Russia 1984
God, it was cold. The air was a dry cold, as well. snow flurried around Frankie's form as she stood outside of the mansion. She was protecting a Polish scientist. A biologist. She didn't know what he knew, and quite drankly didn't care. Her hand was wrapped around a semi-automatic shotgun. She heard something, like slight rustling. She cocked the gun, both hands on it, one hand on the trigger. She walked inside, shutting the door behind her.
"Doctor Jervinoski?" she calls, walking to the study when someone grabbed her from behind, around her neck. They squeezed tight, and Frankie gasped, using the butt of the gun and ramming it into their stomach. It bounced off like it was against rubber but the person let go. Her neck was cold, like someone had wrapped metal around it. She whirled around, and met a fist to her face. She jerked back, hitting a table and knocking it over, along with the books that sat upon it. She used the gun and raised it above her head, blocking another blow that would have surely knocked her out.
She moved her foot, angling it to lean on and pivoted herself up, diving under the arm of her opponent and shoved the barrel of the gun into the arm of the man, and should have dislocated his arm. She was met with the sound of metal on wood, and heard a crack. She moved to the end of the hall, seeing the figure a bit more clearly. Long brown hair, strongly built, much bigger than her. Silver arm... no, metal. Red star.
She would never forget that red star as long as she lived.
He turns, and faces her, his eyes meeting hers. Her stomach almost dropped in shock, and her grip on the shotgun tightened.
"Bucky." she whispers, not even having to question it. He was unfazed, and walked towards her, grabbing her by the throat, slamming her against the wall with a CRACK of her skull. It should have given her a concussion, and knocked her out, but it didn't. She couldn't kill him, but something told her he would kill her. She gripped his wrist that was locked tightly around her throat, meeting cold, emotionless blue eyes that she had known decades ago.
"Bucky, let go!" she shouts, and his grip only tightened. She gasped, feeling her throat begin to close up. She took the gun in her hands, hitting him in the ribcage. She heard a splintering CRACK and he pushed her away. They fell in opposite directions, her onto the floor and him onto the wall. He was holding his side, his metal arm flexing. She lay on the floor, gasping for air, the gun to the side. She looked at him, and they locked eyes for a moment. And she was so sure he was going to kill her, or take her. Her eyes never left his, and he just stared back.
Then he turned and left without another sound.
"Then, not long after, I found the doctor. He was dead. A single bullet to the head, clean shot from behind at point blank range." she says, looking back up at Steve. He listened carefully, taking everything in. He had looked over Bucky's file atleast a hundred times, trying to find out everything. But he hadn't found a first hand account of him, besides actually fighting with him himself.
"So, he never recognized you?" he says. Frankie shook her head,
"No. Not to my knowledge. Any emotion was gone. He showed no signs of mercy, or even pain. The only way I knew I had gotten him was when he held his ribs, and i heard it, too. It was... it was frightening, Steve. It wasn't Bucky." she says. She shifts in her seat, sitting up.
"And, I know it wasn't him because he wouldn't have left this." she says, pulling her scarf down and several marks were around the sides of her neck, like someone had grabbed it. Steve looks away, could Bucky really have done it? All of that? There was no way...
"He was brainwashed." Steve says, and Frankie nods,
"Yes." she says, as if to account to it. She put the scarf back in place.
"I could have let it heal. My neck. But, I didn't. I didn't want to let it go." she says, looking down. Steve looks at her, and for a second, he saw something flash across her face. Pain. Anger. Guilt. Sadness. But it was gone in a split second. She looks up, smiling lightly.
"Anyway, come on. Let's walk. We have much to catch up on." she says, standing up and offering him her arm just like they would if they were walking on the streets of Broadway in 1941. He stood up, taking her arm in his, smiling lightly.
"Yeah... It's good to see you, Frankie."
Sorry, I had to divide these two up... But oh, well! That means two chapters in one day! :O
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-K