Though Sharon's mind was still reeling from Steve, her instincts as a trained agent let her prioritize what mattered most. She immediately got up, fetched Steve's stealth combat suit from the neighboring apartment, along with his standard Vibranium shield.
Steve didn't hesitate. Right in front of Sharon, he stripped down and slipped into the stealth suit, securing the shield to the magnetic lock on his back.
As the saying goes: clothes make the man. Once suited up, Steve's aura shifted completely.
The sunny, open-hearted young man vanished, replaced by a calm, cold-blooded super soldier.
While Steve was changing, Sharon also pulled on her S.H.I.E.L.D. combat uniform.
"I'll go with you," she declared firmly.
But Steve reached out to stop her, shaking his head.
"No. This isn't your mission. The opponent's strength is unknown. Even someone as formidable as Natasha wasn't able to handle them. I don't want you put in danger."
Sharon was deeply moved by his concern. She also knew he was right—if she went along, she might only slow him down. She didn't argue further.
"I understand. But if you're ever in danger, promise me this: no matter what it costs, I swear I'll come for you."
Steve gave a short nod. No more words—he turned and left.
One hour later. Iran, near the border.
A Quinjet descended, landing beside a cliff. The cockpit opened, and Steve leapt down with practiced ease.
This was the last set of coordinates Fury had sent him—the point where Natasha had gone dark.
This time, Steve hadn't brought the strike team.
The enemy was unknown, their capabilities unclear. Numbers wouldn't be an advantage, only dead weight.
He glanced down at the wrecked jeep at the base of the cliff, then dropped.
A fall of a few dozen meters didn't even make him bend his knees.
With a single pull, he ripped off the jammed door. One look inside made his brows lift.
Bloodstains, but no bodies. And on the chassis—a hole, neatly cut by a laser.
Clearly, Natasha had managed to get the nuclear engineer out through the bottom and escape.
Steve wasn't surprised.
After all, she's one of Marvel's leading ladies. No way she'd check out this early.
Knowing Natasha was alive and his mission wasn't a failure, Steve relaxed a little and began scanning for other clues.
It didn't take long before he found the real reason the jeep had crashed.
Right on the hood—an unmistakable dent in the shape of a fist.
Someone had stopped the moving jeep with a single, brutal punch.
A fist. Immense strength.
Put those two together, and only one name came to mind.
The Winter Soldier.
Bucky Barnes.
"If it's Bucky, then no wonder Natasha couldn't handle him…"
Injected with Dr. Zola's knockoff super-serum, armed with a cybernetic arm, Bucky's combat power was on par with Captain America himself. In fact, in his brainwashed state, he might even be stronger.
At this stage, he was Hydra's ace.
Which made this situation… awkward.
He was Hydra now too, and yet he was being sent to rescue Hydra's target.
Talk about dog eat dog.
Life really was a sausage stuffed with smaller sausages…
But Steve wasn't about to back off.
If anything, knowing the enemy was the Winter Soldier only made him more excited.
Talk about fate handing you what you want on a silver platter.
For a whole year, Pierce had kept him and Bucky apart—probably fearing that seeing each other would break through the brainwashing. At the time, Steve's own strength hadn't been enough to risk searching for him on his own.
But now? With his biofield awakened, he was practically invincible within Hydra.
Even if he wasn't ready to break free of Hydra yet, he was done playing the pawn. It was time to be the player.
And to play, you needed pieces.
Bucky—his old brother-in-arms—was the perfect piece.
Strong. And easy to control.
He hadn't expected Bucky to walk right into his hands like this.
This mission wouldn't just earn him enhancement points—he might gain a loyal pawn.
Or better yet… a brother.
After all, he'd inherited this body. Treating Bucky as just a tool would make him less than human.
"But first… I need to find Natasha. If Bucky reaches her first, she's in real danger."
Because the Winter Soldier wasn't just ruthless—he was Hydra's blade.
Even the Black Widow could become the Dead Widow if she slipped.
Steve swept his gaze across the cliffside. His enhanced eyes scanned every nook and cranny like a living radar.
And there it was—a subtle mark, one that only S.H.I.E.L.D. agents would recognize.
A sign Natasha had left for reinforcements. A trail.
But Steve didn't smile. Instead, his face darkened.
"Natasha… you shouldn't have used a S.H.I.E.L.D. marker."
Because who was chasing her?
Not just anyone.
It was S.H.I.E.L.D.'s own secret weapon—Hydra's ace under Pierce, the Winter Soldier.
He knew exactly what those marks meant.
Which meant Natasha was in grave danger.
And indeed, Natasha had already fled with the engineer to a remote border town.
The place was primitive—low clay houses, almost no modern tech. Few electric lights, fewer signals.
Perfect for throwing off trackers.
She didn't dare check into the town's lone inn. Instead, she picked an abandoned two-story home for cover.
Only when she had the engineer inside a room, leaning back against the cold wall, did she finally let out a breath. Pulling out her satellite phone, she powered it on to call Nick Fury.
By rights, Fury should already be organizing her rescue. But she wanted to confirm—and give him her location.
What she didn't know was that the trail she'd left wasn't leading allies to her.
It was leading the Winter Soldier.
And now, perched on a rooftop not far away, he leveled a thermal sniper rifle at her hideout.
Danger.
Natasha's instincts screamed.
The hairs on her arm stood on end. Sixth sense on fire, she jerked to the side
BANG!
The bullet tore through the wall and ripped across her abdomen.
Not fatal—only because she had moved at the last second.