The "Winter Soldier" was never meant to be just one man.
The name had originally referred to a program.
Department X of the now-fallen Red Room empire had created a secret battalion of super soldiers—men enhanced, brainwashed, and stripped of all free will. Perfect assassins who lived only to follow orders.
When the empire collapsed, most of those soldiers were lost—frozen in cryo-chambers, half-finished, forgotten by history.
Hydra didn't forget.
They took the legacy of Department X and perfected it, keeping only the best of the best.
And now one remained.
Bucky Barnes.
Once, he had been Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th, Captain America's best friend—the man who'd dragged a scrawny Steve Rogers out of more fights than he could count.
But after a mission against Hydra went wrong, Bucky had fallen from a train, presumed dead.
Hydra had found him, broken but alive—and turned him into the deadliest weapon the world had ever seen.
For seventy years, while Steve Rogers slept in the ice, Bucky became the ghost in the dark—responsible for political assassinations, destabilizations, and covert strikes that changed the course of nations.
And tonight, he had come for Fury.
Black Widow's pupils shrank as recognition cut through her like a knife.
The long hair. The cold, lifeless eyes. The metal arm glinted in the headlights.
Winter Soldier.
The man who had once shot her through the abdomen on a mission, killing the scientist she had been sent to protect.
Even after the purple potion from Apocalypse had erased the scar, she could still feel it there.
Her teeth clenched. This time, she wouldn't miss.
The Winter Soldier flexed his mechanical fingers, then lunged forward with an iron fist.
Natasha met him head-on, yellow Asgardian power wrapping her palm like a gauntlet.
BOOM!
Their clash shook the air. Both were forced back several steps.
Around them, the fake police hesitated, stunned.
The Soldier's metal arm could punch through ten centimeters of reinforced steel—yet this woman had just met it strike for strike.
Hydra's comm crackled.
"Team leader, intel was wrong. Widow's power levels are far beyond projections."
"Doesn't matter. Have the Soldier hold her down. Open fire."
"But—he could be caught in the crossfire—"
"Do it."
A storm of gunfire erupted.
Natasha dove, scooping up the car door the Soldier had torn off earlier, using it as a makeshift shield. Bullets hammered the steel, sparks raining around her.
The Winter Soldier didn't even flinch, letting the rounds whistle past him as he pressed the attack.
Natasha had to block with one arm, leaving her other free hand to strike. It kept them deadlocked—neither able to finish the fight.
"Fury!" she shouted, barely dodging a punch that cratered the pavement where her head had been. "How's that exit coming?"
"Almost there—just hold them off!" Fury's strained voice came from inside the wrecked SUV. He was cutting through the floor panel with a portable laser, his only escape route.
Natasha gritted her teeth, shifted tactics, and rolled out of cover long enough to fire her sidearm.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Three Hydra agents fell before they could react.
The rest scrambled for cover, suddenly realizing this wasn't the weak spy in their files but something far more dangerous.
Their suppressing fire faltered.
With fewer bullets cutting her off, Natasha went on the offensive. She shoved forward with the car door, slamming it into the Soldier's chest, driving him back a step.
Then—
WHOOSH!
A trail of smoke and fire streaked through the night.
"RPG!" Natasha barked, diving for the ground.
The Winter Soldier dropped low as well, vanishing behind debris.
BOOOOM!
The rocket struck, the blast wave hurling Natasha through the air. She slammed against the overturned SUV hard enough to rattle her teeth.
Her patience snapped.
"Fury," she hissed, standing, "lend me a real gun."
A rifle slid out from inside the SUV. Natasha caught it, shouldered it, and fired two clean, controlled bursts.
The RPG gunner went down.
She turned the rifle on the advancing Winter Soldier, forcing him to duck and weave, using his metal arm to block bullets.
Hydra's remaining gunmen couldn't even peek from cover without losing their heads. Natasha pinned them down with precision fire, cutting their numbers one by one.
The pistol clicked empty. Without hesitation, she hurled it at Bucky's face.
He swatted it aside—and that was the moment she had been waiting for.
Divine power flared across her hand as she brought it down like a blade toward his neck.
CLANG!
Metal rang like a church bell as she struck his arm.
This time, the impact wasn't equal.
The Soldier's metal arm dented deeply, servos screeching in protest. His movements turned sluggish, mechanical joints grinding.
Natasha's breathing steadied.
Without that arm, he was vulnerable.
She advanced to finish it—
—and then she heard the engines.
A dozen armored vehicles were approaching fast from down the street, their headlights slicing through the smoke.
Natasha's jaw tightened.
This was about to get a lot worse.
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