by Alex Irvine
“Stand down,” Rhodey said. “Now.”
Cap wasn’t going to fight Rhodey. Not now. He put his shield on his back and his hands in the air.
“Congratulations, Cap,” Rhodey said bitterly. “You’re a criminal.”
The man in black raised his hands, too. He retracted the claws in his gloves. Sam had made his way out of the tunnel and was pushed into the group. The cops had caught him, too. Before they cuffed him, the man in black reached up and took off his helmet, revealing the face of T’Challa, the new king of Wakanda. Steve stared, amazed.
He hadn’t known who to expect, but wasn’t T’Challa a scientist, more lab rat than hardened warrior? Apparently not. He could fight, and that suit was superb tech. The Wakandans had a reputation for innovation, and it looked like it was all true.
“Your Highness,” Rhodey said in surprise.
CHAPTER 12
In the kitchen of the Avengers compound he was sharing with Wanda, Vision was learning how to cook. At first, it seemed like basic chemistry: Put different materials together, apply heat. But now he was running into some confusion. “A pinch of paprika,” he read from the recipe he had printed out. How much was a pinch?
“Is that paprikash?” Wanda asked as she came into the kitchen.
He nodded. She dipped a spoon into the pot and tasted the paprikash. “I thought it might… lift your spirits,” Vision said.
She smiled at him. “Spirits lifted.”
“In my defense, I haven’t actually ever… eaten anything before, so…”
She understood what he was getting at. “May I?” she asked, nodding at the pot.
Vision stood aside to let her work. “Please.”
For a minute or so, she busied herself with spices and stirring. “Wanda,” Vision said.
“Hmm?”
“No one dislikes you, Wanda.”
She looked up at him. “Thanks.”
“Oh, you’re welcome.” He hadn’t meant it as a reassurance, but it pleased Vision that she took it that way. “No. It’s a… an involuntary response in their amygdala. They can’t help but be afraid of you.”
Holding his gaze, Wanda asked, “Are you?”
“My amygdala is synthetic, so…” He trailed off and she laughed.
“I used to think of myself one way,” she said. “But after this, I am something else. And still me, I think. But… that’s not what everyone else sees.” She hadn’t meant to get serious again, but that was where her thoughts were going all the time lately.
“Do you know—I don’t know what this is.” He touched the gem in his forehead. “Not really. I know it’s not of this world. But its true nature is a mystery. And yet, it is part of me.”
Now he had her attention. Maybe they had this in common: Neither of them understood the true nature of their powers. “Are you afraid of it?” she asked.
“I wish to understand it,” he said. Wanda wondered if he was afraid of anything. “The more I do, the less it controls me. One day—who knows?—I may even control it.”
Yes, Wanda thought. That is the goal. She changed the subject after tasting the would-be paprikash one more time. “I don’t know what’s in this, but it is not paprika,” she said. “I’m going to go to the store. I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”
“Alternatively, we could order a pizza?”
He had shifted in front of her as he spoke, and she realized that Vision wasn’t just keeping her company. “Vision, are you not letting me leave?”
He didn’t deny it. “It’s a question of safety.”
“I can protect myself.”
“Not yours. Mr. Stark would like to avoid the possibility of another public incident. Until the accords are on a more secure foundation.”
Ah, she thought. Stark is handling the public relations for the accords, and he doesn’t want anyone to see Scarlet Witch and remember Lagos. That was why they were at his secure compound while the conversations that affected their lives took place thousands of miles away.
“And what do you want?” she asked. She found herself looking away from his earnest gaze.
“For people to see you… as I do.”
And then, silence.
CHAPTER 13
A quick flight found the three men in custody in the back of a police van taking them through Berlin. Sam and Steve sat together, facing T’Challa. Steve didn’t know where Bucky was. None of them had said anything yet. “So, you like cats?” Sam said out of the blue.
“Sam…” Steve said. He understood Sam’s curiosity—and anger—but this wasn’t the time. Why provoke him?
“What?” Sam shot back. “Dude shows up dressed like a cat, and you don’t want to know more?”
Steve gave up. He was curious, too—he had to admit that. And after all, the fight had put them and T’Challa on the same side in the eyes of those who had signed the Sokovia Accords. “Your suit,” he said to T’Challa. “Vibranium?”
“The Black Panther has been the protector of Wakanda for generations,” T’Challa said, ignoring the question. “A mantle passed from warrior to warrior. And now because your friend murdered my father, I also wear the mantle of king. So I ask you, as both warrior and king, how long do you think you can keep your friend safe from me?”
They didn’t say much after that. Steve was thinking about what Vision had said after the meeting with Secretary Ross; here was another enhanced individual they hadn’t known about. But was he going to be a friend or an enemy?
After passing down a ramp somewhere in downtown Berlin, they were processed into an underground facility. There, Steve saw Bucky, manacled inside a sealed capsule, reinforced with who-knew-what kind of metals. He was being transported, and Steve wanted to know where. He spotted Sharon and was glad for a friendly face. “What’s going to happen?” he asked, nodding in Bucky’s direction.
“The same thing that ought to happen to you,” said a trim, middle-aged man in a gray suit standing next to her. Classic bureaucrat, Steve thought. “Psychological evaluation and extradition.”
“This is Everett Ross,” Sharon said. “Deputy task-force commander.”
“What about a lawyer?” Steve asked. He didn’t like the look of Ross right off the bat.
“Lawyer. That’s funny.” Ross held Steve’s glance for a moment, then turned to Sharon. “See that their weapons are placed in the lockup.” Looking back to Steve and Sam, he added, “Oh, we’ll write you a receipt.”
Sam didn’t look convinced. “I better not look out the window and see anybody flying around in that.”
Ross escorted them upstairs and over a pedestrian bridge, flanked by Sharon and Natasha. “You will be provided with an office instead of a cell,” he said to the three rogue heroes. “And do me a favor. Stay in it.”
“I’m not intending on going anywhere,” T’Challa said evenly. Neither Steve nor Sam had anything to add.
Natasha fell into step next to Steve. “For the record,” she said quietly, “this is what making things worse looks like.”
“He’s alive,” Steve said. That was what mattered.
She clearly didn’t feel the same way. Neither did Tony, who passed by long enough to say, “Colonel Rhodes is supervising the cleanup. Try not to break anything while we fix this.” Natasha walked ahead of them. Steve and Sam exchanged a look as she went. This was trouble… but they knew they had done the right thing.
They caught up with Tony a few minutes later in a temporary office space. He was on the phone. “Consequences? You bet there will be consequences.” He paused. “Obviously, you can quote me on that, because I just said it. Anything else? Thank you, sir.” He hung up.
“Consequences?” Steve said. “For who?”
“Secretary Ross wants you both prosecuted. I have to give him something.”
“I’m not getting that shield back, am I?”
“Technically, it’s the government’s property,” Natasha said. She nodded at Sam. “Wings, too.”
“That’s cold
,” Sam said.
Tony shrugged. “Warmer than jail.” He and Natasha walked away, leaving Steve and Sam in their so-called office space.
A while later, Steve stood watching a video feed of Bucky’s armored cell being locked in to place on another level. He was in a command center with screens showing activity in every part of the station. Tony entered and walked up to him. “Hey, you want to see something cool? I pulled something from Dad’s archives.”
He showed Steve a set of pens. “FDR signed the Lend-Lease bills with these in 1941. Provided support to the Allies when they needed it most.”
“Some would say it brought our country closer to war.” Steve didn’t feel like hearing Tony’s stories.
“See, if not for these, you wouldn’t be here. I’m trying to—what do you call it?” He searched for the right word.
Steve knew what Tony was trying to do. Hand him a pen, talk about important papers people had signed… but no. He wasn’t going to sign the accords. “Is Pepper here?” he asked to change the subject. “I didn’t see her.”
Tony looked away. “We are… kind of… well, not kind of…”
“Pregnant?” Steve prompted.
“No, definitely not. We’re taking a break. It’s nobody’s fault.”
Oh, Steve thought. That explained a lot. Tony never told anyone about emotional things, so when he acted squirrelly, it was hard to understand why. But if he and Pepper…
“So sorry, Tony,” he said. “I didn’t know.”
“A few years ago, I almost lost her, so I trashed all my suits,” Tony said. “Then we had to muck up Hydra. And then Ultron—my fault. And then, and then, and then… I never stopped. ’Cause the truth is I don’t want to stop. I don’t want to lose her. I thought maybe the accords could split the difference. In her defense, I’m a handful. Yet Dad was a pain in the ass, but he and Mom always made it work.”
That was a lot to absorb. Steve wasn’t used to Tony being candid about anything. Ever. “You know, I’m glad Howard got married,” Steve said. “I only knew him when he was young and single.”
He’d meant well, but immediately he saw that Tony was taking it the wrong way. “Oh really? You two knew each other? He never mentioned that. Maybe only a thousand times. God, I hated you.”
“I don’t mean to make things difficult,” Steve said. He wanted to make peace between them. The world needed the Avengers united.
“I know. Because you’re a very polite person.”
“If I see a situation pointed south, I can’t ignore it,” Steve said. “Sometimes I wish I could.”
“No, you don’t.”
Steve cracked a smile and admitted Tony was right. “No, I don’t.”
Tony put on his coat. “Sometimes… sometimes I want to punch you in your perfect teeth. But I don’t want to see you gone. We need you, Cap. So far nothing’s happened that can’t be undone. Please…” He nodded at the pens. “Sign. We can make the last twenty-four hours legit. Barnes gets transferred to an American psych center instead of a Wakandan prison.”
Steve picked up one of the pens. “I’m not saying it’s impossible,” he said, “but there would have to be safeguards.”
“Sure.” Tony nodded. “Once we put out the PR fire, these documents can be amended. I filed a motion to have you and Wanda reinstated.”
Reinstated? What did that mean? “Wanda? What about Wanda?”
“She’s fine. She’s confined in a compound currently. Vision’s keeping her company.”
Vision, who had signed the accords, keeping watch over Wanda, who had not yet decided. That was what Tony called keeping her company? Now Steve was really frustrated again. “Every time. Every time I think you’re seeing things the right way…”
Tony was genuinely perplexed. “What? It’s a hundred acres with a lap pool. It’s got a screening room. There’s worse ways to protect people.”
“Protection? Is that how you see this? This is protection? It’s internment, Tony.”
“She’s not a US citizen—”
“Oh, come on, Tony—”
“And they don’t grant visas to weapons of mass destruction.”
“She’s a kid!”
“Give me a break! I’m doing what has to be done… to save us from something worse.”
“You keep telling yourself that.” Steve put the pen back on the table. “Hate to break up the set.”
CHAPTER 14
While Steve was cooling off, Tony and Natasha observed the beginning of Barnes’s psychiatric intake interview. “Hello, Mr. Barnes,” the psychiatrist, Dr. Broussard, said as he began his evaluation. “Do you mind if I sit?” Bucky said nothing. “Your first name is James?”
At the same time, Steve sat in a temporary office with Sam wondering what would come next. Sharon entered and handed Sam a sheet of paper. “The receipt for your gear.”
Sam read it. “Bird costume? Come on.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t write it,” she said. Then she did something unexpected. She touched a key on a computer terminal, and the screen in the room lit up with a view of Bucky Barnes.
“I’m not here to judge you,” the psychiatrist was saying. “I just want to ask you a few questions.”
Steve glanced over at Sharon. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be seeing this. She was on his side. “Do you know where you are, James?” the psychiatrist asked. Bucky didn’t say anything. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, James.”
After a long pause, Bucky said, “My name is Bucky.”
At one of Berlin’s main power stations, a van pulled up to the receiving door. Beyond it, huge transformers thrummed with electricity and miles of transmission lines stretched across the city. The driver honked his horn. A clerk came out of the warehouse as the driver opened the back of the van to reveal a large, heavy crate. He and the clerk got it out of the van and set it down outside the door. “Just sign here,” he said to the clerk, holding out his electronic pad.
Now that he knew Sharon would listen to him, Steve asked her a question that had been bothering him. On the video screen above them, the interview with Bucky was still going on. “Why would the task force release this photo to begin with?”
Sharon stated the obvious. “Get the word out, involve as many eyes as we can?”
“Right,” Steve said. “It’s a good way to flush a guy out of hiding. Set off a bomb, get your picture taken. It got several million people looking for the Winter Soldier.”
Sharon could see where he was going. Bucky was one of the best in the world at what he did. Why would he let someone get a picture of him? “You’re saying someone framed him to find him.”
“Steve, we looked for the guy for two years and found nothing,” Sam pointed out.
“We didn’t bomb anything. That turns a lot of heads.”
Sharon still wasn’t sure. “So? That doesn’t guarantee that whoever framed him would get a guarantee that we would.” There was no way anyone could make sure that drawing him out would ensure Bucky wound up in their custody.
She was right. But once he granted the idea that Bucky had been framed, he had to wonder… how else were they all being manipulated? Who wanted to find the Winter Soldier so badly? Steve looked up at the screen, where the questions were still coming. “Yeah.”
“Tell me, Bucky,” Zemo said. His Dr. Broussard disguise was holding. No one in the facility knew who he really was. “You’ve seen a great deal, haven’t you?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You feel that if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop.” Zemo looked down at his phone and saw STATUS: PACKAGE DELIVERED. Everything was falling into place.
He looked back up at Bucky. “Don’t worry. We only have to talk about one.”
At the power station, the receiving clerk levered the top off the crate. Inside was some kind of machine with lots of wires and what looked like a giant battery in the middle.
Also, it was beeping.
�
��Hey,” he called to the delivery driver. “What is this?”
“I don’t know,” the driver said.
At that moment, the bomb went off. It was an EMP bomb, designed to emit an electromagnetic pulse that would destroy electronics anywhere within its range. All over Berlin, transformers blew up in showers of sparks. Power went out for ten million people… and one underground security installation where the Winter Soldier was being held prisoner.
Everett Ross spoke nervously into a walkie-talkie as emergency lights came up in the facility. “All right, come on, guys. Get me eyes on Barnes.”
“F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” Tony said at the same time. She was the AI who had replaced J.A.R.V.I.S. after the Ultron mess. “Give me the source of that outage.”
In the next room, Sharon caught Steve’s eye. Both of them had a bad feeling about the timing of this power outage. “Sublevel five, east wing,” she said. That was where Bucky was being held.
Steve got moving. In a nearby room, T’Challa looked up and watched him go.
“What is this?” Bucky asked quietly. He had already figured out that the doctor was up to something. Red emergency lights strobed on the doctor’s glasses. Bucky needed to get out of this cell. Something bad was about to happen.
“Why don’t we discuss your home?” the doctor suggested. “Not Romania. Certainly not Brooklyn, no. I mean, your real home.” He opened a red book and began to read the Russian words, just as he had practiced in the hotel room.
Longing.
Rusted.
“Stop,” Bucky said. Zemo saw the panic on his face. Bucky knew what was coming—Zemo could see that—but he wouldn’t be able to stop it.
Seventeen.
“Stop,” Bucky said again, his voice a hoarse growl. He clenched his metal fist and started to struggle against the manacles.
