protivvyter | (no subject)

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It didn't take long.

With what Hawkeye had given him, his own abilities, and the HYDRA drops he raided, HYDRA soon knew that the Winter Soldier had survived and he had a new mission: he was going to wipe HYDRA off the map.

While the Avengers took out the heavily fortified places, looking for something - he didn't know what - he quietly took out several smaller bases, leaving them nothing but hollow craters in the earth. After about his third base, he knew that SHIELD and the Avengers were going to sit up and start taking notice, so he disappeared into the wilds - and not so wilds - of Europe, crossing over into Russia to get away from the messes that he left behind.

But Bucky isn't perfect, no matter how much he likes to think it. This last base... this last one had been ready for something a lot heavier than him - like the Avengers. It takes him off balance, and even HYDRA seems shocked to see him. Well, that's good, that means they aren't looking for him. Except he hears the order over the comm he steals: they want to capture him, not kill him.

That's not good.

He stumbles out of the base, clutching his flesh arm to his side. Blood seeps down his side from several bullet wounds. He's not in good shape. He should have left this place, but he'd wanted to get it gone, before the Avengers, before Steve could come take it down.

He collapses against a tree and closes his eyes panting. He knows someone is watching him. He can feel their eyes on him.

And he knows those eyes.

"Are you going to finish the job or help?" He asks the empty forest. It's not that empty though, is it?

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After HYDRA took down SHIELD, Steve had been working with the Avengers, taking the lead on their missions to destroy one base at a time, but it had been days, weeks, months between each discovery, and he hadn't been idle during that downtime.

He had been tracking the Winter Soldier, as he liked to tell himself, because if he thought of him as Bucky, now, he knew it would be a big mistake. Whatever of Bucky there is left - if there was anything left of him - he knew it wouldn't be much, and he couldn't take building up his hopes too much to have his heart broken all over again. Not after everything that had helped him reach this point.

It had been slowing going, though, either following false trails or finding them long cold before he had found them, and each time he had thought he was getting close, gaining on him, he was finding himself breaking a little bit at a time all the same. Still, he had to keep trying, because he knew that if their places were switched, the friend he was knew would have done the same for him; he would never have written him off, given up, and right now he knew he had no one but himself - he tried not to think about how he probably didn't even know who he was, not after what had been done to him, or after the things he had done as the weapon he had been turned into.

But that brought him here, wherever exactly he was. It's completely accidental that he happens across the HYDRA base, but without the team to back him up, he knows he doesn't stand a chance at making a dent in it alone. And as that realisation dawns on him, he hears the chaos inside - agents shouting, others screaming, small blasts and gun shots, and he finds cover.

He means to alert the team, but before he's got his phone in hand, he conceals himself further behind the rocks and trees that are littered around, watching and waiting as a team of HYDRA agents pass buy, weapons in hand, and speaking about the their target.

..."--and watch out for that arm of his."

So he's here, Steve realises, and alone. He knows he's alone. He wouldn't trust a single soul, either, in his position, not even to help him take out the ones who ruined him.

Steve is up and running as soon as they're out of sight, careful of his surroundings, and circling the base; it's obvious the damage done inside is bad, especially when no more agents cross his path, and the building is ablaze. He might not have taken them all out, but he destroyed the facility, and he doesn't care for the remaining HYDRA agents chances.

And then he stops dead in his tracks, standing vulnerable in the open, staring across the distance to where the body is slumped, watching, and unsure of how to approach before the question comes.

"It was never my intention to take you out," he finally says, taking a step forward, and then another until he's towering over him. "How bad's the damage?"

He must be in worse shape than he thought. He's not expecting Steve to step out from behind a tree. He'd been expecting - well, that doesn't matter.

For Steve, for that scrawny little kid from Brooklyn, Bucky will force himself up. He doesn't tower over Steve any more and a part of him mourns for that lost innocence. On both their parts.

His flesh arm dangles uselessly - he'd dislocated it, falling off that damned scaffolding taking out the weapon of mass destruction they'd been constructing. An explosion rocks the glade behind them. Something didn't go off as planned, apparently. Bucky still has to lean against the tree behind him. His entire body aches.

"Dislocated shoulder. A few scratches." A bullet hole or three to go with it. He'll be fine. He knows it. After the other HYDRA bases that he's taken out, he knows he'll be fine. It just might take a little while.

As the ground shakes, Steve holds out both hands, as if to steady himself, and after it passes the smoke rising above the base grows thicker. Well, at least that takes care of that. He'll have to inform the team, but not right now, not when there's still a chance of an agent or two out there, and not while his best bleeds to death.

It's instinct, he thinks, as he rushes forward without thinking, reaching an arm around him to keep him upright, because even the tree doesn't look to be enough.

"And the rest. If you think I got this far without being able to detect a bullet wound, then you're wrong."

He looks around trying to weigh their odds as he waits for a reaction, not certain this move is a good one, but the state he's in, he doesn't think Bucky can fight him off, even if he wants to.

Bucky hisses in a breath when Steve bumps his bad shoulder. His body slumps a little toward the warmth of the supersoldier. It's an instinctive reaction, not something he can stop from happening.

"There's only one." Or three. Honestly, Bucky isn't sure how many times the bullets hit him. He wouldn't be surprised to find a few more than he can feel right now. "Shoulder first." Because he knows there are HYDRA agents in the forest still. The last they need is for the pair of them to be caught by a patrol or the few stragglers he left alive.

"Then we move." Because he can put his shoulder back in by himself, but that requires more strength than he has right now. And he's pretty sure Steve would stop him from doing it with a tree.

He hears something in the woods and freezes, his breathing going soft and deep as he waits for the patrol to go by them.

" - around here somewhere."

"It's not the Avengers?"

"No, it's some damn cowboy."

Bucky looks up at the trees. They'd do better to get to higher ground. Literally.

Through instinct, Steve freezes to listen, eyes scanning all around them, automatic thoughts listing through possible outcomes should the enemy force spot them. And, before he realises he's doing it, he's looking up at the exact same moment that Bucky does. It's odd, the feeling it brings, that courses through him and makes his heart speed up in a way that even the voices didn't trigger.

But, no, there's no time to think about it right now, not if he wants to get them both out of this.

"You're an idiot," he hisses, as soon as the voices are a far way off, and they appear to have gone unnoticed. For now. "Taking on a HYDRA base alone - what were you thinking?" It's an automatic response, somehow, that he can't quite stop, from days of old when Steve would get himself into trouble and Bucky would give him the speech, and that somehow switched around by the end of their time at war together.

He shakes everything off, composes himself, and gets himself back into the moment, into what needs to be done, as a soldier.

He helps lower Bucky down to the ground; he'll only end up there, anyway. And then he's searching the ground around them, not quite sure for what, but he knows there's a chance this isn't going to be quiet and there's nothing to put between his teeth.

"It's going to hurt. Do you think you can keep it down? We need to get it done and get out of here quick."

But he doesn't wait for a response, certain there's been worse done to his best friend over the years, and that's when he shuts Steve Roger's down and leaves Captain America in charge, carefully but quickly lifting Bucky's arm up to get it in line and closing his hands firmly around his shoulder and forearm, readying himself. He looks to Bucky, and waits for the go-ahead signal.

Bucky looks up at Steve, prepared for the sharp crack and dull ache that will follow the realignment. He's done it to himself enough times. He knows how badly it will hurt. Crying out isn't an option in this context. Not that he would anyway. That's been burned out of him along with so much else.

His eyes scan the woods around them, looking for other patrols. The last thing they need is to be caught while they're tending the one wound that cannot wait.

"Just do it." He growls out. He doesn't even flinch when the shoulder is reduced back to what it should be. Instead, he pushes himself up and puts a gun in that hand. Better to be armed. It hurts, but he'll be able to fire if it becomes necessary.

He really hopes it becomes necessary. He's willing to take out a few more HYDRA agents before he's done with this base.

"We should go."

No matter how many times he does that, he'll never be able to get over the sickening sound of muscle, bone, and cartilage being shifted back into place. But needs must, and there's no time to dwell on it.

He looks the man he considers to be his best friend - maybe even his only friend - up and down. He looks pale, pasty, even, but there's no river of blood rushing out of him, so he doesn't mention the bullet wounds; he knows they're already too vulnerable to waste time.

"Don't just stand there, then, let's get going."

And with that, Steve is charging forward, taking point, and relying on Bucky to have his back. He's got a gun hanging from a holster in his belt, but he doesn't reach for that; he slips the back-pack from his shoulders as they move and pulls out his shield, smiling as he gets the right grip on it. The bag gets thrown back over his shoulder, uniform tucked inside in case he gets called out while he's gone.

Weapon in hand, Steve picks up the pace, heading away from the base. But he falters a little, looking back over his shoulder to make sure Bucky's keeping up. "What do you think the chances are of capturing one of the HYDRA agents alive for information?" The Avenger, with what SHIELD can still offer and what Stark's managed to dig up, are still desperate to find more bases.

Bucky stumbles a couple of steps. He can't help it. Seeing Steve with the shield, taking off through the woods brings back memories. Not good ones either. He remembers too much; they com flooding back for a moment until he almost wants to retch. Only training and the programming so helpfully supplied by HYDRA keeps him on his feet and moving.

Steve's question brings his head up. He narrows his eyes and then picks up the pace. If there are HYDRA agents to capture, he'll get something out of one of them. He doesn't have Steve's restraints.

Something ahead makes him stop. He touches Steve's arm and nods toward the bushes ahead. There's something there, and he's not sure what. The noise and ruckus of the base collapsing has sent all the wildlife fleeing for their lives. That means that whatever is there is two footed.

Raising his gun, he takes a step forward, heading for the bushes. He'll flush out whoever is there and then they can get some information out of them.

The person in the bush whips around and points his gun at Bucky, but Bucky fires first, hitting the man's shoulder. Stepping over he puts one boot on the man's shoulder, holding him in place.

"He speaks English." Bucky is certain of that, even if the man attempts to say otherwise. "Ask your questions."

Steve has seen and experienced a lot since that last day when he was so naively desperate to sign up to help with the war. He's done a lot of things he never thought he would, things he always believed a US soldier would never do, not the version of them he always had in his head, of the country that took his father from him. But the thing he's truly learned since that day is that a soldier is a soldier, no matter what side they're on, neither is entirely good or bad, but they do all have a goal, and that goal is to do whatever it takes to win.

So when he sees a familiar look on Bucky's face, he has to force himself to look away, though he's not sure if it's due to shame, because he's not sure he wouldn't do whatever it takes to get the information out of one of the HYDRA agents, or if it's something else entirely, something that makes him swallow down emotions he can't focus on right now, that the friend he mourned for all those years ago might not be as dead as he thought. But then again, the man who was Bucky's best friend back then isn't exactly alive anymore, either. Neither of them are the men they used to be.

When Bucky speaks and then darts off, Steve is right there behind him, following in his wake, shield at the ready. But he lowers it when he sees that Bucky has the situation under control. He doesn't comment on the man's injuries, he knows it was him or Bucky, and he knows which he would rather. And the treatment, well, he's seen HYDRA do far worse.

He leans over the man, nods to the wound. "Answer me and you'll live. If you don't, well, we gave you a choice." He moves closer, towering over the man, and looking him right in the eye. "HYDRA bases. Tell us where we can find what's left of them and this'll all be over quickly." He nods to Bucky, as if to signal for him to be ready to apply further pressure if it's needed; he won't interfere, as long he doesn't kill him before they get what they need.

The man spits out an epithet in Russian and Bucky presses harder, making the man scream with pain. "Answer." Bucky orders in Russian. He doesn't have the time or the patience to play around.

"I don't know." The man pants out in accented English. He looks between the two men. "I live here, work here. We had a fall back place."

Bucky eases up the pressure on the man's shoulder, allowing him the ability to speak without panting so heavily. It made it easier to understand. "Where?" Bucky asks. If they could track down more HYDRA agents, then he was all for it, despite the still seeping wounds in his side. He could handle a lot more pain. HYDRA had seen to that.

The man shakes his head, then screams in pain when Bucky kneels down and presses a thumb into the man's shoulder. "Ten kilometers east." The man pants out. "That's all I know."

Bucky lets up on the pressure and puts his metal hand on the man's throat. He doesn't kill him right away, waiting for Steve's go ahead. He still needs an order to kill.

Steve stands aside, allowing Bucky to get on with it, and paying attention to every detail. He doesn't know Russian, it's something Natasha's been trying to get him to learn, and now he's wishing he'd had chance to move further along with it. But the broken English he gets well enough, between the cries of pain.

He's not sure how far he should let this go, thrown off by watching Bucky, the kid who never gave up on him even when he did, taking these actions with ease.

"Let him go," he hears himself saying before his brain catches up with his mouth. "He's hurt. He's not stupid enough to take both of us on in his condition." He gives the guy a look, towering over him to the point of casting him in shadow, and he tilts his head, all authority in his tone. "Are you?"

The guy mutters something in Russian, again, but when Steve nudges his leg with his foot, the guy splutters for a moment before coming to his senses. "N-no, not stupid."

"That's what I thought." Satisfied, he gestures with his head for Bucky to step back, move aside. "But if we cross paths again, the outlook won't be this optimistic for you."

He's got his shield firmly in his hand, a gun he doesn't care much for loaded and ready at his belt, and a knife that both Natasha and Clint insists he keeps with him at all times, whether he's got enhanced strength or not.

Bucky lets the man go and stands up, rolling his shoulders. He looks at Steve. He cannot believe he's about to follow him. But follow him where? And when had he....

Before.

Before everything had happened. Before the Winter Soldier. Before HYDRA. Before.

Everything is divided in his life; divided into before and after. Before, when he'd just been a kid from Brooklyn, cold, hungry, desperate to get out of the war in one piece with his best friend. And after... the bit where he barely remembered, the bit where he killed, over and over, and was HYDRA's attack dog.

He turns to the east and starts walking. When they're a bit away from the man. "Should have killed him."

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