Classified || Bucky Barnes

Chapter 2

June 26th, 2010

Afghanistan

Marina squinted through the stirring dust, watching as the helicopter's shadow disappeared into the gleaming light of the sun. A huff of air pushed past her lips and she adjusted the thick vest secured over her torso. Its bulky, suffocating build restricted her movements more than she cared to admit, but she worked around it regardless. A bead of sweat dripped down her face and she wiped it away with the sleeve of her camouflage shirt. Only after did she realize the action likely smeared dirt across her cheek.

"Get your bags, ladies!" Her heart jumped when the sergeant called out from behind. 

His voice was rough like gravel in her ears despite being muffled by the helmet strapped to her head. The men around her scooped up the heavy bags without hesitation, brushing past her as if she wasn't there at all. Marina waited patiently for the troops to disband before kneeling down and taking a bag of her own, slinging it over her aching shoulder. The strand of hair that had escaped her tight bun danced with her settling breath. She could practically feel the ominous presence behind her and cringed before spinning on her heel. 

"Is there a problem, Private?" Sergeant Mathers quizzed, his straight brow hardening his already cold expression. 

"No, sir." Marina scolded her slightly wavering tone. His dense glare remained glued on her for a few moments more. Her weight shifted between her feet while she forced her gaze straight ahead.

"Didn't think so." He finally spun around and stalked off to yell at someone else for one insignificant matter or another.

Marina shook her head lightly as if to free herself from a daze. She cleared her throat and adjusted the heavy bag over her shoulders. It was a few short minutes later that Sergeant Mathers neared once more and she found herself standing straighter as he passed. The dozen men around her all forced themselves taller, each of them the perfect embodiment of a soldier. She could only imagine what she looked like standing amongst them.

"Move out!"

They started off at the order; deep into the desert to scope ahead. They had one simple job, sweep the area before the convoy comes through. Of all the similar missions they'd been tasked with, they only ever had to clear one hideout of five or six men.

Her fingers clenched around her rifle with each time the harsh wind pelted sand against her burning cheeks. The exhausted squadron walked for what felt like an eternity with a single break that couldn't have lasted more than five minutes. The scorching sun bore down on them all, sagging their shoulders and slowing their feet while they trudged on.

Marina lurched to a stop and her eyes widened when Sergeant Mathers threw a fist into the air. He fell to a kneeling position and the rest of his troops blindly followed suit. Her grip tightened on the loaded weapon in her grasp as she pulled it closer to her shoulder. She unknowingly held her breath as she anxiously searched the sand stretching for miles before them. A single dark spot sat frozen in the sea of dusty yellow. A confused frown sunk her brow. It's a trap, was her immediate thought. A shaky breath pushed past her lips and she lifted the scope to her right eye, squinting the other shut. Her frown only deepened at the zoomed in version of the scene. 

A man stood motionless atop a pile of gray bricks. Blood sprinkled his face and thick, cinched brow. His gradually wandering eyes were dull and somber; not emotionless, but rather overwhelmed. He stumbled down from the bricks and started slowly through the ruins of what used to be a city of stone.

"Bailey, what have we got?" Mathers whispered as he fumbled for his binoculars.

"Just one. I can't tell if he's armed."