The one forgiven sin 《Sambucky》

00.19

But the thing is, even if I could go back, I wouldn't belong there anymore.

It resonouted all across the room, a crack so loud and disruptive, it send a shiver down Bucky's spine. His eyes immediately looked towards Sam, and only when he saw him move with determination did he allow his eyes to move away.

And there he sat. Lemar Hoskins. Blood was dripping down his chin, his mouth was closed and his eyes were fluttering, only to remain shut. His neck was bend in a way that was most likely not normal,  for anyone besides Bucky, Walker and the Flagsmashers.

Tears settled themselves in his eyes as he mourned another fallen soldier, dying in action. Just the way he should have died seventy years ago.

Bucky was sure to miss Hoskins. He didn't know the man that well, but he seemed as if he was the voice of reasoning for Walker.

Speaking of...

The blond man, who suddenly seemed 100 times stronger than before walked steadily to Lamar and kneeled in front of him. Slowly, but gently shaking him, he muttered his name over and over again, only to not get a reaction at all. Walker turned aggressive, and Bucky's heart broke for the man who lost a friend.
John looked up, and, Bucky shivered, as his blue eyes turned colder, murderous.

Bucky knew what was about to happen next.

Because he would have reacted the same.

He knows he would have.

Just as he was about to say something to calm the new born supersoldier, John leaped out of the window, following the Flagsmashers.

"No!" Sam shared a look with him and both bolted outside. The stairs seemed to never end, a path without a light at the end.

Oh, there certainly was no light. Only despair. And so much pain.

Mixed with blood.

So much blood.

Walker stood right in the centre, thousand of cameras flashing his way as he held Steve's treasure, a symbol of safety and peace, to his side, blood gruesomly dripping onto the floor below.

A man laid before him, but something was wrong, so terribly wrong with him. But from this angle, all looked okay, but Bucky knew-

Oh, god.

A hit of nauseousness hit him straight across the face as he realized this poor man was decapitated, while the whole world was watching.

It was time to run up on the man, beat him up, and take it....

•□•□•□•

He was so horribly out of shape, it wasn't even funny anymore. He knew if he really wanted to, he could have ripped him apart.

Walker was nothing compared to the legendary Assassin he used to be, the only problem was, he didn't want to be him anymore. He didn't want people to look at him and associate him with intense knife throwing, as well as weapons, pain and grief. He wanted...

He actually didn't know what he wanted.

What he did not want was to break Walkers arm, but the man seemed crazy, borderline insane. They had to stop him at all costs. Besides, he was still pissed Walker literally threw him against an electronic filled mast. The electoshocks send him right back to Siberia, into that awful chair that cost him so many years, filled by blood and sweat and pain.

Still, while hearing that unsatisfying crunch, he couldn't help but whine in the back of his throat, being weirdly familiar with the sensation of broken bones himself.

Sluggishly, he raised to his feet, and got a hold of the shield.

He could do it.

It fit him perfectly, his arm was exactly the shape to fill into the leather straps, it was not at all heavy as he held it to his side, and he knew he could throw it with perfect aim, just as he would with one of his guns.

But....

When he looked towards the ground, he could see his own reflection in a splash of water.

And just as always when he looked into a mirror, instead of seeing his new chopped hairstyle he nowadays wore around town, he could see long strains of hair falling freely around his jaw and shoulders.
Instead of his new alightened blue eyes cold hardened ones looked back at him, being so shut off emotions, they almost didn't resemble any colour at all.
His lips were in the reflection not visible since the view was blocked by a black mask, that he knew had the ability to close off completely to stop his oxygen supply as well as his ability to speak. And on top of all that, instead of the calm black blue colour mixed with golden ornaments, which were hard workingly inserted into the arm by a royal princess, he wasn't all that surprised to see ugly grey, silver plates, forming his "arm" as they called it.
He liked to call it trash.
The ugly red star on top of it just made matters worse and he almost toppled over with sickness.

He couldn't do it.

Bucky walked over and dropped it next to the owner of the shield, the one worthy of holding it, the one that wasn't as tainted by horrors as him, the one who could carry it without doubling the weight of his own burdens, the one whose smile was so fucking beautiful, it physically hurt, the one people, America, would prefer.

The one Steve preferred.

Slowly, shakingly, he exhaled, only to retreat quickly. His nose was dripping, his metal arm was weirdly flexing and he felt so incredibly sore from fighting with Walker, he was having trouble breathing.

Or maybe, it was just his thoughts running a mile an hour in his head. The world was blaming out, only to be in the complete focus the next. All was a blur, except his mission.

Which was to give Zemo over.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't relieved with knowing this man could not hurt him in any way again.

He was finished with Zemo.

However, he wasn't completely finished with the Dora Milajae....

They wouldn't mind one last favour, would they?