LEGACY: a bucky barnes story

Chapter 8 - Misfire

Please leave a message after the tone.

"Jen? It's Shemar. Jennifer, where are you? I understand if you need some space since Fury's gone, but I-I need to hear from you. They're saying Captain Rogers is a fugitive now, and they're looping Agent Romanoff and you in there, S.T.R.I.K.E. is looking for all of you. I don't know Jen; I'm worried about you. I just need to know you're alive—I didn't mean that to sound morbid... it's just—Matt's been calling me too, I just told him you're on an undercover mission and can't contact him but, um, just call me back. Okay, bye."

I pulled my phone away from my ear, distressed at the fourth voicemail Shemar's left me. It's only been a few days, but clearly my MIA status has taken a toll on him. I can't bring myself to call Matt and Emily, knowing I've missed at least ice cream night. The mere idea of their broken hearts all but destroys me. I close my phone and put it back in my pocket, trying to keep pace with Nat and Steve.

Disguised in our teenager-y best—complete with baseball caps, high tops, and jackets. I wish I hadn't decided on glasses as part of my cover. They're much too small on me and my head's starting to hurt. Nevertheless, we walk swiftly through the mall to the nearest Apple store.

"The drive has a level six homing program—as soon as we boot up, S.H.I.E.L.D. will know where we are. I'd give us about nine minutes," Nat informed.

"I'll stand lookout," I declared. "No sense in all of us looming over the screen, might draw attention. And we'll need to know the moment S.T.R.I.K.E. arrives."

"Yeah, okay, you armed?" Steve asked.

"Yes, concealed carry. I'll signal on the comm when I see any S.T.R.I.K.E. team."

I leave to stand near the entrance. Attempting to not look suspicious, I eyed the iPods near the front window.

"Excuse me, are you interested in hearing about the new 16GB iPod Touch?"

Startled by the bearded blond employee, I stuttered, "Uh, um, no I just, I'm just waiting for my friends."

"Ah, okay, let me know if you need anything, I've been Aaron!" he says with a smile, holding up his name tag. He walks away from me as I released the air I'd held in.

I couldn't relax for too long, as the employee heads straight to Nat and Steve. My stomach clenches. What they're doing isn't exactly how customers demo the showpiece laptops.

I covertly place my finger on my earpiece. "Guys, all good over there?"

They don't answer right away. I see them speaking to Aaron, and my gut twists.

"Guys?"

"Yep, wrapping up. Next stop, Wheaton, New Jersey," Nat relayed.

"Affirmative. Heads up, got a bogey heading our way," I uttered over the comm. S.T.R.I.K.E. was here, our nine minutes are up. Nat releases the drive and grabs Steve to join me at the exit.

"Standard tac team. Two behind, two across, two coming straight at us." Steve says as we briskly exit the Apple store.

Nat quickly grabs my hand, then to Steve says, "Put your arm around me and both of you, laugh at something I said."

Steve and I quickly force the best laugh we can muster—and boy do we sound fake. But it worked well enough, we walked straight past the two S.T.R.I.K.E. members heading in our direction.

"Split up. Smaller groups are less likely to draw attention. Steve and I will head down. Jen, head up. Rendezvous in the east parking lot."

I give a quick nod and head up the nearest escalator. I haven't been to this mall, so trying to find an exit proves challenging. Mind your training. Covert operations require stealth and agility, both of which I employ to the greatest degree trying to navigate out of the mall.

My glasses' temples achingly put pressure above my ears, luring a mild headache. I tried to adjust them as I attempted to maneuver around hordes of people. Thinking about tossing my glasses in the trash, I accidentally bump into someone much bigger than me.

"Sorry," I mutter, keeping my head low and trying to snake past them.

Instead of a "No problem" or "That's okay", I'm met with a strong hand grabbing onto my arm and twisting it behind my back, my glasses skidded across the mall floor. Cuffs are locked onto my wrists before I have time to fully register exactly what's happening. A voice hisses in my ear.

"I expected better from you, Agent Coulson."

Brock Rumlow. S.T.R.I.K.E. Team Commander.

Fuck.