Chapter 2
The problem with cats, Sam Wilson thought, was that cats were fickle assholes who did what they wanted. So if a Murderkitten beat Captain America within an inch of his life then dragged an unconscious Steve Rogers out of the Potomac then disappeared off the face of the earth (seriously, had TNJBB gone to fucking Asgard—?) for two years without a trace, well. Son of a bitch, Sam had said under his breath a hundred thousand times, and also, could you really blame him?
But then Murderkitten stopped his possibly suicidal radio silence and went on a killing spree at guess what, the fucking UN headquarters in Geneva where 117 countries were gathered to sign the Accords, including some of his best friends, thank you oh-so-very-much, asshole. He’d hoped it’d be enough for even Steven Grant “He’s My Friend” Rogers to see straight (not likely), but once again, Sam was sadly mistaken.
“You sure you’ve thought this through,” Sam asked.
“He’d do it for me,” Steve mused stubbornly.
“1945, maybe,” Sam shrugged. “I only ask because people who shoot at you usually wind up shooting at me.” And that was that. Cap didn’t put up much of a protest. Two years ago, maybe, Sam, I can’t ask you to do this. Nowadays dude pretty much took it for granted. And, totally honest, Sam didn’t know if it made the guy even more a self-righteous pain in the ass or whether it was fucking awesome that someone like Cap would consider him such an unquestioning friend. So Sam would wait. See how the mission panned out…and then decide if he was pissed or not.
But that’s when Sharon “I’m Her Niece Sorry I Sorta Spied on You And Maybe Overheard You Masturbating to Your Dead Friend And/Or My Ninety Year-Old Aunt” Carter showed up with intel. And that, as the story goes, was that.
So that’s how Samuel Thomas Wilson found himself unwillingly in Bucharest, chasing down a Murderkitten who may or may not not remember jackshit, may or may not be working for HYDRA, and who most certainly didn’t want to be found all before, you know, the collective sovereign governments of the world outright murdered him. Oh, did he mention dude was the longest serving POW and a WWII era war hero? And that a free Europe pretty much single-handedly owed their current existence to Sergeant Butterfingers Barnes and the suicidal stupidity of Captain Can’t Fly a Plane Rogers? And the last time kitty’d been caught he’d had Sam declawed? Yeah. Okay. So Sam was definitely pissed.
But Steve was his friend, damnit, and while lying about Barnes had been for his own good before, well. Now it was time to fess up to the truth.
“Eagle, before you go in there—“
“Falcon?”
Sam sighed. “You might not like what you find.”
“I have to help him. Regardless of who he is now, he’s my friend.”
“He might not know that, Cap. Just be careful.”
"Use call signs when on the comms. Will do. Rogers.”
Oh, you son of a bitch, Sam thought. He just got Cap-punked!