Steve didn't wait.
The second the Winter Soldier locked eyes with him, Steve surged forward, shield raised, boots pounding against the steel floor of the data chamber. Every movement was fluid—trained—but charged with raw emotion. He didn't hesitate. He couldn't. Not with the stakes this high.
The Winter Soldier met him head-on.
They collided with a bone-jarring crash—vibranium shield slamming into cybernetic arm. The force of their clash sent a shockwave echoing through the chamber. Loose cables swung from the ceiling, and the glass of nearby terminals rattled.
Steve ducked under a wild hook and countered with a strike to the ribs. His fist thudded into Bucky's side, but the former assassin didn't flinch. Instead, he grabbed Steve by the front of his tactical harness and hurled him across the room.
Steve's back slammed into a pillar. The wind was knocked out of him. He hit the ground hard, rolled, and came up with his shield just in time to deflect a brutal kick.
The heel of Bucky's boot dented the reinforced floor, sending hairline cracks through the tile.
"Bucky, stop!" Steve shouted, his voice echoing in the high-ceilinged space.
There was no reply. Only a snarl of frustration.
Bucky spun, his elbow whipping toward Steve's temple. Steve ducked, absorbed the impact with the edge of his shield, then stepped in and drove his shoulder into Bucky's midsection.
The two of them crashed into a console. Screens shattered. Sparks rained down. The room briefly flashed with flickering light as the system glitched. Bits of shattered glass skittered across the floor.
Each move was instinctual. Efficient. Violent. But behind the fury was hesitation. A battle of memory clashing with programming.
"You know me!" Steve shouted, breath heavy. "This isn't you. You're not him!"
For the first time, Bucky's mask cracked slightly at the edge—just enough to reveal part of his jawline. A visible scar traced along his cheekbone. His lips parted for a moment, breath catching.
His stance faltered. His eyes twitched. Recognition flickered like a dying ember.
The moment passed.
Bucky roared and drove his knee into Steve's gut. The air exploded from Steve's lungs as he was lifted off his feet and thrown across the room.
He crashed through a support beam and rolled to a stop, groaning, coughing, shield clattering beside him. The lights above flickered again as the system continued to destabilize. Sirens in the distance rose in pitch.
Bucky stalked forward. His breathing was uneven now. His expression was tense, eyes wide—haunted.
He raised his metal arm again.
But then the floor above them trembled.
A sharp burst of shadow tore through the ceiling.
From the upper level, the floor behind the Winter Soldier exploded in a controlled burst—metal and dust raining downward like a sudden storm.
A dark figure dropped through the smoke, landing in a crouch between the sparking wreckage. Debris clattered around him.
Alexander.
He stood slowly, cloak of shadows still rippling around his frame, eyes locked on Bucky with unsettling calm.
The Winter Soldier turned, senses flaring, caught between instincts and uncertainty. He didn't know this new threat. His breathing slowed as he sized Alexander up.
Alexander raised a hand.
The shadows responded.
They surged forward like tidal waves of darkness—twisting, clawing, alive.
End of Chapter 104
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