𝑾𝑰𝑪𝑲𝑬𝑫 𝑫𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑴𝑺 ━━ 𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚁𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜

32 Bucky

THE reinforced steel door buckled inward with a groaning screech before it exploded off its hinges, clattering to the ground in a shower of sparks. The Winter Soldier emerged, his form a lethal silhouette against the flickering lights. His face was void of emotion, his eyes cold and unrelenting, a machine in the guise of a man.

Edda's breath caught as she locked eyes with him. For a moment, she could only see him—the man who had once been Bucky Barnes, a fractured soul searching for redemption. But as he moved forward with chilling precision, all she saw was HYDRA's weapon, their ghost brought back to haunt them all.

"Bucky?" she called, her voice tight. The name hung in the air like a plea.

Edda's jaw clenched as she slowly rose to her feet. Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs. She didn't want to fight him, but she'd seen what the Winter Soldier could do—what he was capable of. And Dr. Faust was still here. Still breathing. Still vulnerable.

She turned to the doctor, who was inching back toward the wall, and barked, "Run. Now. Find Steve. Tell him."

But before Faust could take a step, Bucky moved like a coiled spring, his metal arm snapping forward with impossible speed. Faust barely managed to duck, but she wasn't fast enough to evade the second strike. His human hand caught her by the throat, lifting her off the ground with ease.

"No!" Edda's voice tore through the room as she lunged forward, her own body reacting before her mind could catch up. She hit him hard, her shoulder slamming into his ribs. The force broke his grip, sending Faust sprawling to the floor, gasping.

"Go!" Edda snarled over her shoulder as she squared off against him.

Faust hesitated for a moment, clutching her neck, her wide eyes flickering between Edda and the assassin. Then she staggered toward the door.

The Winter Soldier didn't pursue her. His focus remained locked on Edda, the mission etched into his very being. He straightened, his movements mechanical, his metal arm flexing ominously.

Edda adjusted her stance, her breathing shallow but controlled. Every fiber of her being screamed at the absurdity of the moment. She had to protect a human, defeat the weapon in front of her, and somehow save the man buried deep within.

Bucky struck first, as she expected. He was relentless, his attacks swift and brutal, a deadly combination of precision and power. His cybernetic arm whirred faintly as it swung toward her head, and she barely ducked in time. She countered with a kick to his knee, aiming to unbalance him, but he shifted his weight, deflecting the blow effortlessly.

Their fighting styles were eerily similar—HYDRA's training etched into both of their bodies like scars. They moved with the same calculated efficiency, every strike purposeful, every dodge instinctual. But where Bucky was brute force and unrelenting power, Edda was cunning and unpredictable. Her teleporter's agility gave her an edge, allowing her to move faster than he could anticipate.

Still, he was stronger, and every blocked punch sent shocks up her arms, threatening to shake her resolve.

"Bucky, listen to me!" she yelled, dodging another blow that would have caved in her skull. "This isn't you! You're not their puppet anymore!"

He didn't answer, his silence cutting deeper than any words.

He came at her again, this time with a sweeping kick that knocked her off balance. She hit the floor hard, the impact jarring, but she rolled to avoid his follow-up strike—a crushing stomp that cracked the concrete where her head had been a moment before.