Berlin, Germany
Minutes Earlier
Once the lid popped off, all that sat within the crate was a jumbled mess of wires, mechanical rims, and God knows what else. Brow furrowing in a blend of confusion and concern, the electrician turned his attention to the white van, where the strange device had come from.
He shouted something in German, something of concern to the device that had been mailed to him. The man from the van turned back, watched as the electrician fell back once the package detonated.
He felt the wave wash over him, knocking out his van’s headlights and pushing outwards, like a blast wave that couldn’t be stopped. He could see several explosions across the power grid station once the wave enveloped it, bolts of electricity traveling like serpents up and down the metal towers. He could see as the wave continued, the electric lines exploding closer and closer to the city of Berlin.
Joint Counter Terrorist Centre
5:12 p.m.
Flashing red lights in the darkness. Bucky sat in his entrapment, staring straight forward. “What the hell is this?” he asked, pure malice in his tone.
“Why don’t we discuss your home?” the doctor asked. “Not Romania. Certainly not Brooklyn, no.” He slowly pulled out a little red book, a silver star in the center. Bucky’s breathing grew heavier, his fists tightening. Something sparked, the image of that silver star surrounded by red burning in the back of his mind, the worst memories he could remember.
Helmut Zemo smiled. “I mean… your real home.”
Taking off his glasses, Zemo stood and approached Bucky. With a flashlight in hand, he began to read within the book in clear, solid Russian.
“Longing…”
Bucky closed his eyes. “No…”
“Rusted…”
Raising his head, Bucky stared straight up to the ceiling. “Stop.”
“Seventeen…”
Bucky clenched his metal fist. “Stop!”
Zemo stood in front of the glass, daring to eye the Winter Soldier, not backing down from his glare. “Daybreak!”
Bucky screamed with an inhumanly power. With strength even he hadn’t known, he ripped his metal arm free from its lock.
“Furnace!”
Zemo circled the cage as Bucky stood free. He rammed his fist into the glass door, screaming as he did so. “Nine!”
“Benign!”
Cracks begin to appear among Bucky’s grunts.
“Homecoming!”
Crack.
“One!”
Larger and larger.
“Freight car!”
With an aggravated bellow, Bucky broke down the door to his cell. Zemo stood in silence. He closed the book, turned off his flashlight, and approached the man. He slowly stood to his feet, staring straight ahead, a blankness in his stare. “Soldier?” Zemo asked.
“Ready to comply,” Bucky muttered, sweat streaming down his forehead.
He smiled. “Mission report. December 16, 1991.”
5:15 p.m.
Among the chaos within the control room, Everett Ross did his best to lead his men out of the darkness, and bring them into the light. “Evac all civilians,” Ross ordered into his walkie-talkie. “Get me a perimeter around the building, and gunships in the air.”
While men and women hurried back and forth, trying desperately to get communications and computers back online, Tony Stark and Natasha Romanoff were hurrying through the chaos, a pack of concerned mares on their heels.
The chaos had started the moment the lights went out. The ponies could see the breakdown of the facility, the unknown of what would emerge from the blackness. They had already seen Steve and Sam make a break for it during the power outage, most likely to secure Barnes. But there was something not right about the situation, something gnawing at the back of Twilight’s mind.
“Please tell me you brought a suit,” Natasha said, hurrying through the complex with Stark by her side, the ponies behind her.
“Sure did,” Stark replied, his voice just as urgent. “It’s a lovely Tom Ford, three-piece, two-button. I’m an active-duty non-combatant.”
“What do you want us to do?” Twilight asked.
Stark turned his neck back for a second, already shaking his head. “Stay back while we handle this. There’s no telling if Barnes is secure or not. We can’t have him in his state going anywhere near you or your friends,” Stark said.
“We can take care of ourselves, Tony!” Rainbow argued.
“Yeah, those cat scratches on your face say otherwise.”
Ignoring the growing red in Dash’s eyes, Stark stepped aside as Sharon Carter pushed past him. “Follow me,” she interrupted, rushing by Stark and Natasha. She paused, however; looked back to the ponies, and nodded to Stark. “We’ll need all the backup we can get.”
“Why?” Natasha asked.
“Just got an emergency call,” Sharon answered, staring directly to Natasha, unease in her gaze. “Barnes is loose.”
Looking back at the ponies, Stark straightened his expression. He could see the determination in their eyes, the fearlessness they exemplified. Facing forward, Stark nodded to Sharon. “Lead the way,” Stark told her.
With that confirmation, Sharon took off, the rest following right behind her. As the group left, little did they know their conversation had been picked up by some curious ears.
One from a Panther and one from a Punisher.
T’Challa, lowering his phone, quickly stood up and scanned his surroundings. He watched the group exit the chaos, entering the light to chase down the Winter Soldier. The target. No one paid him any heed. He quickly pulled off his jacket and followed quietly behind the group.
A security guard held a nearby door open, failing to see King T’Challa slip through several guards. His attention was centered on the much smaller man in a tight, gray suit. “Keep your eyes on him. Do not let him out of your sights,” the man ordered.
He nodded to Everett Ross. “Yes, sir.” Closing the door, he turned to his partner. “You hear that? Don’t give him any freedom.”
The second guard nodded, gripping his baton. “Copy that.” He cautiously eyed the man sitting patiently in front of the blank table, his head slowly rising.
Frank Castle kept his eyes glued on the door, watched as the chaos ensued on the outside, the darkness and the flashing red. He remembered seeing King T’Challa rush by, clearly on the trail of the Winter Soldier. He had heard what Stark and the others were talking about. Barnes was loose.
He was free.
Tightening his fists, he looked back down to his wrists locked within the cuffs. He looked to his right, spotted the slight glint of the golden keys on the guard’s belt. The guard glared him down, hand on his pistol, ready to unload if Castle tried anything smart.
Feeling the presence of the guards behind him, Castle closed his eyes and muttered, “One chance, gentleman.”
They looked at each other.
“I can stop Barnes, but you have to let me go.”
The second guard scoffed. “What the hell do you think this is? The only place you’re going is a cold, dark cell.”
“I do respect law enforcement, yes I do. They’re just doing their jobs. They don’t deserve it.”
The shooter spoke to himself, his voice becoming less and less audible. The guards noted his posture, noted his heavy breath, and noted his fists tightening within the locks of the cuffs. They looked at one another, mentally nodding to one another, knowing what might happen if they let their guards down.
So, they didn’t. They slowly reached for their pistols.
Castle shot up, driving his elbow into the unsuspecting face of the guard on his right. He reared his knee upwards and struck the second guard right in the gut. He finished him off with a solid boot to the face, knocking him out cold. He returned to the first guard, grabbed the man’s pistol and ripped it from his hands. He grabbed the barrel of the pistol and smacked it right across the guard’s temple. He slumped to the floor, blood trailing from his nose.
Castle breathed softly, the blood slowly dripping from the gun in his hands.
“They don’t deserve it.”
Reaching down, Frank plucked the keys from the bleeding guard’s belt. He took off the cuffs around his wrists, rubbed each one, and turned back towards the door. He picked up the pistol and made his way out. He walked right through the chaos. No one even noticed him.
5:18 p.m.
The sounds of breaking bodies and painful cries was all Stark needed. Hiding behind a pillar, watching as Barnes took out a few guards, Stark waited intently for the signal. He heard from his comms, “We’re in position.”
Natasha. That was all he needed. Stark brought up his right hand and began to tap onto his wristwatch. The device began to transform, slivers and pieces of metal molding with Stark’s palm until it formed what appeared to be a fingerless glove. His palm glowed bright, a silver circle resembling the Iron Man armor in the center of his hand.
He stepped out of hiding, pointed his fist forward, and fired a concussive blast right for Barnes. The Winter Soldier staggered at first, then raised his eyes to the approaching man. Stark stepped closer, Barnes glaring him down. He fired again, this time a quick flash of blinding light. Barnes recoiled.
With that slight bit of weakness, Stark dove right in. The two went at it, exchanging blows, connecting strikes. Barnes pulled out a pistol, Stark’s eyes widening. He grabbed Barnes’ wrist, the pistol pointed at him. Reacting quickly, Stark placed his armored palm over the muzzle, the gun firing. He could feel the bullet impacting his palm, but doing nothing more than that.
He tore off the slide and smacked it against Barnes’ temple. Replying quickly with an elbow to Stark’s face and a powerful strike to his chest, Barnes watched as Stark crashed through a few tables, eventually finding the sweet, sweet comfort of the floor.
But he wasn’t home free just yet. Sharon and Natasha were already on top of him. Sharon kicked him and Natasha rushed forward with a knee to Barnes’ stomach. He staggered, but quickly adjusted himself. Sharon continued to kick at him, her blows meeting his chest and forehead. However, Barnes caught her leg, flipping her until she crashed on a wooden table. Out cold.
Natasha latched herself onto him, swinging herself around until her legs were locked around his neck. She began pelting him with elbows to the forehead, but even that didn’t stop him. He slammed her on a nearby table, his metallic palm shooting out and wrapping around her throat. Natasha gasped, eyes bugging as her hands met Barnes’ wrist.
“You could at least recognize me,” she muttered, her throat constricted by the added pressure of Barnes’ grip around her. He further tightened his grasp, Natasha gasping, “Alright, girls, I need that backup.”
A magical bolt struck Barnes on his side, breaking him away from Natasha. She gasped, clutching her throat.
Barnes faced forward and watched as a stampede of small, colorful horses charged him. The leader, the violet Alicorn, fired again, her horn launching a bolt of energy right into his chest. Barnes staggered, and barely recovered as the mares moved in.
He blocked the strikes of the approaching orange horse, followed by the magical blasts of the pale pink unicorn. The Alicorn struck again, hitting his leg with another magical blast and knocking him down to one knee. Starlight struggled to hold him down with her magic, but it was no use. He swung with his metal arm, smacking Starlight across the face. She hit the wall with stunning force, knocking her out on impact.
Watching Starlight hit the wall, Applejack was unprepared when the metal fist came for her. It struck her square in the face, her head rearing back unnaturally as her body tumbled backwards. Applejack lay on her side, the blood dripping from her muzzle. Rarity slid to a stop, gasping at the bloody mess that lay in front of her.
“Applejack, speak to me!” Rarity cried. Applejack lazily looked up at her, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. She was out cold.
Growing a furious frown, Rarity rushed forward with Barnes’ attention on Twilight. “How dare you hurt my friends, you ruffian—!”
She slid to a stop once more, but for different reasons. Her eyes widened at the sight of the sunlight pouring down and illuminating the metal on his arm. The metal on his arm. His…
Joining them was a similar human male holding some attributes to Captain America, yet the only thing off about him was his arm. His metal arm.
She was so dazed, visions rushing through her eyes, that she never saw the foot coming. Barnes kicked her so hard she impacted the opposite wall, a terrible cry erupting from the unicorn upon impact. She crashed onto a table filled with leftover food and drinks, the filth mixing with her coat, and was soon to pass out.
“Rarity!” Twilight screamed, turning back to Barnes, fury ripe in her eyes. However, the fury quickly died as Barnes’ metallic grasp gripped her throat, pushing her to the ground with such ferocity she lost all the breath in her lungs. Gasping, Twilight soon lost the ability to breathe when Barnes pressed further down on her throat, cutting off precious oxygen.
And she could see the inhumanity in his eyes, the blank stare of a cold killer staring right at her. Twilight shuddered, her breath and her life slipping away.
“Bucky, stop!”
He suddenly jolted his head upwards, releasing Twilight and swinging his metal arm straight to the sky. Rainbow Dash, rushing forward blindly in an attempt to knock him off of Twilight, unfortunately met Bucky’s left fist to the bottom of her jaw. She was sent rocketing upwards, hitting the ceiling. The rest was history. She fell down knocked out clean, landing right in front of Barnes.
Noticing each mare dealt with and out of the picture, Barnes rose and prepared to—
“That is quite enough, mister!”
Spinning around, Barnes stopped as the last of the mares blocked his path. This one was a yellow, meager Pegasus, a long pink mane and tale joining her. She glared him down, tried desperately to show her most ferocious features. It didn’t work. Whatever she was doing, it wouldn’t slow him down. Barnes took a step forward.
He stopped.
His eyes widened unnaturally.
She did the same.
Using the Stare, Fluttershy could see passed the eyes of the Winter Soldier, and saw deeper. She saw a blackness unlike anything she could’ve imagined. Within that blackness, all she could hear was screaming. Constant screaming. Not one of terror, not one of sadness, but of pain. Unrelenting, hellish pain. In that blackness, Fluttershy could see a lone man trapped, hunched over, screaming until his throat shed blood. She approached the lone man, and saw his face, saw his eyes.
She didn’t see the relentlessness of the Winter Soldier, or the blank stare of the murderer that had hurt her friends. She saw torment in the man’s eyes, streaks of blood and tears flowing down his face. She gasped, and for the first time, broke away despite her control.
Shaking his head, Barnes opened his eyes. He could see the yellow mare staring right up at him, eyes large and burning, lips quivering. He shook his head once more and pushed the mare aside. Fluttershy fell to the ground, squeaking in fear and watching as the broken man walked away.
She tried to talk, say anything to stop him, but she couldn’t. Fluttershy didn’t feel like doing much of anything but lying there and cry.
Even then, she couldn’t do that. Fluttershy yelped as another man walked right on by her, grabbed a nearby chair, and flung it right for Barnes with his back turned.
The wooden chair broke apart as it hit Barnes in the back, the Winter Soldier staggering forward. With fire-like breath, Barnes spun around, quickly reacting to the pistol aimed at his forehead, and drove his left arm into it. The pistol fired, flying off and hitting the opposite wall. Barnes turned to face his assailant, meeting the cold, cold glare of Frank Castle.
Castle didn’t waste a second and went at Barnes again, swinging wildly. The Winter Soldier blocked his incoming strikes, replying with his own. Castle landed a blow to the Winter Soldier’s temple with his fist, managing to push him near the stairs. Grabbing Barnes by the throat with both of his hands, gaining whatever strength he had, Castle focused primarily on choking away whatever life was left in the murderer.
However, Barnes wasn’t quitting yet. He reared forward, grabbing Castle by the throat with his metal palm. Even with his years of training, despite being quite strong himself, Castle couldn’t respond to the power of the Winter Soldier’s metal arm. With a powerful grunt, Barnes rammed Castle’s head in the support rail by the stairs. A powerful clang resounded through the air, Castle instantly falling limp in Barnes’ grasp.
Letting the man fall to the floor below him, Barnes breathed heavily. He heard another yelp from the yellow Pegasus, prompting his eyes forward. He was met once again by a boot to the chest, causing him to back away.
Barnes met the furious stare of King T’Challa shortly afterwards.
T’Challa was relentless, sending kick after kick for the man responsible for killing his father. Barnes swung with his left fist, T’Challa leaning back and replying with his own strike, landing one nicely on Barnes’ cheek. The Winter Soldier roared, driving his fist into T’Challa’s chest.
He rolled onto his back, and quickly landed on all fours, remaining in a pouncing position, eyes on his target. He was already up the stairs, disappearing behind the wall. T’Challa rose up and chased him down, and just before Barnes could make his escape, T’Challa cut him off, the two staring each down.
T’Challa sent a flurry of quick strikes with his feet, Barnes blocking each one. Barnes swung for him with his metal arm, attempting to end the confrontation, but T’Challa was too quick. He grabbed Barnes’ arm, surprisingly holding the Winter Soldier still. Flipping the murderer over his shoulder, the two tumbled down the set of stairs Barnes had recently climbed up.
The two rose in tandem, sending a few punches to each other. T’Challa blocked Barnes’ fist, and roared as he delivered a powerful kick to his sternum. The Winter Soldier impacted the wall past the railing, falling down to the floor below.
T’Challa was quick to react, leaping across the stairs’ railing and spinning around to find his target. But he couldn’t.
Like the ghost he was, the Winter Soldier was gone. All that was left were the constant groans of pain from the pile of mares, Avengers, agents, and a familiar shooter surrounding the shattered tables. All victims of the Winter Soldier.
Rooftops
5:26 p.m.
Matt Murdock tightened his jaw as he desperately tried to listen.
He heard everything. From the interrogation of the Winter Soldier, to the sound of Castle’s head impacting a metal bar, Murdock continued to listen and form the picture of the situation in his mind. He paused, however, when he heard a fairly familiar voice.
Standing at the very edge of the rooftop, Murdock scanned the streets below, from the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre to the garage. He heard the revving of an engine, belonging to a large vehicle. Possibly a van. He continued to listen, listen for the voice he heard seconds earlier. He could hear as the van drove out of the underground garage, entering the streets at an unusually quick pace.
He followed that van… and listened.
“… Another step down… another step closer. Soon… I will see you again…”
The voice. It was so oddly familiar. Murdock thought back to the interrogation of the Winter Soldier, hearing how calm and collected “Bucky” seemed to be. He remembered hearing those words, those Russian words almost sounding like a trigger of some sort. Whatever they were, they caused the Winter Soldier to go berserk, hurting anyone that got in his way.
And there was the man responsible, driving away in a van.
Murdock wasted no time in chasing him down, being certain to remain in the shadows, farther and farther down the rabbit hole he didn’t belong in.