57.

London, United Kingdom

December 16th, 1944

While everyone is recovering from the last mission, the Howling Commandos sit around and devise plans to take down the final known Hydra bases, the last being the most heavily guarded of them all. They sort through the intel they're given and search for any leads, any sightings of the base, but there's nothing much for Hydra's main base of operations. If they were to attack it now, they'd be flying blind, and after the fluke that was the castle's destruction, none of them are keen to attempt a second unplanned mission.

In one meeting, Bucky suggests they take down their outside forces before attacking the last base, weakening Hydra by taking down their transport and possibly capturing an important figure to their organisation. They, of course, know that he is referring to Doctor Zola, and immediately Zola tops their hit list. Their reasoning, of course, is that without Zola, Hydra won't be able to continue producing any of their advanced weaponry, including the serum, guns and tesseract-powered machines. None of them will deny, though, that they want to extract revenge on the pug-faced scientist for what he did to them all at the castle.

Madame Hydra also makes an appearance in their plans, but only if they can capture her. If they come across her in their path, they won't hesitate to take her down if possible, but they won't actively hunt her. They are well aware of how dangerous the woman is. Whilst the Red Skull and Zola hunt, kill and experiment for their own benefit or for a specific purpose, Madame Hydra seems to take enjoyment from murder and torture. If she could, she would use Hydra funds to fuel massacres. She has an obsession with death that would rival the Reaper himself. But in any case, if the Commandos were to take out all of Hydra's men, what good would Sarkissian be without any men to lead?

Red Skull is also at the top of the list, for obvious reasons. The man is a force to be reckoned with and one that needs to be put to an immediate halt. Steve calls dibs on him, and no one argues. If they manage to catch the Skull, once he's been questioned and teased and all information ringed out of him, Steve decides what is to be done with him, and if the decision is to remove him from existence, then Steve's hands will be the ones to do so.

It makes Steve feel a little better, but he knows he won't ever be able to rest under the day he escorts Johann Schmidt to the gates of hell. Even if he has to go with him.

?, Poland

December 20th, 1944

Instead of sitting around aimlessly in the SSR base, the Howling Commandos gear up and decide to take to the front again. If they can even help one unit in defeating the Axis powers then they are doing more than they are in London.

Stark flies them in on the plane. Everyone is silent the entire flight. Most of the Commandos have a bone-deep exhaustion to them that hadn't been there some months ago. The spark has somewhat diminished from their eyes, no matter how many men and factories they take down, and no matter how many inspirational speeches Steve thinks up. Steve can't blame them – everyone has their limit of what they can achieve, how far they can be pushed toward the edge before they topple over the edge, and this group more than most. Steve isn't afraid to admit that he feels he may be nearing the end of his own tether as well. Taking down Hydra has had its fair share of hardships, of punishment and torture, which somewhat masks the life-long friendships and trust they've formed with each other.

Isabel sits against the wall of the plane, her eyes a little wide. She jumps at every jolt from the plane, at every change in the engines speeds, most likely traumatised by the fact that she's been in a burning, crashing plane twice within a few months, and each time ended up with them all imprisoned by Hydra. The fear that the plane will be hit and go down again is understandable, and it plays on all of their minds.

Steve takes a seat beside Isabel and takes her hand in his own, rubbing the pale skin gently in their familiar comforting pattern. Eventually her breathing calms and her eyes lose their startled deer appearance, though she remains tense.

After a few hours, Howard lands the plane somewhere in the Polish countryside, the engine rumbling loudly through the quaint silence of the undisturbed land.

"Give 'em hell, all of you," Howard calls from the cockpit as the Commandos disembark the plane, finding themselves in the chilly air of the country landscape, rolling hills as far as they can see. "But remember, Cap, a blizzard's coming. If you don't contact for rendezvous by the end of the week when it's expected, you'll have to wait out the storm."

"Got it, Stark. I'll be in touch," Steve says, shaking his transmitter device before jumping from the cabin of the plane.

The group walks through the day and they encounter nothing; not a single soul or a single fight, not even a random citizen to help. The countryside is deserted of everyone, not even farmers in the fields. By nightfall, they're all exhausted from walking and from being on guard every second of the day.

They feel both relief and tension when they stumble across a small Polish town amongst the pitch-black darkness of the country. It could provide them somewhere warm and safe to spend the night so that they'll be re-energised to continue their journey tomorrow, but it may also be infiltrated by Germans like Avignon had been and going in could be risky.

Steve goes first with the shield, slowly venturing into the town. It's tiny with only a few buildings and cobblestone streets, and only a few farmhouses sit on the outskirts of the town, with the majority of its population living in townhouse-like tenements within the town itself. The streets are abandoned except for the slinky black cat that sprints between the buildings. If it weren't for the small shops lit up by the faint lights from inside, they would have thought the entire town was uninhabited.

Steve waves to the group to approach and leads them carefully into the town's streets, careful that it hasn't already been inhabited by any Germans. They all have their weapons raised in preparation, eyes scanning the dim lighted streets, peering around every corner and down every alleyway. It's quite eerie to be all alone surrounded by the buildings, the town almost silent apart from the noise of nature beyond its walls.

Eventually, as they walk through, people begin to peek out of their windows at them, wide eyes following the intruders and giving away the town's life. The citizens notice that they are members of the Allies, must, since they're all wearing their uniforms and Steve is wearing his Captain America gear.

Slowly but surely, the people begin to emerge from their homes, carefully approaching the Allied soldiers. First there's one or two, and then three or four emerge, the townspeople slowly filing into the narrow streets. They're a range of ages – grandparents, parents, children – their dirty and ripped clothing giving away their poverty. They're most likely a solely farming town, relying on the industry, and with the war ravaging Europe, its sure to take a toll on their income.

The townspeople's eyes land on Isabel and Morita, the medics crosses sewed onto the sleeve of their khaki jackets, and immediately they seem even more at ease, particularly due to the presence of a woman. Somehow, a woman within a group of men reassures them that the group is definitely the good guys.

One man, braver than the rest, steps forward and clasps Steve's hand in a handshake, his way of thanking them for their work against Hydra and the Axis powers, before moving onto the rest of the men, kissing the back of Isabel's hand. Isabel's eyebrows rise in surprise, looking up at Steve for help. But Steve has been overpowered by the townspeople who thank him and gush over him in Polish, only one phrase recognisable: Kapitan Ameryka.

"Dziękuję za twoją usługę, (Thank you for your service)," the man tells them, though none of them speak any Polish to understand his words. By the gleam in his eyes and the smile on his features, they assume it was a compliment.

Another man comes forward and ushers the group toward a small establishment set into the ground floor of one of the Victorian-era buildings, and they immediately recognise it as a pub. The windows are made from stain glass, so they can't see inside except for through the open front door where the bar is visible, and they can smell the hint of liquor inside.

"Now that's what I'm talking about," Dugan cheers. He slings his arm around the random man's shoulders, leading him inside. "I think we could be best friends, pal."

The man has no idea what Dugan's saying, letting the American lead him into the pub. Dugan sits at the bar stool while the man goes around the back of the bar, waiting for the rest of the Commandos to pile inside. As soon as they enter the pub, they're flooded by warmth from the fire in the corner. Every member of the town seems to enter as well, filtering into the booths and preparing to spend the night, entranced by the American Commandos.

"I feel like we're on show," Bucky mutters to Steve, looking around with a faint smile.

"Don't act like you don't like it," Isabel supplies from in front of them, turning to smirk at her brother. "You love the attention."

The bartender gets the Commandos attention, waving a hand over the glass case behind him that holds hundreds of bottles of alcohol. The men pick out their choice and the bartenders pours a generous amount into the glasses, handing them over. Falsworth shuffles around in his backpack, searching for the small wallet he keeps inside that he stocks with a bit of cash for the country their visiting. When he hands over a decent wad of bills, the bartender waves him away. Falsworth sticks the money in the tip jar anyway.

The group moves to a large circular booth, large enough to accommodate all of them at once. It's not far from the open fire, the warmth encircling them and flooding their frozen bodies. Isabel slides in next to Steve, fitting under his arm, her cheeks already flushed from the drink she's chosen.

The town's citizens venture over to the laughing Americans every now and then, asking for autographs not only from Captain America, but often from all of them. They all sign dutifully with a smile, most of the men enjoying the attention, before the women and children are off on their merry way back to their men, the entire town seemingly inside the bar all having a drink despite the rather late hour.

The relative quiet and comradeship of the town is nice – there's no artillery fire, explosions, screaming, crying. There's no smoke in the air, no smell of blood and gunpowder. The citizens are all smiling, relaxed, content, a far cry from the usual behaviour of people in the war-torn towns they usually pass through. It's like a breath of fresh air, and they all bask in its warmth. They're all quite content to sit in this newfound peace and let the warm fire warm their bodies and soothe their soul.

Steve's brought his sketchbook along, as he always does for a therapeutic escape, and he gets it out straight away, flipping to a blank page and starting to sketch out the scene before him just like he used to. Isabel sits beside him and watches, letting herself get carried away in the movement of his hand. He still has the delicate touch of an artist despite being twice his old size. He holds the pencil with the same preciseness and sturdiness, brushing it confidently to make marks against the stark white.

The Commandos have seen Steve draw from time to time when they'd had a moment back at the base, or when they were hauled up somewhere on a mission. They know he's talented, and Steve doesn't hide his drawings, not even when he's drawing the men themselves.

"Want to hear an ironic coincidence, fellas?" Monty asks after a while of comfortable silence, watching Steve draw himself. "Cap, you say you were an artist before you were Captain America?"

"Sure was. Commission work mainly, but I did a few graphic designing gigs."

"Well, our good pal Adolf was also an artist before he became the Fuhrer of the Third Reich."

"Really?" Steve asks, not looking up, though his eyebrows do rise in surprise. "I'll be sure to bring that up to him next time we meet up. I'm sure he'd love to talk about our commonalities before I punch him square in the jaw for the two-hundred and first time."

"You know, if I hadn't seen you take down all those Hydra gunsels, I'd be very doubtful you would ever punch him," Jones says, looking at Steve critically.

"What makes you say that?" Steve asks, looking up now in curiosity.

"I mean, don't get me wrong, I think nearly everyone in the world would like to land a hit on him. But you just don't seem like the type to want to hurt others. You just do it here because it's that or be killed, and because you want to save everyone. The needs of many override the few, or however the saying goes," Jones admits with a shrug. "You're just too nice to be cruel. Don't seem like the type to break the law, you know?"

Isabel and Bucky both laugh at that, a cackling noise that makes them all look at them with raised eyebrows.

"You're not far off about the not wanting to hurt people thing, but the breaking the law? You couldn't be more wrong," Bucky says through his laughter.

"I just don't get how you're coming to these conclusions," Isabel tells them, shaking her head.

"What conclusions, Baby Barnes?" Dugan asks her, looking thoroughly confused. "He's Captain America. The righteous, good, law-upholding American citizen. Especially compared to Serge, here. Didn't you read the comics?"

"I did, but they're so wrong," Isabel corrects him. "You and the rest of the world all think that Steve's this rule-obliging mantle of patriotic perfection–"

"Nice description," Morita says appreciatively.

"–and that Bucky's like his little sidekick, the war-hardened, bad influence figure in their friendship?" Isabel continues, trying to stifle her laughter.

"Yeah, that's about right," Dugan says, nodding his head. The other men nod, too. Dugan looks between Bucky and Isabel, how they're sniggering. "Why, isn't it true?"

"Of course not" Isabel says with a laugh. "You need to get to know your teammates better. Have you not noticed that every insane idea we've all done comes from Steve, with Bucky trying to talk him out of it? Steve's never followed a rule in his life."

"I have so–"

"You're the embodiment of the "rules are meant to be broken" phrase, Steve," Bucky agrees.

"Not broken, just… bent," Steve tries.

"Really?" Jones gushes. "Examples or it doesn't count!"

"No, no examples, please," Steve tells them, his cheeks a little red. "We don't need to have story time today. Isabel, stop telling them things that aren–"

"Oh, yes we do, Captain. Yes, we do," Dugan cuts Steve off, frowning at him before turning his attention back to Isabel. "You were sayin', doll?"

"Steve does not follow the rules. But only when its in aid of doing something that is right… usually. He isn't a bad boy or anything, I'll give him that. He's just…opinionated, stubborn and temperamental."

"Hey!"

"Can we start with the fact that while Bucky was taking his date dancing and going to a science convention, Steve was committing multiple criminal offences and plotting how to illegally enlist in the Army?"

"Well, it worked, didn't it?" Steve says, slightly sarcastic and slightly smug.

"After, like, three years," Bucky says with an eye-roll.

"Steve went to jail once, you know. Not for long, though; his Ma went and bailed him out within a few hours and she was not happy. Clipped his ears on the way home. It was mainly just to scare him a bit, but it didn't work."

The Commandos faces light up at this piece of information like they've won the lottery. "Jail, Captain?" Falsworth asks in surprise. "What for?"

"Fighting," Steve says with a blush, laughing off his embarrassment. "Saw this guy trying to make a pass at a poor dame trying to get home from work. I went over and told him to lay off. He threw the first punch. The black and white came patrolling past the alley just as I threw my only punch, locked us both up in the back and took us to the cells."

"No. Way!" Dugan says through his stunned laughter. "You were a fighter?"

"No, he was a human punching bag," Bucky tells them, smirking at Steve. "He would always throw himself into these arguments without really thinking it through and I'd have to wade him and pull him back out. His flit with the law was one of the few times I wasn't around. Little punk always started the fights and left me to finish 'em, then went off to Isabel to patch him up again. He's had more split lips than I've had kisses."

"That's sayin' somethin'," Dugan mutters.

"You just never knew when to give up," Falsworth laughs.

Monty pulls a packet of cigarettes from his breast pocket and offers them around. Bucky takes one and lights it up, puffing the smoke out to mingle with the thick air of the pub.

"Steve and Bucky did meet in a back alley, after all," Isabel adds.

"After Steve got roughed up a bit," Bucky laughs.

"Nothing happened–" Steve insists, as he has every time this story has ever come up.

Bucky gives him a look. Isabel rolls her eyes. She's heard the tale enough times to know that Steve most definitely took a few hits before Bucky got there.

"For the last time, runt! If you punks wanna cross tenth, you gotta pay the toll. Two cents for two ways!" The bully commands, and its Bobby Kaff, the eight grader who likes to pick on every younger kid in the area. Steve's only eight, for pete's sake, just grazing four foot nothing, and he's getting beaten up in a back alley for money he doesn't even have.

"I ain't givin' you a red cent," Steve sneers, in all his high-pitched glory, and charges at the taller boy.

"Too dumb to know you've been beat," Bobby snides, and then his fist is collecting hard with the side of Steve's face, sending his frail body to the cold ground. "S'alright," Bobby says, standing menacingly over Steve as he groans and tries to get back up. "I can spend all day provin' it to you If I have to. Not like I got anything else better to do."

"I'll say!" A voice suddenly says. Steve looks up and there's a boy, a little taller than him with a tousle of brown curls on his head, and he's just pushed Bobby from behind, sending the taller boy stumbling.

"Why don't you mind your own business?" Bobby snaps, glaring at the boy.

"It is my business," he insists, hooking a thumb toward himself. He's so cocky, so confident in his abilities. Steve watches from the ground, thinking he's going to watch this new kid get rolled too. "Watching you shake down little kids every day is making me nauseous," the kid continues, and then he's slamming Bobby Kaff back against the dumpster and bringing a trash can lid down on his face, and blood spirts out of Bobby's now broken nose as he cries out.

Bobby takes a good look at the boy, who's towering over him now that Bobby's knocked down, hands on his hips and a menacing frown on his dark features. Bobby collects up his nose and the blood in his shirt and bolts it out of the alley, not daring to look back.

"Hah!" The boy laughs. "Bullies always run, true to form." He turns to Steve then, offers him a hand to help him stand. When Steve doesn't say anything or take his hand, the boy huffs. "You're welcome," he allows, overly sarcastic.

"I woulda worn them down," Steve says, eventually taking his hand and letting the taller boy drag him from the hard ground.

"Yeah, when they died of old age," the boy smirks. "You know, it never even occurred to me to stand up to those bums until I saw you do it. You're a real inspiration, you know that?"

It would've been a real nice compliment had it not been said so sarcastically. "Thanks, I guess." And then Steve sticks out a pale, skinny hand because his mom raised him with manners. "Steve Rogers," he introduces, smiling even though it pains his split lip.

"Good to know you. James Buchanan Barnes," the boy says, and Steve can't help but cringe at the name. James notices and he laughs. "I know. My parents thought they were real funny. My friends call me Bucky."

"Sound more familiar, punk?" Bucky teases. "I think my version of it has got a bit more spunk, don't you?"

"Whatever, Buck," Steve laughs.

"Anyway, so Steve's the one who doesn't follow the rules. He isn't as innocent and law-abiding as the comics and film reels make him out to be. We probably had that established already when he defied orders, snuck into enemy territory and took down his first Hydra base while he was liberating you fellas," Isabel continues, getting back on track with her tale. "Probably not as patriotic either, except maybe for Brooklyn.

"Bet none of this will make it into the history books," Morita says.

"By the time they release books about us, we'll be too old to remember any of the things they're talking about if we aren't already dead," Dugan says. It would have been a bit morbid had they not all been laughing.

"Anyway, we've covered Steve. Now, Bucky. First of all, I think they're each other's sidekicks – one doesn't work without the other, and you won't find one without the other," Isabel says, smirking at them.

"True. We're a package deal, right Stevie?"

"Yeah, Buck, since we jumped on the train," Steve replies.

"Not since you jumped on any sort of train, since Bucky pulled you out of that puddle behind the dumpster," she tells the men. "Anyway, so Bucky… Definitely not the bad influence. Sure, he can charm any woman and he's got a bit of a foul mouth, but he's the strictest rule-following nert you'll probably ever meet. Let me tell you a story."

"This girl's gonna have us so much dirt on Serge."

"So, when Bucky and I were younger, our Mama told us that if we ever jaywalked across the street, we would get arrested and go to jail. Obviously, it was just a trick to make us cross at the lights and be safe walking around Brooklyn; last thing she needed was one of us getting run over or something. But a few years down the line, Mama lets Steve and Bucky walk down the road to the baseball pitch by themselves; I think they were both about eleven years old, maybe a bit younger. They hadn't been friends all that long, were still working each other out. Anyway, so Bucky's never jaywalked in his life up until that point, and then suddenly, Steve's dragging him across the street at a non-intersection. They make it to the other side fine, but Bucky freaks out and starts crying thinking he's going to go to jail for jaywalking while Steve laughs so hard he can't breathe anymore!" Isabel only just manages to get the story out through her laughter. "I think that's the first time Bucky ever saw Steve have an asthma attack, too."

The rest of the Commandos laugh so hard they fall to the side, clutching their stomachs. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Bucky mutters, smiling despite himself.

"Serge, I never thought it," Dugan laughs.

"No wonder he was so straight laced at boot camp. Everyone always spoke wonders of the good Sergeant."

"I behaved at boot camp because otherwise Cramer would've had my ass. My plan was to rebel since I didn't want to be there," Bucky argues.

"Yeah, yeah. The idea of disrespecting orders was just too much for you," Morita argues back, disbelieving of Bucky's excuse.

"I thought that was going to be another story about me," Steve laughs, looking a little relieved.

"Oh, if you want one of Steve, I'm sure I can conjure up a few," Isabel says, putting her hand to her chin as if in thought. "Hmm, I've got one. Buck, you'll remember this, you were there. So, in my senior year of high school, I needed a date to senior prom. This guy from my year asked me to be his date and I said yes. A few days before the prom night, the boy… I can't even remember his name…"

"John," Steve supplies, a little sourly.

"That's it, John. I knew you'd remember his name; you're probably still holding a grudge. So, John comes by my family apartment to tell me he's found someone else, who I think he said was prettier, to take and that leaves me without a date. Naturally, being a dramatic seventeen-year-old–"

"Like you're less dramatic now," Bucky adds helpfully.

"–I think it's the end of the world and refuse to go anymore, saying that the night's been ruined anyway. The next day, Bucky sees Steve while I'm at school and tells him what about happened, and Steve marches himself right into the schoolyard just to tell John off for ditching me like that. John's so stunned he doesn't say anything, just stares wide-eyed at this tiny blonde coming in and yellin' at him. When he finally comes to his senses, John punches Steve right in the face, leaving this horrible red mark that turned into a swollen black eye. Steve hardly bats an eye at it. He comes to the school and meets me out front after the day finished. He tells me he confronted John, and then asks me if I'll take him to my senior prom, his eye red and his cheek bleeding all over his face and shirt and onto the pavement. Very romantic."

"Who woulda known it was love all those years ago?" Dugan teases Steve, knocking his shoulder. Steve hardly even budges at the force.

"It was a little embarrassing, Stevie, I gotta admit, everyone at school was looking at us like we were crazy."

Steve laughs. "I know, I didn't really think that bit through."

"The nurses, who had plenty of experience dealing with Steve when he was a student at the school a few years before, found out about the fight and pulled Steve to their office to patch him up before I could even answer or work out what was happening, so I ran inside after them. I said yes while the nurse was putting a patch over his eye. Steve took me to my senior prom a few nights later. Buys a suit and corsage and everything for me. Shows up at my apartment right on time, and he looks perfect and like a real gentleman except for the horrible black eye he was sporting. My Ma pulled him into the bathroom and attempted to cover it up a bit with some makeup before we went."

"I thought you said your time in the USO Tour was your first time wearing makeup," Dugan accuses Steve, whilst Steve's cheeks go deep red at the mention of his experience as a dancing, singing monkey.

The Commandos laugh and cheer Isabel and Bucky along as they continue to tell stories about their life in Brooklyn and the meddling trouble of young Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. They go on well into the night, the clock nearing ten o'clock at night. Fuelled by alcohol and smokes, Dugan begins adding his own stories about his time in the circus. They all laugh and share and at one point, Isabel and Bucky go over to the player-less piano in the corner and start up a duet of merry tunes they'd learned over the years, prompting almost the entire pub to dance. The men and women of the town who haven't escaped to put their children to bed dance around the room, laughing and singing along in Polish.

Steve sits in the seat nearest them and taps his feet to the beat, singing along to the songs he knows. Isabel can faintly hear him; he's got a nice voice, deep and consistent, and he hits the notes easily. She turns to smile at him, effortlessly running her fingers along the keys.

"What do you say, Captain?" She asks vaguely.

"To what?" Steve asks curiously, breaking off his song.

"What do you say to us handing the floor over to Sergeant Barnes here and we let loose on the dance floor a little?"

"I say that sounds good," Steve agrees, his smile brightening like the sun in the sky.

"Don't worry, I'll play something slow for you, Stevie," Bucky mocks, smiling, his eyes on the keys.

Isabel leaves the piano and Bucky takes over her part, his fingers flying effortlessly over the keys. Isabel and Steve go off to the corner to dance, and much to Bucky's surprise, the duo manage to keep up with any song he plays, Steve a little clumsily. He spins Isabel as the steps require and laughs when she over-dramatically dips in his arms, giggling.

Bucky watches them with a smile, letting himself enjoy the moment. Times like these, of contentedness and fun, are few and far between in the life they are currently living. Bucky doesn't want to miss a second of it.

It's a good day while it lasts. But like all things, it was never meant to last.

From over the sound of the music, Steve hears a ruckus outside the pub. He stops dancing, pulling Isabel to a halt as well, and she frowns up at him in confusion.

"What is it?" She asks quietly, following Steve's eyes as he stares toward the door, straining his ears to listen.

The inside of the stain glass windows have been boarded up to keep the light in, so the chances of seeing out or others seeing in are impossible. Bucky hears the noises outside too, his fingers halting on the piano keys and the music petering off into silence. The dancers stop too, looking at Bucky in confusion, but their eyes widen when they notice that Steve and Bucky are frowning toward the door as if in anticipation.

There's a whole lot of yelling in a foreign language – German, Steve realises – and the loud sound of boots running along the cobblestones. They hear screaming, terrified, female yelling, and the sounds of deeper male voices yelling back.

Seconds later, the door to the pub bursts open, slamming into the wall and snapping one of the rusted hinges. A large group of German soldiers file into the pub, dressed in their combat gear with rifles raised. The man at the front points his rifle at the bartender, yelling at him in German. The bartender yells back, Polish, neither of the men able to understand one another.

"They're just passing through, they're demanding free food and drink and a place to sleep," Steve hears Gabe translate.

The sound of Jones' voice draws the attention of the Germans, who hadn't seemed to notice that there were Americans amongst the Polish civilians. Their eyes land on Steve, who's literally wrapped in the American flag, Isabel cowering behind his back where he's pushed her behind him to protect her. The first man takes one look at Steve and his star-spangled outfit, yells out, and then shoots at Steve with his pistol.

Steve's shield appears out of nowhere, flying through the air across the pub, thrown by Bucky who managed to sneak over and grab it up from its spot beside their booth. Steve catches it easily, having flown straight into his hands, and holds it up in front of him before the bullets hit, instead pinging off the metal.

The screaming starts then – the civilians press themselves up against the back walls, hiding under the tables and chair, covering themselves and their loved ones against the stray bullets. The bartender shouts at the Germans, attempting to force them to leave, but the words have in the air misunderstood. Jones begins shouting similarly in German, but even that is disregarded and the shooting at Steve and the other Commandos intensifies. Steve knows that if they're going to fight, he needs to lead the fight away from the bar. There are too many innocents who could be hit.

Steve turns and grabs Isabel from behind him, practically throwing her to the side whilst covering her with the shield. She drops down under one of the tables where he leaves her, covering her head from the gunfire.

Quickly, Steve advances forward with the shield, the Commandos following him with their guns blazing. The Germans retreat outside, seemingly reconsidering their decision to take the town and attack the Commandos and run up the street from where they'd come. Steve thinks that may have been the last of the fighting, and Bucky picks some of them off slowly from the distance with his rifle, but then the Germans halt behind a few cars sitting idle up the street and behind the corners of buildings, using the barricades as protection to begin firing back.

Steve and the Commandos follow similar, quickly establish a line for themselves in front of the pub that sits at the end of a T-junction of roads. They cower behind cars and a small concrete wall that fences in the front of the building where people can sit on a small outdoor patio.

Steve quickly looks around the street notices that a few of the residences along the main road have been ransacked by the German soldiers in search of possessions to loot, the families inside crying. They presumably, attacked those houses before moving on to the pub. Inside the homes, the men quickly close the shutters on the windows, praying that no rogue bullets with enter their homes.

The shooting escalates once everyone is in their positions. The Germans fire repeatedly, though there is only a smaller number of them now. They aren't even enough of them to make up one full unit. However, the shots miss the Commandos, flying into the walls and windows of the pub behind them.

Eventually, the stain glass windows of the pub shatter in an explosion of glass the coats all of the patrons inside the bar, clattering to the wooden floorboards. Everyone inside screams, the black board that once blacked out the window splitting and falling on top of one of the civilians, who shrugs it off easily.

"Stay down!" Isabel yells at one woman who attempts to crawl closer to her husband, rising worryingly into the line of fire. The woman doesn't understand Isabel's words, but Isabel's hand movements convey the message, the woman flattening herself to the ground again.

Everyone's screaming, and along with the sound of gunfire and explosions outside, it makes Isabel's mind whir. She can barely concentrate. She screws her eyes shut and covers her ears with her hands, trying to think. Lying under the table like she is still puts her at risk of being shot. She needs some protection, needs a shield of sorts. Isabel pushes on the table leg in front of her and it shifts, indicating it isn't bolted to the ground. Isabel risks her safety for a moment, sitting upright and pushing on the other edge of the table, making it fall onto its side in front of her as a barricade against the bullets coming in through the window. A few of the other men copy her action, the wooden tables providing cover from the barrage.

Outside, Steve runs out of ammo on his pistol and flips around with his back to the wall to reload. He pushes his fringe out of his eyes so that he can see, hurriedly reloading the weapon, clicking the magazine into position. As Steve's is ready to go, Bucky's clicks out of ammo, and Bucky follows similar, Steve providing back up for him.

Suddenly, a small canister flies through the air toward the Commandos at the other end of the wall from Steve, a small billow of smoke steaming out of one end. Steve jumps up and sprints along the wall, too fast for any of the bullets to hit him as they follow after him. He gets to the end of the fence just as the grenade lands on the ground beside Dugan and slams his shield down on top of it, absorbing the impact and fire of the explosion.

"That was close," Dugan mutters, staring wide-eyed at the shield on the ground.

Steve lifts the shield and reveals a black scorch mark on the concrete below it. "Very close," Steve agrees.

"I see the super-soldier serum amplified your stupidity, Stevie," Bucky calls across the line. "Your quality of being a self-sacrificing dumbass has increased exponentially, along with my blood pressure."

Steve takes his new spot on the line, firing at the opposing Germans. "And I see you're still a jerk," Steve calls back.

"Nothing could change that, punk."

The bullets spray sporadically across the inside of the pub, but suddenly, they form a line as though they're following something, or someone, as they make their way across the front of the pub. They begin at one end of the pub and then follow a line across to the other side, and then Isabel sees a blur of blue and white flash past the open door. Steve's running toward something. The bullets work their way toward the cabinet storing the alcohol and then burst through the glass of its doors before smashing the bottles themselves, sending alcohol all over the bartender and patrons who cower behind the bar. Seconds later, there's a loud sound of an explosion outside and the floor of the pub trembles. It doesn't sound loud enough or hot enough to have been a large explosion. Being right outside, the wall of the pub probably should have collapsed, or at least been damaged.

Another explosion sounds seconds later, this one louder but further away. Isabel hears the clatter of rubble as well. She supposes Dernier or one of the other Commandos let lose their own grenades in retaliation.

"God, please don't send a grenade in here," Isabel whispers.

She looks at the wide-eyed bartender who lies in a puddle of alcohol, the stench flitting through the pub, mixing with the smell of gunpowder and blood. If any explosive was to work its way inside, the entire establishment would catch alight in seconds, frying them all alive.

Suddenly, Isabel hears a door squeak open behind her. She hadn't thought there was another exit from the pub, and wonders whether it's someone emerging from the bathroom. She turns from her spot on the ground, expecting to find a civilian crawling on the ground, but her breath catches when she finds herself looking up at four German soldiers who have entered through the back exit of the premises.

Others in the pub spot them as well and scream, loudly, enough to be heard outside by the Commandos, despite the sounds of the barrage. Steve turns around with a worried expression; the screams are different from the others.

Isabel reacts before she can entirely think through the fact that there are four of them and one of her. She pulls her pistol from her pocket, switches off the safety, and shoots up at the first man, barely taking the time to aim. The bullet hits him in the thigh, bursting through the muscle. He falls down with a scream and a loud thud before he can even fathom how the woman has a gun. The other three soldiers look at their comrade in surprise before glaring at Isabel, who shoots again, the only thought in her head being to protect the townspeople. Another bullet hits its target, embedding itself into a man's shoulder and knocking him backward into the wall hard enough to take his breath away.

Steve jumps when he hears a gunshot from behind him, inside the pub. He's up and moving before he consciously thinks about it, bursting through the front door of the pub just in time to see a bullet emerge from behind one of the pushed over tables, hitting one of the soldiers in the shoulder.

Before Isabel can shoot again and the Germans can shoot back, the red, blue and white shield flies over Isabel's head, knocking forcefully into the final two soldier's faces and sending them flying back into the supply exit hallway, unmoving on the floor. Steve runs inside and grabs the shield from the floor, ensuring that the men are dealt with, before turning back to see who had been shooting at the advancing enemy. His eyebrows rise when he sees Isabel cowering there, pistol still raised in anticipation and her face set in a steely determination.

"I'm fine," Isabel reassures before Steve can speak, and her voice doesn't even shake. "Get back out there."

Steve can only nod, slightly in shock at seeing that Isabel had been the one to take down the men. He scrambles up from the floor and disappears outside again, slamming the door shut behind him.

The minutes pass, and slowly the distant sounds of gunfire lessen, whilst the Commandos' fire remains at a steady rate, before halting altogether. The final German soldier goes down from a shot to the head, landing with a thud at the other end of the street. Silence falls over the town, and its horridly eerie. The smell of gunpowder is thick in the air, as is the smoke.

Steve hesitantly stands, shield in front of him, and when no one shoots, Bucky follows. The two scour the town in search for any surviving German soldiers, but they come back empty handed. Steve gives the all clear before the Commandos head back into the pub, inspecting the damage and checking on the citizens. The pub itself is ruined, gunshots putting holes in every wall, the alcohol spilt all over the floor, and tables overturned and riddled with gunshots. Luckily, though, none of the civilians are injured.

Slowly, everyone peters out of the pub toward their homes, many of them running through the streets to get to the safety of their families. There's a lot of crying from children and adults, echoing loudly through the streets and filling the settled silence of the night.

Steve and the Commandos walk down the end of the street to the deceased German soldiers. Many of them are slumped over the ground or over the objects they cowered behind. Isabel goes up to each one, pressing two fingers carefully to their necks to ensure they're all dead. She turns and nods solemnly at Steve. At her insistence, the men carry the thirty or so soldiers to the outskirts of the town where hopefully they'll be found and collected by their own army, and where the townspeople won't have to see them every day.

They lie them down in the grass in a line beside one another, and Falsworth makes sure that their dog tags are sitting on top of their clothing so that they can be accurately identified, even if it takes a while for them to be found.

Then, the Commandos stand on the road a while, looking down solemnly at the line of German soldiers.

"Why'd they have shoot at us? We could've damn let 'em go," Morita eventually mutters into the silence, making Isabel jump beside him.

"Don't go feelin' sorry for 'em, Morita," Bucky replies, his voice quiet but final.

"I'm not, Serge," Morita insists. "It's just a damn shame."