Sebastian Stan Short Stories

Bucky Barnes [22]

"Cheers" Part 3

Still not canon; alternate ending from Civil War and Infinity War

Not exactly requested, but inspired by a comment from Wife_of_SexySeaBass

*

"Coms check. Claymore to all ears, please respond," I said again, hoarsely. Out of breath. 

I could feel at least one broken rib. It was a dull ache in my chest that made it hard to breath and even harder to move. 

My coms were still dead anyway. Six hours and no one had answered. I'd managed to keep the earpiece on my person even though I'd been through hell for almost two days straight. Avoiding detection amongst the members of a moderately sized paramilitary operations had proven to be quite difficult, and a little painful at times. Granted, my presence hadn't gone unnoticed. There was a fresh trail of unconscious goons ever since the compound had gone on lockdown upon my arrival. 

"Coms check. Claymore to all ears, please respond," I repeated. My stomach growled, my joints continued to ache, and my lungs kept up their protest against organized breathing. 

I had managed to find guns and bullets on every lackey I took down. Each time I would transfer the bullets to my magazines, keep my gun fully loaded, and stuff the extra magazines into my pockets. Unfortunately, I spent just as many bullets as my opponents whenever I got into a shooting match, meaning I was moving one step forward and two steps back. 

I heard footsteps coming in my direction and ducked into the closest doorway. There were so many empty rooms in the compound; it had been somewhat easy to move around. The voices of the passersby drifted into the room for a split second before they were gone again. 

"Something coming this way on the radar."

"Coms check. Claymore to all ears, please respond," I tried again. I knelt in the floor and redistributed my ammunition amongst the magazines. I had twelve rounds total. 

"Clay...inbound...maintain..."

The reply came in softly, what would normally be almost indiscernible under the layers of static. I had grown so used to nothing but noisy artifact that the legitimate words managed to scream through, loud and clear. 

"This is Claymore, please repeat," I requested. 

"Claymore, we...ETA two...maintain..."

I tried to recognize the voice, but I couldn't. The coms distorted voices when they were working properly and within adequate range; everything sounded the same from wherever the responder was located. 

Then all hell broke loose in the compound. Light fixtures lining the hall began to strobe as alarms began to ring. After so many hours of trying to be silent, the sudden noise was grating. 

"All hands to alpha stations. Repeat: all hands to alpha stations."

I knew what that meant from reading documents left in empty rooms. When there was someone in the compound that they didn't want here, everyone was sent to bravo stations. When there were a lot of someones they didn't want here, the threat level rose to alpha. 

With any luck, I was being rescued. 

"Coms check. This is Claymore, please respond," I said urgently. People were suddenly jogging past the room I was using for refuge. There was no more casual discussion as they went. 

"Claymore, this is Iskra...ETA one minute."

The line was clearing rapidly, and I was able to figure out who was talking to me. Bucky, using his operative name, Iskra.