Bucky's Anchor

Chapter 30 - The Cost of Survival

The dust settled, but the air was still thick with the tension of the fight that had just taken place. I could barely breathe, my heart pounding as Steve and Tony faced each other, their breaths ragged and eyes blazing with raw emotion. I glanced at Bucky, his face pale and drawn, clutching the stump where his metal arm used to be. Blood trickled down his sleeve, staining the ground beneath him.

Tony's face was a mask of rage, his body tense, ready to strike again. Steve's shield was raised, his stance defensive, protecting the man he called a friend, the man who had just lost so much. I wanted to move, to scream, to do anything, but I was frozen in place, terrified of what might happen next.

"Don't make me do this, Tony," Steve pleaded, his voice hoarse. He was battered and bruised, his costume torn in multiple places. "This isn't you."

"He has to pay," Tony spat, his voice cold and hollow. His suit's power systems hummed ominously as he raised his hand, aiming directly at Bucky. "He killed my mom."

Steve stepped in front of Bucky again, blocking the line of fire. "It wasn't him," he insisted, his voice cracking with the weight of the truth. "You know that. Deep down, you know that."

I could see the conflict in Tony's eyes, the war waging inside him. But the anger, the grief—it was too much. It had taken hold, twisting his perception. "Move, Steve," Tony ordered, his voice trembling with barely contained fury.

Steve didn't budge. He stood firm, his shield held up, a silent testament to the man he was—to the man they all needed him to be in that moment. "No," he said firmly. "I won't."

The room was eerily silent for a heartbeat, and then Tony lunged. The blast from his repulsors exploded toward Steve, and I felt the ground shake beneath my feet as the force of the impact sent him sprawling back. My heart leaped into my throat as I watched Steve hit the ground, his shield skidding across the floor.

"Steve!" I screamed, my voice raw and desperate. He was already moving, scrambling to his feet, his eyes locked onto Tony, who was advancing on Bucky.

Bucky was struggling to stand, his face contorted with pain and exhaustion. His eyes met mine, and I saw the resignation there, the silent acceptance of what was coming. "No," I whispered, shaking my head. "Don't you dare give up now."

Tony raised his arm again, the glow of his repulsor illuminating the room. "This ends now," he said, his voice a deadly calm. He fired.

Steve threw himself between Tony and Bucky, catching the blast on his shield. The force pushed him back, his boots scraping against the concrete floor. The sound of metal on metal rang out, a sharp, jarring noise that made my ears ring.

"Enough!" Steve roared, pushing back with all his strength. He charged at Tony, his shield raised like a battering ram. The impact when they collided was deafening, the shockwave of it reverberating through the room. Tony stumbled back, the systems in his suit sparking as Steve struck again, this time aiming for the arc reactor in the chest.

I watched in horror as Steve delivered blow after blow, each one a calculated strike to disable rather than kill. His face was a mask of grim determination, his movements a testament to his resolve not to let this end in death.

"Steve, stop!" I cried, my voice barely audible over the cacophony of battle. He didn't stop, his focus unbreakable. He swung his shield one final time, driving it into the arc reactor in Tony's chest. Sparks flew as the suit's power core flickered and then died, the lights in Tony's eyes dimming as his suit powered down.

Tony fell to his knees, the sound of metal hitting the ground echoing like a death knell. He looked up at Steve, his face twisted with grief and rage. "You don't deserve that shield," he spat, his voice weak but venomous. "My father made that shield."