Who Am I? » [Stucky]

133. Operation: Hercules

Every arched window plotted along the monumental historical corridor imploded in sync. Shards of glass erupted from the shattered panes, an avalanche of tiny specks and colossal portions raining down on the hallway, leaving ruptured gaping holes in the side of the building. The sound was deafening, like the crash of a thousand symbols, all clashing discordantly in syncopation, magnified by the acoustics of the corridor.

The confined journalists, still huddled like penguins, scattered, howling and wailing and screaming. They disbanded in a kafuffle, running around without tact or reason.

SHIELD agents zipped in on ropes, swinging into the hall with coordination, storming the battlements. They blasted down the HYDRA agents standing post in the crowd, being jostled by the gang racing about.

Bucky fired a shot at Rumlow, putting a bullet in his brain. From the other end of the hall, Carol, who had just emerged with her squad, took a shot whilst he was still standing; imbedding a bullet in the back of his skull for good measure. He dropped to the floor, tensing and then languishing. He was vanquished once and for all. The bomb slipped from his hand and the detonator was tripped as it hit the floor.

A flickering began on the C4 loaded box, overflowing with poorly wired circuitry. Then the beeps started pinging, ringing out at increasingly frequent intervals.

"Everyone get out of here!" Bucky screamed at the top of his lungs, waving his arm.

"To me!" Carol helped direct them, beckoning frantically, having got the message.

The SHIELD agents all registered Bucky command and a few saw for themselves what was happening. They sprinted down the length of the corridor.

"Clear it! Everyone clear the god damn building!" He was flapping his arms frantically.

Tony and Sam rushed up behind him as he began sprinting the length of the corridor.

"Tony, get Sam out of here!" Bucky bellowed, his feet carrying him as fast as possible.

"But-"

"That's an order!" Bucky barked.

Before Sam could strike up the audacity to debate it at such an inconvenient time, Tony caged him in his metal arms and jetted the pair of them out of a nearby window.

Then there was a harrowing blood-curdling scream from the other side of the bomb, a man was shrieking at the bomb, frozen stiff with fear. Bucky gauged the time he had, skidded to a halt and then dashed back in the opposite direction, accelerating as fast as his stiffening legs could carry him. His lungs were already burning with debilitation. All the while, the pulsing pitchy beep was getting speedier and speedier, and the beeps were blurring into one another.

Bucky hurdled the bomb, crashed into the man, scooped him up with his metal arm and tried to distance himself. He was slowed by the new weight in his arm, and knew it was only seconds. He focused, rasping, aching, heart racing, breaths catching, feet pounding.

The shockwave sent Bucky and the man to the floor, tumbling into a pile. Bucky braced himself over the anonymous journalist, taking any debris that came hurtling their way or any chunks of collapsing building that tumbled from the eaves. The boom was enough to momentarily deafen him, leaving his ears ringing as if someone was rapidly shaking a tambourine inside his head.

He was engulfed by a haze of smoke and felt the patter of crumbling concrete and brick on his back, like the rapping of hailstones on a roof. He coughed and hacked, breathing in the toxic fumes, but ultimately alive. He was blinded by the swampy black fog and flapped his hand to fan it away, trying to part the rolling waves flooding the building.