NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK
2015

JUNE woke the next day feeling like her entire body weighed three tons. When her eyes managed to open fully, she read that it was only three-oh-five in the morning, but knew there was no point in going back to sleep. Why would there be? Today was the day of their first mission to take down Hydra.

June guessed most of the tower's inhabitants would be awake, though even if it was not true, she was not about to become the superhero who overslept and delayed assignments. She stretched, climbed out of bed, and ambled over to her bathroom. Though she had showered only a few hours before, years of not having consistent access to a bath forced June into the habit of showering sometimes twice a day. Drowsily, she stripped, scrubbed herself clean, and dressed quickly (jeans, a white shirt, and her chestnut leather jacket). Her hair she let hang down her back like normal. One day, June thought, she might have time or reason to wear makeup. Not any day soon, of course, but she figured it was all right to hope. She took her meds and made to leave her room when a quick knock sounded on her door and Tony's head appeared from behind it a moment later.

He too was fully dressed, also looking quite tired. He held two cups of coffee in his hands and passed one to June without a word. He sat down on the foot of her bed, still wordless, and stared at the floor.

Growing suspicious of his silence, June cleared her throat. "Are you all right, Tony?"

"What?" he asked, sounding surprised, as if he had forgotten she was there. "Yeah . . . yeah, I'm fine. Came to check up on you, since this is your first time out in the field since Washington. How are you holding up?"

June sighed and sank down next to him. "I'm okay. I think Steve and I are friends again."

"Why's that?"

"He kissed me."

"Ah."

June covered her face with her hands, hunching forward with elbows on knees. "Tony, what if . . . what if I freeze up out there? If I panic and I jeopardize this mission—"

"It's not gonna happen," Tony interjected. "Don't even go there. You're going to get in, do your job, and get out. Just like the rest of us, okay? Don't doubt yourself."

June nodded. Her hands were slick with sweat, her knee bouncing restlessly. She eyed her fluffy white sheets and longed to curl back up and sleep. She knew that if she begged enough, Tony would let her. But that would be the weak choice. June had to think like Cutlass.

She cursed Anderson Cooper in her head, damning him for ever thinking of that name.

More silent, motionless minutes ticked by. It was now three-thirty. June heard movement outside her door and knew that the others were gathering upstairs. Her breath hitched in her throat when Tony stood to leave. "We gotta go, Junebug," he said. June nodded. Think strong, she commanded herself. You are capable. You are smart. Get up.

And she did. June followed Tony out into the hall and shut the door behind them, courage flickering to life in her chest.

• • •

THE Avengers and June met in the hangar that crowned Stark Tower. Never having had an excuse to visit it, June was in awe of the space she found herself in. The hangar's mouth opened out to the inky night sky, the world below set ablaze with millions of traffic lights, skyscrapers, billboards, and cars. Near the mouth rested a large, bird-like airship Tony called the Quinjet. June took it all in, trying to pretend they were not about to risk their lives for the sake of the world.

She, Natasha, Tony, and Bruce were the only ones in normal clothing. Steve was clad in his navy and red jumpsuit, shield secured firmly on his back. His gloved hands hung from his belt, and his face betrayed no shred of emotion. He would be unreachable until the mission was complete—this was June's least favorite version of him. Thor outdid them all in his Asgardian war garb, with his sleeveless chest-plate and crimson cape brushing above the floor. Clint wore a fitted black shirt with a violet hexagonal symbol on the chest, trousers, a heavy utility belt, and, of course, a quiver on his back. June peered at him more closely and noticed small flesh-colored devices in either of his ears.

"Hearing aids," Natasha whispered to her, as if reading her thoughts. June nodded, her curiosity piqued. She made a note to ask him about them.

"All right, troops," Tony called, making his way toward the Quinjet. "We'll brief inside, and the rest of you can suit up. It's party time." He said none of this with a smile. He tapped a button on a small tablet in his hand and the Quinjet whirred to life, and a ramp lowered from its belly, as if the thing was inviting them inside.

June and the Avengers filed in quickly. Natasha materialized by June's side and whispered that they had to change into their catsuits.

"Um," June began sheepishly, "I didn't bring my suit. Or any weapons . . ."

Natasha threw her an irritated look, but it melted away a second later and she grinned. "Just kidding. Tony figured you might get nervous and forget. He loaded everything up last night." Natasha dragged a duffle bag out from beneath a steel bench and rifled through it carelessly, soon producing June's onyx suit, her custom daggers and gauntlets, and her own outfit as well. Various handguns and electric disks were strewn at the bottom of the bag as if they were simple candy wrappers and not lethal weapons.

A moment later, the ship gave a lurch, and glided into the sable morning sky.

Mildly uncomfortable with the idea of stripping and dressing in front of five men, most of whom were strangers, June looked to Natasha for help. She only shook her head and shrugged, and June knew there was no getting out of it. With a sigh, she let it go and pulled off her jeans.

Regardless, they dressed quickly, and June noticed that no one looked in their direction as they did. She slid her catsuit's bellybutton-to-throat zipper up to her sternum. The bulletproof padding was stiffer than she remembered, though June knew it was because she hadn't been geared up in so long. She pulled on her thick-soled boots with straps around the ankles that held half a dozen tiny knives each, along with her heavy gauntlets. Finally, she slipped each of her twelve-inch-long daggers into their sheaths, and considered herself ready.

That was, until Thor suddenly turned around, got a look at her, and shook his head disapprovingly. June felt her heart hammering against her ribs as Thor stopped before her, striking blue eyes never leaving hers.

"Your hair," he said, much to June's confusion. "It shouldn't hang loose." He moved behind June and began to plait her brown tresses away from her face.

Frozen in surprise, June said nothing. She was even more put-off because no one seemed to think this abnormal. That is, until Tony stepped down from the cockpit, witnessed the scene before him, and stared at June for many moments with his mouth hanging slightly open. Too stunned to move, June just stared back.

"Right," Tony said slowly. "Okay. In regards to the mission . . . We've pinpointed the first base in Croatia. It's one of the smaller ones, so we shouldn't suffer too many casualties—we could afford to lose Clint, maybe."

"Hey, Tony?" Clint called from the back of the ship. "I got both hearing aids in today. Just so you know."

"Happy for you. Now, we're touching down about a mile from the actual base, so if any of you are wearing a Fitbit, today's a good day."

Steve frowned. "What's a—"

Tony held up a hand. "Never mind. The point is, we get in, get out, and leave no witnesses. It's grisly, but . . . it's necessary. If we're actually serious about making sure Hydra can't resurface."

"Be sure to look out for Loki's scepter, as well," Thor reminded them, still braiding June's hair. He held out his hand, and she gave him a hairband from around her wrist. "That kind of power cannot be left in the control of men such as these." He tied off the braid, patted her shoulder, and went to stand by Bruce. Natasha inspected his work and gave an impressed nod.

"It's pretty," she said, and that was when June couldn't contain a laugh.

• • •

THE Quinjet finally lowered itself in the snow-blanketed Croatian wilderness, sleet and ice evaporating as its thrusters touched the ground. The ramp slid down once again, and blinding sunlight poured inside. They marched outside one after the other, Steve and Tony at the head.

June crept out, taken aback by the sharp cold and immediately recalled vicious memories of the Siberia, where her handlers would lock her out of the compound and leave her in the bitter cold as punishment until she was half-dead from exposure.

Tony, now fully encompassed in a glittering red exoskeleton, approached June and put a hand on her shoulder. "How we doing?" he asked, his helmet climbing back to reveal genuine concern. "You feeling okay?"

"So far," replied June, gritting her teeth against sudden embarrassment. She was so grateful for Tony, without question, but she wished she did not need this kind of attention.

Tony nodded, seeming unsatisfied, but the next moment his troubled features were hidden by gleaming metal, and the whine of the suit's thrusters pierced the air. "All right, gang," he began, voice slightly altered but clear in their comms. "Let's roll out. Remember, it's just a mile up north, no big deal. I'm gonna make sure the way is clear. See you in a few." With that, he launched into the air, zooming in the direction the rest were to go until he was nothing but a small speck against a slate gray sky.

"I wish I had a freaking suit," Clint murmured somewhere behind June. "It's a damn portable car."

They walked on and on through the ankle-deep snow until the legs of their pants were soaked through. June was sure her feet would have lost feeling had it not been for her insulated boots. No one was enjoying themselves, despite the beauty of their surroundings—the thick battalion of black-needles trees was dusted with clean white snow that glittered and shone gold in the sunlight, while mountains glowered over them some distance away.

Pretty, yes. But unimportant.

The whir of Tony's suit grew louder and louder until he glided from behind a horizon of black fir trees, pulling up a few meters above them. "Perimeter checks out," he announced. "Should be smooth sailing from here."

And it was. The rest of the trek was mildly uninteresting, aside from Clint tripping in the snow. Flakes of white still clung to his eyelashes and eyebrows. All remained the same until Steve threw up a hand, motioning for them all the stop. Things were eerily quiet, not even the wind daring to rustle the trees, until—

"Argh!" Steve yelped as something burst through the trees and tackled him to the ground. Before anyone had a moment to react, a swarm of Hydra thugs poured from the treeline, guns firing, shouts filling the air. A deafening roar overcame the gunfire, and in the corner of her eye June saw a mountainous green blur charge into the thick of the fight. Thunder boomed and lightning crackled through the sky; something sleek and disk-shaped careened through clusters of enemies; arrows whizzed through the air at random. June managed to unsheath her knives before a soldier collided with her, trying to beat her in the head with the butt of his gun. She squirmed out from under him enough to lift a dagger and pierce him through the neck; for good measure, her thumb flicked over a button on the hilt and 1,000 volts of electricity coursed through the blade, making the man shudder and convulse strangely.

June struggled away from the body and leaped to her feet, burdened with her first kill but anticipating her second all the same. It came the next second. A mountainous figure leaped for her, but quick as a rabbit, June snatched three knives from her left boot and hurled them at her attacker. They struck him in the face, and he pitched to the ground and did not rise again.

"June!" Tony's voice hollered through her comm. "Get to the base! I'm right behind you!"

"Going!" June shouted back. Without glancing back, she bolted north, kicking up bloodied snow as she ran. She unholstered a compact black Glock from her hip and kept it ready, shooting anyone she saw dashing from the compound's direction.

June's lungs seared by the time she drew up upon a large, somewhat deteriorated structure—it might have been an ancient cathedral or church in the past, judging by the architecture of it. Now it looked entirely abandoned. June shot down three more Hydra accomplices at its entrance, then bounded up its front staircase three steps at a time, pushing open a pair of massive wood doors. A band of sunlight permeated by June's shadow illuminated the first room. When she shut the doors, blackness enveloped her like a closed fist. The darkness was not a big problem for her, thanks to her enhanced sight, but her vision still was not at its best. June made her way through a web of dark corridors, unsettled by how few obstacles she came upon. No one guarded the compound, as far as she could tell; there was nothing but darkness to inhibit invaders.

She stumbled into the main corridor. The ceiling was at least thirty feet high, and the hall was headed by a massive stained-glass window with blood-red panes that thrust scarlet light across the floor. Unnerved, June crept up the passageway. A feeble orange glow flickered further down the corridor, and June advanced towards it on cat's feet. She found it came from a small, doorless room, floored and walled with stone. She dared not look inside, not yet, so she remained pressed close to the wall, straining to hear if anyone inhabited the space. Everything was deathly silent, however, so June risked a peek.

Her stomach fell through her core. Her knees almost gave out. A horrible sound filled her ears, like water rushing through her skull, eroding her brain. June felt her heart stop beating for an instant.

"Vy vernulis'," Baron Strucker whispered from where he sat at a desk, his back to her. You've returned. "Vtayne. . . Ya znal, chto ty naydesh' svoy put' domoy." Secretly . . . I knew you would find your way home.

June hurled a dagger at the back of his head. But her hands were shaking so badly, it landed in the wall, six inches too far.

Strucker laughed and rose from his seat. "You are still no assassin, moye voskreseniye. But I will make you something beautiful."

June shook her head furiously. "No."

Strucker laughed again. "Yes. I have resources, now. Better ones. The twins have become . . . beautiful. They do not fail."

"Your slaves always fail." Her voice broke.

"Only you."

A thick arm grabbed June from behind, encircling her neck. She fought wildly, clawing, gnashing her teeth, beating her head into her subduer's face. Nothing worked. "TONY!" she screamed. "TONY!" She could not go back. Strucker had gotten her again, just like Bruce predicted. She screamed and screamed until she was retching. She could not go back. She couldn't. She shouted every profanity she could conjure at Strucker, who only smiled in response. Suddenly, a blinding pain stabbed through the back of June's skull. A cruel chuckled echoed in her head as the thick-armed man released her, and she toppled forward. Her forehead crashed into the edge of Strucker's desk, and the world went black in an instant.

• • •

JUNE drifted in and out of consciousness for what seemed like an eternity.

Sometimes, when her eyes fluttered open, she saw Steve staring down at her in grave concern, a hand stroking her hair, lips mumbling something she could not decipher. Other times, she woke and saw Strucker, a syringe in hand, calling her worthless in every language she knew, before injecting her with fire. This went on until the alert part of June's brain thought she might go mad.

But eventually, she came to. Her eyes were still shut tight, and she dreaded opening them, not wanting to know if it was Steve or Hydra that loomed over her. Soon, though, June realized she was not in any pain, which must mean she was somewhere safe. Hesitantly, she opened her eyes. She thought she must be back in the forest, everything was so white. Instead, when her vision cleared, she found herself in the hospital wing of Stark Tower.

Tony sat by her bed, chin rested on his hands. His gaze found hers after a moment, and he supplied an encouraging smile. "How you feeling?"

"Like shit," June groused. "What happened?"

Tony sighed. "Fractured skull. Severe concussion. Triggered post-traumatic stress. I found you right after you called--blasted a hole in that big guy's head."

"Where's Strucker?"

"Escaped," Tony said quickly. "But it doesn't matter. You matter. You almost died."

June was quiet for a long time. Somehow, the thought was not as horrifying as it should have been. She sat up slowly. "Where's Steve?"

"I made him get some rest. We've been taking turns staying with you—it was Steve, then me, then Nat, then Steve again, and me, and Thor at one point, weirdly. You scared everyone pretty bad."

Silence again. And then: "How long have I been out?"

Tony bit his lip. "Two days."

June groaned and threw her head back on the pillow. Her skull pounded with pain, and she was reminded of her concussion. Luckily, she had just one more question. "Did I screw up the mission?"

Tony shook his head at once. "No. We overtook the compound—no witnesses besides Strucker. It's done. But you're sitting out the next one."

June immediately wanted to protest, but the agony in her head and fatigue weighing down her bones resigned her. She just nodded. "Okay."

Even that simple gesture made her thoughts swim.

• • •

LATER that evening, June was dispatched to her room. She had stitches at the nape of her neck and straight across her forehead. Every step threatened to floor her. She collapsed on her bed and, though she was not supposed to, slept like a dead woman.

It was around midnight when she heard the lock on her window click.

June froze. While anybody else might have dismissed the sound, she knew better. Someone was trying to break into her room. June remained completely still, knowing her ideal moment to attack would not be until the invader was already inside. She didn't care. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, coursing quicker than her blood. June listened to the window slide open, to a pair of legs swing over the sill, and hop to the floor. She was amazed an alarm had not gone off but reasoned that it was a very Tony thing to assume he would never need one.

June's hand slipped beneath her pillow, where a dagger was waiting. She gripped it tightly. Paused for one. Two. Three. Four. Five.

June leaped out of bed.

She threw herself at a looming shape in the darkness, and her fists hit hard muscle. The intruder was, however, caught off-guard, so June managed to wrestle him to the ground. She pinned his elbows to the floor with her knees and kept her knife pressed against his throat. Her injury, sleep, darkness-clouded brain could not make out much of a face, but June did not care. She raised a fist and envisioned striking a nose, but before she could deliver the blow, the man cried out, "Wait!"

The voice was as damaging as a kick to the chest. It was too familiar. And now that she thought of it, the way the man's hands had encircled her hips was too familiar as well. Trembling, June blinked rapidly. There, lying beneath her, teeth white in the darkness and long hair strewn around his head, was Bucky.

He kept up his smile, even pinched her waist teasingly. "Hiya, doll."

note.
not the time buck.
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