1963-12-27 - Red, White, and Bruised
Summary: Shield takes down Bucky.
Related: Finding Bucky Plots
Theme Song: None
bobbi coulson bucky pepper ava wanda steve 

[[size 150%]]Log text goes here!
The hours have ticked down for too long.

The dream had taken… some selling. A dream? A Vigor-induced delusion? There were almost too few fragments to be believed. It seemed so fantastic, that modest, meek Pepper Potts, not a superhuman, not anything but a businesswoman, had managed to pluck a thread from Bucky's brain and located not only the lost Winter Soldier, but learned directly from him what his next target would be— the Egyptian ambassador.

It had taken some research, some luck, and some faith from Pepper's peerlessly intrepid allies to trust her. Chatter had confirmed that the Ambassador was a potential target— but just one potential out of many. Chatter was not confirmation.

In the end, it would be Pepper, her Vigor, her charisma, or the trust her friends have that get them where they need to be.

Bucky— Winter Soldier— Jack Frost— had said a gas main. His style, to a 't', matching the other 'random' explosions around town. Easy to sabotage, hard to track, and likely to slow emergency responses more than a bullet would.

But where he is, as the appointed hour nears, is anyone's guess. No command wire visible means he must have a radio, and the dense concrete and heavy interference means that he must be within less than a block, and would likely need line of sight to confirm the detonation.

Which leaves a lot of moving parts and late evening traffic for the SHIELD team to spot— not to mention not tipping their hand early.

If he's here at all.


The operation called for plain clothes. Phil Coulson, Senior Agent, has ditched the suit and tie; not in favor of his field gear, but rather, in favor of blue jeans, a plaid collared shirt, and a nice tan sweater. It's gotten too dark for shades, so the balding man was forced to remove them in order to see properly in twilight.

It's taken a great deal of staging. Field agents, disguised as work crews, have moved in to upend three manholes in the form of a very rough triangle surrounding the Ambassador Elquni's location. No pattern to it, aside from the fact that they are in reach of the tunnels that would be required to set some sort of incendiary device. Once inside, the 'work crews' began poring over the gas mains, searching for any sign of tampering.

"Any sign," Coulson had instructed. "Don't just look for bombs."

As for their other assets, Coulson had specific instructions on where they should be placed. Wanda was instructed to watch from the rooftop of a mid-rise, giving her a wide vantage point of the staging area below. Bobbi was given a motorcycle, and is currently 'stuck in traffic'; we all know that traffic won't hold that agent for long.

As for Ava, her unique capacity holds her close to Coulson, who is seated next to her at a bus stop, with a novel in hand. About twenty blocks up, the MTA 110 bus has been, shall we say, 'held up'. It's not going to come on time.

Coulson holds the novel close to his face, the fake spectacles upon his nose clearly not the right prescription, given how he's squinting at the text. "All teams," he murmurs, mouth mostly hidden from view, his voice picked up by the high-tech microphone built into his wristwatch. "Report."


Ava's distinctive red hair is caught up under a knit cap in the cold winter air, her freckled features half-hidden by a newspaper as she leans against the side of the bench. She's watching, though, with eyes far more practiced than they should be. "Nothing new to see here," she murmurs to Coulson. Hey, he said all teams report.

Steve is six blocks away, sitting atop of his motorcycle, and clad in full regalia of the red white and blue. The shield is slung over his back and his whisper seems to echo throughout the garage. He gets this sort of call whenever the Winter Soldier is involved, even though his days with SHIELD are technically over. Or on hiatus. Or…it's complicated.

"Rogers standing by." And so he waits. He can't decide if he hopes nothing happens, or if he hopes that Bucky does something to give himself away.


Bobbi had rolled out on the motorcycle some time before the operation had offically set to the ground. A circuit after circuit had followed as she patrolled the area in a rather round about way. Blonde hair tucked up under a brown wig and a thick woolen cap settled over that. The helmet that sat on top of /that/, was grey with an off colored, orange viewplate which hid her facial features all the more.

It was strange to see a cyclist out this late in New York City at this time of year, but there were always the die hards, or those too poor to afford a proper mode of transportation. And the spy played to that. Thick leathers that looked to be nothing more than biker gear, were padded with extra girth for protection from bullets and who knows what else.

More than a few guns and other weapons were hidden beneath the layers unseen.

Coulson's words had her shifting on the bike's idling, "All clear still on my end. No sightings."


While Coulson insisted she stayed home, and is now onto her tricks enough that Pepper couldn't druggedly give him order, Pepper did get enough information out of a secretary to figure out where the operation was going down. So, civilian or not. Not supposed to be present or not, Pepper is here. She's wrapped up in a long, cream wool coat, though it's unbuttoned to leave it clear what dress she's wearing. It's the same dress she wore the night of the mess with the vampires, pink with cream polka dots. It was a dress Jack — Bucky — had loved on her, complete with cream boots, she looks the quintessential 1960s girl.

Of course, she's also so hopping up on Vigor that any attempt of someone barring her way is met with a firm, "No, I'm supposed to be here…" And then glazed eyes come and agreement she was supposed to be there. She's right near the corner it's supposed to happen. If Bucky is watching at all… and he blows that line? It'll take Pepper with it. And that seems to be her plan. She thinks he won't hurt her, so…he won't blow the line.


Wisely no one asks Wanda to be part of a work crew, given she probably lacks any idea whatsoever what to do with a shovel or a jackhammer. She might stare at it. Entrusting her with a stop sign is equally perilous, requiring some insight to the arcane traffic laws of the U.S. Thus, the wisest choice is putting her squarely out of harm's reach with minimal signage or tool use required. Concealed partly by the lip of the rooftop, she lies upon her stomach and props her hands under her chin, peering down on the adventuresome troubles at large. Three gossamer-fine bits of wire span the only entrance to her perch, anchored just in case someone comes blundering through the door, capable of holding them off.

Whether she has a gun is somewhat irrelevant. Her low profile is usually hard enough to see, even less so when her monochrome garb simply melts into the twilit cityscape.

"Activity nil," she murmurs into the newfangled thing saving her energy for later. The microphone buried inside her own little device will not catch the fact she secretly pops a lozenge of comb honey into her mouth. The girl needs energy and high-powered protein bars are a long, long way off.



He can only think of Pepper that way. Not as Pepper, not as a person. As collateral. Too much collateral damage will hurt the mission— that's how Winter rationalizes away hurting her. Because no matter how much he tries, no matter the screaming headache tickling at the back of his right eye, the man known as Bucky Barnes finds himself unable to press the button to ignore the detonators he'd squirreled away.

Not that it matters, of course. SHIELD is obviously all over it. The work crews lacking the tooling they'd need, too many of them, the man sitting on the bus bench for entirely too long. The various people loitering or being suspiciously too busy. He's probably been made. The operation should be scrubbed. Any man would be tearing his hair out.

Bucky Barnes is almost not a man anymore.

So Winter watches, waiting. The Egyptian motorcade rounds the corner. From his spot, using a mirror to watch the street, he's far enough away and hidden well enough in an apartment (the occupants of which are terrified and bound in a corner, with rope and gags) that he should avoid attention.

And enact Plan B.

He disarms the detonator in his hand, the one keyed to the explosives being dismantled by SHIELD, the ones right under Pepper's feet. And he reaches for the /second/ set of explosives— keyed to a parked shipping truck half a block back down the street. Six small shaped charges, attached to the tie-down straps.

The motorcade hits the killzone and Bucky triggers the first set of explosives. Round one knocks down the load of steel rebar, scattering them across the street and instantly forming a roadblock.

The second set of explosives, at the intersection well ahead of the crews, goes off, instantly causing a tremendous traffic jam and roadblock. Cars screech and crash, slamming into one another as the smallest of monkey wrenches thrown into the gears of New York traffic strip all the teeth and bring things grinding to a halt, with the Egyptian motorcade right in front of Coulson's bus stop, hemmed in by utterly halted traffic.


"I read," Coulson answers the reports. He takes a moment to stifle a deep sigh, and sets the book down for a moment. There, next to him, is a mug of coffee. Like Pepper, he's stumbled into vigor in the line of duty; this was not the time to be dealing with the withdrawal symptoms, and with one last gulp of the cooling liquid, the rest of the dose is in his system.

Thus, when the explosions go off, Coulson's book goes flying right out of his hand. He scrambles to reach for it, which is more an act than anything else; the drug has done what it does uniquely to him, amping up the speed at which is brain processes incoming information. In a flash, he can tell where the next explosion is going to come from, and raises an arm to shield himself from shrapnel that comes his way.

"Scarlet! Eyes wide." The time for subterfuge is clearly at an end; the wristwatch is now held up to his face, even as he dives for cover behind the bus bench. The name was unique for Wanda, given her penchant for wearing warm tones. "Orlova, Morse, move close. Protect the Ambassador!"

The wristwatch comes down, and he produces a standard issue SHIELD firearm from within his trench coat. As for Rogers… he's not about to give Captain America orders. There's simply too much damned respect for that, and of anyone here, Rogers knows Barnes the best.

In his efforts to look around for Bucky, however, Pepper captures Coulson's attention. His mouth parts, and he curses under his breath. "Damn it."


At the first explosion, Ava throws herself into the shelter of the motorcade, pressing herself against the door of the ambassador's car. Damn the Winter Soldier and his damned explosives. Every time. Conveniently, though, it means she's already in close when Coulson calls out his orders, nodding once to the man before vaulting up on top of the car to get a better vantage point. This time, though, she already has one of her guns in her hand, electricity sparking between her fingers as she charges the weapon.


As soon as the first explosion goes of, Steve reacts by giving his motorcycle gas. A split second later he bursts through the double doors of the small warehouse and onto the street at high speeds. Out in front of him he can already see the traffic jam. Rather than slow down, he accelerates, bringing himself closer to the traffic jam.


Bobbi snarls under her breath as the explosions rock the street in front of her, trailing the convoy behind a few cars as she had, she'd been playing 'stuck' in traffic. All of that changed immediately as orders were issued and the fire consumed concrete and oil.

A sharp rev of her engines and Bobbi was driving up and over the curb onto the sidewalk and weaving between startled on lookers.

Boots are planted on the ground as soon as she clears the bulk of the wreckage on the side, and the motorcycle is abandoned there for an easy escape if needed, and in favor of running toward the scattered security.

Legs pumping, Bobbi jumps over a piece of wrecked car, landing on the other side and coming up in a roll. Both of her twin rods drawn at her sides as she takes up a defensive position. "Standing by and at the ready, I'm by the ambassador's convoy."


Near the site where the original explosion SHOULD have happened, it means Pepper is far off from what actually goes down, at least compared to most of the SHIELD agents. Her head jerks, blue eyes taking in the sudden chaos of the explosions up ahead. "…Shit…shit…come on, Jack… don't do this tonight… where are you?" She whispers beneath her breath as she turns on the ball of her foot and begins to run.

She's running, ostensibly, in the WRONG direction. She's running TOWARDS the explosions and chaos, whereas any other street goers were quickly running away from any danger. She's a redhead in a white coat and screamingly obvious as she heads in that direction.


Explosions start to ricochet, timed within a fraction of their life, professionalism due the Alexandrov Ensemble explosive performances. Brought to life by the violence lifting rebar and hurtling asphalt, Wanda utters a sound under her breath. Anyone linked to her relay is bound to consider it her native Transian or nonsense. Probably she agrees with the orders given to her.

They can't see reality distort in a ripple around her, a shield from shrapnel possibly raining down or worse. Honeycomb dusts her lips, fuel for the glass cannon SHIELD can occasionally rely on. "Motorcycle, inbound." Pause on the radio. "Mister Captain." Yes, well, he needs a title beyond captain and she gives Steve Rogers the respect he is due. Her eyes scour the scene, flitting between buildings to cars to alleys, pupils widening until her amber-brown irises are but a halo. Somewhere is an anomaly to the pattern, and her whirligig mind computes statistics damnably fast. "Female, twenties, red hair. Civilian. Stupid, headed for attacks. Bait?"


Plan B apparently has two stages. The alleyway adjacent to the road, blocked by a locked, chain-linked gate, roars with the sound of a heavy V8 revving. Fifty yards away, in a space barely narrow enough for a single service vehicle, a heavy old truck— a 1938 GMC, rattling and weighty, roars to life. Behind the wheel is the Winter Soldier— armored, weapons strapped in every location possible, and a respirator with red lenses covering his mouth and face.

He pins the accelerator to the floor and throws the truck into first with an immense lurch and grinding of gears. The alleyway is full of debris and detritus, but the loaded truck must weigh ten tons, at least, and trash and pallets and garbage cans do nothing to slow it down as he starts making a beeline for the ambassador's convoy.

And if there's anyone who can appreciate it, Winter Soldier had set off the explosives in such a fashion that the Ambassador's vehicle is a straight shot ahead of him.

SHIELD has perhaps ten seconds to react before he slams into the motorcade.


"Inbound truck!" Coulson reports over the comm to his team. "Clear the Ambassador!" These orders, clearly, are for Ava and Bobbi. Coulson's perception is amped up by the effects of vigor; hopefully not too much. There isn't much time to react, so he turns his firearm upon one tire of the vehicle. Aim. Breathe. Lead. Pause; newspaper cart in the way. Lead. Focus. Squeeze and exhale.

With any luck, his shot will ring true and strike the intended tire; driver's side front.


Ava curses under her breath as Coulson draws her attention to the inbound truck, glancing to Bobbi from the top of the ambassador's car. "Still have that bike?" she asks, even as she's hopping down to yank open the door on the far side from the approaching truck, a spark of electricity in her fingers in case the guards inside take exception to that.

"Agent Orlova, SHIELD," she announces herself, rattling the words off. "This car is about to be hit, you need to get out."


Bobbi was clear on the other side of the street, her attention ripped toward the roar of the old truck's engines and the whine of debris being crushed beneath. She was moving before the orders were given. There was no time for going back to her abandoned motorcycle. It was down to seconds and she made the choice of going for the Ambassador. He was the intended target after all, and his death mattered a great deal to international politics.

That choice made, Bobbi didn't wait for Ava's voice to convince the vehicle's occupants to hurry up and flee. Rather she was pulling off her helmet, putting it over the confused Ambassador's head and pushing him away from the oncoming truck.

There was no pause for polite conversation or anything else as she made to try to push the man clear of the truck's path. (If she had managed to get him out of the truck in the first place).


Running. So much running, so much chaos. Pepper knew it was dangerous, she knew SHIELD would be furious, but she's hopped on so much Vigor right now and so damn worried about the man in the truck that those are the least of her worries. If she's lucky, a window will be down. If Pepper is lucky, Bucky will have to get OUT of the truck to finish the job. All she needs is a place where she can be heard, but it means she has to get close enough. So she keeps running, even as there are milling, scared civilians. She keeps running.

"James Barnes, don't DO this! You don't have to do this! STOP AND LISTEN TO THESE PEOPLE!" Pepper's voice, mightily enhanced by the drug running through her veins, cries across the street and the chaos. She has no clue if she's close enough to be heard. There are gunshots everywhere, it feels like. Disabled vehicles everywhere. And still she's running closer to the danger zone.


Steve pops the curb to get around the traffic jam, weaving in between groups of people and careful not to harm anyone. While he is able to get closer, the slowdown keeps him too far away to do anything to stop Bucky and the impending doom.


Pepper's voice is a lonely cry, gone unheeded by all— civilians, panicked and unsure of what to do, flood around her. Lacking direction, many trip and fall, and some are injured by others as it turns into something like a stampede. One child, crying, is knocked down several times until a passer-by grabs her up and hauls her to safety. A few are not so lucky, and at least one on the ground with a broken leg will need medical attention.

Coulson manages to get a clean shot off, blowing out the tire— the rubber goes *BANG* and the tire starts flapping wildly. Inside the vehicle, Winter pitches back and forth as he fights the big, heavy truck, with no power steering and no traction. The split-rim of the wheel blows a second later, with a much louder detonation, carving a six-inch deep hole in the passing brick. The truck starts to veer wildly out of control, scraping up chunks of brick front and slowing down the acceleration tremendously as the rubber strips off and the bare rim gouges into the asphalt.

Ava and Bobbi get the Ambassador and one aide out, but the other two are unable to get clear in time. The truck barrels out of the alley and slams into the back end of the vehicle— had it been running clean, it would have T-boned the vehicle and killed everyone inside. As it is, the car whips around in a violent arc, missing Bobbi and the Ambassador by mere inches and forcing Ava to leap for safety as it skids around. The truck keeps flying and slams into the front of an old Hudson, and the two of them fetch up against a telephone pole, stopping cold.

The truck door kicks out and Winter Soldier emerges, flinging smoke grenades ahead of him. Purple and green— an odd combination, but combined with the smoke of the previous explosions, they seem to give him some tactical advantage. He drops to street level and hunkers down behind a car, clearly preparing for his next move.


With a grimace, Coulson pulls his firearm in close and down toward the ground, where an accidental discharge won't cause any damage. He watches the wreck as it happens, waiting for reports to come in from his well trained team. He spares a precious few moments to assess the situation, before straightening his firing arm once more, keeping the wristwatch close to his face.

"Scarlet, clear out all these civilians!" he calls over the comm. There are too many people here, and with the oddly colored smokescreens deployed, it's hard to anticipate the Winter Soldier's next move.

Regardless, Coulson pops off a few shots toward the target, hoping to keep him pinned for a moment with suppressive fire. He's limited by the scrambling citizens, and is forced to choose his shots wisely; an easy thing for an ex-Army Ranger to do, especially one whose perceptions are hopped up on vigor.

Strategy tells Coulson to flank, but it's too great a risk with all of the innocent bystanders. With Bobbi and Ava in play, he's hoping that Rogers will pull through with a game changer.


Ava keeps a hand out to the guards as Bobbi pulls the ambassador out of the car, trying to urge them out. But they're well-trained, and they're trained to protect their charge, which means they don't have much trust for a stranger who ripped their car door open after an explosion. A stranger who looks like a street person and hasn't offered any sort of badge.

Precious seconds tick by, and the Winter Soldier's truck barrels closer until Ava finally grabs one of the guards, pulling the man out and tumbling away from the crash. A piece of shrapnel lodges in her leg, head cracking against the pavement as the pair goes down. She's going to be a minute while the cartoon birdies stop circling her head.


Bobbi shoved her asset down to the ground, covering him with her leather clad body in hopes that he'd at least not get taken out by any stray gunfire or debris.

"Agent Morse: I have the ambassador. Orders to take out Barnes or get the asset to safety?" She whispered into her radio.

Then the smoke blankets the area and she's up and pulling her charge along by the arm. She waited no orders, making the choice to protect the man instead.

In the confusion she'd lost at least one steel bar, the other in hand as she directed her charge away from the wreckage and the smoke where she knew death awaited him.


The smoke is a problem. It's stifling, almost choking, as it fills the area. It also means Pepper can't quite see where the Winter Soldier is going, or what is happening, but she can guess that he's probably where the smoke is thickest. So she keeps moving, deeper into the smoke, into the danger. Her voice is strained from the stink of it, making it harder to call clearly, but she has to keep trying. "Bucky Barnes, stop this NOW. Please, please… stop. We're here to HELP you… I promise, but you have to stop! You have to come WITH us!" Pepper is going to keep trying, as long as she can, to reach out to him.


Winter Soldier doesn't have the compunctions that Coulson does about civilians. He pops up around the car and starts shooting— fast, high-volume automatic fire. He's loaded for bear, with a Stoner 63 in his hands— the latest of cutting edge weaponry, a belt fed, small-caliber fully automatic rifle. Similar to the newfangled M16s, but beefier, over engineered. How he got it raises some serious questions about holes in the military weaponry supply chain.

But those high velocity bullets smack into the cars around the SHIELD agents, but they're holing up in cover. The bullets *spang* off the cars and fly skywards like angry hyperkinetic wasps, invisible to the naked eye. He advances quickly, though, taking advantage of their smoke, their use of cover, and the sheer volume of fire he can produce.

He starts to shoot again, but a voice cuts through the crowd— Pepper's. He pauses, half rising from cover, utterly forgetting himself as his mask pivots towards the redhead's general direction, though he's unable to quite see her through the smoke. It leaves him terribly exposed for a vulnerable moment, but the sounds of gunshots and the roar of burning gasoline and combustibles mutes her failing voice considerably.


"Clear the asset, Morse." Coulson speaks the order calmly. He's got eyes on Barnes, maintaining the target while ejecting his magazine to the ground and slapping in a fresh load. He's got the shot, but the pause from Bucky brings him the briefest of pauses. "Ava, cover me."

His hand tilts just so, lining up with that fancy, presumably stolen Stoner 63. He's read up on it; the information is hazy, but he recollects something about pressure problems with the ammunition expectations. Eyes on the feed tray, he breathes out and takes his shot.

The shot is sure to give away his position. He's taking an awful risk, but he trusts his team to pull through.


Ava isn't in great shape to cover anyone at the moment. The shrapnel in her leg means she isn't going anywhere fast, and the way her head is spinning…Well, cover doesn't necessarily have to hit anything, right?

Ava pushes herself up onto one elbow, closing one eye to try to steady the spinning in her head as she starts to fire the electric bolts she's charged into her pistol. At least if they hit someone else, it'll just be a stun.


Steve puts the bike down and breaks into a run as he heads towards Bucky at a breakneck pace. In his left arm the shield bobs and sways with the movement of his elbow. When he bears down he brings the shield up in front of him, and seems intent to ram the Winter Soldier!


"Copy that." Was the terse response that Bobbi offered, shucking off her leather jacket and slipping it over the Ambassador's shoulders. Bullet proofed padding covered the back of the thick leather, giving the asset some measure of protection as she shepherded him away from the road and toward the sides of one of the buildings.

A brief glance over her shoulder was offered before the agent turned her attention to the door and kicked it inwards with a sharp and precise blow. The lock snapped and she didn't pause to consider what the building was. Only that it was there and available.

Bobbi shoved the man she was protecting inside, shutting the door behind her and searching for a means to exit through the back of the building and hopefully to safety.


Her eyes blink and water against the smoke, the stuff is really stifling. But, for a moment, she heard silence. Almost. Peace. He stopped shooting, even if it was just a few seconds. That was enough to tell her that, even if it was just the smallest sliver of victory, she was getting through to him. She had some effect and she had to keep going, even if she only has a few more screams in her before her vocal chords protested entirely against the shouts and smoke. She turns her body, running just a bit closer, dangerously so considering there is a bike barreling down on the man, but she calls as she runs.

"BUCKY! PUT DOWN YOUR GUN! Listen to the agents. Go with them! Go with STEVE!" Hopefully, if it worked, there would be some agents on hand to help.


Winter's looking for Pepper. He can hear her. Her voice cuts through the smoke just for a second— and he starts to lower his weapon, ignoring the fighting behind him, ignoring the battle he's forgetting about. The Vigor-infused quality of her voice seems to be lulling him into cooperating, though no one's speaking to him, not quite yet—

And then one of Coulson's rounds smacks into the back of the rifle, sparks flying. Bucky starts a little, surprised, and looks at the rifle. He grabs the charging handle and tries to correct it, then grips it tight with his left hand and grunts. The weapon breaks apart under his strength and with a disgusted expression, he flings it aside and reaches for a CZ Skorpion slung across the small of his back.

He's just too distracted. Two things happen simultaneously. Ava's bullet slaps into his left arm and he grunts in pain, a real expression of agony as electric shocks slam through his nervous system, all the exposed neurons that are grafted into that chunk of metal.

"EeeyaahaGGAAHAH!" he cries out— and then America Embodied flies through the smoke, a star in the center of red and white circles, bearing down at him like a tornado. He tries to swing his left arm but sparking electricity corrupts the movement— Winter takes the hit full in the chest, unready and unprepared. A rib cracks and he goes flying backwards, his Skorpion skittering into the shadows and his head smacking full against the car behind him. Still he fights, scrabbling at his hip for a throwing knife and flinging it at Cap with a drunken lack of aim.


Coulson grimaces again as Bucky comes under onslaught by both Ava's charged strike and Steve's full on attack. He quickly holsters his sidearm and rushes through the dispersing crowds, barreling down upon where he last saw Pepper Potts. "Ava, Ava do you copy?" He knows she's out there, but the lack of report has him concerned. "Stay on Cap and Barnes." He trusts Bobbi to handle herself; he's got one goal now, and that is to get close to Pepper. She shouldn't be out here amongst all of this fighting.


"I copy," Ava finally growls. "I've got one of the bodyguards here. Hit the pavement pretty hard." But it's the shrapnel in her leg that's causing her more trouble right now. Quickly, she tears a strip of fabric off of her jacket, wrapping it around the exposed metal and her leg before she picks up her gun once more. "Heading in." At a limp, at least.


There's a split second of apprehension in Steve's mind. This is an international terrorist who has been a threat to everyone he's come across—trained to kill without emotion as one of the best assassin's that Steve has ever studied. But this man is also Steve Rogers' best friend. The man from Brooklyn can't bring himself to erase the threat. Instead, he attempts to wrestle Bucky in a hold, hoping that the damage to the arm prevents his old friend from overpowering him.


"Leaving radio range. Asset secure. Morse out." And Bobbi was shoving her charge out the backdoor and into the chaos of the night. On her way to commandeer whatever was available on the street and finish her job. Trusting that the others would bring Barnes down.

What business did a spy having on meeting him in open combat when she had orders?


The smoke is clearing, but Pepper is hoarse at best with having spent most of this fight screaming. Still, it's worked. She was distracting enough to let SHIELD do their job, and that is what matters. She's not running any more, though she winces deeply at the sight of the fight between Bucky and Steve, even deeper when she realizes it's ELECTRIC going through his METAL arm. How his heart is taking that, she can't even imagine. But she's so distracted with her worry that Phil will easily be able to get to her side and scoop her off wherever he wishes to go. She raspingly protests the whole way, "Agent Coulson…please…just… bring him in… they… They aren't going to kill him, right? You said you'd help him…" She pleas softly, her voice still echoing with power, but the rasping cuts a lot of it.


It's a brutal, short fight. Bucky's stunned, his arm is barely responding. Still— he puts up every ounce of strength he has, his cracked ribs barely slowing him. Kicking, striking, legs snaking out to try and grab Steve in a joint lock. A knife flicks up into Bucky's hand, unexpected and fast, and Steve's fast enough that the slash at his jugular turns into a bloody rake across his cheek.

But he's got leverage on Bucky. Mass. Two arms, and that shield. Bucky tries a wild swing with his left arm and the blow is parried, and he kicks at Cap's knee and for his troubles, gets the edge of that icon in his inner thigh, knocking it senseless.

Cap ties up with him, getting a knee across his throat. Bucky flails with his good arm, but Cap has no trouble keeping that swinging fist away. He bucks violently, almost flipping them both backwards— it just gives Cap a better hold, sinking his leg around Bucky's neck.

Winter Soldier chokes and gasps, turning red, then blue, his left arm strung behind him, his right pinned by Cap's leg in the expert judokin trap. He can see Pepper being hauled off by Coulson— he reaches towards her, arm shaking, as the light fades. His eyes flutter, then lid, then go shut.

Winter Soldier goes limp, rendered unconscious by Captain America, in the middle of the destruction he's wrought. It's little effort for the agents of SHIELD to subdue him, detain him, and haul him off into some dark hole.

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