Remnants of Time

Also, check out my Spotify Playlist I put together for this fic.
(Keep in mind the chapters, though. The tracks are kind of like a soundtrack.)

Wakanda

Wakanda was a mess. After “a mysterious attacker slaughtered over a dozen of palace guards, a failed attempt at assassinating the king,” how journalists put it, the conference was canceled, of course. No one knew specifics to what was going on, or if maybe something else would happen, if people would be safe here any longer. Some were transferred to Birnin Djata, but the majority of visitors was sent back to their home countries right away.
The three remaining Avengers had been placed in the medical ward by royal order, all of them injured thanks to their nocturnal fight with the still unidentified intruder. Lomawu had made sure they were all safe and then, rushed off with a promise to get this situation figured out. To come back with a name belonging to the intruder. Come back from where? Undisclosed information.
Out of all three of them, Wanda was probably the most affected, not physically, but psychologically. Clint kept a close eye on her, guiding her through nightmares like he did with his own children, staying up with her to offer comfort. She was incredibly frustrated she hadn’t been able to protect Barnes and she blamed herself for that more than she should. But no matter how bad he thought was with words, for her, he found the right ones.
Soon, regret and shame turned into determination. Cap would be proud, Clint thought when he watched Wanda exercise in the gym.
Then, all of the sudden, the simple silence was interrupted by doors slamming into walls and footsteps crashing against the floor. Scott barged into the room, immediately picked up by a red streak of energy and pushed into a wall.
“Scott!,” Wanda shrieked and brought him down. “I could’ve-“
“It’s Lomawu!,” Scott whispered. “He’s the HYDRA mole!”
Harsh silence, contorted faces, and a dawning realization.
“Shit. They’re gonna kill Cap,” Clint cursed.
“How would you know that, Scott?” Wanda yelped as they were running through the compound. Where they were headed - she had no idea. The man that could shrink to the size of an ant had rushed out of the gym and now, he had Wanda and Clint on his tail.
He stopped all of the sudden and consequentially had Wanda crashing into him. Scott sent quick looks to both sides, he looked very confused, then frowned.
“What is it, Scott?”
“I still have no idea which hallway we’re on. What!? This palace is huge and every level looks the same!”
“Oh God,” Clint huffed, “give me patience. For starters, just tell us what you know.”
“The ants,” Scott whispered. “We found proof he paid a lot of money to the CIA. No clue what it’s for. But he did. And you saw the Winter - Buck- Barnes’s file.”
“Okay. Let’s go to T’Challa with that. He might be able to do something, at least get us out of here so we can help.”
Wanda’s head turned and she sent a look through the big windows lining this hallway. She noticed the unusually busy runways of the royal airport.
“Are you coming?” Clint asked, already standing by the other end of the hallway. She nodded, following her two friends, hoping that the king was indeed able to do something for her friends.
They arrived at the palace’s royal quarters after thirty minutes, after having had to wait at least 20 minutes at the over-conscientious security controls the Hatut Zeraze, the royal guard was known and praised for. To their surprise, they were urged to wait. The king was busy, in a confidential political meeting right now. Hadn’t all politicians been secured?

“My past with the CIA is not a secret, your highness. Against the council’s notion, I could arrange a collaboration and turn this situation to our favor. The CIA in London operates on a lead that points to a yet unknown asset, my king.” Lomawu eyed the king, for a reaction revealing what the Black Panther felt about the leader of the SIW and his line of action that undoubtedly sounded bold. To go behind the Council’s back had definitely not been a wise decision, but then again, this wasn’t a standard situation either. T’Challa’s face was unreadable.
“Unknown? Elaborate. No entries in our databases?”
“Not a single one. The only trace we discovered results from putting his name behind all unsolved victims of the past… fifty, maybe sixty years?”
“Another Winter Soldier?”
Lomawu shook his head, pulling out the modified beads lining his wrist, special high-tech devices every authority in Wakanda was equipped with. Several passwords protected the highly classified content he stored on there.
A hologram lit up, depicting a file with not just a few, but more than half the standard categories blank, a true testimonial of this asset’s nebulous identity.
“If you were looking for the wind, you would not find it in this breeze.” An old Wakandan saying. Lomawu wasn’t surprised the Black Panther knew it. The royal education was extensive.
“Well said, my king. I have information, however, that determines the current mission’s objective of the Remnant as the murder of Steve Rogers.”
“Is that definitive?”
“Very. Based on the calculations we applied after the incident surrounding Mr. Barnes in his quarters, based on, well, everything we could collect, this new asset is unpredictable. There has been a direct attack on Captain Rogers and Mr. Wilson in Belgium yesterday. To continue engagement in my protocols, I require permission of lethal action on sight, your highness.”
The Black Panther still sat on his throne, unmoving, like the real beasts out in the jungle that could remain in the same position for hours. One of his hands was touching his chin and cheek, he was thinking while staring what seemed like a hole into his advisor and subordinate.
“Do you not recommend our incarcerating facilities?”
“May I quote one of your grandfather’s sayings, your highness? Every fortress has a door. I’m convinced that this asset is enhanced and that HYDRA is keeping the leash tight. Forgive me for being blunt, but how many more Wakandan lives are you willing to slaughter for the Americans?”
The king furrowed his brows, gaze steady and his body in an elegant posture. It was a good question, one that he couldn’t afford to have overseen and trampled over.
A guard stepped in, bowing his head respectfully.
“Mr. Barton, Miss Maximoff, and Mr. Lang request an audience, your royal Highness.”
“They won’t speak to me today, but my words must reach them still. They are expected to pack their gear and meet at the hangars in two hours.”
The guard disappeared right away, honoring all the strict palace protocols.
“You have never disappointed me or my father, Lawrence. I trust your judgment. Permission granted. Make sure to prevent any further disaster.”
Mr. Lomawu bowed, stepping forward to display the traditional gesture of gratefulness before his king. He took the fine, ornamented spoon from the side of the throne to dip it into the small bowl of the king’s exquisite oil and sprinkled it onto his feet, Immediately, a wonderful, rich scent rose between the two men, telling tales of childhood and secret places deep within the jungle. After that, he removed himself from the mighty Black Panther’s presence, backward, like ancient rule prescribed. He had just reached the door when T’Challa raised his voice again.
“Oh, and Lawrence? Take the Americans. They shall assist you in your hunt.”
Lomawu bowed and left the room. He couldn’t say he was happy about this turn of events, but he didn’t complain. Obstacles were challenges, not stop signs. It would be easy to convince the three leftover Avengers to join the hunt for the unknown attacker who had freed the Winter Soldier. On top, the asset had attacked them during the Captain’s absence. All in all, you could call it perfect timing.
Lawrence smiled. Zola had shown him his plan and it was a plan of victory. Pierce had failed, but the Avengers were split. Good conditions for Project Awakening. The loyalty these three remaining Avengers had for Steve Rogers was going to be his downfall.

Cologne

Germany. The Autobahn was a blessing. In just two and a half hours, the silver Audi had almost covered 150 miles and flown by two major cities, each offering hundreds of places to stay. And they had stayed at a tiny little motel to just rest and nurse each other up, to eat and sleep, even despite Natasha’s determinedness to keep their course on Cologne. But now, they’d reached Germany’s Ruhr Area, which Cologne was a part of.
When Sam asked what made Cologne so special and why they had to stay there of all places (what was up with that name, anyway?, Natasha eyed the streets warily as if she was afraid someone would jump at her any moment now.
“The whole city’s celebrating the Carnival right now. With a tumult like this, any agent will tell you surveillance is a bitch. We’ll be safe for… well, at least a day.”
Steve wasn’t sure if a day long enough to figure everything out, even if he pronounced it with the same optimism as Nat. Everything being what HYDRA was planning to do and what would happen to Bucky. Back to the optimism, they had an important source in their car and Steve swore to himself that he would make this man talk if he denied them information.
His mind couldn’t relax, even with the humming of the car and the jazzy music Sam had put on. The conversation from the hotel room replayed over and over again.
She’s asking me a question she already knows the answer to and he doesn’t ask the one question he actually wants answered. What did that mean? Of course, Steve hadn’t mentioned Bucky once, keeping his vulnerable spot hidden, but Natasha? What did she ask that she already knew?
Steve had supposed the doctor just asked that to create a feeling of uncertainty, that it didn’t mean anything else. That’s how HYDRA works, he told himself, even when they know they lost, they still create confusion and chaos any place their tentacles can reach.
So, making sure the man who was spread out over his side of the back row was still unconscious, Steve searched for Natasha’s eyes in the rearview mirror. She was quiet. Too quiet, hadn’t even complained about Sam’s music once. What was she thinking about? What if she knew much more than she pretended to - no. Steve didn’t want to believe that Natasha was pretending anything right now. She’d shared all the relevant information with them - right?
Steve then recalled the one thing that had upset him that evening. He remembered how much time Nat actually spent at the HYDRA building while he’d held the car ready. The video hadn’t been that long. And she still hadn’t explained why she didn’t make it out on time.
The little bag that was placed in the foot room of the back row caught his attention. She’d kept the file about Bucky in there. He remembered how for a moment, he thought he’d seen brown paper in there. Brown like a manila file. Was there a second file? About Bucky?

Slowly, he bent down, grabbing the bag. Natasha didn’t notice, she kept her eyes on the street. Steve’s fingers brushed against hard paper and when he pulled it out, his eyes went wide. It was a file. It wasn’t thick, just like Bucky’s, but it wasn’t about the Winter Soldier. Red letters, all Cyrillic, covered the front and when he opened the file, there was no photo, just text. He knew a few Russian words Nat had taught him, enough to decipher “HYDRA property” and “assassin”. His eyes went wide. What was this?
One specific entry on the bottom made him wonder what was actually going on. It was in English, and dated. “Recent status: Instructions enforced”.
As the car swerved, Steve had to grab the handle and the paper made a rustling sound that had Sam turn around.
“Where did you get that?”, he raised his brows, clearly confused. He himself had deposited Bucky’sfile in the glove compartment.
“Maybe Natasha should answer that,” Steve replied and Sam’s eyes shot to Nat immediately. Her face pulled into a frown.
“That’s none of your business.”
“You bet it is. If this is what you compromised our trip to Paris for, I wanna know what I’m holding right now.” Sam wasn’t sure when he’d heard Steve so full of authority the last time, but it definitely took him back to the time when they had infiltrated the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters in DC. He was glad about sitting in the front of the car right now. “I agree,” he stated. “I’m not risking my ass for just any secrets.”
Natasha clenched her teeth. She’d wanted to keep this confidential, to not make the two men she considered friends feel like she’d used them for her own goals. Although she had, maybe. Maybe just a little.
“Those are files about a HYDRA asset I’ve been trying to locate since a few years. But nope. That one is untraceable. I believe it was this asset who stole Stark’s tech a month ago.”
“I can’t believe you just - wait. What happened to Tony’s tech?” Steve’s face went from mad to worried. Why hadn’t he heard of this? No matter how big the break-up of the Avengers had been, this was a big deal to Tony, and Steve cared. Damn it. That idiot was way too proud to ask for help. Steve rolled his eyes.
“Can’t believe you missed that news, too. The SIW must’ve kept you out of everything.”
“Nat, what do you know?” Steve grew impatient. If she didn’t have a good explanation for this… well, he didn’t know what to do, but he would be deeply disappointed. Natasha hesitated, it was obvious she insisted on keeping the intel to herself, but with the pointed look Steve shot at her, she complied.
“Okay, so Tony was working on some tech that was gonna help Rhodes walk again. You know he’s still paralyzed. The device is supposed to send electric impulses from the brain to the muscles, like a re-routing around the broken nerves. It was almost finished, then someone stole it without leaving any traces. As soon as I heard the news, I went over, looking for leads.”
“Tony asked you for help? I can’t imagine he wasn’t still pissed at you after your stunt at Leipzig.”
“Oh no, he didn’t even know I was there. I found a mark I remembered from Russia, from way back, when I still training in the Red Room.”
Sam furrowed his brows while he Steve noticed how tight Nat was gripping the steering wheel. It must be incredibly hard to start sharing parts of the before, he thought. This was personal stuff, after all, that she had buried under her career at S.H.I.E.L.D..
Behind the windshield, the autobahn disappeared and rows of city houses came into view.
“Check the file,” Natasha continued. “The asset is called-”
“The Remnant,” the doctor finished. Sam jumped; no one had noticed the doctor had regained consciousness. “And there’s not one mission the Remnant failed.”
“What’s his mission now?” Steve pressed. The grin the doctor gave him annoyed every single cell in his body, but he didn’t act on it. Not yet.
“Well, it’s almost concluded already. The Winter Soldier is back out there and you’re not going to escape HYDRA this time. You should know, the Remnant is much like the Sergeant, a little more compliant, luckily. A real animal, aggressive if kept hungry. There’s no getting away, there has never been. Once you’re a target, you can choose your tombstone.”
“We’ll see about that,” Steve replied.
“I liked him better when he was sleeping,” Sam mumbled.
Natasha steered the car deeper into the city, proving she’d been right. Thousands of people were on the streets, celebrating the Carnival, all dressed up and throwing around candy. Everything was colorful and loud and suddenly, the four of them were reduced to crouching through the streets. Maybe it hadn’t been such a great idea to come here. Sure, they wouldn’t be spotted here, but getting out of the city in under ten minutes? Impossible.
Sam opened the roof’s window, shrugging when Natasha shot him a worried look. “Maybe we’ll catch some candy.”
Steve still wasn’t satisfied with the information they’d received. He figured it was logical the mole in Wakanda had supplied HYDRA with the information of Sam and his’ departure. It was all planned, somehow. He still eyed the doctor very suspiciously. He hadn’t told them everything.
“What else do you know? How do you know the Remnant?”
“Barnes wasn’t my only responsibility, Captain.”
Steve felt very uncomfortable. His eyes flitted back and forth from the windows to the doctor, wary of police presence and signs of danger. He spotted mounted police.
“And what are they gonna do to him?” Because whatever it is, I’m not going to let that happen. The doctor stared at him for a long while.
“As much as you blame yourself, you never actually had any control over life, Captain. You know that you can’t protect me from their assets, right? If they want me to die, I will. This shot,“ he pulled his shoulder forward for a taunting display of the nasty wound, “was a promise. I probably won’t even make the night.”
Sam huffed.  “Do you even know who you’re sitting in a car with!? This is a veteran of World War Two. This is Steve Rogers.” Obviously, Sam tried to defend Steve, but the latter just wished Sam hadn’t.
“And tell me, Steve Rogers, how did protecting your family work out?”
Steve was grim. “I don’t have a family.” There was bitterness in his eyes. “What else do you have on the Remnant? When is he coming for us?” They came up to a red light at an intersection.
“Faster than you think. Actually, the Remnant is not-,” something crashed through the window, right before Steve and into the doctor’s head. A bullet. Blood spilled everywhere. Headshot. He was dead right away. Sam yelped, Nat pressed on the gas.
Steve’s head shot towards the high buildings. He didn’t see any sniper. Where the hell…? Suddenly, something sunk into Sam’s arm. It was a split second, but Steve saw it. It came through the roof’s window. Sam pulled out a little dart, smearing blood over his arm. Natasha couldn’t go fast enough, too many people were in the way.
“Get out of the car!”, she screamed. Right then, Sam passed out. The dart. Steve gasped. It must’ve been poisoned. He jumped out of the car and pulled his friend out. He needed to get to a hospital right now. Crap, crap, crap. What were they supposed to do? They’d be detained before they could reach the front desk.
Right now, they stood in the middle of the street. They couldn’t stay here, not with a sniper around. But Nat positioned herself behind the car, using it as shield while pulling her handguns out. She shooed a lot of people away, too.
“Steve!” she shouted. “Wash the wound with water!”
Steve looked at Sam on the ground. His eyes were closed. Save him. Just when he took the arm in his hands, Sam started to convulse, and, much worse, to choke. Steve wasn’t sure what kind of poison this was, but he poured a whole bottle of water over the wound. He couldn’t actually do much for Sam right now.
Nat spotted the sniper quickly, he stood on the roof of a multi-apartment house, already packing his gear. She watched as he moved over the edge, climbing down the balconies with rapid ease. But he hadn’t reached her range yet. Suddenly, there were two mounted police riding towards the same house and Nat let out a breath of relief.
“Looks like we’re not the only ones who spotted the sniper,“ she said, half-turning to Steve and Sam to check on them. Sam had stopped choking and Steve, an almost- panicked Steve, performed CPR. A shiver ran down her back. They couldn’t lose Sam. Oh God.
She turned back, back to where the attack had come from. The sniper just reached the ground, jumping the last three stories down at once. The police was waiting down there, one of the officers had gotten off his horse, and walked towards the sniper. Shit, this is the guy who freed Barnes. The Remnant. He will kill them. The police won’t stand a chance against this asset. Momentarily paralyzed by the realization of how few options she actually had, Natasha watched the scene before her eyes unfold like a nightmare. The police officers walked right up to the Remnant. Warm relief mixed with a bitter premonition shook her when none of the two parties started shooting. Wait.Something is wrong. They exchanged a few words. What are they - ? The police officer took the asset’s long range gun and handed over his horse. With one swift motion, the Remnant sat in the saddle, rifle on the back and knives in his belt. The other police officer handed him a semiautomatic, then rode off. Shit.
The Remnant wasn’t even a quarter mile away from her anymore and with Sam in need of CPR, they couldn’t run.
A police car appeared in the street. Backup. Suddenly, shots turned the street into a grave. Horrified, Natasha realized that the Remnant had killed every police officer in the car. The good guys.
“We need to get away!,” she yelled at Steve, turning around to see him holding Sam in a sitting position. The latter lazily waved. Thank God.
Natasha Romanoff could already hear the clattering of hooves against the asphalt and with every second passing, she grew more anxious.
Steve stood up, looking at her very seriously. “You two, run. The Carnival is a huge event. There should be ambulances around. Find one, get him out of here.” She nodded, but wondered if Sam could run. He stood up, but she realized immediately how dizzy he was.
The horse came closer. Nat handed Steve a gun and a knife.
“Kill him,” she warned before hiding under the car with Sam. As soon as the rider had passed them, they crawled out on the other side and left.
Steve, on the other hand, began running immediately. He passed a few houses, following a street, yelling at people to get away, to get into the houses and stay in there. A bridge came up before him, a bridge leading over a river.
He took it despite realizing that the long trail didn’t really offer favorable hiding spots. Blood rushed through his ears. More shots. Crap. Where do I go?The Remnant must be close already. From the corner of his eye, he saw a post with a little sign on top, picturing a man falling into the water. Probably a warning. Steve needed it, the post, pulled it out of the ground, and ran.
The doctor’s words rushed through his mind. If they want me to die, I will. But Steve would not die. Not again. Not today, Steve swore. Too many people needed him.
When he listened to the city noises he noticed how the shots sounded different than usual shots. The attacker used silencers, they didn’t want anyone to notice the death of Captain America.
A bullet whizzed past his arm and Steve jumped behind the railing that separated the sidewalk from the railroad tracks on the other side of the bridge. Thousands of padlocks hung there, on the metal grating, deflecting bullets for him. He ripped part of his uniform on something sharp, but didn’t get shot.
The sniper had reached him by now, the police horse galloping past his position. Steve jumped out just in time to stick the metal rod in his hands out, creating an obstacle for the horse, to knock the rider out of the saddle. But no one was on there. The horse complained loudly, skidding over the rough asphalt. It got back up quickly, and ran off. At least it shoved people out of the way. But the Remnant was gone. Steve’s head whipped around, eyes narrowing in concentrated anticipation. Where was he?
For a moment, Steve heard only the rushing of the water underneath him and some music from the city parades. The next second, he detected the tiniest gush of wind by his ear. In one fluid motion, the asset jumped onto his shoulders, attacking without restraint. He must’ve hidden higher up in the bridge.
Steve’s muscles protested against the suddenly added weight. His hands shot up, came back bleeding. The Remnant pressed against Steve’s windpipe. Rough knuckle gloves dug into his skin, creating marks. He’s gonna choke me. The grip wound tighter and Steve’s throat was on fire. He couldn’t breathe!
His hands grabbed the shin of the Remnant. With one fast motion, Steve yanked at it and the grip on his throat loosened. Steve sensed his opportunity, slammed himself against a big pillar. To crush the attacker on his shoulders for the chokehold. But the Remnant jumped off at the last moment, rolled over on the asphalt. He was moving way too fast. His quick reflexes had protected him from Steve. The Remnant wore a muzzle too, like the Winter Soldier, and a dark gray uniform. A sticklike thing was fastened to his back, right next to the gun. His face only showed two cold blue eyes. The face’s skin was smudgy; dirt, blood and paint were on there. Steve had never fought anyone radiating aggressiveness like the Remnant. Maybe Batroc. But Batroc moved slower.
It made the supersoldier wonder what barbaric things HYDRA had done to this person. They’d turned him into a thing. An animal.
Steve received an elbow to his throat, making him cough, making his back vulnerable. The Remnant kicked him in the back of his knees. Steve staggered to the ground. A knife gleamed over the soldier’s head and to get free, he kicked the asset in the balls. He didn’t get a reaction from him. He isn’t in pain. Without hesitation, the latter swung around, sending Steve flying onto the rails. Gravel and stones dug into Steve’s body, grazing the skin on his hands with a stinging fire. He felt bruises forming almost everywhere. Steve’s enemy wasn’t as heavy as expected, but incredibly agile and fast. A strong succession of punches followed, both of their hands’ knuckles bled at this point. There was no beauty in it. Only pain.
Suddenly, the metal on the ground vibrated softly, making an odd sound. The train! The train was coming. Steve jumped up, leaving the rails and tried to move onto the small ledge the Remnant stood on. But the latter kicked him down, not allowing him to get away from the rails. His eyes were so hard, so focused, screaming dominance in this fight. As if it was his default in every fight. Had Steve ever fought someone who resisted that much? Other than Bucky Barnes?
Steve tried to climb up the ledge again, but received a hard punch in the face. It split his lip. His tongue felt numb. With one strong pull, Steve slammed the Remnant onto the rails. Something cracked. Probably the Remnant’s arm. The feeling of the break echoed through Steve’s mind along with the haunting sound. He shivered. But it was a good sign - no metal limbs. Not another Winter Soldier.
But something was off - he knew that since the first punch he’d had to swallow, even before that. This asset was too quiet, his punches too strong. Steve had fought experienced fighters before, the STRIKE unit had given him a taste of it in DC, the Wakandan SIW had shown him their skills. But this one - it was a mix of sly experience and incredible skill. Because it felt like Steve couldn’t get a grip on him, the asset’s blue eyes calculated so much faster than normal soldiers’ eyes did, he anticipated and reacted aggressively. He resisted Steve’s offense, much like the Winter Soldier had before.
The Remnant was an opponent able to take Steve on. Which was a disturbing notion. It wasn’t only because of his body’s abilities. He must’ve studied me beforehand.He’s understood my fighting style. It made him unpredictable. Steve felt a hue of cold fear crawling up his spine like a ladder. It scared him that HYDRA had a second soldier who was familiar with his movements and his body. As if the Remnant was specifically trained to kill him. Impossible… right?
Steve remembered the gun Nat had given him. Kill him. He reached for it. It was gone. Nothing in his belt. Where -? He looked up, his eyes narrowing. Steve’s gun was in the hands of the Remnant. He’d stolen it. The doctor hadn’t been exaggerating.
The Remnant lunged at the soldier from the left side. Steve’s left was slightly weaker than the right, but it could make a difference now. Steve gripped the other by the neck, suddenly holding dark brown braided hair in his hand. Braided? The Remnant squirmed under the supersoldier’s iron grip. The asset kicked his shin multiple times and crushed his toes. Steve would be blue and green tomorrow. But he kept a tight grip on the hair.
Nat had supplied him with a knife as well. He didn’t manage to cut the Remnants’ throat, not with that shaking and squirming. Hold still, damn it! All the knife cut was the braid. It was a strange sound when it sawed through the thick hair. Steve shoved the asset, onto the rails and down there, the Remnant’s mask fell.
It was a terrible déjà-vu, one that even Steve’s nightmares couldn’t have created. He froze instantly, ignoring the increasing vibration of the rail tracks. No. He could feel his heart skip a beat, just like back in DC, when he’d suddenly recognized Bucky in the Winter Soldier. No, please no. The word came out shakier than he intended, but he needed to make sure. Please, God, have mercy.
“Rebecca?” he breathed but there was no reaction from the young woman. The face, the eyes, and the brown hair, now shoulder-length, were stone-still.
She looked like a female copy of Bucky. Exactly like him. But she didn’t speak. They must’ve conditioned them to not react to anyone after Bucky talked to me and went rogue. Then, the girl bared her teeth at him, moving into a defensive position. A gush of wind warned him and new adrenaline bolted through his system. The train!
As fast as he could, Steve ran and jumped over the bridge’s fence, right into the river. The water slammed against him, forcing the air out of his lungs. From down there, he could see the woman - Rebecca? - jumping up as if nothing had happened. She pulled herself up into the green steel construction of the bridge, ignoring her broken arm, right before the train thundered over the bridge. A chopper appeared in the sky and moved towards the bridge, close enough to have the girl jump over. She held onto the helicopter’s landing skids with the one intact hand, her eyes scanning the river underneath. Steve assumed she would open fire on him, but nothing happened.
A boat rushed through the water next to Steve and the suction pulled him under, thrashing his tired body against the wall of the ship. The waves were powerful, pulling from below with vicious, greedy arms, and with the adrenaline fading, his body’s exhaustion hit him like it the force of Thor’s hammer. But Steve grabbed the front side of the boat and remained there, invisible to HYDRA. When he searched the sky, the chopper was gone. Police cars had appeared on the bridge.
The cold water licked Steve’s wounds until they burned. Now he would just have to find Natasha and Sam. Despite his attempts at devising a decent strategy, he kept coming back to this new and old face he’d seen. He felt nausea threaten him from the inside. He couldn’t believe it. Rebecca.
You never actually had any control over this life, Captain.

The evening was rough. Steve had left the river hours ago, but still felt the cold seeping through his muscles. He hadn’t managed to find Sam and Nat. After realizing how stupid he was for telling Nat to get Sam to a hospital, he had thrown away the city map he’d taken from a small, messy souvenir shop. Cologne had sixteen hospitals.  Crap, he thought. Nat and Sam could be anywhere. That led him to get another city map, which he unfolded, huffed at, and stuffed back into his wet pockets. Also, what if they wouldn’t take them in? Everyone could recognize them, after the events in Berlin and especially after turning the airport in Leipzig into a pile of garbage.
While most of the people here remained carefree, running around in costumes and yelling words he didn’t understand, Helau Alaaf, a drunk person with a hideous green wig even complimenting him on his costume, Steve just stood in front of the over-towering cathedral, shoulders slacked, head hanging and heart low. Steve sighed and after a few more minutes of resignation, he shook his head. Rebecca.
It wasn’t her, she had died and Steve had seen her grave and Steve just didn’t know. Bucky had died too. Right? He huffed. They’d buried the thought of him in an empty coffin. But Rebecca hadn’t even joined the war, hadn’t died there, how would Zola-? What if they took her to use as leverage against Bucky? To break him? Steve didn’t want to believe it, but the memory of her face told him otherwise. Sure, there were a few features that were different, that didn’t look entirely like he remembered Rebecca’s, but the young woman was her. Undoubtedly. She must’ve turned into an adult and then, Zola had taken her.
Steve scratched his head. Bucky had been 26 when he entered the war, Rebecca was five years younger than him, so she would still be in her twenties, depending on when HYDRA had torn their dirty claws into her. Rebecca, sweet Rebecca. The last time he’d seen her was 1940, she’d been just out of boarding school and returned to Brooklyn to visit. She lived with Grandma Barnes then and made the best casserole Steve ever ate. He still remembered what a feast that had been. She’d worn his mom’s old apron. And now, she was tried to kill him, just like her brother had a while ago.
His eyes flitted over the big plaza before the dome, carefully checking all the rooftops for snipers and all advantage points for any sign of HYDRA. He sent one last look up the stunning architecture of the huge cathedral, a remnant of the past, just like him. He turned around and noticed the police officer standing a few steps behind him. He wasn’t looking his way, but Steve would have to just assume that he was HYDRA, or if not, police. Either way,  he’d have to assume this man was searching for him.
The soldiers’ eyes fell on the radio that was clipped onto the policeman’s belt. If he’d be able to snatch that away, his chances to find Sam increased by a lot. Surely, the “police“ had spotted Nat and maybe there was a way to get Rebecca’s location. Also, a police radio was a good alarm system. If they followed him, Steve would know. So, he reached out and with a slow but controlled motion, the radio was out of the belt.
The first steps, Steve walked, but then he jogged to the other side of the cathedral, his heart beating fast. But the radio was his.
“That wasn’t very nice,” someone said and Steve turned around, caught in the act, heart beating fast. His knees were bent, his arms ready for the next fight. A girl was staring at him, with an eyebrow raised. Had she seen him? But then he noticed the cane in her hands and how her eyes were closed. Blind. That still didn’t give him any relief. What did she know? How long had she been standing there?
“You’re right,” he answered slowly, hoping to get out of this situation as fast as possible.
“Aren’t you supposed to beat the bad guys?”
If not before, he was definitely struggling with his words now. What did she know? Who else knew? He looked at this girl who couldn’t even see him. “You recognized me.”
“Yeah, the police has been trying to catch Captain America since five hours. The idiot fell into the Rhine. We don’t have any suicide jumpers on the bridge and only few people are stupid enough to take a bath in that filthy soup people call a river. Your shoes are squeaky.”
“Look, kid, I don’t want to get you in trouble. You should get out of here.”
She grinned. He wondered how old she was. She looked like fourteen, fifteen.
“I’m already in trouble. But your friends. They’re in the St. Antonius hospital, that’s three kilometers from here.” She actually pointed somewhere and had Steve guessing whether he could trust her directions.
“Thanks, kid,” the smile Steve managed was a little crooked, but he meant it.
“No, thank you for saving us.” However kind-hearted that sounded, it felt like another punch in the gut. Steve didn’t have the heart to crush this girls’ hopes and dreams, so he just whispered his reply to himself.
“I haven’t even saved anyone yet.” It sounded pathetic.
But this girl, with the stunning hearing range of a blind person, heard better than Steve had hoped, and replied with a kind smile. “But you will. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”
He furrowed his brows, because, well, how could she know how strong he was?
“You haven’t even seen me.” I’m a mess.
“I don’t need my eyes to see. I know they’re not gonna catch you. Have they ever?”
She left him standing in the shadow of the majestic cathedral, joined by two teenagers who’d just run up the stairs to the plaza. They linked their arms with hers, laughed when she said something funny. One of them took her cane and with her in between them, they guided her over the stairs. Was that what family means? That your family carries you despite your disabilities? While he got moving, that thought didn’t let him rest. Maybe for once, he wasn’t the one carrying everyone around, maybe this time, he was the blind girl in the middle.

Cologne, undisclosed location

Doors opened, allowing a gush of cold air to sweep up the anxiety the five scientists who occupied this former hospital room exhaled. Guards entered, mercenaries with enough weapons to bring down an entire police station.
Steps echoed in the empty hallway, announcing the presence of three more people. Handcuffs clicked. It took a dozen more nerve-rattling seconds for the people to enter the former medical room, two of them with heavy steps, but the third with near inaudible steps despite wearing combat boots.
The asset’s eyes were on the ground while the guards’ hands held her shoulders, restraining her additionally to the obligatory harness on her back. It kept her wrists tied up behind her back and bound the rope by a strong collar around her neck. It wasn’t that - not the heavy restraints, nor the kevlar- reinforced muzzle covering the lower half of her face - that took the scientists’ breath away.
One of them, a younger staff member who’d joined the team only a year ago, was especially taken aback with the change in atmosphere the moment the asset had stepped into the room. By the belligerence radiating off this subject, like she understood combat was her purpose and aggressiveness her truest self. And maybe it was. It was an understatement, however, to say that despite all confidentiality, this asset had a reputation. At least in this department she did, because no one else was allowed to even know she existed.
The asset had taken place on an examination table in the center of the room. Its surface shimmered silver in the grey gleam of the moon’s light that fell though the windows, but now, drops of blood splattered on the surface, destroying its former sterility. Following protocol, the room’s lights were turned on slowly, everyone made sure the light increased softly.
The young scientist nervously checked the sheet of paper on his clipboard, stepping towards the asset on the table who was surrounded by two other scientists assessing vital signs. Of course, he’d heard the rumors about people saying how this asset could smell fear on you. And of course, he’d also seen the damage the asset had done last week, the broken necks and the bloody throats. A bead of sweat tickled his neck and the young scientist just prayed the asset wouldn’t know he was scared. Too bad Rumlow wasn’t around anymore. He’d been a beast himself. At least they could trust Rollins to have their backs.
But he tried to push his fear away, to focus on the numbers being dictated to him and to scribble them down in the correct order. Everyone was following the security protocol this time. They’d be alright.
He knew the orders. Avoid touch, any kind of contact and verbal approach. He breathed heavily when he stood right before her, awaiting his colleagues’ next request, determine her pulse, desperately trying to ignore how blood-stained these combat pants were. How much more powerful these legs were than his, how several knives stuck in sheaths on there, how the asset’s eyes followed him the entire time.
He just wanted to get this over with, to be honest. Because his heart was beating way too fast right now. The possibility of a very sudden and very painful death seemed very realistic all of a sudden. He’d seen it happen to other staff members before. He chatted with them during break and by the next, they were just dead. He knew she could do it. She had never hurt him, not really, but who knew when that streak would end? Even with his trust in HYDRA’s conditioning, there was no way he should underestimate this asset.
They took the upper part of her combat gear off, leaving an open view on the damage on the subject. A thin shirt and a sports bra covered her skin, but let them see all they needed to focus on. Thanks to years of training, she knew what they expected to see. Not the many scars hidden underneath her skin, covered by the SecondSkin™- Technology developed for her, no, they only wanted the recent wounds.
In the blink of an eye, her skin changed from a healthy color to a revelation of red and blue shimmers. Some deeper bruises surfaced as if someone had pushed them up from the inside. Her arm looked gruesome to say the least. They would have to work overtime to get the asset mission-ready again, but there was nothing the team couldn’t fix. For now, though, anesthetics would have to do the job.

After a few hours, they were done. The young scientist made the mistake of looking up for a brief moment, meeting the Remnant’s eyes. Icy blue pushed him back with a determination only intensified by how she bared her teeth at him behind the half see-through muzzle. He staggered backwards, until his back hit the wall and he felt the distance between him and the asset was big enough to be called safe. If there even was a condition called safe when the assassin was in the place.
More steps sounded through the hallway and one of the asset’s supervisors stepped in, accompanied by a man who resembled his own superior in looks and attitude. The young scientist immediately recognized this man from last week, when he had come in with Mr. Lomawu, who apparently, didn’t have the means to appear today. This man, with a buzzcut and a determination in his step that probably both originated in his time with the military, eyed the room with a strict gaze and waved a handful of STRIKE unit guards in. Rollins secured the doorway.
Whatever the man - his name tag spelled Djenge - planned, it couldn’t be good if he needed more guns in the room. The young scientist could tell Mr. Djenge wasn’t one to be messed with, one of those who were the top dogs in HYDRA right now, in a time that the organization was reduced to a small number of active units and divisions.
Mr. Djenge exchanged words with the subject’s supervisor, demanded vitals plus further information, and nodded. Next, the mission report was delivered, but it didn’t take a scientist to tell that the asset’s voice sounded way too raspy, too rough.
“What day is it for her?”, Djenge inquired.
“Day Fourteen, Sir.”
They talked a few more minutes, in hushed tones. As much the scientists wished that things hadn’t changed, that they wouldn’t have to switch up the schedule or the treatment, things didn’t look good. Things started to look even worse when they noticed how restless the Remnant was becoming on the table. She was moving around, shifting her weight. The young scientist held his breath. No one had strapped the asset in, if she got up… They really needed this to get over with. Another pearl of sweat rushed down into his collar.
Mr. Djenge’s voice cut through the quiet lab, demanded that all whispered conversations between the scientists and doctors find an end.
“New mission objective,” he announced loudly. Obviously, the Remnant wasn’t listening. They all noticed how her eyes whirred around the room and how her fingers had started to shake.
“Soldier,” he bellowed. When nothing happened, he dared to step forward and grab the asset’s chin. The scientists froze collectively.
A throaty growl vibrated through the air, a warning that was an announcement. An attack hung over the room like an impending bomb. They all saw how the asset’s teeth were bared again, how her body language switched to belligerent in a matter of seconds. Someone had the mind to prevent another bloodbath and pull this incredibly stupid handler back. He grabbed one of the spray bottles that always stood prepared for this asset and used it. Cold water sprayed over the asset’s face. There was an almost inaudible whimper and she sat back up, gaze clear and focused, betraying her skin that was rising in little goosebumps.
“Bring the tranquilizers, quick!”, one of the scientists shouted from the background. All guns were locked in on the Remnant in the center of the room now. Stick to the protocol, dammit! Was that so hard?
“Soldier,” Djenge repeated. He ripped his arm out of the scientist’s hold with a brazen vigor, stepping forward. “Mission target override, new mission target: Find the Winter Soldier, trace him.”
When it stayed quiet and the asset’s fingers curled around the table, he continued.
“Captain America took him prisoner. The Winter Soldier is held captive by criminals. He deserves his freedom. Bring him back to the base and he can finish his good work.” Apparently, he’d read the reports issued for him and his supervisor, the part on how to talk to the asset. At least he put in a little effort.
The Remnant listened, now, the confusion swimming in her blue eyes visibly changed to worry. A precious kind of worry because it worked like a motor, providing drive when everything was taken from this subject.
Mr. Djenge read lines from the manual now, obviously carrying out his orders, trying to get this done and over with. Didn’t they all.
“The world is brittle…”
She struggled, clenched her jaw. Her eyes were pressed close. As always, she couldn’t do it. Couldn’t resist. But boy, this asset tried.
“The world is brittle / seamed with cracks…,” he repeated with more emphasis. Everything HYDRA had planted into the once young creature screamed far too loud to be hidden much longer and she broke. Too weak in the shadow of her full power.
“The world is brittle,” she repeated with a husky voice. “seamed with cracks / ready to shatter.”
“German,” he demanded.
“Die Welt ist brüchig / gesäumt mit Rissen / bereit zu zerbrechen.”
“Russian.”
“Мир хрупок / весь в трещинах / готов разбиться.”
“Wipe the asset, prep it and get it going.” The man checked his wristwatch with a frown, then turned towards the supervising scientist. “How long do you need?”
“We can get the asset out in three hours, Sir.”
“Good. Stick to the schedule, prioritize, don’t allow deviations. We can’t afford any slips. We need the Winter Soldier. Prepare the asset and send her in, three more missions have come up.”
At this point, there was nothing more to fear from the asset. She was completely compliant now, knowing the futility of struggling. Like the light of a faded candle, the effect of her presence was gone. A strong hand, it was Rollins’s, gripped one of her arms while someone else guided a needle into her veins. Then, they pressed the asset into a seat right into the neighboring room, where a familiar machine waited. The machine secured the Remnant’s arms, strapping them in tight. A mouthpiece passed the muzzle on the asset’s face and finally, everyone could do their work.
The young scientist smiled. HYDRA was good at what they did and today, he had contributed to the big picture. And, even more important, he still stood in one piece.
They’d done a quite excellent job today.