𝑾𝑰𝑪𝑲𝑬𝑫 𝑫𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑴𝑺 ━━ 𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚁𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜

36 What Have They Done To Us

The Quinjet touched down on the icy mountain top with a hiss, its sleek wings folding neatly against its fuselage. Snow swirled in the air, carried by the sharp wind that made the frigid landscape even more unforgiving. Inside, Bucky was already at the weapons rack, fingers curling around a light machine gun labeled "Romanoff." He lifted it with ease, the cold steel feeling familiar in his hands.

Nearby, Edda carefully selected two pistols, tucking them into the holsters at her sides. She cast a glance at Bucky and Steve, her expression unreadable but her posture tense. Kalum stood apart, holding his spear with both hands, the golden shaft glinting faintly in the artificial lighting of the jet. His cheeks and nose were flushed red from the cold, his discomfort apparent. 

"I hate the cold," Kalum muttered under his breath, adjusting the grip on his spear.

Bucky smirked. "It builds character."

Kalum raised a brow but refrained from responding, knowing that his disdain for the freezing air wasn't going to change a thing.

As the Quinjet's exit ramp descended with a groan, Steve stepped forward, his expression calm but focused. The wind swept in, biting and relentless, but Steve seemed unaffected. Bucky joined him, standing shoulder to shoulder, while Edda lingered beside them, her fingers brushing over one of her pistols for reassurance. Kalum stayed a step behind, his sharp eyes scanning the snow-covered terrain beyond the ramp.

"You remember that time we had to ride back from Rockaway Beach in the back of that freezer truck?" Steve asked, breaking the silence.

Bucky's lips twitched into a small smile. "Was that the time we used our train money to buy hot dogs?"

Edda tilted her head, her sharp ears catching the nostalgic tone in their voices. She didn't interrupt but listened intently to the exchange.

"You and Arnie blew three bucks trying to win that stuffed bear for a redhead," Steve continued, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"We were competing to impress her," Bucky said, his grin widening. "What was her name again?"

"Dolores," Steve replied. "You called her Dot."

"She's gotta be a hundred years old by now," Bucky remarked.

"So are we, pal." Steve clamped a hand on Bucky's shoulder, and the two exchanged a brief but meaningful look. Edda rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips. She reached out, taking Steve's hand in hers for a moment and giving it a light squeeze.