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chapter nineteen

19 x that's not my teammate

A/N: chapter dedicated to @Demigod_Bookworm for the awesome fan art of Meg as Goldstreak! (dedication to be made official tomorrow when I have my laptop haha)

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[ Third Person POV ]

"Ev?" Sam asked, bewildered, as he saw the young red-head approaching him. He'd just seen her run off with Peter not two minutes ago. "What're you--"

Except before he could finish his sentence, Ev had grabbed him (with far more force than he thought such a small girl could contain) and slammed him into the nearest wall -- hard.

As the world faded to black, he saw what was once Ev's face shimmer and blur, as though it were shifting. His last thought was that there had been a shapeshifter that no one had really accounted for being there.

Before unconsciousness claimed him, he hoped no one else would get tricked as he had.

Meanwhile, Kravinoff continued making his way through the facility, no longer disguised as the young hero. No, now he had a new face, and new intentions. He had bigger heroes to take out than the Falcon, after all; Captain America, the Winter Soldier . . . the ones Red Skull required.

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[ Megan's POV ]

Pietro and I were making our way through the facility. We'd just cleared out a larger area -- I wouldn't call it a room, exactly, but it was big enough to be one -- and I was exchanging a proud smile with Pietro, when I heard the familiar thump-thump-thump of steady boots.

I labeled it as either Bucky or Steve, and as Pietro and I turned, I was more than pleased to discover I'd been right. "Bucky!" I grinned, hands still fading back to their normal coloring.

"Kid, Maximoff," Bucky greeted, a giant machine gun slung over one shoulder as he surveyed the room casually. He nodded once, smiling slightly at our work. "Nice job."

"We work fast," Pietro intoned.

Bucky scoffed, "Shocker."

"Yes, well, now that you are not alone," Pietro said seriously, turning toward me and doing a fast once over before continuing; "I am going to go check on Wanda."

"You know Vision's probably got her, right?" I pointed out, cocking a brow and suppressing an amused smile at the disgusted face he pulled.

"Yes, well, the android is . . . helpful, or whatever, but I am her brother. I'm allowed to worried, am I not?"

"Sure you are," I smiled reassuringly at him, reaching out and squeezing his hand.

He nodded, smiling somewhat as he squeezed my hand in return. Then he pecked the top of my head quickly, promising, "I'll come find you soon," before he ran off. He paused only once, stopping beside Bucky to say, "You take care of her." Then he was gone.

I was still grinning like an idiot when Bucky finally looked back to me. "Guess it's just you and me, kid."

"There have been worse teams," I pointed out with a casual shrug, turning to head off down the hall that I had not yet explored.

"Yeah, I can think of a few," Bucky chuckled. He followed after me for a moment, before I heard him stop.

When I glanced back at him, I saw him pointing his machine gun down a separate hall that had also gone unexplored so far, an intense look on his face as he stood still, patiently waiting. If he had heard something, I sure hadn't, but I turned my full attention to him all the same, in case there was another back of Hydra goons we needed to handle.

Then he shrugged one shoulder and lowered his gun, turning back to me. I watched him open his mouth, and the words, "Guess it was," escaped his lips, leaving the rest of his sentence to die on his tongue. Just like that his gun was back up, except this time, he was looking between me, and . . .

I turned toward the other person his aim was swaying between, and nearly yelped in surprise.

Another me stood a few yards away from me, wearing my suit, a determined look on her face, her hands balled to fists and planted firmly on her hips.

"Kid . . ." Bucky began to say slowly, looking between both of us with growing concern in his dark blue eyes.

"I'm Megan!"

To my shock, she shouted the declaration at the same time, in the same voice, as me. I glared at her, fuming, my eyes blazing to gold in an instant. I was stunned when she did the exact same, and from this vantage point I now understood why enraged me could be considered intimidating. Her hands, too, were glowing, and she looked just as angry as I did as she turned to Bucky, "It's me, Buck, she's a liar!"

"Uh uh, no way!" I shouted in protest, jamming a finger through the air at her. "Tell me you're not falling for that!"

"Falling for me?" she scoffed, rolling her eyes before scowling at me. "Like I'm the imposter, here; you're a cheap copy! I mean, look at you!"

We both turned back to Bucky, fuming, at the same time. I watched him critically, especially when his gun lowered. In the back of my mind his words from earlier were bouncing around in my head, how if it were me or Steve he'd know how to determine a fake without a gun . . .

He relaxed, shoulders rolling back. He licked his lips and looked between both of us, the gun still low and by his side. I watched him take a deep breath, before he breathed a single word. "Punk."

My response was an automatic, practically instinctive, "Jerk," though the fake me stammered a "What?"

That was all Bucky needed to hear. It took him less than a second to point his gun back at the fake, and the next thing I knew two shots were ringing in my ears. Fake me collapsed backwards, blood already beginning to pool out of her, when she began to get blurry, then seemed to be shifting.

The next thing I knew a man at least Steve's height was lying on the floor, his face white and essentially featureless. He glared at both of us as Bucky moved to stand over him, spitting, "You are too late. Red Skull is close to fulfilling his plan."

Bucky crouched down over the man. "Close isn't the same as finished, moron," was all he said before he gave one solid punch with his metal arm, sending the man instantly into unconsciousness. Then he rose, and turned toward me, slinging the gun back over his shoulder. "Told you it was short and easy."

I kind of smiled, and gave him a quick nod. "Yeah, well, thanks for not shooting me."

He shrugged, smirking somewhat. "Like I'd shoot you. Your boyfriend would kill me. Or try to," he chuckled.

"Touché," I smiled. "But really, Buck. Thanks."

At that, he merely nodded.