Chapter 8
Bucky thrust his hands into his pockets as he went in, a cap covering much of his face. He felt assured, safe. Clint was in a tree outside of the building, ready to strike in case things went awry, Bucky could at least go outside and have some backup. Natasha handled the situation from the ground, watching the entrances and exits. Once he was inside though, he was on his own. Half of the windows of the bar were considerably darkened, and the other half boarded up with wood.
“Alright, I’m going in. Maria, do you have eyes on me?”
“Affirmative Barnes. I can see everything you’re seeing. Vitals look steady, you’re good to go. Be safe (that’s from Steve),” she said, watching from HQ. Fury stood on her other side, watching the screens that showed Bucky’s immediate surroundings, and things from his viewpoint, as well. He’d thought it best to assign Rogers to paperwork for now. Fair as it may not be, it kept things less heated. He knew the protectiveness anyone would have over a loved one, but didn’t think it would help the situation. Steve hadn’t been happy about the decision, but he didn’t argue. Maybe it would be better he didn’t watch what was happening; it was possible to be stressful enough to induce a heart attack.
Bucky looked around. It looked like any other bar, with booths and tables. The bar itself was clean, with a good number of patrons. By any and all accounts, it was regular bar. But it didn’t take long for Bucky to notice the hard edge in everybody’s eye, something that told him they were far more formidable opponents than they let on. And the HYDRA symbol that had appeared on Buddy’s arm littered the place, in obvious places and hidden away, too. He gulped, and asked for whiskey at the bar.
“Hey you!” A rough voice called, with a hint of an accent. Russian maybe.
Bucky ignored it, pretending to be engrossed in a game on the TV above the bar. Something hit his cap off of his head. “I said hey,” the same voice growled in his ear. He jumped, instincts taking over as he bent the man over the bar, like he’d done to so many perps. “Problem pal?” the man said, laughing. Bucky let him up, eyeing him.
The man was covered in tattoos, even on his bald head. He looked like one of those scumbags who were in and out of jail long enough to build frightening reputations.”The name is Alejandro,” he said, extending a marked arm. Bucky shook it. “Call me Jamie,” he said. Alejandro smirked, and before Bucky could say anything, the other man made a move, and suddenly Bucky heard a sickening crunch. The pain came a second later, in a shockwave that spread throughout his whole body. Cradling his arm, he kicked a table at Alejandro and headed for the door.
“Uh uh uh, not so fast, Detective.” Pierce said, locking the door behind him. “Did you realty think you wouldn’t be found out? Was Fury stupid enough to believe that even though I have never seen your face, that you could just waltz in here and spy? No no no, my dear James, no no. And now, I’m afraid you’ll have to pay for his foolishness. Rumlow!”
A pair of inhumanly strong hands seized Bucky, and threw him to the ground. His head bounced off the concrete with an awful snap. He saw spots as he fell unconscious, unable to even register the pain.
On the other side, things went silent. Agent Hill and Fury stood in shock as they stared at the screens, which had begun to resemble TV static. “Smart move,” Tony muttered, having just entered. “They knock him out, and there go our eyes and ears on the inside.”
“So who’s going to tell Rogers, because its not going to be me,” he continued, trying to make light, but there was fear and anguish in his eyes, and his words broke mid sentence. God they were fucked, and how the hell were they supposed to get Bucky back?