Bucky's Anchor

Chapter 62 - Blood on the Shield

The tension was thick, palpable. The air around us felt charged as we stood in the square, the ground littered with debris from earlier fights. My heart raced as I kept close to Bucky, trying to steady my nerves. He was on high alert, his body rigid, eyes scanning the area with that sharpness that only years of combat experience could hone. It wasn't just about the Flag Smashers anymore—it was about John Walker.

I'd never liked the man. There was something about the way he carried himself, the arrogance that bled through even in his so-called acts of heroism. Today, though, it was worse. As he entered the square, I could see the shift in him. His movements were erratic, his eyes wild. He didn't look like a man in control. He looked like someone ready to snap.

"Bucky," I whispered, tugging at his sleeve. "There's something off about him."

"I know," Bucky muttered, his gaze fixed on Walker. "Stay close."

As if sensing our eyes on him, Walker turned toward us, his expression dark. He gripped the shield in his hand, but it wasn't the symbol of hope and protection it had once been. There was something menacing about the way he held it, like it was a weapon he couldn't wait to use.

Bucky stepped forward, his voice low but firm. "Walker, stand down. This isn't the way."

For a brief moment, Walker hesitated. His eyes flickered with something I couldn't quite place—uncertainty, maybe. But then, his face hardened. "You think you can tell me what to do?" His voice was a dangerous snarl. "I'm Captain America."

I wanted to step in, to say something, anything to calm the situation, but I could see the storm brewing in Walker's eyes. He wasn't here to listen.

"John," I called, my voice pleading. "You need to stop. We can figure this out, but not like this. We need to de-escalate—"

Before I could finish, he moved.

---

It all happened so fast.

One second, Walker was standing there, eyes blazing with fury. The next, he charged, his shield raised high. He wasn't aiming to defend. He was aiming to destroy.

I froze, my heart lurching into my throat as he barreled toward one of the Flag Smashers. The sickening sound of the shield hitting flesh echoed through the square, and I couldn't hold back a gasp. Walker brought the shield down again and again, each strike filled with a ferocity that was terrifying.

"Bucky, stop him!" I screamed, my voice trembling with fear.

Bucky was already moving, lunging forward to intercept Walker. But it was too late. Walker was lost in his rage, and nothing Bucky did could pull him back. Sam was yelling too, but everything felt distant, drowned out by the horrific sound of the shield crashing down on the man beneath it.

I pressed a hand to my mouth, bile rising in my throat as the violence unfolded before my eyes. This wasn't a fight. This was an execution.

Blood spattered across the ground, staining the shield—a symbol that was meant to represent everything good and noble about the country. I could feel my chest tightening, my breath coming in shallow gasps. I wanted to look away, but I couldn't. I was trapped in the horror of the moment, frozen by the brutality of it all.

"Walker, stop!" Sam's voice cut through the chaos, but Walker didn't hear him—or maybe he just didn't care.

With a final, sickening thud, Walker brought the shield down once more, and then... silence.

The square went still, the weight of what had just happened sinking in as the blood dripped from the shield in his hands. The man beneath it—lifeless, beaten beyond recognition—lay motionless.

"Oh my God..." I whispered, tears stinging my eyes. I could hardly breathe. "This isn't what the shield stands for. This isn't right."

Walker straightened, his chest heaving, his eyes wild and unrepentant as he turned to face us. His grip on the shield was tight, knuckles white from the force of it. He looked like a man possessed, like nothing could bring him back to reason.

"They need to know," Walker growled, his voice raw with anger. "They need to know what happens to people like them."

---

My legs felt like they were made of lead as I stumbled forward, my vision blurry with tears. Bucky caught me, his arms steadying me before I could collapse. His face was a mask of grief and anger, his fists clenched so tightly I thought he might break his own hands.

"He's become the very thing he was meant to fight against," Bucky muttered, his voice thick with emotion.

I held onto him, my fingers gripping his jacket as if he was the only thing keeping me grounded. The weight of what we'd just witnessed hung between us like a dark cloud, suffocating and inescapable. "You are not him," I whispered fiercely, pulling him closer. "You never were."

His eyes met mine, filled with an anguish that broke my heart. "But the shield..." His voice cracked, the pain of Steve's legacy now tainted beyond repair. "Steve believed in me. He gave me that shield. And now... look at it."

I reached up, cradling his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me instead of the blood-stained symbol that had once meant so much. "Steve believed in you because he saw who you truly are. You are not what they made you. You're not just a weapon. You've chosen a different path. You always have."

"But it feels like it's not enough," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Like no matter what I do, I can't escape it."

"You are more than your past, Bucky," I told him firmly, my voice steady despite the turmoil in my chest. "You've fought so hard to be more, and you've succeeded. I see that. Sam sees that. Steve saw that. You have to believe it."

He closed his eyes, leaning into my touch. "I want to believe it," he murmured. "I want to believe that what I'm doing matters."

I kissed his forehead, resting my head against his as I whispered, "It does matter. And you have to hold onto that, even when it feels impossible."

For a long moment, we just stood there, holding onto each other in the midst of the devastation around us. Walker's actions had shattered something in all of us. The world would see the blood on that shield and question everything it once stood for.

But I wouldn't let Bucky lose himself in the chaos. He had come too far, fought too hard to let this pull him back into the darkness.

"You'll get through this," I told him, my voice fierce with conviction. "We'll get through this. Together."

He nodded, his grip on me tightening. "I'll try. For you."