You were his wife in the 40's through thick and thin, sickness and health, richer or poorer, and through all of the twists of life. Even 70 years later you continued to love him, and stay by his side.
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The man dressed as a Black Panther stood before us, geared ready to fight. His metal claws showing, his face hidden behind his mask.
Immediately the Panther started to attack Bucky with great vengeance. His movements deadly, and full of rage. Each lunge, kick, and swing was packed with adrenaline, and to him, it seemed to be more than a game of capture. It was a game of death.
The Panther showed little concern in me as his main, and only target was Bucky.
The masked man slammed Bucky against an HVAC unit, and just before he slashed Bucky's throat Bucky dodged, the Panther's vibranium claws instead gashing along the units aluminum siding.
I picked up a stray steel bar, and swung it at the Panther, nearly decking his head, but then the helicopter soared closer towards us, Door-Gunner busy at work.
A belt fed machine gun fired at us, creating multiple crater sized holes around us, the gunshots splintering the asphalt plates of the rooftop.
Sam took care of the helicopter, flying towards it with his wings before he kicked it's tail rotor. Causing it to veer out of control, and spin uncontrollably towards a nearby building before exploding in a cloud of fire.
While the Black Panther was preoccupied with the sight of the destroyed aircraft Bucky took my hand, and we both jumped off the roof. Falling from one ledge to the next until we were back on the ground.
Though the chase wasn't over yet, and the Panther was quick. He had used his claws to easily skid down the side of the building, and once again he was in hot pursuit.
Steve followed close behind, trying to catch up to us as we ran, eventually falling into an underground tunnel.
Once below, the traffic commenced around us, acting as sort of a smoke screen to buy us time.
In fast paced swarms the cars zooming towards us were like a gang of angered bulls, and we kept on running together down the lanes.
The tunnel closed in around us, darkening out the light from above, and only the gleam of headlights could be seen.
The Panther was behind us, and behind the Panther was Steve.
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Bucky raced forward, and hijacked a motorcycle. Grabbing hold of the handle he forced the driver off, and as the driver fell Bucky spun the bike around, and got on instead.
He reached out his hand for me to grab, and easily I was hoisted up onto the seat as well.
We zipped down the street, bee-lining from one lane to the next.
I wrapped my arms around Bucky's torso, and took a second to catch my breath, but the second didn't last long.
The shrill sounds of sirens coming towards us permeated throughout the tunnel, the flashes of blue effulgence blinding as the police cars drove erratically towards us.
I kept hearing them holler "Stand Down!", and I clutched onto the fabric of Bucky's shirt, wanting the chase to end.
His flesh hand let go of the bikes steering handle for a second, and he squeezed my hand, reassuring me as we drove on.
