WASHINGTON D.C.
2014

BEFORE either Sam or Steve or June could even think of making a move, something collided with their car from behind, throwing the three of them forward with a snapping jolt. June whipped around wildly as the vehicle was forced back into motion, the wheels screeching against the road as a sleek black militaryesque jeep pushed them toward the Winter Soldier, meanwhile crushing the entire end of the car.

Sam struggled with the wheel, but his efforts were useless—they had lost all control. June watched in paralyzed disbelief as the masked assassin grew closer. When they were mere feet apart and in a perfectly timed instant, he leapt into the air, propelling himself over the vehicle's roof, dropping on his stomach with boots slamming into the back windshield and sending sharp shards flying.

Sam slammed on the brakes with all the strength he had, and still they careened through swerving cars, angry, terrified drivers desperate to get away from the tumult. June suddenly remembered the handgun she had holstered behind her back, and she fumbled to retrieve it, fingers at last curling around the firearm. June aimed the barrel to the sky and shot three rounds through the roof, each bang leaving her ears ringing and further distorting her focus. Still, her actions did nothing to thwart the soldier, and seconds did not pass before his metal hand broke through the windshield and tore up the steering wheel.

"Shit!" Sam bellowed, helpless in the driver's seat, wide eyes hunting for the Winter Soldier's position. June fired again, this time warding him off the car and onto the hood of the jeep that flanked them persistently and rammed into them once again, sending them veering out of control, nearly flipping the entire vehicle. In defiant refusal to die, Steve grabbed his shield desperately and began beating at his door, pulling June and Sam against him.

"Hang on!"

They smacked against the lane divider; the car was pitched into the air. June looked out what was left of the window and realized in horror that they were parallel to the road. With one great despondent heave, Steve managed to unhinge the door entirely, and they toppled out of the car and hit the pavement, huddled atop the severed door as if it was a sleigh.

They slid uneasily over the highway. The car soared over their heads, suspended almost in slow-motion until at last it crashed in a crumpled heap onto the road, rolling, over and over and over like a tin can kicked across a sidewalk. Somewhere along the way Sam lost his hold and was left tumbling behind them, though June could hardly worry about him then, for she was too occupied with covering herself from the storm of glass and debris that showered them from above.

Out of breath and shaking quite profoundly, Steve and June finally skidded to a halt. The two staggered to their feet, June clutching her pistol tightly, thanking God she had held on to it. She was doubtful it would do her much good, but the feeling of a weapon in-hand gave her comfort—however false it may have been.

"What the hell is going on?" She gasped feverishly, a cut over her brow stinging with fire and seeping blood through her hair. Bruises were beginning to surface, movement was becoming painful, but June knew there was no time to complain.

Steve was reeling, gulping down as much air as he could, shield poised and ready. "Hydra's war."

June lifted her eyes and noticed, flooded with horror, that they were both staring down the barrel of a grenade launcher. The Winter Soldier aimed his firearm—and for a split moment, his gaze met June's, and she was petrified.

He pulled the trigger.

In desperation, Steve shoved her out of the way, and she ran.

She did not turn back when a deafening blast tore through the air, nor when she heard tires screeching, vehicles colliding, screams, glass exploding. She ran because her life depended on it. Her steely eyes hunted for Sam, and found him crouched behind a very damaged car, ducking from the bullets that flew at him. He was unarmed . . .

But with exerted effort, she pushed the distractions from her mind. There was no room for distractions, at least not in the head of someone who wished to live.

June knew that if she could just get off the bridge, she would have a fighting chance. Steve was gone, she could not trace him, could only assume he was still alive. And that meant all eyes were on her. Fear threatened to overtake her, anxiety spiraling through her core like a parasite, but she fought to keep her thoughts clear. She couldn't jeopardize anymore situations, not this time. June was snapped back into the moment as a bullet grazed her ear, close enough so that she could hear it whoosh past the flesh, tossing her hair. Instinctively, she dove behind an flipped car, just as Sam had, back pressed against the underside as she struggled to retain her breath. Two fingers brushed at the soft skin upon her cartilage: a trickle of blood slid over her fingertips, but fortunately that was the worst of it. With a burst of resolve, she rose to face her pursuers and, using the dented vehicle as a blockade, shot at the Winter Soldier and his entourage of black-clad men that had filed out of the jeep. One of her bullets buried itself in a burly man's neck, another in a second brute's thigh, but no matter what trick she pulled, June could not land a hit on Hydra's most prized creation. The Winter Soldier evaded every shot that came his way, continuing his march towards June with terrifying negligence.

He was less than twenty yards away. June leapt back down behind the overturned automobile, fishing in her pockets for ammunition and hastily reloading her weapon. She shot back up, firing madly at the approaching assassin, who was then only fifteen yards away and advancing fast. Still, her rebukes were thwarted. He thrust his cybernetic arm up like a shield, and the bullets bounced off the scale-like metal as if they were rubber. Ten yards. June tried aiming at his kneecaps, but of course the dirty fighting method had been anticipated, and she found that the vulnerable joints were protected by thick knee guards. She simply could not touch him.

Five yards. His rifle fired out round after round, making her barrier tremble like a leaf, and the closeness of his proximity certainly did not help anything. No, he was too close. Too close for a gunfight. This was hand-to-hand combat territory, and as much as she feared and loathed the idea, June realized she would have to face the Winter Soldier head on.

She knew she would have to bide her time. One misstep, and she was dead.

June's first goal was to get that assault rifle away from him. He was not directly on her yet, so she crept as soundlessly as she could to the far side of the flipped vehicle, near the front wheels, keeping her head as low as possible. June waited. Listened to the Winter Soldier's heavy footsteps as he made his way to her position. He was there. Four feet away . . . . Three . . . . One . . .

June pike-jumped over the hood, landing on cat's feet and, incredibly, the soldier did not notice her. Using all the momentum she could gather, she leapt upon the car and kicked off of the side, her boot catching the masked assassin in his fleshed arm, which held the rifle most dominantly, and knocking his weapon to the ground. In a brisk, fluid movement, she swung a leg over his solid shoulder, secured herself and followed with the other, so that her thighs wrapped around his neck in an attempt to throw his balance. She thrust the entirety of her weight downwards, meaning to twist around and flip the Hydra agent over her—except, she couldn't. He barely flinched, no matter how expertly she executed the attack, he remained sturdily on his feet. Before June could blink, he grabbed her roughly by the shirt and hurled her off of him—straight over the edge of the bridge.

She fell through the air with only moments to anticipate her landing. She tried to relax her quivering body, and made to touch down with her feet first, and upon doing so sank to the ground and rolled over a shoulder, jumping back into a ready stance, ankles seething and bones groaning with appalment. June ignored the spikes of pain shooting up her legs and sprinted briskly beneath the bridge, concealed for a few precious moments from enemy eyes.

Suddenly, four men suspended by thick cables leapt from the side of the highway with their backs to June. They hefted massive machine guns against themselves, and began to fire waves of bullets into a wrecked bus that June had not given a second thought until then. But they blew the thing to pieces, shooting up the length of it, and while sparks flew and the roar of gunfire filled her ears, June watched in awe as Steve reappeared from nothing, crashing through the windshield from inside the destroyed vehicle, rolling, and miraculously stumbling upon his shield, crouching behind the barrier as torrents of bullets pelted it from quadruple angles, pinning him on the spot.

The Hydra marksmen were oblivious to her presence. June clutched her handgun, and, with painful ease, shot three of the goons in the backs of their heads. They collapsed. June had given away her position. Another shooter was suddenly gunned down, ten feet away from her. Sam, she thought.

Steve did not look her way, but instead charged at the remaining gunman who was mounted upon an abandoned car, his rounds ricocheting off Cap's shield with increasing violence as Steve picked up speed, charging at the Hydra agent like a bull with deadly momentum. He leapt upon the hood of the car, vaulting himself over the agent and twisting over his head, using his own collapsing weight to slam the attacker's skull into the back windscreen. Steve looked about wildly, ducking behind the vehicle with shield habitually thrust up in anticipation of the next onslaught. June stepped out from her concealment and moved the short distance towards Steve, kneeling beside him expectantly.

Steve glanced back at her. "Are you okay?" he asked in deep concern, and June knew what he meant. Are you about to have a panic attack?

She nodded convincingly. Yes, her heart was leaping chaotically in her chest and random spazzes of painful remembrances flashed through her mind, but June could push through them. She had no choice. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," she assured him breathlessly.

Before he could respond, another gunman shot up from his position atop an SUV across the street, yet before he could engage them, a sparks shot around him, and he cowered back to safety. June whipped around.

"Go!" Sam bellowed from above. He had gotten ahold of a firearm, and was covering them from the bridge. "I got this!"

With hurried nods to each other, June and Steve took off in opposite directions. June bolted for a cluster of parallel-parked cars where she could find cover and scope out the area. She reached the blockade, clearing her perimeter before dashing behind an abandoned SUV, handgun raised, arm shaking with anticipation. From down a back street, a police car swerved into view, the officers within desperately trying to interfere, yet before the vehicle could come to a standstill, it combusted into flames, exploding and veering over the curb. June's eyes flitted to the maelstrom.

The Winter Soldier stalked direfully down the road, unconcerned and still imposing all at once, taut with strength and cold with apathy. Having retrieved his assault rifle, the dead-eyed man slipped an ammunition cartridge from his belt and reloaded, the sound of the barrel cocking breaking a stunned silence interrupted before only by the pitched screams of terrified civilians.

He was monstrous, there was no mistaking that. He could not comprehend mercy, or compassion, but even as he trailed up the road with the hunger of a wolf in his face, June remembered the occasion, years ago, in which she had laid eyes upon the same man with a very different stature.

For a few fleeting moments, as two of Hydra's guards were dragging her from her cell and to the experimentation chamber, they had passed a frigid room, one much colder than all the others. The Winter Soldier was there, slouched on a narrow bench, trembling, gasping violently for air, sweat and tears streaming down his face and conflating with a red streak of blood that spilled from his nose. A crackling apparatus loomed behind him, buzzing as if it had very recently been used, though June had little idea of its purpose.

And as she was hauled against her will her ceaseless struggling caught the distraught man's attention. His deranged, abject gaze pierced her own frantic eyes, and the startling nature of his eyes was enough to jar June into stillness.

They were blue. Blue like a sky she had not seen in so long.

June gave herself a shake, warding off the novice distraction. It was too late; she had lost sight of Hydra's pet.

The moment June realized he was moving stealthily behind her was the same moment in which her gun was suddenly wrenched from her fingers, and a her head was struck with a sharp blow that sent spikes of agony through her skull. She leaped around, swaying slightly, just in time to block a second clout aimed at her temple. The soldier's goggles had been discarded, but the eyes that hunted for weakness held no sky as they searched June for any and every vulnerability. She quickly sidestepped another strike, noticing that despite his right-handedness, the soldier always led his attacks with his cybernetic limb. It was like the thing had a mind of its own.

Again, the Winter Soldier had abandoned his firearm, perhaps reasoning that a powerful enough blow to the back of the head would be enough to take her out. When June began to fight back, however, the assassin was, for the first time, unprepared. So he thought he'd make quick work of her, and whipped out a dagger.

The knife flashed beneath the sun, gleaming dangerously as the Winter Soldier lunged at June with unbridled anger, his frustration building with every moment he was unable to kill her. June managed to evade most of his swings, yet an unfortunate few left her with glaring red slashes over her arms, at one point the tip of the dagger catching her lip and sending a stream of blood pouring between her teeth.

The Hydra assassin sent her staggering back with a sharp kick to the chest, and as June fought to recuperate she saw, with broken awareness, the soldier stride forward again with death and hatred filling his icy eyes and she thought rapidly that this time, escape would be impossible—

A cry broke through the air. "June!"

Steve.

She heard the shield slice the air even before it shot into her line of sight. The red, blue, and silver weapon lodged itself in the exterior of a car, just feet from June's head. Desperately, she twisted around and kicked at the assassin's hand, buying herself mere moments of sacred time. She leapt for the shield, snatching it upon her arm and lifting it against her just in time for the dagger to drag down its surface with a shriek that set June's teeth on edge.

The Winter Soldier swung the blade with swift agility, but June took a half-step backwards, remaining just out of reach. He thrust the knife down, as if to pierce it through her skull, but June raised Steve's shield a fraction, and the edge caught the soldier's wrist, terminating the attack.

He wasn't so easily thwarted.

He threw an arm behind June's neck, and his metal hand balled into a fist around her hair. The Winter Soldier yanked her head back and forced her against an SUV, the knife hovering inches above June's face. It took every ounce of her strength to push back, straining beneath his immeasurable force. She gasped, yelped in pain as white stars began to dance before her vision. Meanwhile, the assassin's eyes raked over her face, scrutinizing her with frightening intent as she squirmed and fought his hold, though his grip was like iron.

And then he spoke. And his voice was not at all what she would have expected.

"Vy byli tam," he snarled, prose deep and drawling, smooth and chilled, and though he was speaking Russian, his accent was off; there was something almost American residing in the undertone. You were there.

Before June could think of reacting, he released her and buried the dagger in her side, driving it between her ribs. A shockwave shook June's body, and suddenly she could hear nothing but her own shout of pain and surprise, the rest of the world roaring in her ears, nothing but dizzying white noise. As quickly as he had come, the soldier disappeared from her like a plume of smoke, leaving her to bleed. She collapsed against the car, trembling, sweating, blacking out at random intervals, heart racing like mad. Steve had engaged with the Winter Soldier, and they fought chaotically, savagely, like starved animals set against each other. For a fleeting, precious moment, Steve gained the offense. He grabbed the Hydra agent by the jaw and heaved him over his head. The soldier's mask toppled off as he rolled to his feet, and for the first time since her days with Hydra, June saw his face for what it was.

Strings of dark hair framed a sculpted jaw shadowed with scruff, eyes like stone, lips soft and pink. Steve looked as if he felt like vomiting. He stared, eyes narrowed, lips almost quivering with shock.

"Bucky?"

June was too distraught to pay much attention, the pain in her side growing to near-blinding agony, yet that name, like so many those days, was gnawingly familiar. But by the look upon the Winter Soldier's darkened face, he held not a shred of recognition.

"Who the hell is Bucky?"

• • •

TAKE A SIP BABES IT'S TIME