Cloaked by the moonless night, Captain America and his team trek through high snow, wind howling through naked trees and green pines, masking every noise they could make; communication is out of the question, right now. It's not enough to break their resolve.
"If it goes down one more degree I'm blasting out of here," Stark notifies them through the comms. Barton snorts a quiet laugh that crackles in their ears. Steve doesn't pay any mind to the comment.
According to Natasha's info, they should be nearing the safe house. He takes one more look at the screen of his phone: the blue arrow that represents their position is getting closer to the red dot that represents the HYDRA property. Steve's heart pumps with anticipation, blood rushing in his ears.
Less than two days ago, Natasha's intelligence supplied her with information about an incident that had taken place in an Indiana town. A woman, Amanda Clarke, had arrived at one of the town's diners, out of breath and visibly distressed. She had asked for someone to call the police; her mother, Maggie Clarke, had just been killed. Natasha's "guy" had said that Amanda had needed to be stopped from fleeing the diner after realizing she had left her mother in the woods. The cops had arrived quickly and, led by Amanda, the authorities along with an ambulance had arrived at the place where Maggie's body was supposed to be laying. They only found a dead deer and Amanda's own hunting rifle.
Nat's informant had got an opportunity to talk with Amanda, and the woman had described how she hadn't heard any shots or seen anyone else in the clearing. It wasn't much information, Steve will admit that, but after two weeks of scheming and planning without getting any clues of where the Winter Soldier could be hiding, Steve was eager enough to follow any clue.
"There," Natasha says with an even voice. Steve believes his voice would have faltered if he had tried to say anything at the moment.
His heart beats with violence against his chest. Steve takes a deep breath and steps forward, not even aware that he had stopped walking. His blood is boiling and he's ready to face the Soldier—Sam's bloody face jumps at the front of his mind and Steve feels his control falter, fists clenching at his sides. His march becomes more urgent, his three teammates having to jog through the snow to catch up with him.
The booby traps they encounter are easy to deactivate or just avoid. The cabin has been built in such a secluded and hard-to-reach place that HYDRA probably felt too confident and thought it would be enough for the place to stay unsurveyed. Maybe when it was built they weren't counting on Tony Stark using his technology to locate them.
Steve lets slip a vicious smirk.
When they're close enough to discern a figure through a window, Steve raises a hand. Once everyone has stopped, he crouches and waits for the rest to follow suit. Stark opens his faceplate to let Steve see his unimpressed expression; all the same, he makes an effort and crouches with them, planting a metal hand on the snow in front of him so as not to topple over.
"Stark," Steve addresses, "I need you to scan the cabin and tell me how many people you detect."
Stark does just that, turning his head in the direction of the cabin, probably asking J.A.R.V.I.S. to localize all the occupants. "Two," Stark announces after a few seconds. Steve nods.
"Okay, then this is probably going to be easier than we thought."
"I think you just jinxed us, Captain," Natasha teases him. Even in the dark, Steve can see her playful smirk; he answers with one of his own.
"Stark, you blast the door open. Hawkeye, you use your Taser arrows on the HYDRA agents; Nat and I will take over after that."
"It's actually called electro-arrow," Barton clarifies after the three have nodded their agreement. Steve stares at him in silence. "But Taser-arrow is better." Pause. "Though I'm not sure if it would be legal to use a registered trademark."
After that, the four Avengers rise to their feet and, with smooth and synchronized movements make their way to the cabin.
"I'm not liking this," Stark comments through their intercoms, voice strained. Steve agrees with him on this one but doesn't dare to voice it. It's not only because he fears someone will hear him, but because sudden superstition blinds him.
Once they're in front of the door, Iron Man charges his blasters (even if the agents hear it, they won't have enough time to do anything to stop what's about to happen) and shoots the door off its hinges. Hawkeye only has to fire one Electro-arrow, the door having already put the woman out of commission.
Steve enters, immediately followed by Natasha, Barton, and Stark. Natasha picks up the woman, knocked out cold, and drops her on a chair. Barton takes rope out of his backpack and hands it over to Natasha who proceeds to use it to tie the woman firmly to the chair. Steve lifts the man from the floor and follows suit, dragging his chair near the unconscious woman.
"I don't like this, Cap," Stark says, faceplate open. He's looking at the bloody face of the HYDRA agent, pensive and somewhat troubled. "None of these idiots look like a Winter Soldier to me."
Steve had reached the same conclusion the moment they incapacitated the two agents in two minutes.
With the two agents secured to the chairs, the Avengers inspect the cabin. It's an open plane and quite luxurious. The only thing that stands out is the equipment on the far wall, an ensemble of monitors, computers, and an odd-looking chair. Stark is already taking a look at all of it, keeping a quiet conversation with J.A.R.V.I.S.
"I think I'm going to snack something while we wait for these two to wake up," Barton says over his shoulder, head inside the fridge. Steve grunts an unintelligible response.
He doesn't know how to feel. Part of him is furious that they didn't come in time, while a different part feels defeated. They have to take with them the two HYDRA operatives and hand them over to S.H.I.E.L.D., but then Pierce will know that Steve acted against orders and dragged with himself two of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s best agents. He had expected a similar outcome but he'd had in mind that they would be coming back with the Winter Soldier himself—dead or alive.
Just when he sinks on the couch, cowl resting on his left, Steve hears Stark make a sound of excitement, like a kid who's been given for Christmas exactly what he wanted. Steve turns over to see what is going on and that's the exact moment when Stark pulls a book from the bookcase and said bookcase moves to reveal a…
"Yes! I love secret passages!" Barton cheers, forgetting on a kitchen counter the sandwich he was assembling. He jogs to the library where Stark is waiting for him with a raised arm so the marksman can high-five his armored hand.
"Me, too," Stark says while they peer into the darkness. From where Steve stands, he thinks he can make out a flight of stairs.
Steve and Natasha make their way to their teammates, curious and eager to see the new discovery. Stark lets out a long whistle. "It looks like there's a whole level down there."
"Maybe they have a sex dungeon," Natasha surprises them saying, an eerie smile pulling at her lips. The three men look at her in petrified silence until Natasha laughs at their faces. "We better take a look. I think Clint and I should stay here with our prisoners while you two go down and inspect."
Steve nods his agreement. "Come on, Stark."
"Only if you call me Nancy," Stark quips. Steve understands the reference and he probably would laugh if it wasn't for the sense of foreboding he's experiencing, a knot in his stomach pulling him down the stairs.
"Actually," Stark calls out before they take the first step. Steve turns and looks at him, expectant. "I think Natasha should be your partner." Nat raises an eyebrow. "You've been all buddy-buddy lately; it seems smarter."
Steve and Nat share a look and shrug. "I guess it's wiser to not mix confined spaces and the armor."
"Oh my God! Was that a wisecrack?"
Steve doesn't answer but neither prevents Stark from catching his little smirk, and he and Natasha descend the steps. The staircase ends in a hall with stone walls and stone ceiling. There's probably some kind of illumination but they don't want to warn anyone of their presence. Maybe Steve still has a chance to make pay the Winter Soldier for putting his friend in the hospital.
With their steps resonating on the damp walls, Steve and Natasha move swiftly until the corridor spits them into a wider chamber. Natasha uses her flashlight to illuminate better for the two of them. There are a bunch of crates in one corner (ones they will inspect and take care of if needed) and a rat in the opposite. There is a metal door at the left with an inscription almost completely erased by the passage of time; the right side takes them to a different hall.
"You think we should split?" Natasha asks, eyeing one side of the room and then the opposite. "Cover more ground."
She doesn't sound that convinced and Steve understands her uncertainty. They can't know if HYDRA reinforcements are on their way and the four of them aren't on an official Avengers or S.H.I.E.L.D. mission so no one is going to come to their aid. They have to cover ground as quick as possible.
"You take the left, I'll go right."
Natasha gives a firm nod and pushes through the heavy door. Steve doesn't wait any longer and takes right, his own flashlight illuminating his path.
"Hey, guys," Stark says through the comm. "Just so you're aware, Clint broke one of his hearing aids."
Steve hears Natasha sigh and then she says, "How?"
"Sleeping beauty woke up and tried to bite Clint's ear off. Good thing she wasn't expecting to chip a tooth with his aids."
"Okay, Stark. Don't take your eyes off those two and try to get some information out of them," Steve instructs, legs striding faster as he sees where the hall leads to. "What they're doing here, where is their boss…"
"Why do they have a sex dungeon," Natasha chimes in and Steve can picture her smirk.
"How are things going on your end, Romanov?"
The empty cells at right and left start blurring.
"Boring. It looks like a storage room but it's almost empty, only some old equipment remaining. I'm not sure they use this sex dungeon anymore."
Steve takes a right turn, a different door coming into view just some feet away. He halts to a stop, having a hunch that this one won't lead him to a dead end. The door looks heavy and it's shut with a metal bar. Steve puts an ear to the door, trying to hear anything. Silence.
"You want me to come, Rogers?" Natasha asks and Steve can already make out through the comm that she's walking, probably in his direction.
"Yeah," he answers a little winded.
He places the steel bar on the floor as silently as possible. There's no chance the door, old and rusted, won't screech when pushed open.
"What's that sound?"
He called it.
Steve steps into the room, lips parted and ready to give Nat an answer when the air is knocked out of his lungs and he lands on his stomach after being flung against a wall. His flashlight rolls on the ground, illuminating bare legs that are striding with purpose towards Steve.
"Steve, what was that?" Natasha asks more urgently but Steve can't answer at the moment.
Recovering from his previous surprise, Steve gets his hands and knees under his body and lifts himself from the ground just in time to block a kick to the stomach, closely followed by a fist to the face. The blows are so rapidly fired that Steve can't find a moment to grab his shield from his back. A kick followed by a fist followed by another kick and then an unexpected headbutt that comes out of left field and probably breaks Steve's nose.
Steve recuperates quickly from the blow and jumps back, expecting another hit or two, but they never come. With the flashlight still on the floor and his sight not having had a moment to adjust, Steve needs a second to understand why the man isn't attacking him again.
The man in question is completely naked save for a pair of boxers. Steve hadn't had an opportunity to pay real attention to the guy's appearance but now he has no difficulty spotting the blood that's covering him. For a second he feels like he's been transported to a completely different place, one he has no context to attach to.
The man takes an uncoordinated step back, blinking furiously with a scowl creasing his forehead, and then tumbles forward. Steve reacts on pure instinct and catches him before he face-plants on the hard ground. He lowers the stranger to the floor. Maybe all the blood is a product of the guy's missing left arm. Steve stares in horror at the mangled shoulder that's left, scars reaching the left side of his chest and ribs. Even through his gloves, Steve can tell that the man's body is as cold as an icicle.
He hears Natasha's hurried steps before she finally appears on the doorway and uses her own flashlight to inspect the room and its two current occupants. "Is he a prisoner?" is the first thing Natasha says, already having made sure that Steve is okay.
Steve understands why she would reach that conclusion, taking into account that the man is sporting green, blue and black shades from head to toe, as well as gashes that vary on their severity.
"I don't know," Steve answers sincerely.
The man opens his eyes with some difficulty and labored respiration and without missing a beat strikes Steve right on the face. He's weaker than a minute ago but his strength is not the one of a normal man. Steve pulls away from the dark-haired man, letting him slip to the cold floor. He hovers over the stranger, Natasha's flashlight pointing right at his face. Steve refrains from gasping.
"Steve, I think he's…"
"Yeah," is the only thinks he says, voice strained and body tensing up as if it's preparing for a fight. It wouldn't make a lot of sense; it looks like someone made it to HYDRA's assassin before them.
"You think an enemy decided to exert some revenge on him?" Steve asks, looking at every visible wound, trying to convince himself this is as satisfying as if he had inflicted them with his own hands.
Natasha doesn't answer right away, the beam of her flashlight sweeping the room. Steve sees chains and shackles on the far wall but nothing else, the room bare and unforgiving. Regardless of that part of him that thinks "good, that's what someone like him deserves," there's a small piece of him that's trying to understand what exactly happened here. It doesn't add up.
"I don't know what to think," Natasha answers.
Her light returns to the dirty face of the Winter Soldier; it seems he has passed out. Steve has the vicious wish for the Soldier to recover consciousness just so he can probe his battered side with his booted foot. None of his suffering was caused because he almost killed Sam.
"Hey, how are things going down there?" Stark questions, pulling Steve out of his dark thoughts.
"We found him," Natasha relays the news. She doesn't look as happy as someone who just caught a serial killer should feel. She seems like someone trying to solve an equation with not enough data. Steve wants to ask her what she's thinking but knows now it's not the best moment.
"…You found who?"
"The Winter Soldier," Steve confirms, lifting the dead weight and throwing it over his shoulder.
"Clint asks if you're sure it's him."
"He has enhanced strength, for starters," Steve explains, following Natasha back to their teammates, "and he hasn't died from hypothermia down here."
"How did you beat him?" Stark asks, tone curious and devoid of its usual cockiness.
"I didn't, someone else already did it before we got here. I think I just tired him out." He makes a pause, thinking back about the fight. "He head-butted me but knocked himself out."
Steve hears Stark laugh without the need of the comm. "Oh, Clint is gonna love that one."
"And he's missing his metal arm," Natasha adds.
Stark doesn't ask anything else, most certainly having enough information to mull over for the next five minutes or less and something to tell Barton. He and Natasha keep silent on their way back. Even though the Soldier's body is cold as ice, Steve feels like his skin is being branded with a hot iron where it comes in contact with the other man.
They finally climb the last stair—Steve looks back at the dark space behind the library and feels relief that he won't be going down there any time soon. Barton and Stark hover near him, trying to get a glimpse of the Winter Soldier's face. Steve dumps him on the couch and, with his free hands, he resets his broken nose. He brushes the tears off and looks down at the Soldier. His teammates are as lost as him.
"This feels anticlimactic," Stark voices everyone's thoughts. He seems to have that gift, even if he could do with some more tact.
The four Avengers stare at the unconscious man, unsure of what to say or do—what's the procedure? Steve knows he's not the only one thinking that this wasn't supposed to go down like this. They were going to find the Winter Soldier and have an arduous fight that would take for them to act as a team to beat HYDRA's most impressive goon. Instead, they acquire two useless HYDRA pawns and find the Winter Soldier already defeated, locked in a damp cell.
"You found him down there?" Barton asks, reading everyone's mind and voicing the one piece that doesn't fit.
"Yes. Behind a metal door secured by a metal bar," Steve fills in the details. "He attacked me the moment I set foot in the cell."
Steve wishes Sam was here with them, giving his own insight on the situation.
"We better get going," Natasha breaks them off their musings.
They set to work.
The two HYDRA agents are tied up and muzzled. Their eyes are wide open, clearly fixated on the Soldier's form. They share a panicked look. Steve files it for later. Maybe they're scared of him.
"Clint and I will go bring the quinjet," Natasha informs and a minute later they're gone.
The cabin stays silent while they wait. Not really worried about the two people tied up, Steve and Stark hover over the Soldier's prone body, heedful that he doesn't regain consciousness and tries one more time to kill them. The guy is in such bad shape, lying face down and bleeding over the couch cushions, that Steve has to remind his overworked brain of all the things this man has done—and those are only the ones they know of. All the same, Steve turns him on his back.
"How do you tie a one-armed person?" Stark ponders out loud. Steve responds with a dry look. "I'll watch a video tutorial." This is followed by his faceplate being shut.
Steve considers it safe to take his eyes off the HYDRA bandog and grabbing the tied-up people by their shirts—both kicking and trying to break free—he drags and dumps them in front of the door. The sooner they get away from this place, the better. His eyes keep returning to the Soldier's slack face.
"Keep an eye on them," he instructs Stark.
Steve goes to the first closed door which leads to a bathroom. He inspects quickly, not even sure what he expects to find. It's clear these people don't live here so he doesn't find any personal belongings beyond an unlabeled bottle of pills, two toothbrushes, and toothpaste. Next, he steps through the remaining door; it opens into a spacious bedroom with two queen beds. There are some clothes scattered around. He inspects the drawers, looks under the beds, searches for loose floorboards… He finds nothing. Then he collects the two visible traveling bags and carries them to the living room, dropping them in front of the couch.
He hears Stark scoff behind him. "They packed up a bag like someone going on a short vacation."
The fire looks more alive; Steve assumes Stark must have manipulated it while he was exploring the cabin.
Steve unzips one of the bags and pulls out the clothes, throwing them by his side without any care. When he finds nothing useful he searches the exterior pockets. He doesn't find anything in the first one and then repeats the process with the blue bag. He tosses all the clothes out and explores the inside pockets.
"Anything juicy?"
"Here." Steve hands over a red pen drive.
"Oh, thank you. I didn't get you anything, honey." Steve feels lightheaded after the events of the day so he decides that laughing at one of Stark's jokes won't be an idea worse than what he's already done behind S.H.I.E.L.D.'s back.
"You can give it back then," Steve teases with a tired smile.
Stark draws the little device to his armored chest and takes a step back. "No, no, I'll buy you flowers. Now I'll feed this to my A.I. Later we can read some HYDRA Christmas tales. What do you think, guys?" Stark asks the two gagged. The man looks at him with a scowl and the woman, even with her bloodied face, finds it in herself to convey her annoyance with a roll of her eyes.
"That bad, huh?" Steve says. Stark huffs a short laugh but doesn't seem in the mood of drawing out the interaction. They all know what the three have been doing the last few days.
It isn't much longer until they hear the quinjet land and then Natasha and Barton are giving them a hand with the two prisoners. Steve carries the Soldier into the quinjet's medical bay and deposits him into a bed; the other two are deposited each in a seat and then secured to them with the seatbelts.
"We'll be taking off any minute now," Barton informs, already having replaced his broken hearing aid with a new one. Natasha accommodates herself on the co-pilot seat.
Once Stark is out of his armor, the two remaining standing pick a seat for the takeoff.
"You know something isn't right, don't you?" Stark comments off-handedly. Steve is aware that the engineer is looking at him closely, waiting for a reaction. Steve looks at him, lips forming a thin line.
"I do," Steve confirms. "I just can't put my finger on what exactly," he admits through his teeth, finally voicing it. It's not only that something is wrong, is that Steve cannot figure out what it is. It's like it's staring him right in the face.
"Well," Stark says, eyes flying over Steve's face. "Maybe we will find something useful in that little gift you gave me."
This time, Steve thinks he sees Stark's flippant banter for what it is; a way to say "don't worry, we will find something," but without using those exact words. Maybe all of Stark's camaraderie has been lost in translation.
Steve answers with a grateful smile. Both men look at each other for a second, both as if seeing the other for the very first time, or at least in a different light. Both glance in the opposite direction when the atmosphere turns a bit too heartfelt for them.