Stucky Halloween: 2020

Relent

Here's another switched!au because I love them and should write them more often! Possible TW for violence and mentions of whump.

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Bucky Barnes was never one to give up; as Captain America, he couldn't afford it, couldn't allow himself to waver for even a second because when he wavered, when he couldn't do the job he swore himself to do, people died.

People like Steve Rogers.

Bcuky shook off the memory of him and pushed onward, teeth grit before throwing himself into the fray.

Bullets and blasts of energy were flying through the air. With wide eyes, Bucky watched civilians get vaporized, soldiers, guards -- he leaped in, shield at the ready.

Minutes later, spinning to check around himself, Bucky found himself surrounded and alone. He rolled his neck and studied them all, the twenty-something guns pointed at his face.

"Evening, fellas," he mused before jumping into action, dodging and weaving and fighting viciously to survive with as little damage to the general public as possible.

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Hours later after the paperwork and after Tony blathering on about politics and their civil duty, Bucky was finally alone. He cringed as he passed by a mirror to see that he was as roughed up as he felt. Smaller cuts were closing before his eyes but the bigger wounds would have to take a while.

Deciding not to do anything about it, he went straight to his room, depositing his shield and helmet along the way, and flopped onto his bed. He stared idly at the ceiling, replaying the mission over and over again, perfecting it mentally and giving up on that venture because it was a pointless one.

He answered Sam's incoming call with a groan. "Hey, Sam," he sighed and pushed himself into a sitting position. "Tony send you after me for somethin'?"

"Not exactly." Sam's voice was casual enough but the tone he was talking in made Bucky think something was up. "So, I found him," he continued in that same too-casual voice.

Bucky got up. "Where?"

"Actually right across from me," Sam mused, staring intently at the crouched shadowy figure perched on the faraway rooftop. He shifted where he kneeled as silently as he could. "Corner of 5th and 6th."

Bucky was already hurriedly pulling his boots on, grabbing his shield.

This unnamed Winter Soldier had been a thorn in their sides for the past couple years, now. Always pursuing him, each fight coming away more violently scarred than before, Bucky could tell that their cat-and-mouse game was coming to a close.

As he straddled his motorcycle and kicked it into gear, his thoughts remained on the soldier with a mess of shaggy hair, mask fixed tightly onto his face, glasses obscuring the person. The metal arm, ruthlessly powerful and dangerous.

He wasn't going to lose him again.

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Bucky sprinted up and hurled his shield as hard as he could, hoping to catch the soldier off-guard, but instead the soldier caught it; threw it back to him with enough force that it pushed Bucky physically backwards when he caught it.

He looked up to see a metal fist flying his way, raising his shield in the nick of time to block it. Metal on metal rang through the air and Bucky flinched at the abrasive sound. Sweeping his leg around he intended to get the soldier down, at least, because a downed opponent is as good as dead -- but the soldier had training.