Behind one of the massive concrete pillars supporting the overpass, Agent No. 128 and Clara crouched tightly together, arms wrapped around their knees, curling themselves into two small, trembling balls.
The moment Agent 128 scooped Clara up, he instinctively calculated his own speed. The conclusion was immediate and brutal—there was no way he could outrun bullets. Without hesitation, he dragged her behind the bridge pillar, using it as their only shield.
On the other side of the concrete column, the air was ripped apart by the deafening rat-tat-tat of gunfire, explosions booming one after another. Less than five meters away, two heavy machine guns roared relentlessly, spitting death into the street.
"Thanks for saving me just now, but… who exactly are you, sir?" Clara asked cautiously.
Anyone willing to charge into a hail of bullets to save someone was clearly no ordinary person.
"Agent 128 of S.H.I.E.L.D.," he replied calmly. "Tom James."
Tom extended a hand. Clara reached out and shook it politely.
"Nice to meet you, Agent James. Were you just… passing by?"
"Actually, I was assigned to tail you. Headquarters thought Captain America might contact you. Did he?"
"I don't know," Clara said helplessly. "My phone died. So… you've been following me this whole time?"
"Yes. I watched you take a wrong turn at the Norvidon intersection, wander around Warner Street for an hour, and finally buy a drink and a map at the corner."
"Wow!" Clara stared at him in disbelief. "You really just watched me get lost and didn't help at all?"
"In our line of work," Tom said solemnly, "patience is essential."
"I wasn't complimenting you," she muttered. "What's going on out there? Why are they shooting each other?"
"How would I know?" Tom shrugged. "I was just following you."
He cautiously leaned out to peek around the pillar—then instantly snapped back, eyes wide with excitement.
"Following you really did lead me to Captain America!"
"Steve?" Clara perked up. "He's here? He was supposed to pick me up at the airport!"
She started to lean out for a look, but Tom shoved her back down immediately.
"Captain America looks like he could use some help."
Tom raised his pistol and fired at the assassin manning the machine gun.
The moment his partner dropped dead, the second assassin—who had been firing at Steve—swung his weapon toward the bridge pillar and unleashed a furious spray of bullets. Before he could adjust, Captain America's shield slammed into him with crushing force, killing him instantly.
"Thanks!" Steve called out, not knowing who had intervened—but grateful all the same.
"He thanked me! He actually thanked me!" Tom whispered excitedly, barely able to contain himself.
"Oh, great," Clara said flatly. "You should go buy a lottery ticket."
The assassins were led by the mysterious and terrifying Winter Soldier. They obeyed him without question. Natasha Romanoff's opponent was a man who had once left a scar across her abdomen—a reminder of a past encounter soaked in blood.
After a fierce exchange, Natasha was struck in the shoulder by a stray bullet. Bleeding heavily, she collapsed behind a car for cover—only to look up and see the dark, gaping muzzle of the Winter Soldier's gun aimed straight at her.
Just in time, Steve broke free from the Winter Soldier's subordinates and charged in. The two exceptional fighters collided, trading devastating blows—fists crashing into flesh, every strike aimed to kill.
During the struggle, the Winter Soldier's mask was knocked away.
Steve froze.
"Bucky?"
Nearby, Natasha grabbed a rocket launcher from a fallen assassin and fired. The explosion tore through the street, and when the smoke cleared, the Winter Soldier had vanished into the chaos.
S.H.I.E.L.D.'s special forces arrived swiftly. Drawn by the explosion, military helicopters also descended on the scene.
Due to jurisdictional authority, all detainees were taken into S.H.I.E.L.D. custody. Inside a S.H.I.E.L.D. transport vehicle, handcuffed and seated in silence, were Steve, Natasha, Sam, along with Clara and Tom.
"I really don't get this," Tom complained bitterly, holding up his shackled hands. "I helped kill a few assassins—how does that make me a fugitive? I even showed them my credentials! I was just carrying out a tracking order!"
"I'm a middle schooler," Clara added blandly. "And I got arrested too."
She glanced at Steve uneasily. Something felt wrong. Since getting into the vehicle, he hadn't said a word. Shouldn't he be asking why she ended up in the middle of a firefight?
"Bucky… the Winter Soldier is Bucky," Steve said quietly at last. "He looked straight at me… and didn't even know who I was."
The cold indifference in his old friend's eyes cut deeper than any wound.
Sam shook his head in disbelief. "That's impossible. No one can be over ninety years old and still look like that."
"Zola," Steve said suddenly. "Bucky was captured by Zola in 1943. He experimented on him—that's why he survived the fall! They must have found him!"
Realization crashed down on Steve like a tidal wave. Bucky hadn't died after falling from the cliff. Steve had failed to rescue him. And because of that, HYDRA had taken him… and turned him into a weapon.
"What is even happening?" Tom blurted out. "Ever since I got the order to arrest Captain America, nothing's made sense. Now there's a Winter Soldier too? Is that the curly-haired assassin?"
He looked between Sam, Natasha, and Steve. No one answered. Finally, he turned to Clara.
She shook her head. She was just as confused.
Natasha's shoulder wound continued to bleed heavily. Without immediate treatment, she could bleed out.
When Sam tried to ask the guards for help, one of them threatened him with a stun baton. The other was promptly electrocuted unconscious.
Everything happened in an instant.
"Oh! It's Agent Hill!" Tom exclaimed, eyes wide. "Weren't you supposed to be arranging Director Fury's burial?"
"Shut up, intern," Maria Hill snapped, pointing the stun baton at him. "If you alert the people up front, I'll throw you out of the vehicle."
"So you're still an intern," Clara said in sudden realization. "No wonder you felt a little… unprofessional."
Tom grinned sheepishly. "Still an agent. And I'll be official in two months."
Agent Hill used a laser cutter to burn a hole straight through the floor of the transport vehicle.
One by one, everyone dropped through the opening.
The vehicle was clearly moving at high speed. The hard road below rushed past like a blur.
"I think I can stay on the truck," Clara said nervously. "I'm just a kid. They won't do anything to me."
Looking at the racing asphalt beneath them, she was convinced jumping would cost her an arm or a leg.
"They kill people without caring whether they're adults or children," Steve said grimly.
He lifted Clara into his arms, positioned his shield beneath them, and jumped.
The convoy didn't head toward S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. Instead, it turned into a deserted alley.
The commanding officer stepped out of the lead vehicle and raised his gun.
"Dig five graves," he ordered coldly. "Now."
The door of the last transport vehicle swung open. Armed men stood ready outside.
Inside, there was only one unconscious guard… and a smoking hole in the floor.
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