Chapter 3
April 6th, 2014
Smithsonian, National Mall
Washington D.C., United States of America
A supercar rolled up to the curb, engine purring. Clint smirked out from under it. “Hey, Capsicle!”
Steve broke off his conversation with Sam, the Air Force vet he’d been running with. “Sorry,” he said. “Duty calls.”
Sam raised his hands. “Don’t worry man, I got it. Keeping the world safe, am I right? And, if you ever need something…”
“Thanks, Sam.” The car pulled into D.C. traffic with a roar.
April 7th, 2014
Street
Washington D.C., United States of America
“Well, what’s not damaged?” Fury yelled. The car responded in an infuriatingly calm voice.
“Air conditioning is fully operational.”
Fury chanced a look back to make sure he’d lost his pursuers. When he returned his gaze to the front, three figures stood in his way. Two men and a woman, dressed in black tactical gear and identities hidden behind a mask and goggles. The lead figure, with- was that a metal arm? fired a disc-shaped projectile. It slid along the road and attached itself with a magnetic clunk to the undercarriage. Fury barely had time to register before the explosion flipped the car upside down.
With a groan, he shook the cobwebs from his brain and waited for the ringing in his ears to subside. When it did, he looked out the window. The three figures approached slowly, circling around. Fury activated the MouseHole.
April 7th, 2014
Steve Rogers’ Apartment
Washington D.C., United States of America
“Tell him I’m in pursuit.” Kate- or whoever she was opened her mouth to protest, but he was already gone.
He chased the figure across rooftops, and through at least two buildings. Finally, he had him cornered, and he whipped his shield at the figure. With impossible speed, the man caught the projectile, and launched it back at him. By the time he looked up, the man was gone.
April 8th, 2014
Apple Store, Gallery Place
Washington D.C., United States of America
Clint typed rapidly. “I’m not very good at this. Computers were never my thing. Natasha could have cracked it in seven minutes, Tony in three. But, but, I do have a location. Wheaton, New Jersey.”
Steve looked around nervously. “Let’s go.”
April 8th, 2014
Bridge Overpass
Washington D.C., United States of America
The steering wheel was ripped out of Sam’s hands through the windshield. Sam slammed the brake. A figure rolled off the roof and onto the street, skidding along, metal fingertips trailing sparks on the concrete. Before any of them could react, three S.H.I.E.L.D. vans rolled up, and several tac teams jumped out, along with two more figures, faces covered in masks and goggles. The man had short-cropped brown hair, the woman’s fiery red framing her masked face.
The battle lasted several minutes, and Steve finally managed to crack the mask off figure 1’s face. He turned back around, and Steve froze.
“Bucky?”
The response was heartbreaking. “Who the hell is Bucky?”
April 8th, 2014
Location Classified
Washington D.C., United States of America
Pierce strode into the vault where the Soldier was being reprogrammed. A pair of technicians worked on his arm, and the Merchant and Widow stood at attention on either side of the room.
“That man,” the Soldier said. “On the bridge. He knew me.”
Pierce’s brows furrowed. “You met him on another assignment earlier this week.” He surreptitiously glanced at the Merchant and Widow, seeing if the sight of the Captain had roused their memories as well. They stared back, faces blank and eyes unreadable. Pierce made his decision.
“Wipe them all, and start over.”
April 8th, 2014
Helicarrier Charlie
Washington D.C., United States of America
“Cause I’m with… ‘til the end of the line.” The Winter Soldier paused, his fist still in the air ready to punch. Merchant did not have a clear shot at the captain. The helicarrier was falling apart around them, but they had orders. Suddenly, Merchant’s comm crackled.
“Secretary Pierce is dead. Kill Captain America, then evac and meet at Rendezvous Victor-7.”
“Da, Herr Strucker. What about the Winter Soldier?”
“Acceptable casualty.” With that, the comm cut out. Merchant looked at Widow. She shrugged, and readied her rifle. He did the same. Several rounds of automatic weapons fire shredded the Winter Soldier’s tac gear, and with a cry of pain, he hurled them both into the Potomac. Merchant grimaced, then he and Widow made their way to the top deck and stole a Quinjet. They knew they would be punished for this failure.