- PART THREE -

- I AM BECOME DEATH, DESTROYER OF WORLDS -

Chapter Twenty-One
✭

Bodies littered the floor.

Steve lifted his hand from the neck of a man at his feet, pulse empty, and kept moving. No time to linger on any of the dead, and he doubted they'd find anyone alive. He hadn't even reached the vault yet, but he already dreaded what he was going to find.

Sam was directly behind him, covering his back. They hadn't spotted any signs of life. No attackers were found. All the bodies were of men and women sent to handle the containment breach; all either killed by hand or with their own weapons. Quick, efficient, professional. He knew this handiwork like a cold chill down his spine.

The sublevel halls were filled with an unearthly silence. Just the sound of their footsteps, the undulating klaxons, the rumble of the circulation system, pumping in cool, dry air. No one besides him and Sam still breathing, but Steve knew Bucky hadn't left the building yet. Sharon speaking in his ear, reporting no exit sensors (doors, windows, vents) had been activated. So, he must still be inside somewhere.

She had been the one to give Steve and Sam the go-ahead to investigate when both tactical units sent down failed to report back. Steve didn't believe Sharon got Ross' exact approval for that, and he didn't hang around to find out.

Within the actual vault itself, the cavernous room filled with the first tactical unit - Steve found no one he wanted to find. The metal cube that had been Bucky's cell was smashed and broken from the inside out, glass everywhere. The table and chair overturned; the doctor's recording device smashed to bits. But the doctor himself was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Bucky. Or Mia.

What the hell happened?

"Steve, I don't like this," Sam said behind him, looking around warily. "Where's Barnes? Where did he take them?"

"I don't know." Steve didn't know if Bucky - the Winter Soldier - could take anyone anywhere. He wouldn't hurt Mia, Steve knew for certain, and it was possible she'd follow him of her own volition; but the doctor? Steve couldn't explain that. To kill him or leave him behind, perhaps, but to take the stranger as well made no sense.

What also didn't make sense is if, and how, was the Winter Soldier activated. As under pressure as Bucky had been, Steve did not believe any amount of said stress would have pushed the man to kill all these people. Well, unless they were threatening Mia. But still. And if it was the Winter Soldier, what happened? No one else in that room knew the trigger phrase. Had reliving bad memories brought the assassin to the forefront, literally? Steve didn't want to believe so, but he honestly didn't know how it worked. And he's not sure he liked the alternative option, either. That Bucky just… chose to do this, to kill so many people, when he had tried so hard to move away from the weapon HYDRA turned him into.

The back of his neck tingled. Something felt wrong here, wrong in a way that no logical explanation could wash away.

Steve heard the shift in movement before he saw it. From the corner of his eye, a shadow separating itself from the darkness. Steve saw it just in time to knock Sam out of the way from the incoming attack.

But Steve didn't have his shield. It was still locked up somewhere, along with Sam's wings and the Wakandan king's catsuit. So, Steve took the full force of the ambush, taking the brunt of it in his shoulder, and it sent him right off his feet.

Steve crashed onto his back, winded. No average person could knock him down like that. It took him a second to recover, hearing the bootsteps coming closer. Steve looked up, wincing, seeing that familiar face. "Bucky, wait —"

But only dead eyes met his.

He wasn't Bucky anymore.

~o~

Howie spun in that office chair for the hundredth rotation.

Time moved slowly in that windowless room. Calling it an office room was a joke. It was a glorified cell with fancy furniture. The rooms were soundproof. For private meetings, perhaps. But also to keep someone inside from hearing what's going on outside. At least the wall facing the hallway was mostly glass, so Howie could still look out. People rushing back and forth. The power had gone out ten minutes ago and no one had bothered to come around and tell Howie what to do. Except his dad, of course. Just told Howie to sit tight, buddy, we got this handled. It sounded like a lie.

But he trusted his father. Dad. Pops. Sometimes just Tony. Tony Stark was like that, preferred being called his first name as opposed to anything he deemed weird, like Father or Mr. Stark. Howie didn't know if Tony actually liked being called Tony by his own son, but Howie also had his father's name, and maybe that was pretty weird for Tony, too. He had never called Howie by his given name, Howard.

Agent Carter had told him to stay in here as well, where it was safe. But Howie didn't feel very safe, not knowing what was going on. He wasn't sure if he trusted Agent Carter, whose side she was really on. She used to be SHIELD, and now she was CIA. Working alongside Interpol, she acted as a liaison for General Ross, whom Howie didn't trust at all.

When it came down to it, who would she choose in the end?

Howie didn't want to be in the position to find out. He was getting sick of sitting around, and Mia's words still played over and over in his head. If Mia were in his position, would she just sit there and do nothing?

No, she wouldn't.

Getting up from his chair, Howie peered out the window into the hallway. To the left, he could see the great atrium that made for the entrance of the Interpol headquarters, still brightly lit thanks to the skylights above. The red lights still flashed, some kind of security breach.

But the PA system was in German and Howie understood only some of the words. Some kind of danger, but locking in place rather than evacuating. What lights remained flickered on the straining backup generators.

There was some activity going on outside. What looked like a SWAT team, maybe several. He didn't see anyone he recognized. What kind of trouble were they in? Were Steve and his teammates still under arrest? If there was danger, would Ross allow them out to help? Howie guessed otherwise.

On the door, there was a keypad on both sides. It didn't respond to Howie's touch, and the door was certainly locked from the outside. It was possible the electronic lock was dead, maybe a manual one in place that he couldn't see from this side. The keypad sat on a metal plate, easily removed to reveal a baseplate screwed in all four corners. Tiny, miniscule screws.

Luckily, Howie always kept his handy-dandy mini tool set on him at all times. Howie knew he and Mia didn't have much in common; he didn't know Krav Maga, he couldn't kill a man with a letter opener, nor was he equipped with super strength; but Howie would get through this door just like she would. Just a little slower.

Removing the plate revealed a series of wires and a chipboard, rather simple in design considering its fancy, high-tech exterior. With a few sparks from the cut wires tapped together, Howie felt the click of the lock. Very slowly, he tested the handle, and it gave way. Howie peered out, checking to see if the way was clear. No sooner had he stepped out did his hearing aids pick up on shouting, rising in intensity and getting closer.

Alarmed, and without much of a plan in mind, Howie rushed out. He had some vague idea of getting out of the building with the intention of escape, of somehow getting back to the team, and telling them — telling them what? Howie didn't even know. He just knew something was very wrong and Mia was in trouble and they had to do something about it.

There was a spat of gunfire, only to be cut short, a distant yell. In the time it took for Howie to cross the hallway into the atrium, it had been completely evacuated - only moments ago it had been filled with people. Regular office folk just trying to do their work in the midst of a crisis. But now all that had changed, in mere seconds.

Barnes appeared out of nowhere. A blur of violence, bodies flying before he appeared at the top of the stairwell - having fought the entire way up from the vault several floors below. Howie didn't see Steve or Sam anywhere in sight.

Howie barely had time to get out of the way - throwing himself backwards, crawling and scrambling on his hands and knees, tucking himself into the nearest corner he could find: a waist high counter, the interior of which had shelves of bottles and liquids. Neither the short wall nor the bottles would provide much defense if any bullets were fired through.

Still, Howie grabbed one of the bottles, holding it in his two fists, holding it up against his shoulder as if he might take a swing at the Winter Soldier should he get too close. The silliness of such an attempt wasn't lost on him, but Howie was terrified out of his mind - he couldn't see the fighting, but he could hear it. The crash of glass and furniture. Grunts of impact, smacks and thumps of physical contact. The crack of something being smashed into the marble tile.

A tremendous crash rocked the wall, sending bottles flying and crashing to the floor. Glass shattered everywhere, various liquids splashing.

And there he was, standing over Howie. Bucky Barnes. The Winter Soldier. A massive shadow looming over him; pale, dead, empty eyes gazing down at him, the light gleaming off that metal arm.

Howie's breath caught in his throat, and he raised his improvised weapon, not to strike, but merely to protect. As if it would be of any defense.

The Winter Soldier blinked.

"Get away from him!"

Tony came almost out of nowhere, stumbling in his loafers and finely tailored suit — always looks nice, but was always so well-fitted to the point of being inflexible, as was now the case. Over one hand was a gauntlet, one of Tony's spare Iron Man units, just enough to fire a small repulsor blast at the Winter Soldier.

Enough to absorb the bullet when the Winter Soldier pulled the trigger from the gun Howie hadn't seen.

It effectively knocked the Winter Soldier back far enough to put Howie out of his line of sight. Howie was already scrambling to his feet when Agent Carter appeared from nowhere, clamped a hand down on Howie's shoulder so hard as to bruise, and hauled him out of there.

Howie tried to look back over his shoulder as Agent Carter dragged him away, wanting to make sure his dad was alright. Tony had been knocked to the floor, but was still moving — the Winter Soldier was already half-way across the room in what felt like an impossibly short amount of time. Howie watched in mute shock as what appeared to be King T'Challa dropped down the glass staircase to intercept, exhibiting some kind of superhuman strength and grace himself.

"Stay here!" Agent Carter shoved him into a tight alcove. "Don't move!"

This time, Howie did listen. Sort of. He still peeked his head out to watch, although there wasn't much of a fight left to witness. The Winter Soldier managed to escape the building, and reinforcements were already arriving in the atrium, with none other than Secretary Ross himself.

The once pristine room was now in shambles, marble flecked with bullet holes, cracks and broken glass everywhere, furniture tossed about like there'd been a tornado. Ross was shouting orders, while Natasha helped Tony to his feet, Italian suit officially ruined. It was such a cacophony that Howie couldn't make out much, even with adjusting his hearing aids.

He wanted to get out and get closer to hear, to understand — but very soon it became plainly evident that things were not going well. Ross and Tony were arguing. Steve and Sam were nowhere in sight. No one came back with the Winter Soldier captured.

"— want immediate lockdown, I want any and all parties contained —" Ross, shouting orders. "— get Rogers and Wilson back in cuffs, I want status updates on the other Enhanced —"

"— Status updates? They're not even in the damn country —!" Tony's voice broke through. He was nearly a full head shorter than Ross, but his dramatic gesticulations made him easy to spot.

"— Mr. Secretary, our only concern is Barnes —" Natasha tried to add, her cheek cut and bruised, her clothes torn in parts from her encounter with the Winter Soldier. "— None of the other Avengers are a danger in this situation —"

"Aren't they, Miss Romanoff?" Ross fired back, before turning to another officer. "I want men in New York locking down that tower. No one gets in or out."

"You can't do that! You don't have the authority!" Tony snapped. "There's innocent people working there! Regular people!"

"And Avengers, too, I'm sure." Ross countered. "Carter, arrest him."

"What?" Tony yelped, at the same time as Natasha and Agent Carter.

"You heard me, that man flagrantly broke the law, and is now a hindrance to justice," It was startling how cool Ross was about it, commanding an arrest like he was checking his wristwatch. Already security officers were closing in on Tony, even as Agent Carter hesitated. "Romanoff, too. I want every Avenger, every Mutant, super soldier, or Enhanced individual, man or woman of any age — under arrest until this situation is resolved."

"Sir, their rights —" Carter began.

"They forfeited those rights when they violated the Sokovia Accords."

Howie could only watch, stricken with horror, as they started to drag his father away. Tony refused to cooperate, though he wasn't particularly strong, still struggled and writhed as his gauntlet was removed and arms yanked behind his back. "This is illegal! The Accords haven't even been signed!"

"They have, actually," Ross said, adjusting his cuffs with cool regard. "The bomb may have been a tragic distraction, but the bill was signed, and it's working its way through the UN bureaucracy. By the time this makes it into the reports, it will most certainly be legal, Mr. Stark."

"Don't fight it, Tony," Natasha warned, raising her voice to be heard over Tony's continued struggles. She herself remained stiff as Carter cuffed her as well, her gaze freezing as she turned it upon Ross. "We'll get the lawyers involved. We can make this as painful as legally possible, since you're playing that way."

"I appreciate you playing by the book, Ms. Romanoff," Ross said, "But I'm afraid it's not your forte. Lieutenant, make sure they each find a comfortable cell. Now, where's the boy?"

Howie went still, tucking himself back as heads started swiveling. He'd completely forgotten about himself, that this involved him, too. Merda. What was he going to do?

"I don't know," Carter said, her voice carrying across the way. "He escaped the office during the fight. He could be anywhere."

"Alright, men, spread out! The little shit can't have gone far."

"Ross, I swear to God —" Tony began, spitting between curses.

"Let's go, people, I want this situation under control in the next twenty-four hours!" Ross called, no longer paying attention to him.

Howie tried to control his breathing, and was failing miserably. Bad enough to start feeling lightheaded. The atrium was abuzz with activity, watching his father getting dragged away, along with the only people he could rely on for help. Howie had nowhere else to go, no one else to turn to. If he stepped out now, he'd surely be arrested and locked away with the rest.

But if he stayed here, it'd only be a matter of time before he was caught. Agent Carter gave him time. Howie doesn't know why, doesn't understand the purpose of lying to Ross when her whole job was to help him — but there was no time.

He had to act. Had to decide. This was the critical moment, and he couldn't afford to make any mistakes.

Howie might have panicked.

Just a little.

With little regard to what he was doing or what was going to happen next, Howie threw himself out of the tiny alcove — and almost directly into the officer walking up that way.

The man jumped back, startled, just long enough for Howie to duck under his arms and make a break for the fire exit. "Whoa — hey! Stop!"

But Howie didn't listen, even as he felt all eyes turn in his direction. Heard Tony stop shouting, before he started again — this time calling Howie's name, as he sprinted across the marble floor as fast as his short little legs could carry him.

There was a side exit that led out onto some kind of balcony. All Howie could make out was the sunlight cast onto a clear open surface, bright skies overhead.

Freedom.

Until a shadow dropped down in front of him.

Howie gasped, skidding to a stop and not quite making it. He nearly slammed face first into the man, who at first he thought was the Winter Soldier — but was, in fact, the King of Wakanda, who managed to catch Howie before he could make a hard impact. Hands on his shoulders, large and warm, not tight, but still holding Howie in place.

Howie gaped up at him in surprise, and the King seemed about as confused, brow furrowing as he looked up at Howie's pursuers.

The armed men, too, came to a stop, further away. Flagging at the sight of King T'Challa — and the women that appeared on the platform above him, from the staircase he'd just jumped down from. Their imposing stature, indecipherable expressions, pinning the security officers in their places.

"Stay where you are!" Ross called, already storming up to the scene. "Arrest him, too!"

One of the officers whipped around in shock. "What? Arrest a King?!"

"For what purpose?" The King asked, tilting his head. He held out his hands, revealing he was unarmed. He wasn't in his armor, but Howie had seen him in action. The King didn't need his armor. "I have broken no laws. I abided by your requests to keep the peace until such peace was disturbed, and then acted to capture your prisoner. My father signed your Accords as you had hoped. Yet you point your guns at me, and you chase children like dangerous criminals. I thought I could trust my father's wisdom, that he knew who he allied with."

"We were allies," Ross snapped. "But your father failed to disclose — well, you. You may be a King, but you are not above our laws. Especially ones signed on behalf of your country."

"Your men have no sovereignty over me," King T'Challa declared, his voice loud despite his even tone, projecting clearly across the room. "Though you may try."

None of the officers moved, eyes wide with apprehension.

"Arrest him! That's an order!" Ross's shout echoed behind them.

After a moment's pause, and a gathering of a half a dozen more officers, the security team finally advanced; it was clear this would become another altercation, as no sooner they approached did the Dora Milaje drop down as well, their staves clanging against the floor.

Howie was able to scramble away in the confusion, right before they clashed. He wasn't sure if they were even paying attention to him anymore; all Howie knew was that he had to get away. The door was right there, right —

He slammed into it at full speed, and thankfully it gave. Howie nearly lost his balance as he stumbled out, still going too fast, into the warm sunlight and out onto the balcony. Berlin stretched out beyond, though the lights in the nearest buildings and infrastructure had all gone out.

Howie made it all the way to the edge before he saw the huge drop, and skidded to a stop. Oh, wow, that was a lot higher than he thought it was. At least sixty feet, if not more, onto cold, hard concrete.

"Stop! Don't do it!"

Howie turned around, panting, wind whipping at his hair. Out of the door burst what men could get through whatever fight was occurring with the King and his guard; Ross appeared, scowling furiously, while Agent Carter appeared behind him, the only one that dared to get close. The officers held back, looking more worried than scared, not wanting to see Howie jump.

"It's okay, Howie, you don't have to run!" Carter had to shout now that they were outdoors. There was a decent breeze, carrying the sound of the nearby water and traffic from the city. "Your father is safe, no one's going to hurt him or you. Let's just come back inside, alright?"

She stepped closer, and Howie stepped back. Carter's face started to pale, and she held out a hand to him, now standing only a few meters away. She lowered her voice, and Howie thought he heard a hint of desperation in there. "I promise, Howie. Everything's going to be okay. It'll all work itself out."

But Howie looked into those dark eyes of hers, the wind throwing her blonde hair into her face. And something in Carter's eyes didn't match what she was saying. Pleading, yes, but she didn't believe in what she said. Howie didn't believe she did.

"Please, Howie," Carter insisted, perhaps sensing his distrust. "Don't jump. Don't do that to your dad."

His dad. Tony. Iron Man. Now under arrest by a man consumed by power. Howie looked over her shoulder, saw Ross just standing there. Waiting. Silent. Uninvolved.

Confident. Knowing he'd already won.

Howie looked back at Carter, setting his jaw. "Can you tell my dad something?"

Carter raised her eyebrows, biting her lip. "Why don't you tell him yourself?"

But Howie shook his head. "Tell him…"

He scrambled for something. Howie had a dozen stupid, mushy things he wanted to say but never could. Things that Tony might brush off, or wouldn't appreciate. Not in the way Howie wanted him to. They weren't there yet. It had to be something he'd understand. "Tell him — I'm just following his example."

And then he stepped backwards off the balcony.

"No!"

Agent Carter lunged forward, her hand reaching out, only for it to close on empty air. Howie dropped into the open air.

The rushing wind swallowed her scream, and Howie could no longer hear anything beyond that. It nearly blew out his hearing aids if not for the metal helmet encasing his head.

And just in time too. Howie had no idea if the drop would be long enough before he went splat. But just as the concrete was rushing up to meet his face, the repulsors in his gauntlets and boots ignited — and with a thrilling burst of power, Howie shot up into the air at breakneck speed.

As he shot past the balcony, he caught the split-second glimpse of Agent Carter's shocked face, jaws dropping in unison across the balcony, officers scrambling back at the burst of sound and speed. Ross pointing his finger and shouting, but Howie couldn't hear him. Couldn't hear anything.

All he heard was his racing heartbeat, his frantic breathing as he rose higher and higher. Cavolo! He was flying! He was really flying! More than just a rickety machine crashing into the Vatican or jumping out of trees, Howie was well and truly soaring through the skies above Berlin.

Oh, if Mamma could see him now. She'd never let his feet leave the ground ever again.

But Howie's joy was short-lived, as he remembered his task. He had to reach the team, he had to save them, before the Secretary's forces got to them first.

He had to warn them: It was already too late.