Chapter Twenty-Seven
PARIS
Team Cap wasn't doing so great.
Nat had said it as a joke, but the moniker stuck. And indeed, four days after the UN attack, they had made little headway in regards to any of their goals. Just barely staying ahead of Ross' hunt, and little to no trace of Zemo at all.
Bucky hated that they had to rely on Carter's information, the only person helping them right now. He still feared a double-cross,
They also couldn't contact anyone else they knew. Both in case of Ross finding their allies, or supposed allies selling them out. Not that Bucky had any of those, but the others did. Steve also suspected May Parker may have been arrested or in custody because she was no longer responding to any of his contact attempts. (May was already giving Bucky the cold shoulder before all this started, so he wouldn't have known). This also likely meant Peter was also taken in. Damn shame. He was a good kid.
Natalia, thankfully, had no shortage of safehouses. And if she couldn't find one, she'd make one. Their first day was spent getting out of Geneva without getting caught, spending each night in a new location. All four of them cramped into the same tiny blue Volkswagen beetle, a covert clown car, on long winding roads through the Swiss Alps.
There were multiple checkpoints, run by Interpol and state police; either to catch Zemo, or to catch them, it was hard to say. But each time they had to abandon one vehicle and steal another, after walking several miles (usually through mountainous woods) to skirt around the checkpoints and various other security details.
Carter had suggested they rendezvous at a safehouse in Paris, far enough away to avoid suspicion and close enough to manage in a few days. It should have taken less than one, but with all the detours, double backs, and deadlock traffic, it took much longer. At the very least they could be sure no one was tracking them.
The long car drive wasn't exactly pleasant either. For one, Bucky was stuck in the backseat with Wilson, and Natalia had full control of the radio. Steve didn't mind what station they listened to, but everyone else did, and none could agree. Nat's suggestion of various games to pass the time did not go well either. All Bucky saw were trees, and the many "would you rather" options were easy to answer (some because he's already had to make such choices). Wilson didn't like any of his contributions and Bucky questioned Wilson's logic on his own answers, so least to say it resulted in some kind of bickering — to be ended with either Steve threatening to stop the car, or Nat with stuffing one (or both) of them into the trunk.
They couldn't reach Paris fast enough.
By the last day, Bucky was seriously contemplating just taking off on his own to hunt down Zemo and rescue Mia. But Steve convinced him to stay long enough to hear what Carter had to say. If she had any actionable intelligence, if there was something they could do, still operating as a team.
Maybe Steve sensed Bucky's growing restlessness. Maybe he knew, as Bucky did, that they were wasting too much time.
Sharon Carter's rendezvous was located in the attic of a classic French apartment building; under the blue slate roofs, where the servants would have lived once, long ago. The place had since been renovated and modernized, with tiny showers and a communal toilet. The height of luxury, as far as Bucky was concerned. Too many people took modern plumbing for granted.
Carter waited in the little closet of a room. The window behind her overlooked the street below; the dark Seine River, the bateaux mouches bobbing along the stone piers, and in the distance, the Eiffel tower swooping up into the air, its web of black steelwork harkening to a different era.
In the room itself, there was an old couch, a few chairs, and a coffee table, squeezed next to a kitchenette and wardrobe. Much like the car, it was a tight fit for everyone, but Carter assured them the place was secure. Before her, laid out across the table, were an array of maps, print-outs, and missives.
"I'm glad you all made it in one piece," Carter said, offering a small smile and some coffee in tiny cups. "I hope the trip wasn't too bad."
"Slightly painful but nothing we couldn't manage," Natalia answered. She sat on the couch with her legs sprawled across Bucky's lap unbidden. It was better than having to share the seat with Wilson, at least. "How did you manage to get away?"
"I got reassigned," Carter answered, and at Steve's look of alarm, raised a hand to placate. "They didn't catch me. But both Ross and my supervisor thought, given my prior history with SHIELD and the current direction this investigation is going, I had a conflict of interest."
"So, they kicked you off the team," Wilson surmised with a shake of his head.
"More or less. I was reassigned to a station in Alaska. But before that, I caught wind of a new lead. I've got a week to arrive at my post, so I figured I could squeeze this in first."
"Squeeze what in?" Steve asked.
Carter gestured to the table before them. On it, a map of an island nation was prominent. "I received HUMINT that a certain German nobility will be attending a "charity" gala —" She made air quotes with her fingers " — hosted by an infamous weapons dealer and crime lord known as the Power Broker, who's main area of influence is Southeast Asia, but his reach extends all over the globe. He currently resides in Madripoor, which is where we're headed next."
"Madripoor? When?" Wilson spoke.
"Right now."
"What? We just got here —"
MADRIPOOR
As it turned out, the Power Broker's estate was an old mansion built back when the area had been colonized by the English; it had that Anglo-Saxon feel, with a long marble colonnade surrounding the multi-story buildings, beneath a warm stucco roof; its long, massive windows; a grand garden that happened to serve perfectly for a party such as this; a courtyard with a center fountain, upon it a giant bronze statue of a Roman god, far outside the reaches of the ancient empire.
The only thing explicitly modern were the electrical fittings, the barbed wire gate, and the luxury helicopter on the roof.
"The Power Broker? Charity? You're joking," Nat had said in Paris.
"I'm not," Carter said, her tone flat. "The Power Broker trades weapons for leverage and this is no different. His auction is in the selling of weapons. The big-ticket item is a Faberge egg from the Amber Room — but it's strongly believed to be a placeholder for what everyone really wants."
Now it had been reclaimed, as the rest of the city had been, by both its native populace and the rich criminals who ran the island nation. Madripoor had once been a haven of pirates, and that hadn't changed much in the new millennium.
The estate was large enough to entertain its guest list, hundreds of only the richest and most influential people in Madripoor and beyond. Money, as they say, is the great equalizer in Madripoor.
"Considering what the Power Broker is, expect an army of guards and the best security one man can afford. We've never had a name or a face for the Power Broker, it's rare for him to publicly attend his own events. But he's not the reason we're here."
The security in black stood out from the colorful guests, the servers in white, the live band with their lights and sweet song. Bucky could hear the music even from his position, a quarter mile away on the rooftop of another building. He could see everything through his scope, shifting from one window to another.
"We're after what he's selling." Carter had said. "What Kerberos is likely going to buy. Intel says the egg is likely a placeholder for uranium. And we don't have to imagine what Kerberos would want to do with that."
And through one of those windows, Bucky could make out the explosion of glimmer and shine of the giant gold and enamel egg, protected by three inches of bullet-proof glass, under an array of lights set to dazzle, and surrounded by a small cadre of armed men.
"Our goal is to prevent Kerberos from acquiring the nuclear material, and preferably acquiring it ourselves before anyone else can get their hands on it, either. Kerberos is not our only enemy at this auction."
Steve and Carter arrived in one car, Wilson and Natalia in another. All four were dressed to the nines, the men in designer tuxedos of Italian fashion houses; Carter in a stunning sapphire gown, and Natalia in a curtain of luscious black silk, soft as butter.
"I have eyes on you, Pantheon," Bucky murmured into his mic, squinting through the scope, watching as they passed through security.
"Any sightings of Kerberos?" Steve's voice echoed in his ear. He walked arm-in-arm with Carter, who was doing a very convincing impression of a rich heiress. Only the keenest eyes could tell that she was CIA.
"Not yet," If Zemo were here, Bucky would have found him already. And he wouldn't have asked permission before taking the shot. Bucky kept his finger off the trigger until then. "No sightings of Luna either. Or Prometheus, not that any of us know what he looks like."
"How do we even know if Prometheus is a he?" Wilson asked, arm in arm with Natalia. "Could be a she."
"It's possible," Carter replied, as she and Steve grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing server. "It's widely suspected the Power Broker is a legacy title. He's been a known entity for over three decades. He always attends his parties, but only undercover. So, remember boys, behave yourselves."
"Why us?" Steve laughed, chuckling into Carter's ear like they were flirting. Bucky frowned. Maybe it wasn't so fake. Maybe Steve got better at espionage than he realized.
"Because Venus is the only one I trust to know what she's doing." Carter replied with a truly uncharacteristic giggle.
"Thank you," Natalia hummed, preening in front of a reflective statue before pulling Wilson along. "The auction starts in thirty minutes, but the actual weapons are locked in a vault beneath the estate. Apollo and I will gain access."
"Juno and I will deal with the active players here," Steve replied. "If Kerberos or his agents are here, we'll intercept. Pluto, how does it look up there?"
"Quiet," Bucky murmured. Was he jealous he wasn't down there in a fancy suit himself? Maybe. "Save one of those little egg things from me, Jupiter. Starving."
"Sorry, buddy," Steve winced into his drink. "But you're the only one whose face is on the news right now."
"Just because these guys wouldn't call the police doesn't mean they wouldn't take full advantage of the Winter Soldier being here," Natalia added. "Not to mention, you wouldn't have made it through the metal detectors."
Bucky sighed. This was the best position for him anyways; far away and with a rifle in his hands. But he still hated the distance; the desire to wrap his fingers around Zemo's throat as soon as he had the chance.
Wilson and Natalia had already disappeared into the building in search of the vault. To arrive as guests was the best way to gain access to an otherwise impervious system; the only time when the Power Broker's estate was so open was during events like these. Bucky was still of the opinion he could've snuck in as a server. There was no security system he couldn't punch through or blow up.
But they were going for subtlety tonight.
Though it was winter in the southern hemisphere, Madripoor was still warm and humid. Their winters were only slightly less hot than their summers. At least at night Bucky wasn't cooking — he could see the sweat beading on the brows of the Power Broker's security guards, dressed in their suits over what must be a few layers of Kevlar. Rough.
"What are those bracelets they gave you?" Bucky asked, having noticed the entry procedure. Between passing through x-rays and swept for equipment, each guest that passed received what appeared to be a white bangle around their wrist.
"It's a part of their security feature," Carter replied, flipping her wrist back and forth to study the jewelry. "It can only be removed once the guests leave. If it's tampered with, it'll set off an alert. It's to keep us penned in where we're supposed to be, and mark anyone who doesn't belong."
"It clashes with my dress," Natalia said, with a pout in her voice. "And I'm pretty sure it has GPS. I think I can get it off without breaking any thumbs, at least."
"The servers aren't wearing any," Bucky added. Unless it was hidden up their white sleeves, he couldn't spot any with that same newfangled technology.
"They've probably already been screened," Carter replied. "The Power Broker reportedly only hires locals. Easier to bribe and control."
"Sounds like a real nice guy."
So far everything was going off without a hitch. Though Bucky had yet to spot Zemo, or anyone who might be the Power Broker, he did spot a few known criminals that he may or may not have encountered in the past. Would be a shame if they didn't make it out of the party alive…
But no, he had to hold back. Natalia and Wilson dumped their bracelets in a locked closet — leaving the guards to their own imagination.
With no sighting of Zemo, Bucky was taking second looks at everyone present. Maybe he was hiding behind a pair of large, obnoxious sunglasses, or a ridiculous costume. There was no shortage of extravagance here; the team looked practically underdressed in comparison. Steve and Carter's nominal covers were a pair of wealthy trust fund babies about to inherit their parents' respective empires in questionably ethical fields. Towing the line at criminal, while being unknown enough that they could casually introduce themselves without getting caught. The covers wouldn't hold under any scrutiny, but they didn't have to — they just had to survive the next few hours.
Bucky was busy focusing on the windows, as guests milled about the hall where all the artwork and fine jewelry were on display. Electronic screens facilitated the silent auction, maintaining much needed privacy. "Is that a Picasso?"
"Lost during the Spanish Civil War," Carter said. "Anyone bidding on it is also trying to buy defunct Russian security satellites."
"What would they do with those?"
"Gaining access to things they shouldn't," Was Natalia's reply. Bucky could neither see her or Wilson's actions, but he could overhear it. Metal plates being played with, shuffling between sweeping security cameras, the gurgle of a security guard being strangled. "It's expensive to dismantle an entire satellite array, not to mention difficult to control where they land. The Russians can't afford their technology, no matter how old, to end up in the hands of the enemy. So, it's easier to sell it off and hope that it falls out of the sky, burning up in the atmosphere ten years down the line."
"I suppose we're not gonna take any of these things out of play?"
"Unfortunately, our goal is only the target," Carter replied. "There's a lot here that I don't like. But nothing as bad as what Kerberos wants. The rest we can deal with at a future date."
And then the first problem occurred. Bucky noticed one of the latecomers in a sleek lavender McClaren, rolling up to the gates. It wasn't the flashiest car, if it can be believed, but the occupants that emerged immediately caught Bucky's attention. "Uh. We have visitors."
"Kerberos?" Steve asked, both alert and hopeful.
"No." Bucky followed the man through his scope as he passed through security without a hitch. Even without the cat suit, he recognized the man immediately. And they had no code word for this situation. "The King of Wakanda."
"Holy shit," Wilson said, which was followed by the crackle of electricity, like a circuit board being fried. What followed was the whooshing sound of a heavy metal door opening. "There's no way — he can't afford being seen here!"
"Can't he?" Natalia countered, through gritted teeth as she tried to force through something. "Allegiance with Ross fell through, the Accords conflict with Wakandan sovereignty, and everyone is dying to become Wakanda's new best friend in the hopes they can access Wakanda technology and resources. Do you know how many people here would fall over themselves for a sliver of pure vibranium? This King knows how to play politics."
"Is it politics?" Steve asked, as he and Carter maneuvered themselves to catch a glimpse of the King and his two escorts. Tall, beautiful women, utterly svelte in Wakandan haute couture and gold jewelry; but pretty arm candy the Dora Milaje were not. "Or is he here for the same thing we are?"
Bucky was of the same mindset. "Maybe he's following Kerberos as well."
"How would he catch wind of that?" Wilson asked. "Didn't Juno say he was out of their investigation?"
"He is," Carter grumbled, clearly displeased with this situation. "But either Wakanda has sudden interest in nuclear tech, or our King found a leak."
"Your bigger problem is not being seen," Bucky added. He had no doubt the King was here on his own quest for vengeance. Bucky had little knowledge of Wakandan technology, but he'd seen that suit the Black Panther wore, and could only imagine what else the country could produce. His being here was little surprise, the King could certainly manage it. But if Wakanda had vibranium and advanced technology, then something told Bucky they had little need for nuclear weapons. "He might be here for you."
Apparently, this had not occurred to any of them, judging by the disbelieving responses he got; but Bucky hadn't forgotten that the King tried very hard to kill him earlier this week. "Is it possible he's following us?"
"No way," Natalia said, immediately. Of them all, only she would know for sure. "We haven't discussed our information anywhere but in person, face to face. We had no bugs; we were never followed for very long. The King must have his sources elsewhere."
"What if he still thinks the Winter Soldier is active?" Wilson offered. "Maybe it was easy to assume a suddenly publicly known assassin would come to the biggest criminal auction event of the year? I mean, it's a good place to find things to kill people with."
Bucky hated to say it, but Wilson had a point. "Guess it's a good thing I didn't get an invite after all."
He followed the King's progress through the party; as expected, he was a surprise and very popular guest. Everyone who was anyone rushed for their chance to greet the king, to introduce themselves, to voice their support for the Wakandan cause (whatever that was). Steve and Carter were safe in the meantime; the King was the only one here who could burn them, and they were in no rush to join the queue. "Keep us updated on what he's doing, Pluto. Still no sign of Kerberos?"
"Nothing," Bucky said, doing another quick scan of the area. The King's arrival had been a big to-do, a distraction, and all the players he'd been keeping tabs on had moved much further than he thought. "Wait, I see something."
It was a glimpse, a flicker out of the corner of his vision. Third floor up, where there had been limited activity — presumably the Power Broker's private quarters — a small group of people had passed by a window. He'd only been able to make out an entourage of heavy-booted guards, and the sweep of a long coat. "Third floor activity. I don't know what it was."
"Can't get up there without getting rid of our bracelets," Carter said, frowning down in annoyance. "Probably in a part of the estate we don't have a visual on."
"Think we can draw them out?" Steve asked.
"We can definitely try —" Carter began, only to be interrupted by Natalia.
"The vault's empty!"
"What?" The other three said at once, startled.
"It's empty! It's not here!" Wilson hissed, unleashing a short stream of curses. "Zemo must have already bought it."
"That doesn't make sense! The auction is still going," Carter said from her position, still in the auction room, her head swiveling from side to side.
Bucky saw nothing noticeable either. "Kerberos isn't here. But the egg —"
"If it's a real Faberge from the lost Amber Room, then it's gotta be worth hundreds of millions." Wilson said. "People would sell out their own mother to get their hands on that."
"It doesn't matter. We're too late," Natalia groaned, and there came the snap of something like a broken heel. "Whatever the Power Broker was selling, it was already bought long before we got here. Got us locked in a vault for nothing!"
"You two okay, Venus?" Steve asked.
"The doors shut behind us. I can get out through the vent shaft, but Apollo —"
"Yeah, I don't think I'm fitting in there."
"Lost visual on the king," Bucky said, between their increasingly panicked exchange.
"Shit," Carter looked around to see the seats empty behind them. "Where were they last?"
"Heading upstairs." Bucky replied. "If the target was already bought, then Kerberos must already have it."
"Maybe he's still here," Carter gasped. It was almost hopeful, but there was a tone of dread. Zemo, here, with a weapon of mass destruction?
But Bucky wasn't so afraid. No one was crazy enough to use his just-bought weapon to destroy a gaggle of the world's worst criminals when Zemo obviously had much bigger targets in mind. Madripoor was a major city on the world's circuit, but it wasn't a major political enemy. It wasn't even a member of the UN.
"We'll keep looking, we can still find —"
"Find who, Captain?" came the deep, even tone of the King, his voice picked up on Steve and Carter's mics. Both whirled around to stare at the King. Bucky had his sights on the group, but there was nothing he could do. He had no desire to kill the King of Wakanda, but if this ended in a fight…
"Strange, to see you here, of all places," Bucky could overhear, while Natalia cursed on the other end. "And Agent Carter. Is this how CIA liaisons spend their vacation?"
"Juno, Jupiter, get out of there!" Natalia hissed. "You've been made!"
"Did you come alone?" The King asked. "Or am I to assume a set of crosshairs is already lining up to my head?"
"Shit," Bucky mumbled, averting his aim just a fraction.
"We're not your enemy, your Highness," Steve said, his voice low so they wouldn't be heard from the other guests. "I don't know why you're here, but I promise, we're after the same man —"
"The one who killed my father, yes," The King nodded. His Dora Milaje had reoriented themselves to stand at his back and side, standing between him and the windows, though their gazes swept around. They didn't know where Bucky was. He could still shoot through them, if he wanted to. Which he didn't. "According to everyone but a very few, that would be the Winter Soldier."
"I know you have no reason to believe me," Steve spoke in an undertone, and Bucky could just hear the earnesty, the desperation. "But please, you have to listen. It's not Barnes. But he's here, your father's killer, we know who he is, and we —"
"You mean Zemo?" The King asked, tilting his head.
Neither Steve nor Carter could convincingly hide their surprise. Steve stammered too long, and Carter interjected, "Where did you hear that name?"
But they would never get an answer.
The music hummed to a stop, the sign of an entrance. Bucky shifted his scope to follow everyone's heads as they turned to the left, following up to the second-floor balcony. It was an odd angle, but his heart skipped a beat when he recognized Zemo's face, surrounded by the fur of his mink-lined coat, and that stupid crown on his head. Bucky had definitely seen that before.
His voice was amplified by a speaker system, loud enough that even Bucky could hear it without the earpiece. "I need only a moment of your time, ladies and gentlemen. I only wish to extend my deepest gratitude and appreciation for your welcome and generosity, how wonderful it is to know my father and his father's old friends still remember them. To reunite old alliances, and also make a few new ones. And, of course, I cannot forget the hospitality of our illustrious host, the Power Broker, wherever he may be. Please know that I will forever be a devoted patron of your services. And, of course, I must beg forgiveness for what I am about to do next."
"Tell me you have the shot," Steve whispered.
"Not a good one." Bucky murmured. A low-hanging arch put the dome of Zemo's head just out of view, and the stone was too thick to shoot through. But he had a good angle on center mass, through that chest he held in his arms. "I can slow him down, though."
"Wait for my call." Steve said, as if Bucky had ever operated otherwise. He wanted to wait. Center mass wouldn't kill Zemo instantly, though the thought of watching the man bleed a slow, suffering death had its perks.
"As some of you know, I do not come without enemies, who have followed me here." Zemo continued, and set the black chest upon the table before him. "I'm sure you have all noticed his Grace, the King of Wakanda. He is no friend of mine. And of course, Captain America himself, who is certainly no friend of any of yours. So, in return for the kindness my friends have shown me, allow me to deliver in kind. May you witness the power of the Madbomb."
No sooner had Zemo uttered the name Captain America did Steve throw all caution to the wind and began rushing towards him, pushing through the crowd as they turned in shock, voices raising, some even pulling weapons (how those got through security, one may never know).
But none of them would act in time.
Not when the Madbomb went off.
Bucky didn't even know what it was when Zemo said it — and for a long moment, neither did anyone else, when Zemo withdrew a metal cylinder from the chest, glass encasing something green and glowing inside. A press of a button, and before Steve could ever reach the balcony, a sudden shrill filled the air.
It began as a low hum, and then erupted into a strange, subliminal shriek, like the sound of a CRT monitor idling, but so much worse — the crowd gasped and winced and covered their ears. But they were fine.
The servers were not.
Everyone dressed in white suddenly froze. Silver trays clattered to the ground, champagne flutes shattering into a million pieces of crystal. The Madbomb's shrill died almost as soon as it began, and all was silent.
And then a waiter screamed, and launched himself upon the nearest guest, his teeth clamping down onto the man's neck and ripping out his throat. Blood splattered onto the guest's wife, who let out a horrified scream as both men went down in a guttural cry.
"What the fuck?!" Carter gasped.
Bucky watched in dawning horror as all the servers — everyone not wearing a white bracelet, suddenly went haywire.
Two servers, both women, went tearing at each other, fingers clawing their faces apart. Another attacked a guest and took her down, only to be hauled off by two of the guards, who in turn were overwhelmed when several other staff members lunged onto their backs like feral animals.
All at once, the auction turned to pandemonium. Priceless artwork was knocked off pedestals and walls by a crazed staff, or otherwise by a fleeing panicked mass. The Madbomb had only affected the servers, but there was no rhyme or reason whom they attacked — no one was safe. Not even Steve, who was swiftly knocked back by the stampede created, hundreds of people rushing for what few exits there were. Someone threw a pedestal to break out a window and find escape that way.
"What's happening?" Natalia asked; Bucky had no idea what she could hear from her position, but he could only imagine how awful and confusing it must sound. "Is there a fire?"
"No fire!" Steve shouted, as he pulled off one waiter after another as they tried climbing up his shoulders. His suit was in tatters within moments. "Don't come up here!"
"The King! I lost him!" Carter said.
"He's gone," Was all Bucky could report. The King disappeared into the chaos, along with his Dora Milaje. He didn't spot any bodies amongst the carnage that resembled them. "I think he got away."
"Pluto, do you still have the shot?"
"I have him in my sights," Bucky said, lining up his crosshairs on Zemo's head. He stood above the chaos, that cylinder in his hands. Reveling as people screamed and blood spilled across the floor.
"Take the shot!" Steve shouted, trying to swim through the crowd of bodies, only to be pushed further and further back. He had to haul Carter out of there from the arms, lifting her off her feet as they tried to make an escape.
And Bucky would have pulled that trigger. If someone hadn't suddenly put herself between his shot and Zemo.
Mia.
She stood there, facing the window, looking directly at him. Like she knew exactly where he was. His crosshairs, right between her eyes.
Bucky's heart skipped a beat, and it was a horrible moment before he shifted his aim away from her. He nearly choked on the words: "She's here. M— Luna! With Kerberos. I can't make the shot."
Carter swore. "Venus, Apollo, do not leave the vault until after it's clear! I repeat, don't leave the vault! It's the safest place you can be right now."
"What the fuck is going on up there?!"
"You don't wanna know!" Steve shouted, as they managed to clamber up to the second balcony, above the melee. Some of the guests were watching in a mixture of awe, horror, some even in delight. The others, perhaps more present of mind or wiser to how bad this is, were trying to get the hell outta Dodge before they became the unwitting target of the crazed servers. "Pluto, do you see a way out? Pluto?"
But Bucky was too busy abandoning his position and hauling ass towards the estate to answer. He wasn't going to hide behind a scope, not when his daughter was within reach. Not when that bastard had her.
He hit the ground running, and covered that quarter mile spread between his post and the estate in under a minute. Earlier, he probably would've been gunned down before he ever reached the gates. But the security was quite occupied now, shooting down rabid servers who got too close, as well as other guards who hadn't been so lucky as to receive the protective bracelets. And that's before a few got overwhelmed and had their weapons stolen from them by a crazed staff hellbent on total destruction.
Bucky sprinted right through — across the garden, the courtyard, through the main hall where the worst of the bloodshed was, the floor absolutely slippery with it, right past a stunned Steve and Carter. He didn't hear their cries for him to stop. Didn't consider the kind of danger he was running straight for.
"Bucky! No!" Steve's shout echoed behind him. "You don't have —"
He didn't care. He knew where Zemo was going. The Power Broker had his own personal helipad; a sleek black helicopter already waiting for commandeering. Where else would that man go for an easy retreat?
He powered up those steps three at a time, but that still wasn't fast enough. The helicopter's rotors were already warming up as he reached the rooftop, whipping the air around him into a frenzy. And there, standing in the still-open bay doors, was Zemo in that ridiculous coat of his, coronet gleaming upon his brow and the Madbomb still humming in his hands.
Zemo saw him appear and smirked. "I'm sorry, old man, but you're too late! The war has already begun!"
Bucky didn't know what that meant. He didn't care. He ran straight for Zemo.
Zemo laughed at the sight, the sound drowned out by the helicopter as it began to rise. But Bucky could still make it. He knew he could. Even with Mia standing right there, he could keep her down long enough to kill Zemo. Even if it meant taking down the entire helicopter, if he had to.
He'd never make it that far.
Zemo, perhaps realizing that Bucky might actually close the distance and jump for the helicopter, raised the Madbomb once more. Bucky felt a moment of panic, but didn't stop. If the Madbomb meant he'd kill Zemo all the harder, then fine. But then Mia…
Bucky felt the sonic screech before he heard it. A low rise of pain in his ears that quickly crescendoed — unlike anything he'd felt before. Though he stumbled, Bucky didn't stop.
The helicopter was only a dozen feet in the air, drifting away from the rooftop but not so far away he couldn't make the leap.
At least, not until someone tackled him.
It came from his right, Bucky never saw him coming. Just a flash of black, a shadow, arms wrapping around him in a full-on tackle before the both of them went careening off the side of the building.
"No!"
As if in slow motion, Bucky watched as the helicopter slipped away, farther and farther as he fell. As he crashed into the ground below, the helicopter rose ever higher and higher.
The impact wasn't as bad as it could've been. The estate's extensive gardens meant for expensive decorative shrubs that, while quite delicate, softened what would otherwise have been a bruising fall. Bucky was stunned only momentarily, before he shot back to his feet.
Only to find himself unsteady, and still hearing the terrified screams of the Power Broker's party-turned-massacre. Bucky's ears ached, head still ringing with the sound of the Madbomb. He was on the other side of the estate now, away from the rest of the team.
Leaving only him and the King of Wakanda, standing there, staring at each other. Both men panting, wide-eyed and shaken.
Swiping a leaf from his ruined suit, the King spoke first. "There is much I wish to discuss, James Barnes."