Imprint

The universe decides to give Bucky a break from being its punching bag. A good three hours of interrupted sleep, a hot shower, and fresh set of clothes made all the difference. Usually it was crumby run down apartments that reeked of mold and old crusty t-shirts grabbed out of donation bins. Somehow this was turning out to be the best mission he’d ever been on, practically luxurious. Best of all his head felt crystal clear.

The trio filled Bucky in on the car bombing and their current plan and hustled out the door as soon as he was ready. Zemo led, intimately familiar with the city and where they were going.  Sam and Bucky followed a few steps behind, elbow to elbow. He could see something had occurred between the two during their down time. Zemo was abnormally quiet, but it was Sam that was telling. Avoidant gaze. Wrinkled brow. Lips slightly pursed. Shoulders high and tense.

“Something happen while I was out?”

“No.” Sam replied flatly as the same time Zemo said “A minor disagreement.”

A huff of laughter escaped Bucky. “Disagreement huh. Is that why you two look like a couple of cats stuffed in a sack?”

The baron’s lips curved in a small frown as he mulled over the strange phrase while Sam scoffed. “Please stop reminding me how old you are.”

Zemo slowed down, falling in between the pair. “We debated how best to handle Karli. Sam hesitates. I, however, know what must be done. “He looks up, head tilted and locking eyes with Bucky. “I think you do too.”

The man never has hesitation, only pure conviction. Somehow he always knows what path he wants to take. It’s unnerving. How can Zemo be so self-assured? What does he know? What does he see that makes him so sure of what Bucky will do?

Something is still in there.

Breaking eye contact feels like moving a mountain. “Well you thought wrong. “

The shorter man nods in concession. “I see. Then there is no point in rehashing old arguments. Come, we are close. “

Things are quiet until they reach the GRC refugee camp. Then Zemo’s waxing poetic about his childhood, and when Sam splits off he’s… singing. It’s by far the worst thing Bucky’s ever heard. Even worse than Marvin Gaye.

After meeting with Zemo’s pint sized “contact” Sam explained his hair brained scheme to talk Karli down, and now Bucky got to sit on his ass in a defunct factory that looked about as old as him and wait for Karli to either stand down or for shit to hit the fan.  No prizes for what he thought the more likely outcome was. He kept a careful ear turned towards the stairwell, listening for sounds of a struggle. Even if Sam got through to her he doubted she would turn herself over after one talk. Couldn’t deny he was right though. They could always chase her down if they failed here, but there would never be another chance to talk. This was the only scenario that provided an option for a peaceful resolution.

So Bucky stayed put and kept a close eye on their third wheel. No doubt he would pull his vanishing act and try to finish Karli off, no matter which outcome.

The Baron was being quiet again, leaning back against a rusted machine and carefully not looking at Bucky. Guilt stabbed through him, followed quickly by a rush of anger because, damn it, he shouldn’t feel guilty. Not for Zemo. It had been so viciously satisfying to rip that glass from the baron’s hand and smash it. The startled jump and flash of fear on Zemo’s face should have felt like victory, but it was all ruined. Instead he’d felt a sick twist in his stomach and the strong urge to throw up. Sam hadn’t even fully stood to intervene before Bucky turned and practically fled the room.

“What is that you’re wearing?” The baron tilted his head curiously at Bucky’s sudden question. God, what the hell was he doing? “The cologne. It’s nice. “

“It is Neroli Protofino, by Tom Ford.”

“Maybe I’ll pick some up on the way home.” It really did smell good. Citrusy.

“It is nearly three hundred dollars for a two ounce bottle. “

“Jesus Christ.”

The Baron smiled impishly. “I take it your government does not pay you well enough. Shall I send you some for your birthday?”

Bucky smiled, back more toothy and wolfish “I’ll be sure to mail a thank you card to you in prison.”

Zemo opened his mouth, no doubt with more shitty banter or commentary ready on the tip of his tongue, but the sound of a gong had the pair looking sharply towards the stairs. No, not a gong, that sounded like…

“Walker’s here.” Bucky growled. He glanced back at the Baron- only to find the room empty. Great. Gritting his teeth, Bucky rushed up the stairs, leaving the Baron to his own hunt.

He burst out of the stairwell, rapidly taking in the scene. Sam, Karli, and Walker are not here. Donya’s body laid out in the center. Smashed table. Lemar, struggling to stand. He pointed to another stairwell on the opposite side “u-up. Two floors.” He wheezed. Bucky didn’t stop to help him up. He charged across the room and leapt over the railing, bypassing the first landing completely. It led to a balcony overlooking the factory floor, which he vaulted over, landing on the ground with a thud. He caught a flash of a brown jacket disappearing around the corner of a doorway on opposite side of the room. The people milling around, faces dirty and eyes haunted, all glared at him angrily. They moved to block him. Bucky barreled through, shoving them harshly, hardly slowed in his pursuit.

He flew through the door, shoving against the wall to keep up momentum and leapt in the bowels of the factory. The rapid patter of running footsteps echoed through the mazelike basement. No matter what direction he picked, every twist and turn seemed to take him further from the sound. His mad dash came to an end as he surged into yet another empty room. Bucky panted, letting out a breathless “Shit.” as he tried to figure out what to do next. He pinched the bridge of his nose, pacing while he caught his breath.

Wait…

Bucky drifted closer to the exit on his left and sniffed.

“You gotta be kidding me.”

He passed through the exit, sniffing again as a gentle breeze ruffled his hair, carrying with it the scent of citrus.

Neroli Protofino.

He followed the trail of fresh cool air back up to ground level. The crack of gunfire caused him to pick up the pace again, heart leaping into his throat. Pistol. Low caliber. Easy enough to get anywhere. Could be any one of the flag smasher’s. Sam went in unarmed. Not his, unless he took it off a goon. Lemar was injured, unlikely to catch up with Karli. Walker uses a pistol in tandem with the shield. Zemo was armed.

 Where the hell was Sam?

Bucky kicked in a door. The dry rotted wood stood no chance against his enhanced strength, snapping off the hinges and smashing into pieces that flew across the floor. The factory floor is large, but the rows of massive steel machines make it feel tight and claustrophobic. Sunlight streams through broken windows, the source of the breeze that led him here. He spots Karli and one of her followers staggering up to a balcony overlooking the factory floor. Bucky weaves around one of the large machines, ready to chase, but stops. Zemo stands there not fifteen feet away from Karli, pistol clutched in his hand, but he’s ignoring her. Glass crunches and breaks beneath his boots as he smashes down on the little blue vials littered across the ground. His lips are pursed in disgust, his whole focus so narrowed on this single minded task that he doesn’t notice Walker charge into the room underneath Karli.

He too ignored their target. He too only had eyes for the little blue vials being crushed into the concrete.

Something sparks in Buckey’s brain as Walker winds the shield back. He’s already running. It’s a pulse in his head, a spike in his heart, a base animal instinct screaming ‘don’t let him be harmed!’ overriding everything else. He must have screamed out loud too because now Zemo is looking up, but god damn it he’s looking the wrong way, looking at Bucky.

The shield slams into the side of his head. Bucky can see the moment the light leaves the Baron’s eyes, unconscious before his body even has time to drop to the ground like a marionette cut from its strings.

Walker took a cocky step forward. “You’re welco-GWUG”

 The imitation Captain America slams into the brick wall from the force of Bucky’s punch. He wheezed, clutching his gut and desperately trying make his lungs work again. “What the fu-“ he gasps before a vibranium fist pounds into his face. Walker stays down this time, limply flopping on the ground.

Shit. He probably shouldn’t have done that. As badly as he’d wanted to do that, Walker wasn’t a bad guy. A grade-A asswipe, but not a complete dick.

It still felt kind of nice.

He taps Walker’s cheek, trying to rouse him. Something jostled against his hand; a small blue vial, rocking gently from when he brushed against it. The serum. A soft groan sounds behind him. He casts a quick look back at Zemo, who is moving now, slowly curling up on his knees while reaching out for his gun. A nasty blue and yellow lump is already forming on his temple.

 Bucky quietly palms the vial and slips it into the front pocket of his vest.

Walker’s eyes are open when Bucky goes back to tending him which, means he couldn’t have done too much damage. Blood is pouring down his face from a busted nose. That might ruin those rugged good looks of his. Tsk tsk, what a shame. He slings one of Junior-USA’s arms over his shoulder and pulls him up. He makes some pained noises that Bucky thinks he might find funny later.

“James.” Zemo is standing now, gun holstered and hand pressed firmly over the lump on his head. The quiet intensity of his stare makes the hair on the back of Bucky’s neck rise. It feels like he’s being weighed, measured, and judged. The vial of serum in his breast pocket suddenly feels exceedingly heavy. He keeps his eyes on Zemo’s, waiting. “…Thank you.”

Bucky glowers at him flatly. “It’s not personal. We still need you.” Walker’s more awake now, slurring half formed sentences like ‘what the fuck was that for?’ and ‘ought’a arrest you too’ that Bucky tunes out. “Come on. We still need to find Sam.”

“ ‘s outshide with- with Lamar.” It’s the first time Bucky’s paid attention to anything Walker’s said. Mainly because it’s the only thing useful Walker’s ever said. Now that he’s looking he can see the radio nestled in the man’s ear. Sure would have been nice if they hadn’t left theirs at the safe house. Maybe then he wouldn’t have spent so much time running around like a chicken with its head cut off. Maybe he could have gotten some confirmation Sam was alive and OK.

Zemo gestures towards the door Walker entered from and made no move to help Bucky out. Probably for the best, Walker’s already been punched enough times today. “After you.”

Walker pushes away from Bucky the moment they exit into the boulevard. The whole area is quiet, long since vacated in the chaos of the fight, the refugees fleeing like cockroaches to hide when their home was overturned. He wavers, but his pal Lemar is right there, steadying hand on his bicep. Sam’s there right behind him, face a mask of cold controlled fury. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? I had her!” He seethed “She was listening until you busted in through that window and blew everything.”

Lemar put a hand between them and pushed Sam back. “Now aint the time man.”

“No.” Walker growled, shrugging off his friend’s helping hand and squaring up against Sam. ”Now’s the perfect time. What was I thinking? What were you thinking? She’s a super soldier-“

“She’s a kid!”

“- SHE’S A THREAT!” The harsh yell echoed through the empty street. He spun, staggering slightly, and thrust an accusing finger at Bucky. “And you let your partner walk in there alone. She could’a snapped his neck in a second and you wouldn’t know, couldn’t stop it.”

A vivid image of that scenario flashed through Bucky’s head. A cold hollow sensation settled in his stomach. “You’re not giving him enough credit. He knows what he’s doing.”

“Is that why Karli got away? Cause he knows what he’s doing?” Discount Cap was breathing heavily now, eyes darting wildly between pair. The crusting blood covering his face really sold the unhinged look.

“She got away because you spooked her.” Sam growled

“Yeah…”Bucky crossed his arms and casually prowled around behind Walker and Lemar until he stood shoulder to shoulder with Sam. Movement in the corner of his eye alerted him to Zemo slyly making a wide circle to keep them between him and the American agents.  “Why did she get away, John? She was right there and you let her walk off.”

Blessed silence.

“Because his mission is not Karli.” Zemo divulges. “It is to acquire the Serum.”

There’s a moment of hesitation and then walker is trying to claw his way between Sam and Bucky. “Alright, that’s it. You’re both off the mission and I’m ordering you to turn him over.”

Still unsteady on his feet, Walker almost topples over when Sam shoved him back, only saved from falling by Lemar catching him. “Not happening.”

He gapes at the trio, his anger and bravado crumpling into a hollow disbelief as he half stands half leans into his friend. “Hey.” Lamar says gently “Hey, look at me.” He waits for the other man’s attention before offering a hand. “Let’s regroup. We’ll figure something out.” Walker stared down at the offered hand before slowly clasping it. “Yeah…” He breaths, standing strait. “Ok.”

The three of them wait until the knock-offs are out of sight before heading back to the safe house. “Something’s not right about walker.” Bucky grouses as they meander down the streets.

“You don’t say.” Sam says sarcastically.

“Well.” Bucky continues, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I know a crazy when I see one. Because I am crazy.”

“Hmph.” Sam opened mouth to say more but stopped when his phone rang. “-Hold on, that’s Sarah.”

Zemo shakes his head, then grunted and clutches it as the motion aggravated his injury. “I hoped you would have learned to keep that off after what happened in Madripoor.”

“I’m not putting Sarah on silent. “ Sam tapped the screen and pressed the phone to his ear. “Hey,  Sare-“ He paused, and Bucky and Zemo were instantly alerted to danger as Sam began to jog, voice dropping low as he uttered quick instructions. “She said what? Right... I know, I know. Listen, Pack an overnight bag and take the boys. “

“What happened? “ Bucky asked, picking up the pace to match Sam’s.

“She has escalated. Making threats to your family.” Zemo answered, keeping stride with them. “Just as I warned you.”

Sam nodded tersely. “She threatened my sister and nephews.” He pressed the phone back to his ear and gave them more instruction. Cash only, untraceable. Solid advice.  Affirmations of love and support. He swallowed thickly before ending the call and opening the text messenger, tapping in a new number. “Karli wants to meet. She left a contact number.” She must have been waiting for him to get in touch, because a reply popped up on the screen immediately. “She wants to meet alone.”

“I’m coming with you.” Bucky didn’t hesitate to state. It’s a declaration, not an offer. There was no way he was being left behind this time.

“As am I.” Zemo chimed in.

“NO.” the pair denied him in unison.

The baron tilted his head, right on their heels as Bucky swung the double doors of the safe house open “I sincerely doubt you two have a way of stopping me from following.”

“Yeah, we do.” Bucky growled and stripped off his jacket while Sam peeled off to get his wings in their room. Zemo strode over towards the bar, Bucky following closely, dogging the man in case he tried to pull another vanishing act. “It’s called the Dora Milaje. They’ll be thrilled to have you.”

Zemo’s lips tugged into a small frown, unable to deny he had a good point. “…I stand corrected. But do you really want to risk Karli getting away again? You know I am dedicated to the mission. You can trust me to finish this.”

The old oak of the bar groaned as Bucky slapped a hand down on it. “Key word there, “again”. Because you let her get away the first time. So no I don’t trust you.”

Zemo’s gaze flicked from his fist to his face. Lips pursed. Brow furrowed. Head doing that stupid tilt again. Bucky braces himself for whatever bullshit is about to spew out his mouth.” You claim the soldier is gone, but I see he is alive and well. Not through triggers or phrases ingrained through torture and conditioning, but by your own hand. It is you who can’t let go of the soldat.”  Bucky swallowed thickly, jaw clenching and mechanical arm whirling as it strained and compressed in an effort to keep still. Don’t engage. Don’t snap. Zemo stepped closer, a shark smelling blood in the water. “It’s obvious in the way you fight. Sloppy. Inefficient. Always pulling your punches because you attribute certain actions to the soldat. You’re convinced this is the way to bury the past, but every time you do you give him power.

“Shut up.” He orders low and dark.

“You are afraid to do what must be done and as long as you are afraid the Winter Soldier will never be gone.”

“Sam!” Bucky barks harshly as he snatches his jacket and turns his back on the baron. “Keep an eye on him, I’m getting the wak-“

Glass shatters behind him and he almost thinks Zemo’s done something stupid until a grenade rolls to rest at Bucky’s feet. He sucks in half a breath in surprise. Whirling around, he snatches Zemo by the strap of his shoulder holster and rolls them over the bar, curling protectively around the smaller man when they hit the ground. The grenade detonates with a deafening bang, destroying the beautiful lounge and perforating the aged wine and whiskeys with shrapnel. Broken glass and wasted liquor rain down on the pair. Bucky lets go of the baron, allowing the both of them to press their backs against the bar and Zemo to draw his weapon. They aren’t given time to recover. A hail of bullets rips through the stained glass windows, shattering the tiled floors filling them the room with dust.

“Bucky!”

Bucky pops his head over the top of the bar. It’s Sam, trapped on the other side of the room. His vest is on but the wings are folded in front of him in the shield configuration. The front doors blow open and a group of rough looking men with pistols and semi-automatic pile in- only to promptly fall to a combination of crossfire and Zemo’s excellent marksmanship. Bucky almost has a heart attack when Zemo stands and casually walks out in the open, bullets still whizzing in through the windows behind him. He scrambles after the man, Sam diving in the rescue from the other side and shielding their backs. “The Hell do you think you’re doing?!” Sam yells and Bucky has to agree, because he’s seen Steve do a lot of really stupid stuff but at least he had a plan. Bucky’s really starting to miss plans.

“Clearing a path.” The baron replies calmly, striding forward while reloading a clip.

“Sure would be nice to have that shield right now huh Sam?” Bucky yells over the crack of gunfire. A man pops out from the side of the building as they hurry into the street, but a blow from Bucky sends him rolling across the cobblestones. The moment they’re out of the line of fire Sam reconfigures his wings back to flight mode. “Now is not the time man. “ He grouses, tossing Bucky a small radio to place in his ear before leaping into the sky. “You guys find a way outa here. I’ll keep them off your backs.”

“This way, James.” Zemo calls, turning down a dark and twisty alley that led them deeper into the heart of Riga. He kept his gun in hand, but hid it in the flaps of his coat. “Cars are not popular in this area of Riga, but the river should provide us with transport to the docks. “

“Not the airport?”

“This was a targeted attack, not the rash actions of an angry zealot.” Zemo holds up a hand they stop, darting into a dark recessed archway. Two men with sub machine guns and cigarettes lazily wander by at the intersection up ahead, giving a half-assed once over of the area before moving on. ”They know who we are and where to find us.” He continued quietly as he and Bucky resumed skulking through the city. “The jet is likely compromised.”

They filed down a set of rickety wooden stairs that spilled out into the Daugava River. From there they simply followed the waterfront until Bucky found a serviceable motorboat to hotwire. He kept a close eye on the riverfront as they puttered up towards the Baltic Sea, but their attackers never showed. He tapped a finger to the transceiver in his ear, radioing Sam. “You get all that?”

“Yeah. There’s a terminal at the mouth of the river. I’ll meet you guys there. “