Even after the ambush, Bucky's senses were razor-sharp. The sudden clash had left Natasha Romanoff shaken — and puzzled.
According to HYDRA's records, the Winter Soldier had been enhanced — a supersoldier whose physique rivaled that of Captain America, Steve Rogers. Nothing more.
His left arm, once a metal prosthetic, had been shattered when he fell from the helicarrier into the icy abyss.
But now…
Natasha's sharp eyes swept over him. His left arm — whole, flesh and bone. No metal plating, no wires, no mechanical seams. Impossible.
HYDRA's cybernetic arm had been destroyed multiple times under her attacks in the past. Yet here he stood — not just restored, but radiating a power far beyond the man she remembered.
He looked familiar… and yet utterly different.
For a moment, Natasha couldn't reconcile the image before her with her memories.
"You planning to arrest me?" Bucky's voice was low, wary. His gaze flicked between each of the Avengers surrounding him.
"You're dangerous," Natasha replied quietly but firmly. "A former HYDRA operative — brainwashed, weaponized. Men like you can't be allowed to roam free."
"I—"
Before he could answer, Tony Stark's impatient voice cut through the night.
"Yeah, yeah, we've heard enough."
A blinding pulse cannon flared from his palm.
Boom!
Bucky dodged, twisting aside as the blast scorched the pavement beside him. His expression darkened.
"Guess there's no point talking to him."
"Hey! Tin Man's right here, pal!" Tony barked, raising both hands for another volley.
But Natasha's glare froze him mid-motion.
"Stark, stand down."
Her tone was ice-cold — Tony's impulsive shot had just broken formation and violated every protocol.
For Bucky, though, that one reckless attack said all he needed to know.
They weren't here to talk.
He had to run — and fast.
His eyes darted over the field, analyzing. The biggest threat was the one in the air. Take him out first.
In an instant, he slammed his foot down, shattering the ground beneath him. His body blurred — vanishing from sight.
Crash!
A nearby billboard snapped off its metal supports as Bucky ripped it from the street and hurled it toward Iron Man like a javelin.
The sign screamed through the air, the pole twisting with sheer force.
Tony barely had time to react. The AI inside his suit — JARVIS's successor — engaged evasive maneuvers at the last millisecond, throwing his armored form sideways.
Before the debris hit, Bucky was already moving — using the force of his throw to propel himself upward. He broke through the air like a missile, closing the gap in a blink.
Too fast!
Tony's sensors screamed warnings. His suit compensated, raising a repulsor field — but Bucky was already on him.
He slammed a hand onto the armor's throat, his grip like iron. The reinforced plating groaned under the pressure.
"You're not the only one wearing metal, Stark," Bucky growled.
His right fist shot forward —
BANG!
The blow cracked across the helmet, sending a deafening clang through the night. The force snapped Tony's head back violently — the suit's servos shrieked from the stress.
Before Bucky could strike again, his instincts screamed — danger.
A sharp whistle sliced through the air.
Twang! Twang!
Arrows. Two of them — one from above, one from behind.
He released Tony instantly, using the Iron Man armor as a shield, then kicked it square in the chest.
Boom!
The repulsors flared as Tony was launched backward, crashing into the street below in a shower of sparks.
Bucky used the rebound to propel himself skyward, vaulting over a rooftop in a blur.
Behind him, explosions and sonic blasts followed — flashbang arrows detonating one after another.
BOOM! BOOM!
The air rippled with blinding light and concussive force. Most men would've been disoriented for minutes. Bucky stumbled only briefly — then sprinted on, faster than before.
Clint Barton wasn't letting up. Arrow after arrow streaked through the dark, each one calibrated to explode on impact, forcing Bucky into a relentless dance of dodges and rolls.
Each time he thought about catching one and throwing it back, his instincts screamed a warning — don't.
So he ran.
And he ran fast enough that the explosions could barely keep up.
With a few massive leaps, he cleared several blocks, finally leaving the History Museum behind.
But he didn't feel relief — not yet.
Because even as he landed on a new rooftop, he sensed her behind him.
A shadow, swift and silent, moving like a panther.
Natasha Romanoff.
"Persistent," he muttered under his breath.
He veered sharply, choosing a new route — straight toward the city's heart, where people filled the streets. If he couldn't outfight them, he could at least disappear.
He dove from the rooftop, landing in a narrow alley, then emerged moments later into the crowd.
The flow of pedestrians swallowed him whole.
Two seconds later, Natasha dropped from above, her landing silent. Her eyes scanned the crowd — sharp, focused, predatory.
"Right side. Thirty meters," Clint's voice came through her earpiece.
She moved instantly, pushing through the people.
And there — she saw him.
Bucky Barnes. Baseball cap pulled low, blending in almost perfectly.
He turned slightly, meeting her eyes. For a heartbeat, the world seemed to slow.
Then, casually, he adjusted his cap — and kept walking.
Natasha didn't draw her weapon. Not here. Not surrounded by civilians.
Her strength — his strength — in a fight here would be a massacre. That's why she hadn't brought the Hulk in pursuit.
"S.H.I.E.L.D. has the area surrounded," Clint reported. "Psylocke and Ava are closing in."
Natasha frowned. "Don't underestimate him. He's not the same Winter Soldier in those files."
Still, she followed him — slowly, deliberately.
Then, to her surprise, Bucky stopped.
He approached a small food stand on the corner, handed over a bill, and ordered two simple meals. When the vendor passed him the food, Bucky turned — and walked straight to her.
He held out one of the boxes.
"Can we talk?"
Natasha hesitated — then accepted the food.
Without another word, Bucky turned and walked toward the pedestrian bridge nearby. She followed.
Halfway across, they leaned on the railing side by side, watching the river of headlights below and the endless tide of people.
The city glowed beneath them — bright, noisy, alive.
"I've got my memories back," Bucky said quietly, breaking the silence. He took a bite of the steaming food, his eyes fixed on the traffic below.
End of Chapter)
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