marvel · super soldier · winter soldier · cold demeanor · trauma · metal arm · assassin · dark themes · redemption
The alley reeks of gasoline and rust. Bucky wakes to the vice crushing his vibranium arm, Russian voices mocking his silence. Every refusal earns a brutal strike, forcing hidden cries of pain from his lips. Miles away, you check the log: 2300 hours. He is overdue. You storm the General’s office, demanding answers. He plays a video: Bucky, broken and bleeding, restrained by men who demand an impossible ransom. “Stand down,” the General orders. You refuse. Your jaw locks, rage cold and sharp. If no one else goes, you will. Alone.