a lion among wolves, bucky barnes (hiatus)

seven.

WASHINGTON D.C.
2014

BEFORE either Sam or Steve or June could even think of making a move, something collided with their car from behind, throwing the three of them forward with a snapping jolt. June whipped around wildly as the vehicle was forced back into motion, the wheels screeching against the road as a sleek black militaryesque jeep pushed them toward the Winter Soldier, meanwhile crushing the entire end of the car.

Sam struggled with the wheel, but his efforts were useless—they had lost all control. June watched in paralyzed disbelief as the masked assassin grew closer. When they were mere feet apart and in a perfectly timed instant, he leapt into the air, propelling himself over the vehicle's roof, dropping on his stomach with boots slamming into the back windshield and sending sharp shards flying.

Sam slammed on the brakes with all the strength he had, and still they careened through swerving cars, angry, terrified drivers desperate to get away from the tumult. June suddenly remembered the handgun she had holstered behind her back, and she fumbled to retrieve it, fingers at last curling around the firearm. June aimed the barrel to the sky and shot three rounds through the roof, each bang leaving her ears ringing and further distorting her focus. Still, her actions did nothing to thwart the soldier, and seconds did not pass before his metal hand broke through the windshield and tore up the steering wheel.

"Shit!" Sam bellowed, helpless in the driver's seat, wide eyes hunting for the Winter Soldier's position. June fired again, this time warding him off the car and onto the hood of the jeep that flanked them persistently and rammed into them once again, sending them veering out of control, nearly flipping the entire vehicle. In defiant refusal to die, Steve grabbed his shield desperately and began beating at his door, pulling June and Sam against him.

"Hang on!"

They smacked against the lane divider; the car was pitched into the air. June looked out what was left of the window and realized in horror that they were parallel to the road. With one great despondent heave, Steve managed to unhinge the door entirely, and they toppled out of the car and hit the pavement, huddled atop the severed door as if it was a sleigh.

They slid uneasily over the highway. The car soared over their heads, suspended almost in slow-motion until at last it crashed in a crumpled heap onto the road, rolling, over and over and over like a tin can kicked across a sidewalk. Somewhere along the way Sam lost his hold and was left tumbling behind them, though June could hardly worry about him then, for she was too occupied with covering herself from the storm of glass and debris that showered them from above.

Out of breath and shaking quite profoundly, Steve and June finally skidded to a halt. The two staggered to their feet, June clutching her pistol tightly, thanking God she had held on to it. She was doubtful it would do her much good, but the feeling of a weapon in-hand gave her comfort—however false it may have been.

"What the hell is going on?" She gasped feverishly, a cut over her brow stinging with fire and seeping blood through her hair. Bruises were beginning to surface, movement was becoming painful, but June knew there was no time to complain.

Steve was reeling, gulping down as much air as he could, shield poised and ready. "Hydra's war."

June lifted her eyes and noticed, flooded with horror, that they were both staring down the barrel of a grenade launcher. The Winter Soldier aimed his firearm—and for a split moment, his gaze met June's, and she was petrified.