"I'll call Peggy to get Tony here," Steve said, pulling out an old phone, dialing a number etched in his memory. He hadn't seen Peggy since waking, but Sharon gave him her private line.
"How do I face Tony?" Bucky groaned, back aching.
"Tony's a playboy like Howard, but I believe he's just as honorable," Steve said firmly, dialing. Tony was upright, but learning his father's death wasn't an accident—could he stay that way? Steve wasn't sure.
"Hello?" Peggy's aged voice hit Steve like a bolt.
"Peggy…" he managed, then silence.
"Steve, I thought you'd call sooner," Peggy said, weary. She'd known of his return but left S.H.I.E.L.D. matters to Dugan and Fury, focusing only on Captain America. Sharon stayed by Steve's side at her behest.
Hearing Steve, despite faded memories, she recognized the man she waited fifty years for.
"I didn't know how to face you," Steve said, fist clenched.
Bucky stayed silent, not interrupting their reunion, old as he was.
"Peggy, I found Bucky," Steve said, cutting to the chase.
"Is he okay?" Peggy sensed his unease.
"Howard's death—it involves Bucky and Hydra," Steve said, voice shaking. Silence followed.
"You want Tony to meet him. I'll call, but I can't predict his reaction. Tony distanced himself after Howard and Maria died," Peggy said, exhaling, lying in bed with Sharon beside her.
S.H.I.E.L.D. was stretched thin, eyed by the Security Council and military for its power and resources.
"You… okay?" Steve asked, finally personal.
"You owe me a dance, Steve. Come see me," Peggy said, hanging up.
Sharon held her aunt's hand, offering strength. "Don't worry, Sharon. At my age, what's there to fear?" Peggy said, tears escaping despite her calm.
"Still as handsome as his photos?" Peggy asked, listening as Sharon described Steve's bravery against Hydra agents.
She texted Tony. Soon, Steve would face Howard's son.
Steve steadied himself, looking at Bucky. "Tony's coming."
"I know. I'll wait," Bucky said, wiping his face, tidying his hair. Facing his sins, he wanted to do so as himself, not the Winter Soldier—just Bucky Barnes, an old soldier.
"They paying you now?" Burkasso asked, trying to buckle a nonexistent seatbelt. His strength scoffed at driving risks, but his passengers weren't barbarians.
"Nah, that black-hearted bastard mentioned a dog," Rumlow said, shaking his head, clueless about Fury's meaning and uninterested.
"I had a dog once. Not cute, but smart," Burkasso said, tossing a belt from his bag to Frank. "Fix yourselves in. Forgot seatbelts."
He felt uneasy. He wasn't callous about lives. "Maybe tomorrow, after Matt washes the car, I'll add seatbelts?" he asked Gil.
Gil smiled, nodding. "Can I stay with Dad tonight?"
Frank trembled, longing for family time. "Think so…" he started.
"Don't forget the ring," Gil finished, grinning.
A luxury car rammed their truck. A mustached man stepped out, tossing checks at Rumlow's face without apology, striding toward the forge—arrogant, rushed, as if money solved everything.
"Son of a—!" Rumlow yanked the door, failing to open it, and climbed out the glassless window, storming after.
"Not a good day to drive," Burkasso said, letting Gil and Frank go. Gil had been safe lately, easing his worries.
Frank nodded goodbye, leading Gil away. Burkasso waved, grabbing Kasilius's neck, hearing bones grind. "Still fine," he muttered, tossing him back inside and stowing the blanket.
His truck, imbued with legendary strength, wouldn't dent from a sports car.
"What's this blanket for?" Burkasso mused, realizing his keepsakes were useless. Quality of life? He never cared.
Inside, Rumlow was pummeling the mustached man—Tony Stark—holding back but making each hit sting.
"You think money buys everything?" Rumlow roared, smacking Tony's head, which thudded against the floor.
"Rumlow!" Steve shouted, stunned, rushing to stop him. The meaty punches unnerved even him.
"Captain, know what this punk did?" Rumlow paused, then slapped Tony's head back down.
Steve didn't know but could guess, knowing Howard. He couldn't let Tony be beaten senseless.
"Stop!" Steve grabbed Rumlow's hand mid-swing.
"You think you can kill me like you killed my father?" Tony spat, defiant despite the pain, refusing to yield.
"Tony, you've got it wrong!" Steve said, pushing Rumlow off.
"I'd teach him a lesson if not for you, Captain!" Rumlow fumed. Even at S.H.I.E.L.D., no one dared treat him like that.
What would his business card say? Barbarian, S.H.I.E.L.D. Hydra Captain, Crossbones, Brock Rumlow?
"Kids in grade school talk tougher," Tony sneered, standing, wincing from a kick to his lower back, forcing him to hunch.
Rumlow's taunts were playground-level, universal in rage. Pinching waist fat hurt just as universally.
Burkasso grabbed Tony's neck, straightening him. "Let him rest a couple days. Muscle damage," he said, handing Tony to Steve and restraining Rumlow.
Rumlow's beating was fine, but unchecked barbarian rage could spiral. Ancestor Banar, lost to fury, carved through demons to Azmodan, costing his life for a leg that regrew overnight. Blind rage was no virtue.
They could deal with Tony later. Barbarians weren't known for patience, but Burkasso could wait.
"Hurry up. I need to head back," Burkasso said, kicking Kasilius, who'd been unconscious too long. Promised to Ancient One to train her wayward student, he'd pair him with Jessica Jones on the mountain.
"Tony, I'm Steve Rogers. You know me. Your father and I were…" Steve began.
"Cut the crap. You here to say you killed him?" Tony's voice was ice.
"No, I did," Bucky said, stepping forward, guilt in his eyes.
Tony's face twisted. His gun—taken from his bodyguard—fell, misfiring.
Kasilius, waking, took the bullet in his rear, losing flesh. "Ah!" Thud. Out again.
"I planned to kill you. MIT doesn't teach shooting or facing failure," Tony said, glancing at the gun. He'd meant to pull his checkbook, already used on Rumlow.
Calmed by the chaos, he said, "I came to own this mistake."
Killing Howard haunted Bucky, worse than other Hydra-ordered kills. Slaying his friend, even controlled, was agony.
"Tony, I want him to face trial," Steve said.
"And use your clout to save him? I know that game better than you," Tony snapped.
"Kill me. I should've died in the war," Bucky said, picking up the gun, offering the grip to Tony, his broken mechanical arm making him look frail.
"I've never held a gun," Tony said. Steve relaxed. "But I'll try."
Tony snatched the gun, firing cleanly. Steve saw the target—Bucky's arm. A spark flew, the bullet ricocheting toward Burkasso.
"It's fate. I've got no aim, missing at this range," Tony said coolly, unable to take a life.
Steve beamed—Tony was honorable, like Howard.
Burkasso swatted the bullet, hitting Kasilius's leg. Rumlow, fuming, forced the Endless Chaos Potion down Kasilius's throat. The mage vanished, reappearing at Tony's feet.
No mage was unluckier than Kasilius. He'd uncovered Ancient One's Dark Dimension use, only to be stopped by her for seeking that power. He thought her a hypocrite, hoarding strength. Sneaking, he connected to the dimension, only to be knocked out by his teacher—now its master—before begging Dormammu, unaware Dormammu was gone.
Like a worker jumping companies, only to find the same boss.
Tony, startled, fired wildly. Bucky took multiple hits, collapsing in blood.
Tony's composure shattered—he'd taken a life. He'd watch Bucky die.
Steve was too slow to react to Kasilius's sudden appearance. Only Bucky, seeking redemption, smiled. Better to die by his friend's son than face trial.
"Tony, it's my fate. Don't blame yourself," Bucky whispered. Hydra's enhancements kept him alive, unlike most who'd die instantly.
"I spared you! You were to face trial!" Tony yelled, dropping the gun. It hit Kasilius's head.
Rumlow gaped. "This potion!" Its chaotic power caused this freak accident.
The Winter Soldier's fate: he wouldn't see spring.
(End of Chapter)
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