The Mechanic || 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘳¹

twelve

He dodges, jumping out of your way. While you try to attack him again, he makes no effort to hit you, even though he suddenly has a knife in his hand too.

It seems almost like he knows every move you make, every try to cut him with your knife, every way you try to hurt him. He knows your tactics, he knows your movements, your attacks, your strikes. But he refuses to attack. He refuses to be the one hurting his opponent.

That's why you have the upper hand. He's too careful. Slowly, you drive him back, over stairs, through a door, to the roof. You raise your knife to slash it into his side, in his throat, in his chest, anything. He grabs your arm and twists it until you're forced to let the blade go. It falls to the ground and makes a clattering sound.

With a quick glance around you, you realize that Iron Man isn't here anymore. But that doesn't matter. The man in front of you is the only one who matters.

Frustrated, you draw another knife, this time from your boot. He doesn't see it coming and you ram it into his right upper arm and pull it out immediately again, slashing a long cut into his flesh. He grunts in pain and stumbles a few steps backward. Blood drips out of the wound and he presses his other arm on it.

You startle at the sight of the metal reflecting your face. His left arm is made of metal. Something about it appears familiar to you. The arm. The metal. You know exactly how it feels below your fingertips and that scares you.

You can't know that. You can't know him. You would remember it. Remember touching the metal, the Vibranium.

He sees the way you look at it and smiles slightly.

"You know me," he says. "Remember me. Please." His voice, his voice, his screaming voice, his rough voice, his voice...

You close your eyes and press your hands on them. This can't be.

He comes closer. You hear his steps. Before he can touch you, you fall into a fighting stance, threatening him with your knife. The doubting feeling is gone again, erased by rage. You need to kill this man.

"Don't you dare touch me," you hiss through gritted teeth. "I don't know you. I have never known you."

With that, you jump forward, trying to stab him with the knife. He is too fast and fends off your blade. But he's closer to the edge every time you attack him. And he can barely use his right arm.

Your steps are secure and quick, your gaze analyzing everything you could use at this moment. He doesn't want to injure you. You can take advantage of that. But he knows all your moves, every way in which you've tried to hurt him.

You'll need to improvise.

He doesn't see it coming when you fall to your hands and knees and kick his feet from below his body. He stumbles, but before he's found his balance again, you're up already, grabbing his neck. You lift him, the power Hydra gave you enabling you to carry him to the edge of the roof until his toes hardly touch the stone. He gasps for air, trying to fight off your hand on his throat.

"What did they do to you?" he whispers, and it almost sounds like he's talking to himself.

"They did not do anything to me," you spit, tightening your grip.

Who is he? What does he know?

He is a liar. He doesn't know you; he doesn't know what you've been through.

Do you know?

"Please," he whispers. "You have to know me. You're not The Mechanic. You helped me. You got me out. You made me remember. You have to remember me." His voice is strained, he's still fighting for air.

"BUCKY!" someone shouts. You almost let him go.

Black Widow is standing on the place below both of you, looking up, looking at... Bucky, looking at you, looking at what you're doing...

"Bucky," you whisper. You step back. Let him fall on the roof. Step back again. Look at him. Look at the man in front of you. Look at his hair. Dark, shoulder-length, not greasy anymore. His body, tall, muscular, trembling. Hurt. His eyes. Bright. Full of hope. But broken.

You remember those eyes. You remember coldness in them. You remember the warmth you brought back into them. You remember how it felt to be looked at by those eyes. Those eyes. You feel them on your face, on your mask, on your suit, on your hood.

Slowly, you lift your hand. Grab the mask, grab the glasses, grab the hood. Everything that made The Mechanic. You drop the mask. Drop the glasses. Drop the hood.

His eyes freeze. He's looking at your cheek. You lift your fingers, touch the star. Touch Hydra's star, their marking, their symbol. His jaw tightens and he walks to you.

Tears pool in your eyes. Stream over your cheeks.

"Bucky," you whisper, "I remember you..."

He spreads his arms. You walk to him.

Then you see the shadow. A helicopter flies over you. You try to jump back, grab the rifle, something... But it's too late. Someone shoots. You stumble backward. Your neck hurts. Your throat hurts. Your head hurts. What did they hit you with?

Bucky screams and runs to you. His arms are outstretched.

But it's too late. Your feet hit the edge of the roof. You trip. You fall. Someone catches you. It's not Bucky.