a lion among wolves, bucky barnes (hiatus)

three.

WASHINGTON D.C.
2014

STEVE and June moved briskly through the second level of the nearest galleria they were able to find, fingers laced tightly together as they kept up the persona of a newly-engaged couple, pretending to be conversing happily in their own adoration-consumed world while in actuality the two agents were frantically passing tactical ideas between each other. They were hidden amid the drifting crowd of shoppers, retail workers, businessmen and women, but June knew despairingly that they would not remain invisible for long; they had to do better.

"What did Natasha mean when she said everyone has their eyes on you?" she hissed through a forced grin that could have belonged to a young woman thrilled to begin her domestic life with the love of her life, but was instead possessed by an FBI asset who had her shoulder pressed against that of a man she hardly knew, feeling as if she had a dozen sniper scopes zeroed in on her back. Steve feigned a lazy smile as well, yet when he spoke his voice was low and unnerved, and June knew he was out of his element. They both were.

"Shield's after me," he explained hastily, blue eyes alert and wearisome, "for resisting arrest and withholding information."

"Are you guilty?"

Steve's jaw tightened. "Maybe."

Incensed, June shook her head as if in laughter, though on the contrary she was far from it. "This way," she slipped an arm about Steve's waist and guided them to the right through an area spotted with kiosks. Steve had ditched Captain America's uniform and opted for something a little more casual, but his face was a hard one to miss, and Natasha's grave instructions had convinced June they could not afford any slip-ups. She stopped before a kiosk that sold accessories that in any other circumstance she would have deemed utterly ridiculous, but in that moment could not have been any more grateful for. She plucked a pair of glasses with simple glass in place of lenses and, inspired by Natasha, a navy baseball cap with "World War II Veteran" stitched across it in yellow thread. The vender barely looked in their direction as June thrust him a ten dollar bill and hurried Steve away, still acting as if they were simply sharing a lighthearted afternoon at the mall. Meanwhile, tensions could not be more high.

"You've still got the flash drive?" June asked him.

"Yes," Steve replied with a nod, slipping the metal piece out of his hoodie pocket and passing it to her.

"Do you happen to know where the Mac store is?"

"Commandeering pirated ships kind of takes away from my mall-ratting  . . ."

"Never mind. It's up here."

The two slipped into the store, hundreds of sleek electronics and gadgets (that neither Steve or June could consider to be very high-tech at all) displayed for the inquisitive eyes of the public. As negligently as she could, June wandered over to the rows of laptops and lazily halted before one, looking like a mindless customer looking to spend a few thousand dollars.

"If I remember Shield's style correctly, and I do, this drive should have a level six homing program," she plugged the drive into the computer, fingers beginning to fly rapidly about the keyboard, "which means as soon as we start this us, your friends will know exactly where to find you."

"Not how I would describe them," Steve mumbled. "Do you know what you're doing?"

"Oh, ye of little faith . . ." June narrowed her eyes at the screen, scowling at the green coding. "I got my degree in computer sciences. This is pretty similar to my final exam."

"How much time do we have?"

"Nine minutes from when I first began. So about eight-and-a-half, now . . . ah, damn."