Who Am I? » [Stucky]

109. Suicide Mission

It was about nine o'clock in the morning by the time they made it back to New York, the sun was blotted out by the rolling waves of clouds that had swarmed the darkened sky. The boys were being pelted by pebble sized droplets of rain. They ducked into Steve's building, dashing up the stairs - Steve with a small difficulty - and sheltering themselves from the hostile weather conditions, dripping water with resounding plips as they scaled the staircase.

They reached Steve's door, with the copper alphanumerical characters slightly askew on the wood, and it was still ajar, just as it had been left except there was police tape strewn across the door; in a cross from corner to corner.

"Dude, it looks like someone has been in your flat," Sam commented, suspicion and bewilderment crossing his features.

"Yeah... We kinda left in a hurry," Steve explained, nudging the door open and quickly looked away in revulsion as the sight was revealed like the drop of a stage curtain.

Sam took a moment to process the image being fed to his eyes and froze stiff. There were corpses strewn across the trashed floor dusted with shrapnel and dust, bathed in mouldy puddles of rancid blood: congealed and brown, thick and gloopy - brewing into lumps and solidifying. Flies levitated close to the decomposing bodies, hovering around the mouldy rotting carcasses. The stench of death flocked the room, in a clogging repulsive cloud and the filthy smell reached their noses and made the pair of them clamp a hand over their mouths and noses.

"What the hell happened?!" Sam exclaimed, looking back to Steve.

"I'm not one-hundred percent certain, because I was so out of it at the time, but it looks like Bucky killed all of the HYDRA agents that had invaded the flat," Steve explained, making deductions about the carnage in his flat. "And it looks like the cops have found out..."

"You're gonna need to get that shit cleaned up, because that's just plain gross, man..." Sam frowned, appalled at Steve.

"I'm not touching any of that... We'll have to find another solution at some point..." Steve disagreed, tugging the corner of his jacket over his mouth and breathing through it. He gave the handle a tug and pulled it shut to hide the scene behind it.

"Where do we go for now, because I'm thinking it ain't exactly wise to hang around a crime scene - especially as its your house... Where can we go?"

~

"Sir, you have two visitors, Captain Rogers and Officer Wilson," JARVIS radioed over the intercom.

Both Tony and Bruce stopped watching TV. Tony scraped about for the remote on the surface of the sofa and paused Game of Thrones in an instant and hopped up off the cushioned seat. There was a warp of energy as the lift came to a standstill and powered down, and then the doors parted to reveal the pair of them standing there.

Tony strode briskly across the wide open room to meet with Steve, who he noted looked like shit, flanked boldly by Bruce. Steve was flanked by Sam.

"Capsicle..." Tony said rather formally, but contradicted his tone with the amusing nickname. And with a bout of hesitation, raised a hand to shake.

"Tony..." Steve responded, his voice sounding harsh and a little shaky; a little gruffer and little more serious that it had been before. The usual liveliness and positivity that his voice owned had been removed; it was no longer like birdsong, but the harsh croaky caw of a crow.

There was a moment as the two of them remained formal and composed, chins raised, wordless and then Steve and Tony collapsed into a hug.

"It's good to see you again, Steve," Tony admitted, slapping Steve on the back in a boyish brotherly way and then parting.