Engines. Improvements. Kingdoms filled with railroads. I got all that." He bent down and gathered up a few of the drawings Tony had dropped while he was gesturing, then raised his eyebrows at Tony. "But Tony, come on… trains without tracks? That's a little… ludicrous, isn't it?"
Feeling a little insulted, Tony opened his mouth to protest, then shut it. "Only because nobody else has thought of it yet," he sniffed, grabbing another piece of paper and flipping it over so he could doodle more on the back.
Tony suddenly, sorely wished Steve were here with him. He always appreciated Tony's genius, and loved hearing about his ideas. Even the ones Tony could admit were a little farfetched.
Rhodey tapped his foot against Tony's, catching his attention.
"You know I didn't mean it like that," Rhodey said quietly when Tony looked up at him, expression guilty.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Tony replied, ducking his head before Rhodey could get a good look at his face, and then grumbling in frustration when saw the smudged mess his sweaty hand had made of his schematic. "Ah, this is - you know, I think I'm going to go to the front and look at the engine," he announced, abandoning his drawing and standing abruptly. "I want to see it in action again while the ideas are still fresh in my mind."
Rhodey's face pinched. "I don't think that's -" he began, but Tony waved him off before he could finish.
"Nonsense, it's a great idea! God knows when I'll get to see it again. Might as well take the opportunity while I can," he said cheerfully, slipping his charcoal back into his pocket in case he needed it, and then putting a hand on Rhodey's chest when he started to stand as well. "Ah-ah, no. I'm going to the fun-car, where the conversation might possibly take a turn for the ludicrous. It's only three cars away, I don't need an escort. You stay here in the humdrum-car and count the dunes and rocks," he said, and pointed out the window.
Rhodey's guilty grimace was somewhat gratifying, but Tony still ignored it - as well as the exasperated "Tony," Rhodey ground out - and walked towards the front of the car.
"I'll be back before dinner," he called over his shoulder before he left, even though he very much suspected he probably wouldn't - not unless Rhodey came up anyway and dragged him back before then.
The train engineers turned out to be even better company than Tony had thought they would be. They appreciated his genius - and his sense of humor - almost as much as Steve did, and seemed genuinely interested in his questions and observations about the engine.
"I wanted to apprentice and work under one of the blacksmiths from Stark House," the youngest engineer, Jimmy - a bright-eyed, fresh-faced young lad who'd been hanging on Tony's every word since he'd entered the head car - admitted, when Tony asked them where they had received their training.
"Well, why didn't you?" Ramirez - the engineer in charge - asked, poking Jimmy in the side with her elbow. "Actions not taken are hardly worth bragging about, and Lord Anthony is too smart for false flattery."
Tony laughed and returned the mischievous wink Ramirez gave him, then grinned good-naturedly at Jimmy. "Just because I'm too smart for it doesn't mean I don't enjoy it," he said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "But now I am curious - what kept you from doing it?"
Jimmy wrinkled his nose. "Distance. I had to take care of my parents, who lived in Bacster. Luckily one of the Baxter blacksmiths took me on, but…" He gave Tony a shy, sideways glance. "I wanted to learn from the best."
"Well, it worked out for you in the end," Tony pointed out, and looked around the car enviously. "Many - myself included - would have killed someone for the chance to study this engine for as long as you've been able."
"To the best of our knowledge, it's a perfect replica of the HYDRA locomotive," said the last engineer, Pratt. "I mean, it's a little hard to tell, since none of the inventors in Viridis Lupites got a look at the real thing, and Cobalorum House was a bit sketchy on how they got specks to begin with, but some of the Fort Mira guard that fought in the war and saw it say it looks very close." He cocked his head and cleared his throat, then looked sidelong at Tony. "Begging your pardon, sir, but why didn't Stark House try to build it instead? It seems more of the kind of thing your lot would have done, and if I'm not mistaken, your father worked closely with some of the soldiers who encountered the original HYDRA model."
Tony shrugged, mouth twisting unpleasantly. "Because Cobalorum House had the specks, as you said, and Norman Osborn is notorious for his inability to share," he snorted, shaking his head. "First-hand accounts were never very specific on the actual engine components of the HYDRA model, and all attempts to replicate on my father's part resulted in, er, explosions."
Which, looking at this model, Tony was beginning to think was a materials issue. Though really, this one looked like it could use a few improvements in that department, too. If Tony were building it, he'd probably -
"I - I didn't know Lord Stark actually built things anymore," Jimmy said, pulling Tony out of his thoughts.
"Huh? Uh, yes. Well, he oversees now mostly, but yes," Tony said distractedly, wishing he'd thought to bring some paper in with his charcoal. There was that new steel he'd been experimenting with in the forge at home. Its tensile strength alone -
The sound was the first thing Tony registered. A faint pop from somewhere behind him, not unlike the sound of a bottle busting open. The explosion came a second later, and with it - chaos.
Tony's head slammed painfully into the wall beside him as the car flipped sideways, knocking him senseless and graying his vision. Pain exploded all over his body as he was thrown from one wall to the next, the breath pulled from his lungs as something white-hot cracked against his chest. Then he hit his head again, and everything went dark and quiet.
When Tony came to his senses an indeterminate amount of time later, the train was on its side, but no longer moving. He tried to sit up, but the movement made his whole body scream in agony. He coughed once and became instantly aware of a searing, unbearable pain in his chest that was worse than the rest, and made it nearly impossible for him to breathe. When he looked down, he spotted the reason why - and very nearly lost consciousness again.
Three inches of charred, sharpened metal stuck out of his chest, almost directly over his heart. If Tony had had the air in his lungs to do so, he would have certainly screamed.
As it was, though, he could only manage a choked-off gasp, which was nearly impossible for him to hear over the roaring in his ears anyway. He looked up, then to his left - anywhere but his chest - and made another choked noise when he spotted movement at the far end of the car.
He didn't see Jimmy or Ramirez or Pratt, but maybe one or all of them were unhurt, or at least uninjured enough to get out of the car. Maybe they could help, or could get someone to help, someone from one of the other cars, if those people hadn't been -
Oh, God.
Rhodey.
The explosion had come from behind them. Rhodey had only been three cars back. What if, what if -
A figure appeared at the edge of Tony's vision, then stepped closer and crouched over him. A masculine voice said something in a language Tony's addled brain couldn't recognize, and then the man pressed closer and scrutinized Tony with narrowed eyes - the only part of his face Tony could see, since the rest was covered in some sort of bandana.
The man said something else Tony didn't understand, but then he thought he heard his name - "Stark" - and tried to nod.
"M-me," Tony tried to say, but the word wouldn't form.
The man's eyes flashed in what Tony would later identify as triumph, and then two more men appeared, and the next thing Tony knew, he was lying in the back of a moving wagon with no idea of how he had gotten there, his entire body an aching mass of pain.
When unconsciousness finally took him for the last time, it was a merciful, cold relief.
Once the sun was up enough to brighten his surroundings, Bucky pulled his horse to a stop, then took his binoculars out of his pack and pointed them at the wreckage of what used to be a train.
He wasn't entirely surprised; he'd caught sight of the smoke in the distance just before sunset the previous day, and after consulting his compass and the map Fury had provided him, Bucky had guessed - correctly, apparently - that it was coming from an area near the desert's only railroad. He'd kept riding parallel to it most of the night, then towards it once dawn started breaking, instinct and curiosity telling him he should go investigate, even if the slight detour would cost him some precious time.
Time he needn't have worried about, apparently, since this would have delayed Stark's departure by a few days at least.
Bucky lowered the binoculars and frowned to himself, wondering what could have caused so much damage. He wasn't an expert on trains - counting his time with HYDRA, this was only the second one he'd ever laid eyes on - but from what he knew of this one and remembered of HYDRA's, they were supposed to be pretty hardy. Yet there were huge, smoldering holes in some of the cars, and others were broken into chunks and pieces of twisted metal - damage he didn't think a simply derailing could explain.
Sabotage, whispered the quiet voice of the Soldier in the back of his head. Or an ambush.
Bucky bit the inside of his cheek and shushed the voice into silence, even if he agreed with it. Lifting the binoculars again, he debated on whether or not he should go check for survivors. It was probably a moot point - the wreckage looked to be at least a day or two old, and between the predators and the desert heat, anyone left at this point would be beyond help - but just as he dismissed the idea he saw movement near one of the cars.
Adjusting the binoculars and his angle, Bucky followed the movement until he got a clear view, and watched as a figure - no, two figures - pulled a crate out of one of the open cars. Yet two more figures walked around another overturned car and gingerly picked the crate up, then walked it back around the car and out of view. Another angle adjustment revealed more crates and the wagon the figures were loading them into, as well as more people and several horses.
Bandits, Bucky's mind supplied, when he realized none of the men were wearing the kingdom's army uniform, and were carrying the mismatched weaponry typical of marauding gangs.
He did a quick count and came up with twenty that he could see, though he was guessing at at least a dozen more just from their horses and wagons.
So - twenty to thirty minimum, with an unknown number of weapons and fighting ability, and possible reinforcements nearby.
Not impossible, with stealth and the element of surprise on his side, but more difficult than he would like, with a high possibility of injury.
Had this been the mission he'd been assigned, he wouldn't have hesitated.
Had this been a mission he'd been assigned as the Winter Soldier, those men would already be dead.
But Bucky was not the Soldier anymore, no matter what his nightmares and the treacherous voices in his head said, and this was not the mission Fury had given him and with which Steve had trusted him. His job was to get to Stark and keep him safe - not to crack a few bandits' heads together.
He'd leave them be, and then drop a line to the folks at Fort Mira and Shield when he got back.
Could be trouble later, though, Bucky thought to himself, and weighed his other options.
He could go around them, sneak by and find an alternate route to Fort Mira. It wouldn't be difficult, if he'd gotten this close without them noticing him.
Or, he could wait until they left and follow them a ways, maybe see where they were heading so he could avoid them later. He wasn't going to be able to take Stark back by train, obviously, so they'd have to cross the desert again on horseback. And while taking on a group of bandits by himself wasn't really wise , it was at least doable - something that became less likely when he had to keep one eye on the untrained civilian he was supposed to be keeping safe. If he knew where they were going, he'd at least know how to avoid a possible altercation on the route back.
Decision made, Bucky dismounted and lead his horse further back, where they were better hidden in the dunes, and then waited.
Luckily, he didn't have to wait long. Little over an hour later, several of the men mounted and rode off with the filled wagons, leaving a few stragglers behind, as well as a trail Bucky would have been able to follow in his sleep. Still, he waited a while longer before he started tracking them, taking care to give the wreckage and the remaining bandits a wide berth when he rode off.
Bucky didn't start questioning his actions until a few hours later, when the sandy terrain became interspaced with boulders and he realized he'd followed the men all the way to the eastern mountains at edge of the desert.
Cursing to himself, Bucky pulled his horse up short, guilt and indecision making him feel antsy. He hadn't meant to follow them this long. He'd only needed to know the general vicinity of their hideout to avoid them. They likely wouldn't be a problem as it was, so long as he stayed to the west and kept an eye out for them on the route back. He should have stopped the second he'd realized where they were headed.
Dammit. This was going to put him a full day behind schedule. He shouldn't have let himself get so distracted. He was supposed to be escorting his best friend's fiance back home, not chasing bandits across the damned desert.
Still, Bucky hesitated before he could turn around and start riding back, watching as the bandits weaved through the rocky terrain and began climbing the mountain path, his instincts screaming at him to follow them.
Shield would probably want somebody to go after them. Bucky wasn't certain, but the marauders' pillaging had looked a little too organized to have been a crime of opportunity, and his gut told him that whatever had happened to the train had been deliberate. If so, then somebody at the kingdom would want to know how and who was responsible, and if he knew the exact location of the culprits' hideout, he'd be able to report it. But…
Not your mission , Bucky firmly reminded himself, thinking of his promise to Steve. Fury would probably have kittens if knew Bucky had let himself get distracted and left the future king of the land unprotected in the middle of nowhere.
Only, Stark wasn't completely unprotected, was he? Not exactly, anyway. He was in a fort, after all, and not completely alone - the Rhodes fellow Steve had seemed to trust was supposed to be with him. And there was still the matter of the destroyed train, so he wouldn't be in any hurry to leave. Plus, up until now, Bucky had been doing better than expected on time…
To hell with it , Bucky thought, and dismounted. He'd come this far, he might as well take a look. If their hideout was no more than the cave in the side of a mountain it looked to be, it probably wouldn't take him more than ten or so minutes to sneak up and scout it out anyway. Then he could come back here, ride off to the Fort, and let the powers-that-be know that their train got derailed by a bunch of cave-dwelling highwayman.
So, leaving his horse where it was, Bucky carefully picked his way through the rough terrain towards the gap the bandits had disappeared through.
It only took him a few minutes to catch up to them, and when he did, it was to find them unloading their wares at the mouth of one of the area's many caves, just as Bucky had suspected. They were speaking loudly, yelling at one another and giving instructions in a language Bucky understood, even though he couldn't remember ever learning it.
Another skill he could thank HYDRA for, though at the moment he truly was thankful for it.
Using the shadows cast by the boulders and rock formations around them, Bucky snuck a little closer in order to hear what they were saying, hoping to garner some more useful information.
"I think it is junk," said one of the bandits. "What could he possibly do with any of this, eh? It's useless!"
The man he was talking to shrugged. "The boss said to take it, so we take it," he said. "You never know. Even if Stark can't do anything with it, it might be useful to us later."
Bucky - who'd started moving closer again - froze completely, sure his ears must have deceived him.
Had they just said Stark?
"Feh, that sorry bastard is going to die before he builds anything for us," snapped the first man, making Bucky tense. They couldn't be talking about the same Stark, they simply couldn't. How the hell would he have even gotten here to begin with?
"The boss thinks the doctor will be able to keep him alive, but did you see him? He was half-dead when we pulled him out of the wreckage," the man continued, before putting the final nail in the coffin by adding, " Those lordly-types are so delicate ."
Bucky's stomach sank. Shit shit shit .
Stark - Stark was here. It didn't seem possible, but who else could they be talking about? There were only two Lord Starks (well, technically only one until the title passed to his son, if Steve had explained it right and Bucky had this aristocratic titling nonsense straight, but semantics), and if Stark the elder was lying on his deathbed at his estate, then - unless the bandits were mistaken - that had to mean they were talking about the other Stark.
The one Bucky was supposed to have been keeping safe from this sort of thing.
Son of a bitch.
Stark must have tried to come home early, or taken the early train back. Or, hell, perhaps Fort Mira had been overrun, or Stark had never made it there to begin with. Either way, Stark - or someone the bandits thought was Stark - was here, and this was no longer a jaunty little reconnaissance detour.
One problem with a solo rescue mission, though: there were a hell of a lot more bandits than Bucky had thought, making any kind of rescue difficult to mount by himself - especially if Stark was hurt, like the bandits had implied. As much as he hated leaving, Bucky needed backup. But before he went back to Fury for said backup, Bucky would first need to set eyes on Stark to confirm it was even him. And while infiltration wouldn't be a problem while he was by himself, if he discovered it was Stark, there was no way Bucky in good conscious would be able to just leave him, even for reinforcements. Which circled right back to his original problem of trying to rescue Stark by himself.
He needed to be smart about this. He didn't want to leave Stark, but going in by himself would likely get himself - and Stark - killed. Some of Fury's people would be better, but Fort Mira was closer than the Triskelion - Bucky could round up some of Mira's guard and be back within a day...
Deep in thought, Bucky didn't realize he wasn't alone until something cold and sharp was pressed against his back, right over his heart, followed almost immediately by a blade to his throat.
"Do not move," hissed a voice in the same language the bandits had used, right in Bucky's ear.
Stupid, Bucky thought, to both himself for being careless enough to get caught, and to the person at the other end of the blade for being dumb enough to try and take him out on their own.
Moving quickly, Bucky slammed his right elbow back into his attacker's stomach while bringing his left arm up to block the knife at his throat. The weapon that had been at his back left a shallow cut before it clattered to the ground, but the one at his throat glanced harmlessly off the metal of his arm, allowing Bucky to twist it out of his attacker's grip and stab it down into their forearm. He then yanked the man forward and slammed the back of his head against the his skull, using the momentum to pull the knife back out, and then pitching it at the bandit who dropped down from the boulder beside them, burying it into his neck.
Bucky realized his mistake before his first attacker could even hit the ground, cursing to himself as he leapt towards the second one - but not fast enough to prevent him from crying out.
Stupid, he repeated to himself as a cry went out through the camp, and two more bandits appeared from the rocks and spotted him. Stupid stupid stupid -
Foolish, the voice of the Soldier - unusually quiet until now - muttered back. Should have killed them all when you had the chance .
Ignoring that, Bucky rolled and leapt for the cover of boulder just as an arrow whizzed by his head, followed immediately be at least ten others.
So much for getting backup , Bucky thought sourly, keeping to the shadows and taking out a bandit so he could liberate him of his sword. He used it to cut down a another bandit and deflect a knife from a third, then dove for cover before one of the archers could spot him.
If he left now, there was no telling if the bandits - and Stark - would still be here when he returned, which meant he needed to see if he could get to Stark now. He had completely lost the element of surprise, but maybe he could still sneak by, and -
A bandit dropped down from the wall behind him, swinging a mace. Unable to dodge entirely, Bucky used his stolen sword to deflect the blow towards his left arm instead, and had just enough time to notice the mace appeared to be glowing before his whole left side exploded in white-hot, searing pain.
Bucky cried out, the pain bringing him to his knees, then lurched sideways to avoid another blow. Blinking stars out of his eyes, Bucky swung his sword blindly and hit someone, but his limbs felt numb and clumsy, and the sword fell from his grasp. Off balance, Bucky tried to roll to his feet and swayed, then fell to one knee again when he was kicked in the stomach.
Wheezing, Bucky saw a blur rush at him from the left, and instinctively lifted his left arm - and discovered why his balance was so off. Because his left arm - made of one of the strongest metals HYDRA had been able to forge, and virtually indestructible since he had received it - failed him, and hung limply at his side, broken.
Foolish, the Soldier sighed, just before the glowing mace struck Bucky's shoulder. Then Bucky's world exploded, before going very, very dark.
