Winter of the White Wolf

Chapter 40 - Danger Zone

Barnes kept his attention focused on the sprawl of daylight a distance ahead of him as he thrust the ship through a narrow secondary access tunnel. His alert blue eyes monitored the status of the shields as he brought the weapon systems online, taking careful inventory of each of them as they cycled to life. He used his thumb to tune the power levels, noting that they appeared to be inversely related, which implied they must be sharing the same power source. Assuming he was interpreting the readout of the display properly, the relative strength of the combined systems was not insubstantial.

That being as it were, he heard a rustle of movement beside him, and couldn't help but think that it would be a lot easier to focus on his mission if one Sam Wilson would stifle his incessant need to continue to operate his mouth.

Though Barnes wasn't necessarily choosing to engage with the majority of what the other man rambled on about, he couldn't find it in himself to forcibly shut him up. He was fully capable of it, certainly, and if Sam's current mannerisms spoke of anything, it was that after the initial symptoms associated with the physical shock he suffered had worn off, he now appeared to be running on pure adrenaline.

It wouldn't take much to drive him back into a state of unconsciousness, but it just didn't seem like the correct thing to do, even though part of Barnes argued it was the optimal way to proceed with the objectives of his present mission.

He still couldn't understand why Sam had chosen to interject himself into the previous fight with the tribal warriors. The action had clearly been to Sam's own physical detriment, and appeared to provide no other apparent boon than to prevent Barnes from sustaining life-threatening or potentially fatal damage.

It didn't make sense.

He frowned, wondering if this was a symptom of yet another unknown malfunction. It was getting more and more difficult to tell, especially when he found himself inclined to at least listen to the garrulous man, regardless of if he believed any of his specific claims to be true.

A welcome pocket of silence returned after Sam had stated more than asked "You're running. From HYDRA? That's what this is all about?"

It was yet another manipulative remark didn't require response. It wasn't as if Barne's mission parameters were classified, though the particulars of the shifting objectives remained unclear. He aimed to put as much distance between himself and agents of HYDRA as possible. As near as he could tell, they'd somehow located him in Washington D.C., so it was clearly not safe to return to that location. If the map in front of him was to be believed, he was now on the continent of Africa. Where would be an ideal location to set-up a new safe house? Somewhere beyond Wakanda's borders, at the very least, and with as little known HYDRA activity as possible.

Somewhere where he could secure necessary resources and blend in, ideally.

"I know it might not seem like it, but the people out there aren't your enemies either."

For not the first time: Barnes chose to ignore the other man. But he didn't think Sam was feigning distress when he followed-up the statement by coughing wetly into his elbow.

Barnes spared a fraction of a second to take his eyes off the vibranium walls streaking by around them in order to glance over at Sam Wilson and indulge his incessant need to hear himself talk, "Then what do you claim they want?" Barnes paused a moment before factually adding, "You're bleeding."

Sam muttered something under his breath and worked to press the base of his thumbs on either side of his nose to still the blood that'd resumed dripping down his face. For as quick as his mouth usually was, he seemed to be having an awful lot of trouble answering such a relatively simple question. Sam sucked in air through his teeth before his nasally voice replied, "Regardless of if you want to believe me or not, it's 2024 and-"

"What do they want?" Barnes repeated.

Sam frowned, "They wanna help you remember. Near as I can tell, something went wrong and your memories got all jumbled."

Barnes could feel the edge of his lip twitch, "I don't need their help."

Sam was giving him another one of those expressions with his face that Barnes couldn't quite parse, "Have you ever stopped to consider if maybe, just maybe, I'm actually telling you the truth?"

He didn't feel a need to respond to that either. He'd spent enough time with people forcing their "truths" on him. Barnes wasn't about to fall into the same trap again. Not after he'd finally gotten free of their manipulative grasp. He didn't need anyone telling him who he was. He'd figure that out on his own.

Strained silence fell around them as the ship continued to shoot through the tunnel uncontested, Sam's tone shifted into something more tentative,"...What are you planning to do with me?" he inquired.

Barnes knew he wasn't required to respond to his hostage. Yet if he determined Sam Wilson was useful in some way… what was his plan? Initially, Barnes assumed that he would no longer be necessary once he escaped the complex, but he wasn't sure what to think now. Witnesses were to be eliminated without question. But those had not been orders of his own making. Those had been mission parameters given to him by HYDRA, and while he gave no pause putting down agents that pursued him, he found he was no longer inclined to eliminate witnesses simply as a virtue of past principles.

He wasn't sure where that left him now, however.

And what if Sam Wilson was telling the truth and he was not actually HYDRA? What was the proper protocol then? How was he to determine the best course of action? For not the first time in the past week, Barnes momentarily found himself wishing he had a handler giving him orders, because it was almost overwhelming to be expected to come up with responses on his own when the world remained so immeasurably disjointed and confusing. Where was he supposed to go? How was he supposed to maintain acceptable levels of physical wellness without necessary resources or support? Was there an end to this mission? What came after?

And what was the meaning of the moving images he saw when he slept? Did they have any relevance to these events?

How could he separate his will from that of HYDRA?

What remained after?

He spared a quick glance over to Sam and caught sight of the awkward way he was holding his hands. While all of the fingers were accounted for and no bones protruded from his palms or the surrounding joints, they were certainly swollen, discolored, and... misshapen.

It was apparent Sam would benefit from medical attention, and some part of Barnes, the same conflicted part that dragged his previous mission target to shore, called 9-1-1, and ensured Steve Rogers received appropriate treatment and protection while he recovered… It was that part which acknowledged that it was inappropriate to ignore his sizable contributions to the injuries Sam sustained.

He wasn't sure where that observation originated from, or how to interpret it under the circumstances. Should he have instead chosen to leave Sam Wilson behind where he might have received medical attention, assuming the complex had such personnel on-site?

Sam apparently didn't miss the attention Barnes gave his hands. The fire'd gone out from Sam, and he seemed inclined to choose his words more carefully now, "I don't have a damn clue what that expression is supposed to mean, Barnes, but I'm begging you: please stop with my hands. I don't heal like you. You know that, right?"

He wasn't sure he knew that one way or the other. Others he'd injured on command had rarely been given the opportunity to recover, so he wasn't altogether certain of the variable rates of healing or the reasoning behind them. "Then stop talking. Or I'll make you stop talking."

"Do you enjoy hurting people?" Sam dared to venture. The tone of his muffled voice wasn't accusatory.

Barnes responded without a second thought, "No."

For a moment, silence filled the space between them, "Well, a lot of awful stuff was done to you, so I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to hurt those people. But none of us here had anything to do with that."

In response, Barnes clenched his jaw and gripped the shaft of the spear tighter. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam shy away from him, as if he was fearful of retaliation.

Before he could even begin to process, no-less formulate a response to that particular statement, he spotted the outer edge of the tunnel steadily approaching ahead. He didn't have patience or time for this now, so kept his voice at a low, warning growl as he locked eyes with Sam, "Drop it."

In response, Sam shifted his hands further away and didn't say another word as Barnes turned his attention back to the black sand-like map churning atop the console in front of him. The augmented holographic display showed two nearby ships marked in blue that were no-doubt intending to intercept him shortly after they exited the access tunnel.

Barnes regarded their trajectory and used his fingers to zoom the map out before gunning the throttle and keeping his right hand steady on the controls. The lights of the tunnel passed by them so quickly that they reminded him of strobes as he accelerated the final sprint towards the daylight outside.

As soon as the sunlight flooded into the cabin, Barnes swerved right, pitching the craft down until the belly of the jet was just barely clearing the wash of treetops in the ravine below.

The pair of ships that had been pacing him alongside the mine came into view a distance behind him, pivoting in order to reorient themselves to his chosen trajectory. The dragonfly-like, multi-winged aircraft both appeared slightly larger than his vessel and though they were still a distance away, they appeared to be gaining on him.

Barnes set the ship's systems to alert him when they approached the edge of weapons range and returned his attention to the lush ravine and tall, mountainous walls surrounding him. He tried to ignore the continued seeping in his left foot and the strange feeling of almost déjà vu he felt as he looked out over the swath of undulating green trees and shrubbery that was lined by towering canyons on either side.

It made him feel something, but he wasn't sure what.

If only HYDRA would just let him be.

A notification popped up that he was being hailed, but he quickly silenced it: He didn't need any more distractions and empty words.

Barnes observed the enemy ships for new behaviors as the two dragonfly-like aircraft progressively gained on him. He wasn't certain what their play was, but in theory, they would want to take both he and Sam alive, so their approach was unlikely to entail deadly intent. That meant they would seek to bring down and disable his craft so it could be boarded.

The display flashed and audio chimed as his proximity sensors went off. Seconds later, a series of insistent bangs echoed against their aft shields as the ships came within weapons range and opened fire.

Operating as if by instinct, Barnes waited for a particular opening in the canyon wall and braked hard, banking the ship vertically and gunning the thrusters as soon as it he matched the orientation of the narrow crevice in the surrounding rock face,

It looked like they would fit.

Probably.

Right?

He felt like he'd flown another smaller aircraft that fit.

When was that?

Sam, who'd been mercifully silent for at least half a minute, responded by letting out a shriek of horror as he realized what was happening all-too-late and the ship shot through the lightning-shaped gap at high speed. Barnes had to stay focused as he dipped the craft's right wing closer to the streambed that separated the sides, rapidly fine tuning the angle of the craft as it cut through the intersection between the surrounding plateaus.

A short distance behind them, he could see the wider craft negotiate the tight opening and decide against it. Instead, the two ships darted up and out of view, and he watched them rapidly climb altitude on the displays in front of him, no-doubt hoping to cut him off and corner him on the other side of the narrow passage.

Barnes carefully reduced his speed as he tracked their progress, watching the outlines of each ship as they climbed over and down the other side, doing quick math as they did. Though his own ship remained tilted at a steep diagonal angle, the anti-gravity systems inside the craft kept both he and Sam planted firmly in their seats as he slowed the ship to a crawl and entered an area where the crack between the sides of the canyon widened enough that he had a small margin for error on the next phase of his plan.

"What are you-?" Sam began.

Right on cue, he watched as the two dragonfly-like ships dropped into view, one behind the other.

"Shut. Up."

Now he waited to see if at least one of them would take the bait.

He kept his hands steady as the nearer of the two ships regarded him and slowly hovered closer, like a predator prowling forward to strike. Barnes found he could just barely make out the figures across the way in the other craft. His mind wasn't sure what he was looking for when he searched their faces, but he pushed away the part of him that sought to put names with them.

Barnes ignored their continued attempts to hail him as the ship slowly, steadily inched forward, positioning themselves to block his exit with the other ship supporting the closer craft.

He waited for what came next.

He didn't have to wait long.

As the first signs of light flickered to life from the opposing ship's weapons array, Barnes spun his own ship upwards through the crack like a frisbee, intentionally taking the hit on their shields rather than to allow the other ship to impact the surrounding rock with their cannons.

His ship barely rocked as a second surge of blue energy was discharged in a rapid barrage that struck their shields.

Barnes took advantage of the blindingly bright light show as he pivoted and he drove his ship forward, pummeling the rock above the nearest ship with a spray of return fire as he used the body of his own craft to momentarily pin them down. The competing shields sizzled and screamed as they made contact with one another and each fought to maintain stability. With calculated intention Barnes focus-fired an area above and behind the other craft, raining down large, tumbling rocks that slammed against their shields and pinned down the two nearest stabilizing wings of the craft before a second volley of loose rock locked them in place.

Sam was hollering something Barnes pointedly ignored as he concentrated on the console readouts, making a quick gesture with his wrist that spun his own craft around in place like a lightning-charged frisbee. Without a moment's hesitation, he gunned the thrusters and shot them straight back the way they came with every bit of speed the ship could muster, leaving the ailing ship in his wake as the nearby aircraft was given the choice to render aid or give chase the longer distance up and over the canyon.

"You're going to get us both killed!" Sam wailed as they streaked through the narrow crevice at a sharp vertical. All the while, the sharp sounds of stone cutting against the ship's shields echoed through the hull.

First off: The gravity in the Wakandan ship made no measurable amount of sense to one Sam Wilson. He'd been in enough aircraft in his life to understand the basic principles of how gravity and G-forces worked in-tune with one another, and the solemn, reliable truth that if you were moving fast enough, you would be pressed snuggly and safely against your seat. But the thing was: You still wore a pilot harness, because sudden changes in how you were flying could make things rocky, if not outright dangerous.

Now granted: up until this point, the only Wakandan ships he'd been in were the transport craft Nomble chauffeured them around in, and she'd kept those aircraft remarkably upright. He'd found it a little peculiar they didn't come standard with any sort of seatbelts, but the rides had been smooth enough he'd never thought it necessary to ask about such details.

But now? He was keenly aware something was peculiar about the gravity inside the craft. Part of him, the curious science kid and Air Force bits in him, wanted to figure out how in the hell someone had managed to make artificial gravity react so effortlessly. So naturally.

That being as it was: The wiser part of him was internally screaming, hoping to hell the system wasn't prone to glitch-out or fail entirely, because it wasn't like his hands would be much good if he needed to catch himself or grab on to anything.

As Barnes manipulated the gas and brakes like the sleek ship was some sort of glorified Wakandan go-cart, Sam could at least appreciate there were forces he didn't understand preventing him from being thrown out of his chair when they braked or banked too hard. He could also appreciate that as they cut through the rocky ravine at a speed no one had any business challenging a hellbent daredevil to, that in any other ship, turning the craft vertically for any amount of time would have certain to not only roll you sideways out of your seat, but drop your altitude since you didn't have the benefit of the wind under your wings keeping you aloft.

Instead, not only did the ship maintain precision-quality elevation as it skimmed diagonally through the air like some sort of vibranium hummingbird, the ride was so smooth that Sam somehow managed to scramble his ass into the chair so he could mime sitting cross-legged like Barnes was doing, because maybe the Winter Yoga Instructor over there knew something he didn't.

Sam rapidly concluded that sitting like this didn't get easier as you got older, especially when you didn't skip leg day, but if Barnes could manage it in those ridiculous skinny jeans of his, he wasn't about to tap out and admit defeat.

That aside, he hadn't seen this particular plan coming, and he certainly hadn't expected the follow-up move for the Maverick wannabee here to spin the ship around in place and shoot back the way they came at whatever ungodly speed the Wakandans measured terror by. He'd figured out where the readout was on the display by process of elimination, and he couldn't claim the Rosetta Stone's knowledge offered him a drop of comfort as he saw the digits continue to climb and the rocky shapes around them turned into a streaking blur of light and shadow. Barnes' right hand twitched this way and that, steering the ship into a series of blindingly quick adjustments to its angle and orientation to avoid colliding with the canyon walls.

If he never flew again, it would be too damn soon.

By the sound of the shields screaming a chorus of bloody murder not feet away from their heads, Sam felt pretty sure he was not only watching his life flash by his eyes yet again, but that they were liable to end up in a heap of rubble on the narrow stream-bed below.

At least if they died, it'd be over quick. That was a saving grace, right?

In the name of self-preservation if nothing else, Sam thought it best to keep his damn mouth shut as knockoff Han Solo here wove his way back the way they came at a speed this ship had no business being able to manage at such a sharp angle.

He felt like he hadn't blinked his eyes in ten minutes, but somehow he managed to pry his eyes off of the viewport long enough to note three other blue-marked ship outlines that were keying into their location. They were still a little ways off, but it was apparent they were intending to converge once they caught up to this ride from Hell. To be honest: Sam wasn't altogether sure what Barnes' next play here was, nor what the Wakandans were up to. Personally: his instincts were screaming that by stealing the armed ship, Barnes had gone from menace to outright dangerous, and he was pretty sure that things could get a lot worse if he opted to start doing more with those high-tech weapon systems beneath his fingertips.

That being as it was, he decided the best thing he could do was to be useful so maybe, just maybe they'd both survive the day, "There's two ships coming in from the South and one headed our way from the North East."

Barnes didn't take his attention off the view in front of him, but Sam saw T-1000's jaw twitch and his eyes narrow as they glimpsed the holographic display, no-doubt cross-checking Sam's observation. His cyborg brain was clearly struggling to compute why Sam'd thought to offer the statement, so Sam thought he'd help him along, "So the way I figure, is your mind's apparently insisting you have every reason to not trust me, just like I have every reason to not trust you. So the first step towards something better has to come from one of us. So if you're being straight with me, Barnes, that all you want to do is to get away, and you don't like hurtin' people, I'll take that over seeing us both dead and in the ground."

The man with Bucky's face didn't say anything to that.

There may have been an ocean between the two of them now, but it wasn't as if there hadn't been gaps between him and Bucky on other matters. They'd never talked much about those years he-Barnes-whoever- had been on the run and Steve'd tasked him to try and track the covert ex-assassin down. He'd been a ghost then in more ways than one, though.

Sam felt like he'd gotten close to at least sighting Bucky a few times over those years, though he'd never thought to ask the man himself if that'd been the case or not. But one thing he felt certain of was that the man on the run hadn't just been all spitfire and murder. He'd hidden himself away in warehouses, safe houses, and then eventually got up to the point where he had found a way to have a genuine place of his own out there in Romania. Sam'd seen glimpses of the interior thanks to Redwing, and while it wasn't much, wasn't what most would consider cozy or picturesque living: it was still a sort of quiet, ramshackle freedom from the demons HYDRA had nipping at his heels.

Until Zemo.

In fact: Now that he thought about it, back then they didn't really know why he was on the run and remarkably intent not to be found. Sam'd always found that strange. That if he'd recognized Steve, why hadn't he wanted to reconnect with his childhood best friend?

Though, to be fair: way back, he and Steve hadn't known about the code words, either. But it was obvious this guy Barnes did, though.

Which probably explained a least a fraction of why he was so intent to get away back then and even now. But it didn't explain why he hadn't tried to contact Steve back then, nor why he seemed so remarkably uninterested in wanting to fill in the blanks now.

For not the first time in the last 24-hours, Sam wished he'd had the clarity of thought to ask Bucky about some of this stuff, because not knowing the details was only making all of this worse.

Sam found himself trying to focus on that now, to try to separate his mind from the searing pain in his hands and the front of his face, and to try to imagine some uncomfortable possibilities he really didn't want to linger on. It was like intentionally putting your hand over a fire, knowing the flames were going to lap against your skin.

Like what if Barnes went on the run again and they weren't able to track him down when the world wasn't after him for an U.N. Bombing he didn't commit? What then?

Or what if Sam was misreading this sorry situation entirely and it was even worse than his bruised head was insisting?

Sam's attention returned to the hologram-augmented displays in front of him, "The ship coming in from the North East is moving clockwise to join the others from the South," he volunteered, trying to ignore the moths in his stomach that insisted being a passenger on this theme park ride was liable to make him want to give up flying altogether.

That assumed they survived.

And that they wouldn't have to amputate his hands.

Sam pushed that dark thought away before it could manifest itself into emotions he just didn't have time to explore at Mach Stupid, "Once we break through, they'll be out in the open a ways off to the South, unless they're going to try to hide under the treeline."

Barnes still wasn't saying anything, but he passed the spear to his right side and leaned it against the side of the cabin. It would have been ridiculous were it not for the surreal local gravity inside the ship. Then he flexed his vibranium hand tentatively and made a sweeping motion with it, bringing up a floating HUD display that began casually orbiting around his wrist. Sam wasn't altogether certain what to make of the additional holographic display, but moving the spear so it wasn't stationed a foot or so away from his face while on a high-speed chase was a decision he could get behind.

"I don't trust you," the sentient Roomba volunteered as the ship approached the exit of the crevice. "I know you're trying to manipulate me, and you'll do whatever it takes to save your own hide."

"Including saving your ungrateful ass, apparently," Sam coolly observed.

Barnes chewed his lip at the remark, and Sam couldn't help but think: Yeah, compute that.

Asshole.

Before either of them could say anything more, the ship shot out back into the ravine, but this time the Tin Man swerved left, heading them South: towards the waiting ships a distance off.

Sam frowned, "...Wait. What's your play here? That's heading us straight back where we came out of the mines."

Barnes didn't answer, he just lowered the nose of the ship towards the treeline below and gunned the throttle.

It took mere seconds for Barnes to make out the distinct shapes of the three new oncoming ships. One was another of those strange dragonfly-like fliers, while the other two were more sleek and aerodynamic fighters. They converged at an altitude midway between the crest of the surrounding canyons and the treetops below. The formation they set up was loose at best, speaking to pilots that weren't accustomed to tandem flight operations.

Interesting. Potentially useful.

The ships dove and slipped into a slightly higher elevation as they raced towards him. In response, Sam let out a noise that reminded him of air quickly escaping a balloon.

As soon as they were within range, the nearest ship discharged its weapon in a blast that exploded the space between them. It was a clear show of warning fire, but not one Barnes was particularly impressed by. His readout had already given him an overview of the capabilities of both types of ships, and while his own ship maintained a lower top-end speed, it had markedly better shielding and boasted what appeared to be stronger weapon accompaniment.

It was a nimble, flying tank, and he knew it.

The foremost ship dipped low as if it was intent on challenging him to a game of chicken.

They wouldn't dare.

The other two ships joined the dive and wove in front of him in tight formation spraying the air ahead with bolts of blue-white energy as a deterrent.

He silenced yet another incoming transmission notification, and growled when his pocket started buzzing.

As Barnes rolled into a spray of energy blasts to test their impact against the forward shields Sam Wilson had the nerve to ask, "...Is that your phone or mine?"

When the phone buzzed again and Barnes chose not to grace him with a response, but Sam summoned up his nasally voice again, "Goddamn it, so the other phone was mine? It wasn't insured. You could have at least had the courtesy to Xena: Warrior Princess your own damn phone."

Barnes muttered something as he reached around to his back pocket to pull out the other phone and see who was continuing to pester him in the middle of a dog fight.

Shuri.

He regarded the toothy face in the contact photo, trying to place the expression as he deliberated if there was any logistical value in answering this particular summons.

"Who's calling? Sam inquired.

Before he could stop himself from responding, Barnes barrel rolled the ship (earning him a squeal of shock from Sam) and returned fire, "Shuri. What's her role in all this?"

Sam Wilson offered him another one of those frustrating, layered looks of his, but he did answer, "She's a scientist. One of Wakanda's brightest. She's spent years working to remove the programming HYDRA put into you."

Barnes had been anticipating many possible replies, but that… hadn't been one of them. Programming? Why were he and Shuri intent to call it that, and how were they even aware of such classified topics if they claimed they weren't a part of HYDRA? It didn't add up.

A consideration for another time.

"You said she was royalty," he leveled accusingly at Sam.

"She's both."

Barnes narrowed his eyes as he regarded the buzzing phone in his left hand and the face in the photo. He felt like there was a faint recognition, and he decided it likely had to do with the cryo he'd recently undergone since she admitted to that much.

Fine.

He attempted to use the fingers of his left hand to answer the call. When that didn't work, he pressed the front of the device against the nearest knuckle of his right hand and hoped for the best. What backwards technology didn't have a tactile button input?

And why could he swear he felt some of the weight of it in his left hand?

At this, the video call connected, and he glowered into the device, seeking to get the jump on the conversation, "Call them off," he demanded, forcing intention into his voice.

The woman on the other end appeared to be standing in an indoor location as opposed to the grass outside the HYDRA installation. She quickly shook her head, her voice apologetic, "I cannot. The General-"

He started to move his finger to end the call, but Sam's voice cut in from his left, "He goes by Barnes."

The man in question narrowed his eyes, glancing to Sam as he tried to determine the motivation behind the statement and whether it was deserving of swift retaliation.

"Barnes," Shuri repeated, her expression shifting again, "We do not wish to harm you, but we can neither allow you to kidnap Sam Wilson nor lay claim to that stolen aircraft."

Sam cut in, "I'm a willing hostage, Shuri. Don't worry about me."

Barnes struggled to understand the implications behind such a statement. What their exchange a code of some sort? "Not another word," he warned Sam before turning his attention back to Shuri's figure on the phone's display. There was a very particular sort of unease her appearance brought up in him. He wasn't certain why, but he felt it, "And don't play dumb. I don't care what you want to call yourself or what organization you claim to work for. I know you've done things to me." He darkened his tone, "Last chance: Call them off."

"I'm sorry, I-"

He ended the call, snarling something as he pocketed the phone and sent a glare at Sam, "So now you're suddenly a willing hostage? That's not a thing."

"That's definitely a thing," Sam countered.

"No, it's not."

"Well, I figure it's the best chance of keeping your sorry, unappreciative, amnesiatic ass alive."

A renewed rattle of energy bursts drew Barne's attention back to the continuing game of cat and mouse going on outside. His mind tried to put aside Sam Wilson's manipulative rambling long enough that he could watch for patterns in what the other ships were seeking to accomplish with their antics.

As he dodged and maneuvered, they would try to match his movements and block him from going further South or West, but if he backpedaled further North in the ravine, they ate up the distance willingly.

They were herding him while they slowly depleted his shields. Once they picked away the shields…

He could take one of them, maybe two, but he'd lose a slow battle of attrition, and he was certain at least one of the ships was capable of higher speeds than his own.

The shield health display dropped from 93.0% to 92.7%.

"They're trying to wear us down," Sam observed, stating the obvious, "Do you have an actual plan?"

Barnes frowned, using his left hand to zoom the map further out. He regarded it with critical intention, and seeing nothing, he pulled back to an even wider view.

Then he saw it. A distance behind those ships was a large standing city. That was what they were seeking to deter him from.

He looked out at the three ships dancing around him and ran numbers through his head. Based on their current energy output and his remaining shields, he had maybe another five to ten minutes left of sustained fire before the shields would be fully depleted.

He also determined that likewise: They were unlikely to be so eager to use their offensive weapons in a populated location that could be subject to friendly fire.

So without another moment's hesitation, he waited for his opening. When he saw it, he unleashed a volley of short range missiles, triggering their secondary explosives prematurely in a blinding white burst of energy.

He rolled right, pivoting the nose of the ship up as he hit the thrusters for everything they were worth and coaxed the ship into a steep climb up and over the Western edge of the ravine…

...and straight towards the city of Birnin Zanai the distance.

Nomble was thankful Shuri had thought to keep their shared communication channel open when she'd tried again to break through to the man they pursued, but she did not know what to think of Sam Wilson's declaration of the name he wished to be known by.

Once the call ended, Shuri was the first to speak through their communicators, "Did he ever show preference for that name before? I had thought to call him Sergeant Barnes out of respect when he first came to Wakanda, but he was quick to correct me that he preferred Bucky or James."

"I cannot think of any time he requested 'Barnes,'" Nomble admitted.

"Nor I," Yama agreed.

"It is a family name," Ayo observed, her voice clear and crisp in Nomble's ear, "Do we know what name he went by in the time between?"

"I do not think such a topic came up outside of the memories we logged, but I will look," Shuri assured her. While Nomble's attention was focused on piloting the aircraft, she was certain that back at the Design Center, Shuri was calling up countless logs to try to search for the term, "His mind and memories were more fully-formed by the time he first arrived in Wakanda."

"He did not speak much of the time between," Yama noted.

"The time between?" Teela's voice inquired in Nomble's ear. For a moment she had forgotten Teela was unaware of such unusual details of James' complicated life.

Ayo answered, no doubt because Shuri's attention was well-occupied, "A period of about two years spanning from when HYDRA last wiped his mind, to when Zemo activated him using the sleeper code words."

"Prior to when he arrived in Wakanda," Yama helpfully supplied. "Is that when we think this mind's core is carbon dated from? Sometime within those years?"

"But with more recent knowledge as well," Nomble observed. She was about to say something else when she finally got a visual on the stolen experimental ship just in time to see it break off from the three allied aircraft as it headed West over the crest of the far edge of the ravine, "He appears to have changed course and is now heading towards Birnin Zanai." She adjusted their heading to match, double-checking that they remained cloaked as she did.

"Towards the city?" Shuri asked, obviously scrambling to confirm it on her end, "But why? We believed he wished to escape. Why would he intentionally head towards Birnin Zanai?"

"I do not know," Ayo admitted before stating the obvious before them, "But Okoye will see them shot down long before they can get close and more lives are put at risk."

Nomble felt her stomach lurch, but she knew the statement to be true.

"Can you catch them before they enter the surrounding airspace?" Shuri's voice was a silent plea.

"Yes," Nomble promised, fine tuning the Sun Falcon's flight path to account for their new trajectory and make it in the shortest time possible. "Start planning for what we will do when we catch up with them, and let the ships pursuing know what we do here so they do not fire upon us by accident because they cannot see us on their sensors."

She would not let Sam Wilson nor her 'isalamane sentliziyo' meet the ancestors today if she had anything to do with it.

Author's Remarks:

I did a little ~2 hour speedpainting tonight to go along with this chapter... just because. :) You can see it posted alongside this chapter on ArchiveOfOurOwn (Ao3).

* Isalamane Sentliziyo - Wakandan Translation: Kin of the Heart

I feel like of all the names for Barnes that Sassy Sam's had (Thank you PX9 for that term for Sam! ;D), Barnes "the sentient Roomba" remains one of my standing favorites.

I'd also say at least Sam's hit a bit of a relationship milestone here with his new approach of trying to "help" Barnes. And likewise: Whether Sam's aware of it or not, Barnes has a fair amount of introspection going on. It's actually kind of sad to think Barnes was maybe even feeling a bit bad (in his own way) about Sam's hands, and Sam mistakenly interpreted the attention as having ill intentions. :(

If you'd told me a little over four months ago that I'd be writing, of all things, flight combat scenes between Sam, Bucky, and the Dora Milaje, I would… not have seen this particular turn of events coming. But now that we're here? I hope you enjoy these action-packed sections as well as the follow-up!

And good news: The next chapter is already well-underway and I hope to post it later this weekend before I head out of town on a short trip (my first mini-vacation of the year!). :)

I can rarely listen to music with lyrics when I write, but in the aftermath of writing this chapter, I *totally* admit to pulling up "Danger Zone," by Kenny Loggins from the Top Gun soundtrack just for the nostalgia hit.

As always, thank you so much for the comments, questions, discussions, kudos, and kind words of support. It means *so* much and helps keep me energized for this writing adventure and the journey ahead of us.