Happy New Year! Thanks for your patience, and I hope you've been well!
The last few months have been utterly *wild* for me. I did some traveling for work, and shortly after I got home, I managed to catch Covid for the first time. About a week and a half later, I managed to get rebound Covid. :/ Suffice to say, there's nothing quite as bad as laying in bed sick as a dog wanting to write and to create, but instead resolving to let Double Covid run its course. I did my best to try to rest up and get my strength back, only to find myself having to juggle compounding responsibilities at work, and then holidays snuck up on me, and well… you know how that goes.
That said, I'm feeling much better now, and finally have my energy back! I also have the next few chapters of this story through various drafts, so I'm hoping to pick up the pace from here. :)
Besides: Our return to Symkaria is going smoothly so far though, wouldn't you say…?
Below this chapter's prose you'll find an all-new piece of art by Ri ("partly_cloudie" on Ao3 and Instagram) that corresponds with a prior chapter too! I also worked on a little Barnes painting of my own while I was first coming down with Covid and have shared some other fun recent updates!
Please check out this chapter on Archive of Our Own to see the art, video, and links to everyone's social media!
Simply search for: "KLeCrone Ao3 Winter of the White Wolf"
Winter of the White Wolf
Chapter 88 - Irresistible Force Paradox
Summary:
It's nearly midnight in Symkaria, and after a tense chase, Shuri, Yama, and Nomble were able to get away from the unknown man pursuing them. Barnes has the stranger in his sights, and although Ayo and Sam were hurrying through downtown to catch up when Barnes, he's opted to inexplicably silence his comms in what appears to be an attempt to take matters into his own hands…
Dark clouds rolled over the midnight sky and wordlessly muffled the stars before they could show their faces to the night. Instead, the city's thick haze fell over them, drowning them out like a muted sea of faded embers that were silenced long before they ever had the opportunity to grant their wishes to any dreamers.
Far below, Barnes ignored the questions the faint glimmers of distant light posed. At a glance, it was impossible to distinguish the city lights from the dim echoes of any number of celestial bodies a lifetime away.
Some buried part of him wanted to be able to tell them apart. To piece together how their relative positions compared and contrasted to the ones he remembered here and in other faraway skies, but instead he pushed aside the fleeting thought in favor of focusing on the man in the green jacket about a block ahead of him. The same slender man that had gone out of his way to pursue Shuri and the others across the bulk of downtown.
The once Winter Soldier kept his head down and expression neutral as he resumed running silent calculations on engagement criteria while he tracked his target from a calculated distance – close enough that he could disable his target within half a second if the need arose, but far enough into his blind spots that the trained assassin could continue to readily evade detection and slip behind the city's dark corners at a moment's notice.
He kept the motion of his body to a minimum, coasting along the musty, rain slicked sidewalk with soundless steps even though his jaw remained locked in place. The intense pain surging through his shoulder had become nothing more than a dark companion, a numbing passenger set on sharpening his focus. On preparing him for the approaching surgical precision needed to accomplish his mission.
He couldn't afford to fail.
The layout of downtown Aniana, Symkaria was still crisp in his mind's eye, and while the slender man in the green jacket appeared to be working his way back to where his companion was ailing some blocks away in a garbage-strewn alleyway, he was evidently interested in taking a detour on the way there. While his present intentions remained unclear, it was still possible that he could opt to circle back around in an attempt to intercept Shuri and the others. But as it was, his pace remained unhurried, and he idly worked his way through the thinning nighttime crowds without a shred of concern that he was being followed from a distance, which suited the man tracking him just fine.
Yet judging by his insistent need to repeatedly reach into his pockets and take inventory of their belongings, he was up to something. But what?
His target briefly readjusted his keys and wallet before sliding his right hand back into his front pocket. It lingered there, as if he sought to reassure himself that the gun resting beneath his fingers was still at-the-ready.
Five meters in his wake, the once Winter Soldier had already determined optimal ways to take possession of the firearm if it became necessary, including methods that would disable the firearm itself, the man currently in possession of it, or both.
The assassin's remaining Kimoyo Beads, vibranium star, and cell-phone, as well as his vibranium-reinforced scarf and jacket provided a number of counter-defensive options, but they lacked the efficiency of munitions or bladed weapons. A takedown with firearm would be quick, almost effortless from this distance. He could easily imagine the weight of the weapon in his hand. The familiar feel of pulling in his breath and holding it, waiting for the perfect moment between heartbeats to take his shot.
Complete his mission.
But that wasn't his mission. He needed information. Needed him alive. To find out if his target was working for anyone. He wasn't a weapon anymore, even though the searing pain coursing through him and forcing him jaw shut had a way of reminding him of when he was just a thing. A piece of property acting out someone else's blood-sealed decrees.
No, he didn't need to consider killing blows.
Not unless it was necessary.
The beetle-size silver drone he took for Shuri's handiwork kept pace high overhead, discreetly tucking itself into window sills and grout lines between brickwork to avoid detection from the wiry man slinking through the thinning crowds. Barnes let the creature take the lead, allowing him ample space to keep tabs on surroundings amid the continued pulses of blaring electricity that shot through his nervous system like subdermal branding irons. The relentless sensations were only growing worse, and they twisted underneath his skin with enough force that their nearest comparison was to one of HYDRA's bouts of forced 'enrichment.'
The muscles across his body clenched together like they were being held together with brittle rubber bands that were stretched to the verge of snapping. Movement only accentuated the pain, and his continued locomotion forward was an act of sheer resilience. Just because the man in the green jacket had broken off his pursuit of Shuri and the others didn't mean he should be left to crawl back to where he came from. Not when he might know something.
A short surge of electricity forced the fingers of his prosthetic hand into a claw. He gritted and quickly used his gloved thumb to forcibly pry them apart.
It was inconsequential. Even with one hand, he had ways of making people talk.
…Just not now. Not with so many people around. Not when directly engaging his target risked drawing out the wrong sort of attention and putting the mission at risk.
But if his target made the mistake of slipping into the shadows on one of the adjoining alleyways… maybe then.
It would just be a lot easier to concentrate if there wasn't so much buzzing in his head. If the world around him wasn't so loud and jumbled. The repeated curl of water being lifted and slapped by a dozen different tires. Competing music stations blending over top one another in disharmonious throws. The ebb and flow of moving voices. The snap and scrape of heels on the cobblestones. Even without the voices in his ear, the dizzying sounds of the city were making it increasingly difficult to focus on the details that could make the difference between life and death.
The once Winter Soldier kept sight on his target a little over half a block in front of him, but a short bark of distant laughter had a way of reminding him of his choice to silence his comms. His decision had been swift – an impulse to allow him increased attunement to the cacophony of competing sounds directly in his vicinity. He couldn't risk having the critical nuances be muffled by loud voices searing into his ear. Couldn't afford to be distracted. Not when the mission was at-risk.
He was compelled to believe it was the right decision under the complicated circumstances he was presently navigating. The others hadn't seen what he had. Knew what he did. The underlying risks it carried to let his target disappear into the night without a second thought.
In his gut, he knew his choices weren't meant to signal disobedience of purpose, but he was well aware that there would be ramifications for his actions.
He had to hope he'd made the right choice. That Ayo would understand why the mission took priority.
Barnes did his best to push down the memory of the fire he'd glimpsed in her dark brown eyes as some part of him insisted his latest choices — well meaning as they were – might lead to a similar outcome.
Might they send him back to Wakanda and the whatever uncertain future awaited him there?
…Or did something else lurk in the shadows? Had he once endured the Wakandan equivalent for 'Enrichment' as punishment for misbehavior, only to have it wiped from his memory just as HYDRA'd done?
Or was it something even more insidious?
What else didn't he remember?
Less than a block ahead of him, his target briefly slowed his gait to retrieve his phone from his pocket. He kept his feet moving as his left thumb coursed over the screen in large strokes, but he quickly opted for efficiency and pulled his right hand free from resting on the grip of his handgun so he could tap at the device with both hands. From this distance and angle, the man tracking him couldn't get a solid ID on the application or its contents.
Was he relaying back information to his accomplice, or perhaps his handler?
After pausing a moment, his target stepped off the sidewalk and crossed to the other side of the street, slowly making tracks towards an adjoining alleyway opposite the direction of Shuri's most recent location ping.
The fact that his target had chosen a path that ran contrary to a means to cut across to catch up with Shuri and the others offered a baseline level of reassurance that he wasn't beset on a second attempt at engagement, but it made the man lurking in the shadows wonder what he was planning next. It didn't appear as though he was planning to take the most well-traveled roads back to his incapacitated companion.
That gave the operative in his wake limited time to act.
He ignored the thrum in his shoulder and quickened his pace, sticking to the shadows formed between scattered residents and the line of anxious amber headlights waiting for their turn to move through the claustrophobic streets. It felt as though they were operating on borrowed time, and a competing sea of legs and bodies hurried in opposing directions through the pedestrian crossing in an effort to reach the far curb before the opposing traffic light threatened to turn green.
A flicker of silver light in his periphery caught his attention as the small beetle-like drone lifted high into the night sky and darted in the opposing direction, effectively giving up pursuit of the green-jacketed man. Barnes discreetly checked his Kimoyo beads — if it maintained its current trajectory to the north west, it would intercept with Shuri, Nomble, and Yama's present location. She must've opted to recall it once she was confident the man pursuing them had given up the chase.
That, or maybe the skills it provided were needed elsewhere. Whatever it was, the drone wasn't his priority. It was just the two of them now, and he wasn't about to let his target slither back into the night when so many questions remained unanswered.
The fleeting sight of the silver drone banking away into the night left Barnes with a strange sense of lingering unease that he rapidly worked to diagnose. On one hand, he was reasonably certain the drone hadn't spotted him, but he also hadn't been intentionally working to avoid detection by it.
Had he?
The Wakandans were his allies. Not only that, but it wouldn't take much for him to quickly check in with Shuri to confirm why she'd recalled her drone. Maybe they knew something he didn't?
So why didn't he reach out to her?
Barnes kept his head down as he traced his target's path through the crowd and continued running calculations on viable methods of intercepting him. He was on his own, but at the same time, he suspected M'yra was still tracking their progress through city streets using one of the scattered redlight cameras. She would be reporting his mission progress back to Ayo. She wasn't his handler now, but she once was.
How many times had she been his handler that he couldn't remember?
How many handlers had he sworn compliance to over the years?
It felt like it mattered.
That it should matter.
But he couldn't remember.
Why couldn't he remember?
His mind was damaged. Broken.
Was there ever a time before? He wanted to believe there was, but it was always just out of reach. Like the reflection he'd seen in Steve's panicked blue eyes. That wasn't what HYDRA had claimed had happened.
What had they said?
His head throbbed in time to his heartbeat. Why was it so hard to simply think?
He didn't have time for this now. Not when there was a mission at stake. He couldn't worry about the cacophony of questions floating in his periphery now. The others would be able to see that he wasn't attempting to abandon his mission or go off-grid. He knew what he was trying to accomplish, he just—
A fresh wave of debilitating pain shot across his torso, forcing his breath to catch in his throat. Thanks to years of relentless training, he managed to keep himself in motion and opted to hold his breath tight in his burning lungs as he pulled himself up onto the adjoining sidewalk. He bit his tongue as he clenched his teeth together and rapidly found himself willing the metallic taste to ground him. For the lashing sensations and all their searing familiarity to be a north star to recenter his thoughts and his purpose.
To lean into his instincts, and not where the blood-soaked lessons came from.
He held his breath and drifted forward like the deadly shadow he was trained to be.
Crowds were all but non-existent in this part of the city, petering off into a trickle of occasional passerbys that offered sufficient moving coverage for the skilled assassin. But as the seconds wore on, his target grew more fidgety. It was subtle at first, a nervous glance over each shoulder after he pocketed his phone, an uneven shift in his gait, but the movement was acutely self-conscious.
The man silently stalking him at a distance couldn't diagnose what might've prompted the obvious change, but it didn't appear as though it was in reaction to his surroundings or any suspicion he was being followed.
No, he was checking if anyone had taken notice of him. He was planning something. But what?
The once Winter Soldier hung back behind the archway of a closed storefront while the graduated teen stood on the sidewalk and awkwardly shifted his balance and adjusted his hands in his pockets. A second later, he nonchalantly swung his weight and walked forward with his shoulder close to the nearest brick wall before he slipped into the adjoining alleyway with a not-inconspicuous half-step that reminded the blue eyes watching him of a baby animal trying — poorly — to imitate an adult.
Rather than risk being seen, the watcher in the night waited a beat before soundlessly bridging the distance between them, but he avoided crossing over the opening in the alleyway. Instead, he stopped just short of the corner and positioned himself so he could track his target's progress using the faint reflection of his green jacket that stood out amongst the cracked fogged glass of a nearby street placard.
But forcing his body to come to a stop again so soon swiftly upset the rigid tension running through his body. He did what he could to quell the burning in his lungs with slow, intentional breaths sucked in through the spaces between his sharp teeth. He knew he couldn't be overzealous, so he continued to gritted his teeth, waiting out the latest wave of the all encompassing pain that seared into him like a swarm of angry daggers carving into his flesh from the inside out. But he'd be fine if he could just push himself back into that sunken place that'd allowed him to weather any number of injuries and unfathomable horrors. He just had to hold on a little longer.
It would let up like the other times. Give him an opportunity to breathe, like the other times.
But it didn't seem like it was letting up.
It was imperative he stay focused on the mission at hand. At the green-jacketed man with the gun whose indistinct reflection had come to a standstill midway down the alley.
The man tracking him didn't want to risk being spotted peering directly down the alleyway, so instead he did his best to still his haggard breathing and simply listen. To pull apart the complex cacophony of competing sounds swirling about Aniana and exist between the churn of car tires on wet cement and the shuffle of rubber soles against rain slicked cobblestones.
As a last-ditch effort, he closed his eyes in an effort to hone his focus beyond the distant conversations and the click of traffic lights. Muffled music set against the thrum of aching motors and loose change in passing pockets. Through the warbling lifeblood of the city, he reached out to try to pick out anything unusual or out of place. Anything that stood out closeby that would inform his next move.
And soft as anything, cutting through the residual pounding in his head and the crackle of energy ebbing closeby his left ear, he could pick out the faintest echo of metal scraping against metal. Seconds later, the sound abruptly stopped, replaced by a swift tap, and then another. A jingle. Another tap.
The man lurking in the shadows kept his expression rigid as he opened his eyes and glanced to either side to more closely evaluate his surroundings. This part of downtown was far less occupied and off the beaten path. Occasional passerby still threaded the dim and dreary streets, but most of the storefronts here were darkened well past their regular business hours, regardless of how his chronologically unsound mind insisted they existed in various states of disrepair and times of day.
His mind's eye offered up scraps about the various businesses that had occupied the area over the years, but nothing that was immediately useful. The musty smell of used clothing. The reek of cheap perfume and burned oil. There used to be more voices on these run-down streets, but most were preoccupied with trading goods in grimey envelopes, paper bags, and lies.
The nearest streetlamp was shattered, dipping the corner of the alleyway into an unnaturally dark and haunted haze. Homeless encampments were once tucked away in the corners below worn window awnings, but there were none to be found in the present. Just over his right shoulder beyond a thin veneer of glass, a row of headless, worn mannequins looked out the darkened storefront window from the interior of a used clothing store. Their featureless discolored bodies hung eerily in place, illuminated by nothing more than the faint mottled red, orange, and green of distant traffic lights.
A few steps in front of him on the other side of the alleyway was an ornamentally barred entrance to an electronics and appliance repair shop that espoused on-site diagnostic service and 'like-new' cracked screen restoration. Colorful sheets of paper taped to the inside windows doubled as vibrant promotional fliers for trade-ins.
Barnes could still make out the faint form of the green jacketed man reflected against a competing placard across the street as the faint jingle returned followed by another tap. Then another.
Was he attempting to rake a lock?
This time, there was a shuck of metal against metal and the turn of a latch followed by a threshold's defiant creak. Seconds later, a cautious scraping footfall was replaced by a faint whine from worn hinges.
Barnes ignored his trembling fingers and discreetly slipped them into his pocket and retrieved his phone, leaning the forward-facing camera low on the wall and just far enough around the corner that he could diagnose the other man's present whereabouts.
The view didn't offer exacting detail on account of the low light levels and suboptimal zoom – Sam's upgraded Wakandan phone would have likely performed better – but there was enough definition that he could make out a doorway set into the far side of the alleyway that was presently ajar. His target had his head dipped inside the opening. He briefly wavered there, and then started to lean his head back and turn his head.
Before he could risk catching sight of Barnes or the corner of his phone, Barnes preemptively pulled the device back to his side and double checked that he wasn't casting a shadow into the opening between buildings that would give him away. Reassured that he hadn't made an amateur mistake, he remained still and resumed listening for further indications of his target's activities. It was faint, but he was certain he caught another soft whine of door hinges that smoothly transitioned into the distinct sound of a latch clicking into place.
The man waiting in the shadows outside forced his rigid neck around the corner so he could get a better look at his target's last known location and present whereabouts. A little over four meters into the alley was what looked to be a windowless side entrance to the electronics shop. From this distance, the door and lock appeared to be intact. Like he'd suspected: his target must have raked the lock with a bump key, allowing him to slip inside unnoticed.
But what was he doing in there?
Whatever it was, it offered the trained assassin an optimal opportunity to interrogate his target in private.
While there were no security cameras visible in the alleyway itself, some part of him was aware that it was highly likely M'yra — or maybe even Ayo — were currently watching him through one of any number of intersection camera feeds to his back. They'd be aware of his location, and hopefully anticipate what he planned to do and why. But the moment he dared to step into the alleyway in pursuit of the man in the green jacket, he'd be on his own in more ways than one.
Part of him deliberated turning his comms back on for just a second so he could give them an update, to reassure them of his intentions and that he hadn't gone rogue. But considering how much pain he was in and how tight his throat was – how difficult it was to simply breathe – he worried it would risk them drawing their own conclusions. Calling him off before he could complete the mission.
And he couldn't risk any further delays. Not when so much was at stake.
So instead, the once Winter Soldier steeled his resolve and took a single silent step into the alleyway, pulling the blue, black, and gold shawl up over his head as he approached the doorway. Using his three most functional fingers, he swiftly threaded the friendship knots out of the vibranium-laced material so he could smooth it, fold it over, and nest it into his nearest back pocket in preparation for the upcoming confrontation he knew was ahead.
But before he stepped deeper into the dreary shadows, he stalled at the alleyway opening between the secondhand thrift shop and the electronics repair shop and turned, summoning every ounce of fine motor control he had to bring his right fist to the middle of his chest. He hovered it in place momentarily before willing his tense fingers to splay open, concluding the motion by tapping his thumb firmly against his sternum in resolve.
Hopefully the right unseen eyes saw his message.
Hopefully they believed him.
Before he risked overthinking things further, Barnes grounded himself and turned to set his sights on the door a short distance down the alleyway and stepped towards it, forcibly curling his taunt fingers back into place without a second thought. He moved with intention, stopping in front of the door with a cultivated grace that casually blocked any potential lingering views from passerby on the attached street. Once he was in position, the trained professional lifted his gloved right hand and slowly rotated the knob as far as he could. First first clockwise, then counterclockwise. Locked, as he'd anticipated. He twisted again, putting steady pressure against the metal as he tested the door and its threshold for flaws. For weaknesses.
He leaned forward, placing his right ear against the lacquered wooden door, listening for any telling sounds inside. Voices. Movement. For a moment, he couldn't hear anything beyond the resonant buzz of sizzling electric from the node just beyond his left ear, but he braced against the pain and did what he could to drown it out. Push it down, back to that sunken place where he was more and less at the same time.
Then he heard something – faint, but distinct. A creak. A whine. The soft latch of an inner door. His target must've moved deeper into the store.
Which meant it was an optimal time for the once-assassin to act.
With emotionless intent, he lifted his left hand and curled his rigid vibranium fingers around the door knob. When two digits didn't respond, he used his right hand to force them into their intended place. He braced his feet against the uneven cobblestones and kept his shoulder tight against the door as he sharply twisted the knob and forced the door past the strike plate with a practiced, eerily silent *crack* that he felt rather than heard.
His breath steadied and the rest of the world faded away as his senses rose up to accompany the soldier on the familiar crescendo of the hunt.
In her life Shuri had seen many things, but a guarding Dora feigning inebriation while on guard duty had not been among them.
Unusual as the tactic was, she could not fault Yama for her quick thinking. It'd clearly served its purpose in dissuading the nosey police officer from continuing to block their way with needless questions. Shuri could only imagine how Okoye would simply bristle at such a highly offputting performance while in the presence of a member of the royal family.
Eh, what the General did not know would not hurt her. Shuri was certain she and her brother had a stockpile of secrets of their own regarding the missions they went on abroad.*
But Shuri had opted to keep their once-pursuer under close surveillance even after he'd given up his fruitless pursuit and turned tail from the local patrolling officer that'd briefly barred their way. Curious as to their pursuer's hidden motives, she wanted to see if there was anything more she could learn from the slender man who'd tenaciously tracked them through the midnight crowds.
Moreover, she wished to ensure that his choice to fall back wasn't merely a temporary ruse.
Initially, he'd wandered west on parallel streets, but eventually it was clear he'd chosen to tuck his tail between his legs and head back from whence he came. Only then, after she doubled-checked her readings and confirmed that this trajectory took him firmly southeast – away from her and her Dora and towards his deafened companion – did Shuri allow herself to breathe a silent sigh of relief. If either of the women beside her saw her exhalation, they said nothing as they worked their way through a thin winding street where they could get their bearings away from the view of curious eyes.
As they walked between Nomble and Yama, Shuri wordlessly recalled her diminutive drone from a distance. When it was approaching their location, she reached out and opened her left hand palm up so her tiny technological marvel could alight upon it. Effortlessly, the small silver beetle's vibranium nanites reshaped themselves into a single Kimoyo Bead, which she plucked from the palm of her hand and nested it back within the strand encircling her wrist.
It couldn't hurt to keep it nearby in case other issues arose. That, and she still didn't know what to make of the readings it had taken prior to their unexpected encounter.
Nomble motioned to Shuri's now empty palm, "Is this why you do think they are no longer following us?"
Shuri nodded once, "The one trailing us went back to check on his companion. I thought it best to deactivate the sonic pulse of the Kimoyo on the wall while I ensured we truly parted ways, but the reconnaissance on the alleyway is still active."
And active it was. Shuri had the feed up in a prominent corner in the Augmented Reality overlay of her adaptive eyewear, but she took the opportunity to mirror the feed on her cell phone screen so that Nomble and Yama could appreciate the sight as well. She would not have lied that it was satisfying to watch the live video feed of the man still ailing from Yama's well-placed Cry of Ngai bead. It was his own doing, to be sure. He'd tried his luck at luring the three women closer with sugar-coated lies in an attempt to pin them down in that alleyway and paid the price. To Shuri's best guess? They probably looked like easy fodder for petty thieves, but they'd certainly gotten more than they bargained for, and Shuri and her Doras had managed to remain completely inconspicuous in the process.
The first man hadn't made it more than ten steps, and was presently strewn with garbage and bent over with his hands over his temples as he nursed a pronounced headache courtesy of the sonic pulse from Yama's quick thinking and disabling sonar bead. The second man – the one that had sought to pursue them — was due to return to his companion soon, and Shuri was hoping to catch his arrival when he did.
Her own heart was not racing, but it was hardly calm, and she found herself bothered by the fact that the second man had been so oddly intent in his pursuit. While she was hardly an expert in matters of petty crimes, it didn't strike her as normal behavior, but perhaps he'd seen through their disguises and thought them to be Wakandans they could ransom? Such snares weren't unheard of internationally since Wakanda had revealed itself to the world, but there was no way to tell what either of the men had wanted with them without cornering them and revealing themselves.
Were they back in Wakanda, the other man would not have been permitted to retreat into the night so easily.
Even though Shuri felt as though she had things under control, she was well aware of the danger men like them posed, and was not naive enough to deny her appreciation for Yama and Nomble's steadfast guard and quick thinking. A step beside and behind her, Yama stood tall in her black dress, slim boots, grey jacket, and matching knitted cap as she shucked off the performance she'd put on for the patrolling police officer and resumed her guard. She arched an eyebrow under the rim of her fuzzy hat and spared a moment to glance at the live video feed Shuri'd prominently shared across her phone's screen like a sacred offering.
"I might've ensured the slender man will be caught up in your snare for a short time before the sonic field deactivates," Shuri casually observed. "Perhaps it will make them think twice about pursuing such dangerous games."
"One can only hope," Yama agreed. Her disguised Dora kept her eyes alert to their surroundings and double-checked the audio-dampening field was secure before she remarked, "Can we speak frankly now, then?"
"Yes, what is it?"
"Before we were interrupted you started to say something. What was he right about? Barnes, you mean?"
Any residual amusement Shuri'd been carrying for their attempted ambusher's upcoming misery swiftly faded away as a frown overtook her face, "He thought the thief in waiting of that building with the unreported break-in might've been a professional. I saw evidence that might corroborate that belief, because someone — maybe the same person, or maybe even the tenant — took great care to set up a perimeter surrounding it with not insignificant technologies."
"The road you did not want us to cross?"
"The very same. I do not think we are the only ones interested in surveillance, but I do not know who they are hoping to catch. I do not wish it to be us."
Yama nodded once and glanced behind her, wary of the new potential threat in their wake. The current unrest in Symkaria was deeply concerning, and while Shuri knew local burglaries and petty crime weren't their problems to solve, the elephant in their midst was far more personal. The idea that someone was hunting the politicians and royal families of the country distressed her in an unsettling way that was far more difficult to articulate. While she certainly did not want to come under fire from those same crosshairs, she would not shy away if there was something she could do to help bring the perpetrator to justice so further lives weren't lost to their needless violence.
It was cowardice to turn a blind eye if they could help.
"I'll report our findings to Ayo and M'yra," Shuri concluded aloud.
"Ayo will wish to know how you came upon them," Nomble politely observed.
"It is not like that chase in Busan that made International news," Shuri hastily added as she tuned their localized audio dampening field as a further precaution, "We were far more discreet here, and we have time yet to corroborate our story."
"...Our story?" Nomble raised a quizzical eyebrow that had a way of calling attention to Shuri's wording. It was not as if she intended to lie, it was just important to be measured and calculated in how they described their recent experiences to ensure they did not appear to be cause for undue alarm.
That, and it was better for all of them if Queen Mother didn't worry about Shuri being recognized within a city while a bloodline assassin was on the loose.
Besides? They were fine. There were no close-calls to report. Only what appeared to be a petty attempt at mugging that manifested in nothing more than a brisk walk.
"It's important to have a cohesive story," Yama readily agreed, switching positions with Nomble and taking the lead to guide the three of them towards their agreed-upon meeting point using a connected side alley. At this rate, they'd still have time to spare before they reconvened with the others for what doubled for Ayo's midnight curfew. It was certainly enough excitement for one night, and Shuri found herself eager to return to the safe house where she could decompress and look over the data her drone had taken without distractions.
In the meantime, all she had to do was weave together a satisfying narrative on what had transpired and run it by Yama and Nomble for corroboration. Maybe pick up a hat for Ayo on the way back as a token to show just how uneventful the evening had truly been. But Shuri didn't make it more than five and a half steps before she felt an urgent rustle from the haptic bead around her wrist. The same one she'd silenced for all-but high priority communications.
Her breath caught in her throat and she lurched to a stop when she noticed this request for conversation wasn't simply a text message, it was an incoming call from the Wakandan Design Center.
Yama and Nomble instantly fell into formation on either side of her, scanning the walls and rooftops for signs of danger that might explain why their charge had suddenly halted her steps. "Incoming call from the Design Center," Shuri offered aloud as a poor substitute for apology and explanation in-one.
Although her first instinct was to connect to her augmented vibranium display, she knew it was better not to risk being overseen utilizing Wakanda's more advanced technologies, so she quickly transferred the call to the heads up display in her augmented glasses. Considering it was well after-hours, she wasn't sure who she anticipated being on the other end of the call, but she hadn't expected the neurologist who'd recently floated the idea of re-instituting the code words to be the first face that greeted her. The woman's expression was nervous, but her brown eyes were surprisingly alert considering the late hour. In the room behind her, far more scientists than Shuri might've expected were head-down in their work.
This couldn't be good.
The neurologist blinked a few times, perhaps unaccustomed to seeing the head of the Design Group with eyewear before quickly finding her words, "My Princess… I hope this is not an inopportune time, but I wanted to ensure you'd seen the latest readings. Our data analysts noticed similarities to the prior scans and asked that I forward them to you."
"Has she seen them yet?" Another scientist's urgent voice interjected from somewhere off-screen in the lab.
The neurologist didn't waste time answering the man, instead she rapidly continued addressing Shuri, "Subject Barnes. His vitals have spiked, and there are at least three recent timestamps which show remarkable similarities to readings taken during prior Events. We wanted to ensure all was well, and to find out the root cause if he noticed any recent changes."
Barnes's scans? It took Shuri longer than she would've liked to content-switch. She hadn't been paying heed to them in the last half hour. Barnes was with Ayo and Sam, and she would have reached out if anything concerning had arisen. Shuri tried to be mindful of tempering her expression as she rapidly pulled up the timestamped logs from the Design Center and plastered them across her augmented display so she could catch-up with the latest updates that'd caught the scientists' attention, "He's not with me now, but hold on just a moment…"
Shuri didn't miss the way the neurologist's expression piqued with concern, "Not with you?"
A number of heads looked up from the work they were doing behind her.
Shuri quickly back-tracked her words as she rapidly rearranged the logs and began pouring over the vitals for recent trends, infusing what she hoped was reassurance into her voice, "I'm sure he's fine. Ayo and Sam are with him."
No sooner had the words left her lips than she caught the expression on Nomble's face tighten beside her. Her Dora'd clearly been following her side of the conversation, and she cast her nimble fingertips over her Kimoyo beads in quick strokes. No sooner had she begun to interface with the beads, than her eyes suddenly widened and she flicked three fingers in the space ahead of Shuri. The gesture prompted an overhead map display to populate atop the priority override corner of her lenses — one which clearly showed that while Ayo and Sam's indicators were in movement closeby one another, Barnes was not with them.
He was not only blocks away from their location, but was specifically approaching the last known location where her drone had parted ways from their once insistent pursuer.
Oh no…
Shuri did what she could to not let the blossoming spark of concern show on her face as the neurologist opened and closed her mouth once before speaking, again, as if she were reassuring herself that her Princess's comment about Barnes not being with them were indeed so casually dismissed as Shuri claimed, "Ah, well we're still going over the data, but if he's not with you now, would he have been recently at any of the timestamps we've indicated? We were compelled to inquire as to the root causes that might've triggered the noted changes in brain waves and supplementary neurological activity so we could better extrapolate the end-to-end implications."
While Shuri was doing what she could to follow the neurologist's words, her sharp mind was already spread across a competing network of concerns that challenged even her usual aptitude for multitasking. She pushed down the potent blend of guilt and worry festering in her gut in favor of pursuing the purity of data for answers. The scientists at the Design Lab were not jittery. They would not have reached out to her on a priority channel after hours if the results of their examinations were anything other than pressing. Shuri heard the neurologist's words and scanned over the data, but she found herself struggling to diagnose if she would be better served placing the call on a brief hold so she could connect with Ayo and get answers.
Had Barnes gone rogue? Ayo and Sam would have immediately alerted them if that was the case. What was it then? If Barnes was separated from Ayo and Sam and Ayo had not reached out to her, it reasoned that their parting of ways was intentional, perhaps triggered by the activation of Yama's Cry of Ngai bead.
But his scans…
Her eyes raced over Barnes's key vitals and familiar markers relating to his temperature, pulse rate, respiration, oxygenation levels, blood pressure, and so on, searching for the precious threads of trends that corresponded to one of three timecodes someone had quickly outlined in bright orange.
Shuri rapidly gave into the urge to utilize both hands so she could more quickly navigate the data overlaid at her fingertips. With methodical intensity, she quickly sorted through the plethora of data and various prioritized holographic scans that featured hastily-drawn 3D volumetric indicators around key areas of interest in the amygdala, hippocampus, cerebellum, and prefrontal cortex.
Areas all of which played major roles in the pursuit of memory.
She did what she could to be present for the neurologist on the other end of the call, and she swiftly circled back to her question, lest she grew increasingly concerned about the continued delay, "I was not accompanying him during those specific timestamps, no. I would need to ask if they correspond to something he experienced while on the ground." As she spoke, she rapidly scoured the data streams in an impassioned attempt to skip ahead to their implications, well aware that Yama and Nomble were just as concerned about why Barnes was a distance away from Ayo and Sam and if there was reason to question the health of his mind.
Barnes hadn't experienced a period of REM and showed no initial indicators that he'd suffered a sudden shift in his vitals that might've indicated a perilous "Umsitho womngxunya omnyama:" a 'Black Hole Event' like that seen back in her lab. That itself was good news, but Barnes's vitals were indeed elevated. Not erratic. Not exactly. Yet there was a familiar rhythm emerging from them in her mind's eye that she struggled to pull free. There was some connection adjacent to something she'd seen, she was sure of it.
She instructed Griot to run silent calculations and comparative analyses while she bid her mind to focus on the data in front of her even though the greater part of her was rapidly growing concerned about what exactly was going on elsewhere in Aniana. She just needed a foothold somewhere, but all three scans were fundamentally different. When another wave of data became available to her, she quickly accepted the prompt and immediately enlarged the three-dimensional holographic image of her friend's brain that only she could see through her augmented lenses.
The first scan the neurologist had marked of interest appeared to indicate an increase in activity around where the ghosts of where nails had once been embedded in his brain, but the two more recent scans were separated by almost ten minutes. In those two examples, the flowing colors of activity of the man's ailing mind appeared largely healthy in their cortical activity, although behaving with decided shifts before and after the onset periods the neurologist had indicated.
Shuri used her fingers to separate out the layers of undulating color to focus on the ones that were likely to hold the key to establishing something resembling a diagnosis. With smooth intention, she dialed in the onset of the first neurological shift in search of recognizable patterns as Griot sorted the data into prioritized folders. She had enough voices in her head that she didn't feel compelled to add her well-intentioned AI to the mix. It would only–
Then she saw it. The subtle specificity of a foretremor shimmering through primary motor cortex, premotor cortex, and the supplementary motor areas just before what the neurologist had shorthanded as a period showing remarkable similarities to readings taken during prior 'Events.'
At a glance, she was not wrong. There were subtle, but undeniable similarities to the Black Hole Events all of them feared, but as she rapidly pulled details out of the overlapping data streams and compared them to past scans, she found herself looking at how they also encompassed more than casual similarities to periods where Barnes claimed he'd been able to unexpectedly pull free memories that were once beyond his reach.
Could it be a shade of that behavior had reemerged? The readings didn't seem to correlate strongly with any period where he'd been reviewing the journals, but if it was a shade of similar thread, then what memories might it encompass this time? Did they originate from here in Symkaria, or elsewhere? And what had he done to coax them out?
Did Ayo and Sam know?
Shuri did not want to be rude or risk raising undue suspicion from the scientists on the other side of the call, but it was critically important that she get to the bottom of what was going on just beyond her view, "I believe the instances you indicated show similarity with data taken surrounding periods when he was able to access new memories. Can you run some comparative analyses, and return them to me?
"Of course. We–"
Shuri dug deep into herself to calm her nerves and do her best impression of herself as she worked to smoothly exit the conversation as quickly as possible, "I cannot talk at length, but thank you for letting me know. If you could send me a summary of your findings, I'll review them as soon as possible. And I'll get in touch with Barnes and see if any of the readings you shared manifested to his conscious mind."
Shuri was well aware that both Nomble and Yama were regarding her with shared expressions of unfiltered concern. It was as if they were – the three of them – all sharing the same mind that sought reassurance that Barnes remained in his right mind, and that the violence that had happened only days ago within the Design Center wasn't presently playing out nearby.
"We'll do as you requested of course," the neurologist responded, apparently in no hurry to conclude the phone call, "I just wanted to ensure you'd seen what we had, in case–"
"—And I deeply appreciate it. I'll follow up with you after I've had a chance to review your findings. I know it is late. Thank you all for your hard work." She hoped the worry she felt stirring in her gut was not perceivable to the scientists on the other end of the call, but she was uncertain of her propensity for cultivating a convincing acting performance under the circumstances where mere seconds could make the difference between conjecture and reality.
Between life and death.
"Thank you, Princess. I'll send along the summary as you requested, and I'll let you know if we see any other irregularities."
"Yes yes, please do," Shuri already had three windows open in the cell phone in her hand by the time she closed the communication channel with the Design Group. Her fingers flew over the vibranium glass surface, searching out any scrap of information that might inform her next steps while her augmented display ran computations.
"Is he alright?" Nomble was quick to inquire, clearly following along with some portion of Shuri's side of the conversation.
The Princess rapidly accessed a series of notes accompanying a plethora of logged, recent, and live data running alongside highly detailed charts. Her expert eyes scanned over the contents as she pulled choice pieces free and bid her mind to focus on the data in front of her so she could parse their secrets. "His vitals are elevated, and there are trends that broadly compare to those seen during the periods where he was able to access once-hidden memories, but there is precious little for me to go on." She didn't miss the self-criticalness bleeding into her voice, swimming in ever-tighter circles of worry and guilt. She'd been the one to reassure everyone that his mind was stable.
But what if she was wrong?
"Ayo and Sam may know something," Yama reasoned aloud, her unusually tight expression pulled at the muscles of her forehead beneath the rim of her fluffy grey hat.
Shuri's fingers were already hovering over her communications bead, quickly scrolling to the interface meant to call Barnes directly, but her fingers hesitated over the connection prompt. If there was a possibility he'd been asked to pursue the man who'd been stalking them, then–
"I already checked," Nombled noted with a pronounced frown. "He's silenced his comms, including both the audio and messaging indicators."
Something in the pit of Shuri's stomach rotted and sunk deeper as her concerns sharpened. What was he doing?
But before she could get a handle on what next-steps they might follow, the haptics on her communications bead brightened with an indicator she knew all-too-well — Ayo. Shuri immediately answered the audio-only summons before she risked second-guessing herself, "Ayo, what in Bast's name—?"
"Princess, it's—"
"What's going on? Why is Barnes not with you?"
There was a miniscule pause as Ayo caught up with the question, "That is what I was calling you about. He's gone off on his own, after—"
"Wait, he's acting on his own?" Her voice pitched higher in concern.
"Some part of it," Ayo was quick to clarify. "I'd granted him permission to catch up with you when I was alerted that my Lieutenant's bead had been activated to disable one of the two men that'd shown interest in you."
…Okay so Ayo was aware of some portion of recent events on the wind. Shuri supposed she was not surprised, but how long had she been–
"Are you alright?" Ayo's tone was sincere but straight to the point.
"We're fine. Nothing happened."
The low grumble over the channel told Shuri that Ayo's concerns were not so easily dismissed, "We will discuss what you three were doing so deep into downtown later. Right now, we could use your eyes. He recently chose to silence his comms shortly after–"
"–But he was behaving normally before that?" Shuri interjected as her hands moved over the screen of her cell phone and cross-manipulated the HUD display of her glasses.
"Largely, yes. He was tracking the man that was after you in case–"
"—Everything was under control," Shuri insisted, pouring over a new message forwarded from the Design Center. She scanned ahead to the fifth page of the attachment where the summary showed no underlying break with the core brain patterns. "I'm looking at the data now. There's nothing here to indicate it is not still not fundamentally Barnes. There have been no REM or related events, though there are some readings that might indicate he might've formed new connections, like–"
She caught her breath: that was it. That was what the scans correlated to. Her fingers flew in search of data to corroborate her theory.
"New connections?" Ayo's winded voice urgently interjected.
"I cannot be sure, but they carry similarities to the scans taken during the 'Sunrise Exercise,' when he was able to access once-repressed memories shared by the motion of his body. There are three of them here. They are not an exact match, but there are clear trends."
Nomble silently mouthed 'three?' for Yama's benefit. The other disguised Dora only frowned.
"One might correspond to an exercise from when we were across town," Ayo clarified, "but there were two more?"
"Wait, you knew?"
Ayo blustered uncomfortably in response, "There was only one instance from the distant past that we tried to draw up with intention, but he was himself after. You're saying there were more?" Ayo repeated in a clear attempt to redirect the flow of conversation.
Shuri had a host of questions about what the others had been up to, but she knew now was not the time to squabble with Ayo about details better left for another time. "Two more that we know of," she slid two fingers horizontally to transfer the timecodes directly to Ayo's Kimoyos. "Was he with you at either timestamp?"
A heartbeat passed before Ayo responded, "No, we were not with him at those times. You think he remembered something then?"
"It's hard to know without digging deeper. Did he make mention of anything?"
"He was well ahead of us by that time, but he insisted he was fine."
Before Shuri could respond, she heard Sam's voice through Ayo's microphone, "I'm telling you, he's not fine. That was a cyborg deflection if there ever was one."
"Put him on," Shuri instructed, taking the initiative to add Yama and Nomble to the larger conversation. But by the time she'd finished speaking aloud, the indicator for Sam's communicator was joined by none-other than M'yra's own. Ayo must've already pre-empted her decree to help get them on the same page, meaning…
"M'yra has been monitoring him over the live feeds and–" Ayo began.
"—Wait, M'yra? Aren't you supposed to be resting?" Shuri was quick to observe while she worked at a frantic pace to try to plug what data she had together into something useful.
"My service to Wakanda has never strictly followed normal business hours, my Princess." M'yra's voice reasoned from a continent away. "I'll send you the feeds I have access to."
The Dora Milaje were certainly born a different breed.
Ayo's voice smoothly interceded, "We're on our way to him now."
"My read is that he's prolly hoping to get to the bottom of things with the fella that was trackin' you three across downtown," Sam stated warily over their comms, "but I'm worried about the particulars, 'cause he wasn't exactly letting us in on the details. I'm hopin' he's not considering anything stupid, but if you think he might've gotten two more helpin's of flashbacks or somethin' close…" his words trailed off into the night leaving them all with the same grim worries.
"I need you to stay put where you are, Shuri," Ayo's words were not a request for debate and prompted both Yama and Nomble to immediately glance back from their guard to regard their royal charge.
Shuri bit her lip, "We're not far, we could—"
"I cannot worry about you both at once. I need your sharp eyes to look for clues within data and the surveillance footage. For your focus to remain on seeking details that only you can see." Shuri could hear the tangible plea in Ayo's voice that verged on desperation. The one that swiftly reminded her that Shuri had to remain her priority if two competing causes were put up against each other.
But it was more than that.
She who shared their "Ibhondi Yomgcini" – their the Bodyguard's Bond – wasn't placating her because she thought to punish her or to treat her as a child, but because she placed faith in Shuri's insight. Moreover, Ayo knew that intuition was critical to determining how to negotiate the coming storm before it risked consuming any innocent lives.
Part of Shuri wanted to argue, but the plea in Ayo's voice was clear and wavered alongside the worries she cast out like a finely-threaded net. The stakes they were dancing around were higher than either of them wished to admit to out loud, but it did not make them any less real. Shuri permitted herself a single breath of chilled night air as she glanced at the converging locators for Ayo, Sam, and Barnes and promised, "I do not seek to further complicate our priorities. I will focus on the data from a distance." She hoped the sincerity of her words made its way to Ayo's ear.
But the lingering worry unspoken between them was that if something went wrong – truly wrong – would Ayo be able to take down Barnes alone with Sam?
As if pre-empting her question, Ayo spoke out the shared communications channel, "I've given M'yra the ability to activate the electrical node on his shoulder as a contingency if her instincts deem it necessary to disable him, but it is worth noting that she believes the man that was pursuing you appeared to be carrying a firearm. It is possible that if the electrical node were to be activated ahead of any engagement, the man might choose to turn that weapon on Barnes, who would be unable to defend himself. I do not want us to act prematurely and potentially put his own life at risk."
Shuri could not say she was surprised by the idea that Ayo had granted M'yra access to the transponder on Barnes's shoulder, but she only hoped she would not find reason to use it. Her mind had a way of carving out any number of distressing possible outcomes.
Undeterred, Ayo's commanding voice continued, "That matter being as it is, we also cannot blindly put other lives at risk while clinging to hope for his good intentions. We must act swiftly and with both reason and intention guiding our steps."
Shuri found her voice, "Agreed. M'yra, are you still watching him through the live feeds?"
"I was. He tracked the man in the green jacket to an alleyway southeast of you and lingered at the corner a short time before taking off his shawl and following him. I just lost sight of Barnes, but neither has appeared at the far side. His tracker still shows him the alley, so he's either cornered his quarry there, or is seeking a way into one of the adjoining buildings."
Shuri's stomach sank at the mention of him removing the shawl and what it represented. She found she would have preferred M'yra to have chosen another term in place of 'quarry,' but there was nothing factually wrong with her terminology, only that it had a way of swiftly reminding Shuri of the violence Barnes was capable of, "Send me your last sighting of him, as well as anything from the last thirty minutes, prioritized according to the timecodes I'm sending to you now."
"Received!" M'yra swiftly confirmed.
"We're still a few minutes out from his location," Ayo added.
"At least the streets are halfway on a grid on this side of town," Sam commiserated. The faint humor in his remark was buried by the palpable tension in his voice.
Yama interjected a brief surge of reassurance into the conversation, "We will hold fast, my Chief."
Ayo chose to respond with three firm words in the Dora's coded tongue.
From the pronounced frown the syllables drew out of Nomble beside her, Shuri found that her usual curiosity evaded her and she did not wish to know the details of Ayo's private decree. It was no-doubt a grim reminder of their sworn duty, and the dangerous blade's tip they were all balancing upon.
And they were – all of them — running out of time.
Despite the throbbing pain surging through his chest, the soldier endured, leveraging the shock of pure adrenaline as a welcome ally for what was to come.
His body remembered the chords of the melody with each beat and exacting measure, and as his heart thrummed in mixed defiance and anticipation, he held his breath in the stale darkness of the doorway, letting it fall over him like a veil. Like a promise. In that timeless moment, it was as if even the smallest movement risked upsetting the sacred path he'd chosen to embark upon. The one that promised answers for his many questions.
For his mission.
It was as if everything else faded to the background and the world around him drew out into suspended motion, allowing him a clarity of purpose so clear that he found himself falling into instinct rather than conscious thought. When he silently shifted his weight forward and crossed the threshold, he felt something inside him shift into place and settle as he soundlessly closed the door behind him and used trembling but firm fingers to turn the lock smoothly back into place behind him.
The inside of the electronics repair shop was musty and all-but pitch-black, accented only by the occasional flicker of one-too-many overloaded surge protectors along the floor. He kept still and deathly silent while his eyes rapidly adjusted to the darkness, pulling out every bit of detail they could and recording the nuances against the pockets of moon light that'd briefly spilled over from the alleyway outside when the door was ajar.
The musty storage room he was presently standing in was barely larger than a bedroom, and his expert eyes rapidly searched the perimeter for the most likely footpath his target had taken through the crowded space not thirty seconds before. He didn't catch sight of any security cameras lying in wait in the corners, but that didn't mean they weren't there. Even still, they were unlikely to capture much detail under such limited lighting conditions. The walls were stacked high with weathered cardboard boxes and the skeletons of what looked to be old computer towers that had been torn open to scavenge for components, and he found himself searching the spaces beyond their darkened silhouettes to locate the interior door his target had recently passed through.
He counted four additional doors, the nearest of which led towards the front of the store. The two doors opposite him were unlabeled, but based on similar blueprints and the approximate footprint of the surrounding block, he suspected they served as either secondary storage rooms restrooms, or one of each in an indeterminate order. A door a few steps to his right likely led deeper into the rear of the building, and since it was altogether unlikely that his target would intentionally put himself on display in the store front in view of the street outside, it logic said that was the least likely path he would have chosen to follow.
Which meant he was behind one of the other three doors. But which one?
Time was of the essence — he knew that — but it was critical he made the correct selection so he could take his target by surprise.
So the soldier held his breath and did what he could to ignore the faint crackle of energy near his left ear and focused on any shimmer of movement that would lead him to his target.
He didn't have to wait long.
It was a faint rustle of paper that the man in the shadows caught first, followed by a flicker of light that briefly brightened the space under the door to his right. Too faint to be a flashlight. A cell phone, perhaps?
Then the creak of weight moving slowly over top of aching floorboards. Then another, lower pitched.
It was his signal to make up the distance between them.
In the breath between heartbeats, the soldier pivoted right and prowled forward, keeping his stance wide so that his silent footsteps fell alongside heavy shelves and the ladended edges of work desks to reduce the chance of producing any telltale noises that might give him away. He moved silently through the space like a seasoned predator moving in for the kill.
He navigated over and around the stacks of spare parts with chilling, unnatural grace, and the act of closing in on his target under the cover of night conjured up a heightened sensation and state of alertness he recognized all-too-well. One where his shuttered breathing slowed and all of his senses rose up in unison in eager anticipation for what came next.
One boot was midair in a calculated prowl when the light under his target's door briefly brightened and the trained operative froze in place.
Normally, standing on one foot over halfway into his next step wouldn't have offered anything resembling a challenge, but as Barnes hovered in place, he could feel the artificial rigidness of his body. The slight tremble in his left foot that had a way of reminding him about the spear that'd sliced it through not two days ago.
Was it two days ago? It felt longer and shorter at the same time. Like time itself was dilated. Twisted.
He wasn't on the verge of stumbling, but the slight wobble in his poise had a way of drawing his attention back to the tension running end-to-end through his body. To his trembling fingers and aching shoulder, and the deep, nearly constant pain reverberating through him that he was straining with everything in him to ride like the crest of a raging tsunami.
Barnes could feel it churning deep inside of him, threatening to pull him under. But he couldn't let it. This was too important. He just had to push though. Focus on the mission. On what he needed to do.
He couldn't fail.
He held fast, wavering on one thin ankle, watching the faint light under the door scan from side-to-side before it retreated into the shadows again.
Barnes held his breath and stayed balanced on one foot until he heard another faint rustle of papers on the other side of the door. Only then did he choose to carefully settle his extended foot back onto the floor, ensuring he applied steady pressure so as to avoid making any sound from the added weight. A second later, he shifted his other foot closer and repositioned them so they braced against either side of the chipped molding on the door's frame.
He crouched his body slightly and hunched his shoulders as he focused on forming a mental image of what would greet him on the other side of the door using the soft sounds ebbing through and under the thin wooden door. His experienced mind wove them together like a loosely-assembled tapestry of straightforward facts that would serve as a means to inform how he would make his final approach.
Close-by on the opposite side of the door, he could make out faint breathing and the gentle shuffle of fabric indicating his target's rough location. It was difficult to run exact calculations on the relative distance due to the distracting sizzle of electrical energy near his left ear, but he approximated the length at between one and two meters. There were no other voices to be heard. No commotion or secondary footsteps, which some part of him applied a value judgment too. That it was good he was alone. More straightforward. Uncomplicated.
Still another part of him rose up that it was possible there were other people there too. That it was wise to plan for that contingency, and how he would deal with them if it became necessary. His mind flashed to a hundred different possibilities and settled on the objective of incapacitating them if it became necessary, but he didn't allow himself to elaborate on the details.
But if his target was alone and had to use a bump key in order to enter the premises, it meant he probably didn't suspect he'd been followed inside.
He'd wrongly assumed that under the cover of night, he was safe. An alpha predator hiding amongst digital sheep.
But what was he doing there? What had he been planning out on the street? Had he recognized Shuri?
There were any number of unanswered questions circling Barnes's mind, but there wasn't time to dwell on them. On why the scent of worn paper and the acrid haze of burnt electronics tugged at something in his periphery. He needed to act, and his cunning instincts insisted that time was of the essence, and it was optimal to secure his target at close-range while he was still likely to be within arm's reach of the other side of the door.
It would ensure he didn't have time to react.
Solidifying his plan of approach, Barnes glanced to his left, where a weathered screwdriver leaned against a small set of needle-nose pliers. Either would make viable weapons, and for the briefest of moments, he found his trembling left hand reaching out in anticipation of grasping the nearest plastic handle, but he stopped short.
In any other circumstance, he would pocketed the makeshift weapon or chosen to wield it in anticipation of the coming confrontation, but for whatever reason, it didn't feel right this time. Like even the act of touching either of the tools was somehow taboo and profoundly at-odds with what he'd promised Ayo and the others, regardless of if they could see him or not.
The passing thought had a way of stirring up complicated feelings he didn't have time for. Guilt. Shame. Confusion over the anger he'd seen in her eyes and what he was doing now. What he was planning to do. He'd turned off his comms because he needed to focus. Didn't communicate because he didn't want to risk being overheard or distracted, but he was alone now. Nothing was stopping him from letting them know what was happening, even if he simply used his phone or Kimoyos, both of which were within easy access.
So why didn't he?
The answer wasn't something he found he could articulate. It was a feeling deep in his gut that resonated with certainty that it was right to act. That it was necessary. That any other decision risked putting the mission in jeopardy.
He couldn't fail. Wouldn't fail.
His expression remained frozen in place as he pulled his hand back and tried not to notice how the fingers shuddered separately in response. No, this was fine. It was better to keep his hands free anyway. He still had his phone in his pocket, his wallet, the vibranium star, and the scarf.
He didn't need a weapon for what he planned to do.
With a surge of pain-motivated intention, he slowly wrapped his gloved right hand around the door handle and leaned closer, listening for movement on the other side. For his opening. His other shoulder shuddered, but he pushed the sensation down into the void of inconsequential things he didn't have time for. Not now.
A low creak suddenly gave away the other man's relative position, and the Winter Soldier immediately launched into action.
Everything played out in slow motion between the tempo of two heartbeats. In one fluid motion, he pushed down on the door handle and swung the door open, keeping pressure on the hinges so the sound didn't prematurely pull his target's attention. When the door was halfway open, the soldier caught sight of his target. The man's left hand held a cell phone he'd flipped over to illuminate a sea of scattered electronic devices lying across a tabletop, while his other hand investigated the beveled edge of a thin tablet PC.
The soldier didn't hesitate, he moved through the darkness in a rush of calculated motion, coming up behind his target with smooth, soundless precision as he wrapped one arm around the man's shoulder and chest, while pulling his target's other arm back in a quick motion that forced his target's face into the crux his own elbow.
The maneuver was seamless. Tight and straightforward, and as the soldier counterbalanced his weight to deal with the brief struggle the startled man put up against the darkness, the man holding him kept his voice low as he growled out a single menacing word in a voice he barely recognized, "Don't."
[Chapter 30 Chapter Art, by Ri]
[ID: An illustration by Ri showing Barnes and Sam inside the Wakandan Propulsion Laboratory. Barnes is wearing a dark grey t-shirt, blue and gold shawl, medium blue pants, a black and gold vibranium arm, and has a strand of Kimoyo Beads around his right wrist. He is bruised and bleeding and clutches a Dora Milaje spear in his right hand which he appears to have caught midair. The front of his left boot is split open and profusely bleeding and he is standing and looking down at Sam, who is in rough shape. Sam is wearing brown shoes, blue pants, a red shirt, and has a cracked watch around his left wrist. He is laying on the ground, and has his arms snugly clinging around Barnes's right shin. His hand and face are bleeding and extremely bruised and has a black eye and broken nose. A speech bubble above Sam's head shows him yelling "Buck STOP!" to get Barnes's attention. Barnes appears to be both confused and concerned. End ID]
The Propulsion Laboratory fight from Chapter 38: "Schrödinger's Soldier" has always been such a poignant story beat for me, and I loved playing with reader expectations about if this was "The Soldier" or not, and the eventual reveal at the end that he wanted to be called 'Barnes.' I am so incredibly humbled that Ri ("partly_cloudie" on Ao3 and Instagram) was keen to illustrate a second scene from that chapter featuring Sam and the man who apparently wanted to be called 'Barnes.'
Ri infused so much drama and gravitas into this pivotal scene, and I just adore how she brought them to life, and it's a treat to share this illustration with you in contrast to the events of this particular chapter and Barnes being uh… "fine."
Please check out her Instagram account to see more of her beautiful and vivacious art. Her characters have such incredible life and personality to them, and I can't thank her enough for offering to illustrate some scenes from this story! It means so much to me.
Once again: A *huge* thank you to Ri for capturing such a poignant moment between these two!
[WotWW Fan Art, by KLeCrone]
[ID: A painting by KLeCrone showing the Winter Soldier collapsed onto one knee. He has his chrome arm with the red star and is wearing traditional tactical gear as well as a holstered gun along his left hip. His right hand is clutched across his stomach, and his left hand is pressed against his forehead. He appears to be in pain and distress. A long haired white cat stands just to his left. It is headbutting the soldier's left shin, as if trying to get his attention or bring him comfort. The two figures appear against a grey background and have dark shadows that extend away from the viewer to the left of where they are poised, giving the painting a dreamlike quality. End ID]
Shortly after getting my flu and Covid boosters a couple months back, I managed to catch Covid for the first time, and ended up spending my early hours... painting some Barnes and Alpine Angst/Comfort fan art, as one does.
I'm pretty pleased with how it turned out for a two-sitting painting, all things considered! In my head, I was channeling Barnes from Winter of the White Wolf, but not any particular existing scene. Just a general flashback to those rough post-Hydra years when those nails and memories were giving him pain.
It was important for me to not only chase the mood, but to better time-gate the piece so that it didn't spiral out of control and become some massive 100+ hour undertaking. That's been one thing I've been increasingly mindful of in recent years, and even at work: to try to really be mindful of what you want to get out of a piece, and to adjust your scope, approach, and time-commitment with earnestness.
Hannahshattuck (on Ao3) was inspired by my painting and wrote a non-WotWW drabble based on how she imagines the scene might've played out if Steve were around, which you can read if you look her up on Ao3. The story is called "You Pull Me Out of the Gray." She wove such a wonderful and heartfelt scene here, and you should totally check it out!
[ID: A waist-up headshot of KLeCrone with her arms crossed standing to the left of the Diablo IV logo. She is smiling and wearing a dark red sleeveless shirt and a white opal necklace. She is smiling at the camera. End ID]
I'm not sure how many of you are into video games, but I was recently asked to be one of the public speakers for the Season of Blood for Diablo IV! This included getting a new headshot (fun fact: without makeup, because that's how I roll), working with PR on an updated bio, and in addition to doing rounds of Press interviews, I was also filmed for a video segment on Dev Insights which you can watch on YouTube if you search "Diablo IV | Season of Blood | Dev Insights."
More than that, though, it feels like I've leveled up in my career in ways that are difficult to articulate, and part of that has been a drive to ensure that I'm fostering great connections across my team, pushing myself out of my comfort zone, and striving to be a better leader by leading by example.
Speaking of which, I was recently selected to attend supplementary training at UCLA in the UCLA Technical Management Program, and boy did it push me out of my comfort zone! I was in intense classes for twelve hours a day, and it felt like they were trying to cram in multiple semesters worth of content in a limited timeframe, which included tackling all sorts of tricky leadership issues, lots of awkward roleplaying, and some utterly incredible talks. I came away with it feeling exhausted, but overwhelmed at how valuable the whole thing was, and utterly thankful for the experience. But goodness, it's been a BUSY few months!
If that wasn't enough, at Lightbox Expo I was utterly humbled to be asked to assist with the Colossal Characters plein air painting demo with James Gurney, the creator of Dinotopia this year at Lightbox Expo! A clip from my interview even made it into this video which is searchable on YouTube and features a short clip from my interview: "Lightbox Expo 2023 - Day 1 Recap."
This was such a creatively nourishing and uplifting event, and I had an absolute blast talking with folks and sharing stories and tips! I also remain incredibly amused that an image of me wearing a Cap tank top that went out to tens of thousands of artists and creators. It's like the stars aligned on that one. ;) If you ever want to find out more about what I'm up to art-wise, I tend to be fairly active on social media between updates here on Ao3.
[ID: A promotional thumbnail from Lightbox Expo featuring a waist-up headshot of KLeCrone holding a paintbrush and talking to a Lightbox interviewer. She is smiling and wearing a white tank top with a Captain America shield and a neon orange hat. End ID]
Please check out this chapter on Archive of Our Own to see the gorgeous art and links to the artist's social media pages as well as the videos!
Author's Remarks:
It goes without saying that it's been crazy trying to juggle so much, but I'm incredibly thankful to be able to pursue so many interests concurrently, and I can't *wait* for what's ahead for Winter of the White Wolf! Thank you again and again for your enthusiasm for this story, and your interest in making a personal connection with me.
I'm planning to resume getting the next chapters in your hands at our more customary pace, and I can't wait for you to see what's just around the next corner for our Pack in Symkaria…! :)
* - This is intended to be a tongue-in-cheek reference to the various missions T'Challa has gone on that Shuri doesn't know about, as well as - if you squint - a nod to the future events of Wakanda Forever, and idea that T'Challa likely visited with Nakia in secret after the Decimation.
- Chapter Title Origins - 'Irresistible Force Paradox'- The title of this chapter originates from the term Irresistible Force Paradox, which is better known as "An Immovable Object versus An Unstoppable Force." My inspiration was the idea that Barnes is being a very particular sort of stubborn that is credit to the pain he's in and his present mental state, and he's not about to be deterred from his self-made 'mission,' even if his original intentions were made with the best of intentions.
- And well… things are about to come to a head in more ways than one…
Say hi and connect with me on social media:
- "KLeCrone" on Twitter and Tumblr
As I've said before but so desperately want to repeat: I deeply appreciate your continued support. Every kudo and comment means to me to keep me inspired on this journey we're on together. Thank you again for all of the encouragement, questions, kind words, and commentary. Knowing others around the world are out there reading along with these updates truly makes a difference. I appreciate hearing from you, even if it's just to scream together about Barnes's latest stubborn streak. ;)