The Stark Legacy

Failure

(image by Vanessa Bucceri)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO—February 2039

The sound of her blood pumping was like a siren as Sam bounded down the corridors of the tower. She heard it all when Missy tapped into the team's comms. That amount of electricity...she didn't know what his arm could truly endure attached to different tissue. 

Sam planned for the worst when she snagged vials from her room, yelling at Missy to go 'ultra dark.' To think there was evidence on Missy of an obvious mistake, something she'd missed, Sam was too ashamed; Missy would have to hide it, and she was programmed to erase herself if it wasn't Sam who returned. With any luck, and a little faith in her own intelligence, that would never happen.

Several prominent members of Wakandan nobility and palace staff stared as she barreled past, clutching a small velvet pouch. She had to get outside to the landing pad as quickly as possible. 

Just as she skidded around the corner to the great gallery offering a view of the concrete landing pad and the fields beyond, Iron Man landed with a thud, indelicately dropping Captain Barnes onto the hard ground. 

For a moment, Sam hesitated at the door. If she couldn't fix the malfunction in Bucky's arm, her father would be right there to witness it. Her chance would be over, and it may have already been gone if this had cost them their fight.

This might be her entire legacy: ruining a soldier's body and poisoning her own. That's all Tony Stark would ever know about her, and Bucky would never forgive her. Sam's arms shook when she pulled the grand door open enough to squeeze through. 

 Shuri's medical team hustled across the pad from a different direction as Iron Man called out what had happened.

The wind took half of his words. "—arm is stuck in—looping the strike—Thor—" Tony's suit seemed to jump awkwardly, moving too robotically. 

Sam took her chance. 

While the medics babbled in confusion, unable to get Iron Man to understand or turn around, she jumped over to Bucky's left. The residual charge had dissipated; he didn't shock her. She started trying to unbuckle his strapped jacket. 

Bucky jerked around, muffling screams for a few seconds before letting out a growl, then stuffing what noise he could back behind excruciating, jagged breaths. Sam's weak fingers stalled on the thick leather and icy metal from his high-altitude transport.

"You have to stop flailing," Sam said, "I have to get to the shoulder." Bucky rolled away, pushing her arms off of him. "Hey, it's me," she tried again, leaning farther over his bulky form to grab his face, "it's Sam. Please let me fix it, ok?" 

Bucky's cold, blue gaze landed on her with a ferocity that stopped her heart. He looked at her as if she were sticking a white-hot poker into his shoulder, letting loose a howl that froze her further. Sam knelt back on her heels, terrified.

"You," Tony's mechanized voice said behind her, "move away."

The velvet was soft in her twitching fingers. She had to try. Sam looked up to hold Bucky's gaze long enough to see some recognition and then went back to furiously undoing the top buckles. Her nails bent backwards when she pulled at the clasps. She peeled away the thick fabric to reveal another shirt.

"Really?" Sam breathed, but she grabbed the neckline until she could see the dip between his collarbone and humerus. Pulling out a syringe and needle from her pouch, she leaned her weight to steady him. "Youwe ill fill uh foo..." she started, holding the cap in her teeth, but the rest was too garbled to translate.