The static woke Bucky up and he swung his legs over the edge of the motel bed, alert, hand pressed against the stolen comm nestled in his right ear.
“New intel,” a voice said, distorted by distance and interference, but the words clear.
“Yeah?” another voice answered.
“One of them has a family. Location was buried but we dug and uncovered it.”
“Close?”
“We could have a team together in the air in less than thirty minutes.”
“Risk?”
“Minimal. Target’s not powered and we’ll have the element of surprise.”
Not powered narrowed the list – Barton or Wilson or Romanov. He’d researched them all. Wilson didn’t have many secrets, Romanov was only secrets, and he’d hit a brick wall when he’d dug deeply into Barton’s past. A stint in a circus, brother who sounded like a complete asshole and a run-in with authorities that caught the eye of an Agent Coulson and then it was like his entire life was SHIELD. Nothing else. No address. No paper trail. No nothing. Romanov being hard to get a read on made sense – she was a Black Widow, a spy, and all around terrifying. He didn’t look forward to ever coming face to face with her, especially after he’d put a bullet or two in her. Barton, however, didn’t make much sense. A career SHIELD agent with no family shouldn’t have a life locked up tighter than Fort Knox. His gut told him that was the way to go.
“Shit,” he muttered as he dug his gear out from under his bed. He’d been working his way through the ranks of HYDRA for the last couple years, whittling away at the support structure, just waiting for the right moment that it would all topple to the ground in ash. Those missions had been dangerous and bloody and vengeance gave him a purpose. This felt different, though. He didn’t know this Barton guy from Adam, but his broken mind had pieced together some of Steve Rogers and made him matter more to him than he wanted. Barton was Rogers’s friend, ally, and teammate. He couldn’t let the guy just get ambushed because it would be easier, cleaner to just ignore it and look the other way.
He wasn’t far from the HYDRA base the conversation originated from. If he was lucky, he could hitch a ride with their strike team. If he was unlucky … well, he had Rogers’s number on speed dial even if he’d only kept it there as his “break glass in case of fucked up emergency you have no hope of getting out of” backup. So far, he’d avoided needing to use it.
“Coward,” a voice in his head mocked.
“Fuck off,” he muttered under his breath.
He had a feeling his two years of luck were about to run out, but he had to focus on his new mission and worrying about coming face to face with a past he barely remembered was a distraction and distractions got you killed or captured or worse.
XxXxXxXxXx
Bucky was in the cargo hold of a HYDRA-modified military transport, The roar of the engines muffled the voices above, but the knock-off serum was good for hearing things he wasn’t supposed to.
“Kids?” one agent asked. The guy sounded young.
“Two or three,” a gruffer voice answered. His voice was familiar and tugged at the edges of Bucky’s memory.
“And …?”
“Warnings make more of an impact when you’ve got innocent blood spilled. Wouldn’t you agree, soldier?”
The other guy hesitated, but only for a second. Weakness didn’t get you brownie points in HYDRA. He was lucky his superior didn’t put a bullet in his brain right there. “Yes, sir. Of course, sir.”
“Maximum carnage. Maximum casualties. The works. I want Barton and his dead family plastered on page one of every fucking paper in this country when the sun comes up.”
Bucky didn’t even realize he’d pulled out his cell phone, but the soft glow from the screen drew his eye. He’d hit contacts at some point, his thumb hovering over Rogers’s name. He took a deep breath and closed the icon, selecting MESSAGES instead.
He typed one-handed, trying not to make any mistakes. “Barton compromised. HYDRA knows about family. Heading there now. Their mission is to eliminate everyone.”
Steve answered quickly. “Who is this?”
“Doesn’t matter now. Get team to Barton location ASAP.”
The phone started to vibrate. Incoming call. Rogers. Of fucking course. Bucky quickly hit end and started typing again.
“Not a good time to talk. Radio silence. Talking would compromise my location.”
There was a long pause and for a second he thought they’d hit a patch with no service. Then the phone vibrated with a new message.
“Bucky?”
Bucky stared at the phone, torn between laughing and groaning.
“Christ, Rogers. Focus,” he typed as he rolled his eyes.
“Already on it. Team scrambling. Are you safe?”
“For now.”
“What does that mean?”
“About to find out just where your pal with the bow lives. I’ll take out as many as I can. Think there are 3 transports full. Not sure how far out.”
“Farm in Iowa. House. Barn. Two older kids, one baby. Wife. Dog. Barton should be on site.”
Bucky stared at his phone. Rogers didn’t even hesitate to give him the intel – either Steve was incredibly trusting or incredibly stupid.
“Can’t forget the dog,” he typed back.
“He’s a hell of a dog,” Rogers answered and despite the tense situation, Bucky grinned as he typed.
“Got it. Kids. Dog. Mrs. Barton. Hawkguy.”
“Eye.”
“Whatever.”
The screen eventually went dark, shutting itself off. Bucky leaned back, resting his head against some cargo boxes that were strapped to the floor.
The phone buzzed after a few minutes. “Be careful.”
“Do my best.” He hesitated before adding, “Tell Barton not to shoot me.”
He hit send and then tucked the phone into his jacket pocket. He wasn’t sure if they were close, but his gut told them they were. Everyone above had grown quiet, except for the familiar clicks and pings of soldiers checking their weapons. His fingers itched to do the same with his own, but he knew everything was secure and in place and ready to fire.
