As T'Challa and his men depart, leaving us with enigmatic boxes, a sense of anticipation occupies the room around us. We stand together, side by side, as the door latches shut. The overtone around us has changed around us, and the comfort of our long-awaited reunion now mingles with the challenges that loom on the horizon.

Bucky's fingers graze the boxes that were laid out in front of us, almost as if he's seeking connection to the contents. To the hidden mysteries that lie within. His eyes, once haunted by the memories of his past, now hold a steely resolve to them. It's as if he's made a silent truce with the lethal soldier that lies within him. Like he's ready to create a new path and embark on the journey ahead.

I step closer, my shoulder brushing against his, and our gazes meet. There is a silent understanding between us, forged through the battles and hardships that we've faced together in our pasts. We may not know the full extent to the journey that lies ahead, but we are able to face it head on, together, for the first time in years.

          As I lift the lid to the box, a rush of air escapes, and I'm met with the pristine scent of newness. It feels like a promising start to a new adventure. My heartbeat quickens, the surge of excitement courses through me like electricity. Nestled neatly inside is the embodiment of that promise; a sleek, black suit with intricate red detailing.

My fingers carefully trace it, allowing my fingers to graze over the red stitching that runs like veins through the fabric. It's like this suit was tailor-made for my very essence, designed not only to protect but also to empower. It's a complete work of art, a masterpiece of technology and design. As I carefully lift it out, the first thing that strikes me is its remarkable craftsmanship. It's a sleek and form-fitting ensemble, made from a material that feels both light and incredibly durable, as if it were woven from the finest threads of technology and protection.

The predominant color of the suit is a deep, rich black that exudes an air of stealth and mystery, fitting for a former assassin like me. But what truly sets it apart is the intricate detailing in vibrant red stitching. These details crisscross the suit in strategic patterns, highlighting its design with a fierce, yet elegant energy. The red stitching traces the outlines of the suit's armored plating, enhancing both its aesthetics and functionality. It's not entirely a decorative choice but a signal of the suit's strength. The fiery red lines run down the sides of the legs, along the arms, and across the chest, giving it an eye-catching appearance.

It is more than just a visual feature that makes the accents red stand out. They serve as touchpoints for the suit's features, seamlessly integrated into the design. These red highlights indicate the suit's versatility and power. As I hold the suit, I can't help but admire the balance of style and substance it embodies. It's a testament to Shuri's ingenuity and the fusion of form and function that Wakanda is renowned for. This ensemble is embellished with red details that add a touch of boldness and passion, reminding us that beneath the shadows, a fierce spirit burns bright.

It's not just a suit; it's a symbol of my readiness to face the challenges ahead, a fusion of strength and beauty that resonates with the warrior within me.

As I admire the suit in my hands, I can't help but express my thoughts out loud. "This is something else," I muse in awe of the details put into it. I marvel about how it feels beneath my touch, the smoothness of the material and meticulous stitching, which seems to tell a story of its own.

In the corner of my eye, I notice a glimmer of light reflecting off something nearby. Curiously, I turn my attention towards Bucky, who's inspecting his own gear, I see him smiling. However, my attention isn't on his smile, but rather on what's catching the light. His new arm.

I can't help myself but comment on it, a grin tugging at my lips. "You know, this suit is great and all, but I think your new arm might steal the show. It's like an upgrade to an already impressive package."

My teasing remarks elicit a faint blush on his cheeks, but he meets my gaze with a playful twinkle in his eyes. "I figured if I'm going to fight alongside you, I need all the upgrades I can get," he quips, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. This man is going to be the death of me.

I chuckle, feeling a sense of camaraderie and warmth between us. Part of me relishes in moments like these, where we're just two people, trying to find a sense of normalcy. We've walked the darkest paths, and we're still trying to pick up the pieces. "Upgrade or not, I'm just happy to have you back, Bucky. And it's not just about your arm," I say earnestly, taking my hand and inspecting his metallic arm. Its sleek surface glints of vibranium, the wonder metal from Wakanda that's known for its extraordinary properties.

Bucky smiles at my words, a genuine warmth in his eyes. He takes his other hand, and gently cups my cheek. "I'm happy to be back, Avalon. Especially when it's with you," he echoes, his thumb stroking my cheek softly. "We've come a long way, haven't we?"

I lean into his touch, savoring this moment of connection. I know that this will be the last time we'll have serene moments like this. Not until the war is won. "We have," I agree, my voice hushed but resolute. "And we're going to face what's coming our way, together."

With our suits and spirits high, we share this moment of unity, knowing that whatever threat comes our way, we'll face them side by side, stronger than ever.

As we stand, mentally preparing ourselves for the impending violence that'll break out, I can't help but feel a surge of anticipation surge through my veins. The suit in my hands, Bucky's new arm, and the knowledge of knowing what's to come–all combines into a potent mixture. Taking Bucky's hand and intertwining it with my own, I grin at him, a mischievous sparkle glints in my eyes.

"You know," I say, a playful tone in my voice. We are excited, I know. "I've come to realize I thrive on chaos." Which is true, knowing that my entire existence has been built around it.

Bucky can't help but to laugh at my words, knowing that it's a true statement. He's witnessed what I'm capable of firsthand. "That's because you're a force of nature, Princess," he's quick to respond. His words hold a fondness to them as he speaks, "Chaos doesn't stand a chance when it's up against you."

***

          The city's surroundings are tranquil, a deceptive calm before the storm. The Wakandan palace and its warriors stand as a beacon of hope, an indication to the strength and unity of those who will defend it. As the quinjet touches down and the ramp opens, revealing Steve, Nat, Sam and our other allies, they meet with T'Challa and some of the Kingsguard and the Doja Milaje, thanking him for his help. The warm camaraderie and relief of seeing old friends again is palpable as they exchange greetings.

    Part of me knew that this day would come where we would have to fight again. Ultimately, I've always hoped that it would be for the right cause. In these quiet moments before the battle, as I stand amidst the Wakandan palace and its people, I can't help but reflect on the journey that had brought us here. It was a journey filled with pain, loss, and sacrifice, but also one filled with courage, resilience, and the unwavering belief in doing what's right. Because, after all, I have dedicated the majority of my life to a cause that opposes all good.

I think about the friends I have made along the way; the bonds we have forged in the crucible of conflict, and the strength we draw from one another. We are a diverse group with varying scars and histories, but we are united by a common purpose - to protect the world from disastrous threats. To impose chaos on those who deserve it.

Bucky and I watch from a slight distance, waiting for the right moment to make our presence known. They begin to walk in our direction, toward the palace where they will consult with Shuri as she tries to separate Vision from the Mind Stone.

As they get closer, Natasha's question hangs in the air, "How are we looking?" It is a reference to the impending battle and the challenges they were about to face. T'Challa, standing on the platform with his Wakandan allies, raises his hand, gesturing to indicate that they had some additional help from us.

Bucky approaches them, there is a sense of relief in the reunion between him and Steve. "And a semi-stable 100-year-old man," he can't help but crack a sardonic smile as Bucky hugs him. The bond between these lifelong friends is evident, and it's a bittersweet moment for them.

However, it is my reunion with Natasha that brings me unbridled joy. A smile creeps onto my face as Bucky and Steve glance over at me. Nat's eyes widen with pure joy as she realizes I'm standing there. I can't help but chime in, "And a slightly younger but just as semi-stable woman. It's like a packaged deal!"

As soon as our eyes meet, neither of us cannot contain our excitement any longer. In an instant, we rush towards each other and embrace each other tightly. It's a hug that speaks volume; the last time we saw each other was in New York, before the Accords, before my life was on the line. If she only knew the lengths we made to get to where we are.

"Avalon," she says, pulling out of our embrace, her hands on my shoulders. She looks at me with a smug grin on her face. "I see your time here has gone well. Seems like you found someone who can match your...unique charm," she teases, nodding towards Bucky and I. Bucky, who stands beside us, stands with a smirk on his lips, clearly enjoying the banter between us.

Her teasing remarks make me laugh, nudging her shoulder as we relish in the moment. I look over at Bucky, smiling fondly at him. "Yeah, well, you know me," I reply with a wink, "always finding ways to keep life interesting." She lightly shoves my shoulder, knowing that despite the circumstances, it's good to be back together again.

Bucky joins in on the exchange, "You have no idea," he chimes in, sliding his arm around my waist. It's a simple gesture, but it also solidifies us as a force to be reckoned with. And I'd kill a thousand armies if it means he's safe.

Once the initial pleasantries were exchanged, we bid farewell to our friends who were heading inside, leaving only Rhodes, Sam, Bucky, and me outside. We watch them go, a mixture of hope and concern in our hearts. Our hope is that Shuri can get the stone out in time for Wanda to destroy it. The weight of what we're about to face hangs heavily in the air. The battle against Thanos and his forces are imminent, and the fate of the universe seems to rest upon our shoulders.

Amid the tension that carries silently through the air, there's a brief moment of calmness. Despite the destruction that rumbles, it is as if the world is holding its breath, savoring the stillness before complete destruction. The sound of birds singing in the distance is accompanied by a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the trees nearby. It's a beautiful, serene moment that feels worlds away from the approaching war.

But there is never enough time.

As the distant rumble grew louder, we turned our attention to the sky, our eyes scanning the horizon. The first ship, a massive behemoth of alien design, collided with the barrier. The forcefield, battered but holding, continues to shimmer and crackle with energy as Thanos' fleet descended upon it.  It was like a silent explosion, a battle of wills between technology and the might of Thanos. It's unearthly, something in my almost century on this earth I have never seen before.

As the alien vessels continue to fly into the Wakandan skies, Sam is talking into his earpiece, "Hey Cap, we have a situation here." The enemy has arrived faster than anticipated, but regardless, there is more at stake here than meets the eye.

I can't help but feel like this isn't natural. I've spent decades being an assassin, being faced with ungodly tasks, but never in my reign have I ever seen something as unusual as this fight. And it is exhilarating to me. I suppose I can add fighting against an alien kind to my resume.

"God, I love this place," Bucky says as the vessels hit the forcefield, memorized by its ability to absorb such a hit to its barrier. His admiration for Wakanda's technology is evident. I am in awe of this country's willingness and commitment to protect their homeland and its people.

My grip tightens on the gun in my hands. For the first time in a long time, I've switched out my trusty crossbow for a more conventional weapon. The situation demands it, and I've had my fair share of practice with them since my training with Hydra. I look up at the barrier, the crafts hitting it and then, noticing them begin to surround the dome itself. "The hell? I have never seen anything like this."

Rhodes grabs our attention from the threats from above, his voice filled with a dire urgency, "Don't start celebrating yet, guys. We got more incoming, outside the dome."

His words act like a cold shower, snapping us back to the grim reality of the battle that awaits. The enemy's arrival beyond the forcefield is a chilling reminder that the worst is yet to come. With as many ships that have entered, we can expect hundreds upon thousands of enemies in our wake. We exchange determined glances, understanding that the next phase of the fight could be even more brutal and deteriorating than what we've witnessed thus far.

Time to make our mark.

***

As we stand on the frontlines, our senses on high alert, the anticipation is palpable. The enemy's mutts relentlessly hurl themselves against the forcefield, their desperate attempts at breaking through resulting in a macabre spectacle of self-destruction. We watch in grim silence, knowing that this is just the beginning.

I close my eyes for a moment, shutting out the chaos around me and focusing inward. It's a different kind of meditation, one that doesn't require the intervention of my inner assassin. Red and I have become one, and I can feel her presence within me, a comforting reassurance of my capabilities.

"Trust your gut," she whispers, her voice a phantom in the recesses of my mind. "Never back down. And give them hell." With her encouragement resonating in my thoughts, I reopen my eyes. They are not filled with doubt and fear but with a fierce determination.

I check my surroundings, seeing familiar faces everywhere I look. Steve stands tall nearby, giving me a nod, acknowledging that my willingness to stand alongside them makes all the difference. A nod that speaks to the battles fought and the trust that binds us. If it weren't for him, who knows where I would've ended up. Hell, I would still be running from my past.

But these are the faces of my comrades, my friends, my allies. We've come from different corners of the world, with our own unique backgrounds, but at this moment, we stand as one. 

Bucky's chest rises and falls, I can feel his eyes burning into me. "Princess, be careful out there," he says softly, his protective side showing.

My eyes meet Bucky's, and I can see the worry etched on his features. But I know he understands; he knows me well enough by now. Although we're a few years past Hydra, that doesn't mean I've lost my touch. I bring my machine gun to readiness, the metallic sound of the slide racking echoing softly. I turn my head to look at him, a smirk playing on my lips as I cock the weapon, preparing it for the battle.

I give him a knowing look, my smirk turning into a confident smile. "Always am, soldier," I reply, the distinct sound of the gun's chambering adding emphasis to my words. I may not be as savvy with a gun as a crossbow, but I will always be one hell of a shot. "You've seen what I'm capable of. Just watch my six."

The dome quivers, stretched to its limit as the relentless alien horde hurls itself against the invisible barrier. It's a nightmarish symphony of violence and desperation, a grotesque display of their unyielding determination. We stand steady on the frontlines, a united front against this insurmountable attack. With every passing moment, the tension in the air grows thicker, and the anticipation of battle hangs heavily over us all. Then, with a blink of an eye, the forcefield opens just enough for the enemy to breach our defenses. It's go time, baby.

T'Challa yells out and we all start sprinting forward. My feet take off, my adrenaline coursing through my veins as I seek out my first kill. My senses are heightened, my heart pounding in my chest. Now. My machine gun fires a stream of deadly bullets, its rapid staccato finds its rhythm by the screams of the alien invaders. The red details on my suit seem to shimmer with every movement, as if they are alive, urging me onward.

Every shot finds its mark as I move with preternatural grace, eliminating the lethal adversaries with ruthless efficiency. Alien blood splatters across my suit and across my face, a gruesome testament to the violence of war. But I can't afford to hesitate; I can't afford to show mercy. There is only room for victory.

My combat training comes to the forefront as I engage in close-quarters combat, my fists and feet striking with precision. Years of grueling training and honing my abilities have set me up for this. Blades flash, and I expertly parry incoming attacks, disarming and incapacitating my adversaries with lethal grace. The clash of alien weapons and the mangled snarls of our foes surround me, a cacophony of chaos threatening to engulf my senses. In the initial onslaught, I feel momentarily overwhelmed, my movements almost stifled by the sheer volume of our attackers. It's as if the violence itself is closing in, threatening to swallow me whole.

But in an instant, my clarity remerges. My instincts kick into high gear, and I adapt to the attacks coming towards me. With my sense tuned, I perceive the subtle shift in my opponent's next movements. A throaty scream escapes me as I charge towards another. My hands become a blur as I disarm and decapitate my adversaries, exploiting their weaknesses and showing them what I'm capable of.

In this whirlwind of battle, I find my rhythm, my body moving almost independently of conscious thought. It's a dance of survival, where every step and strike is a calculated risk. I utilize the environment to my advantage, using debris and fallen foes as both shield and weapon. I'm in my element, a force to be reckoned with amidst the chaos. No foe is safe once I find my pace.

I watch my comrades' backs and they watch mine. Bucky and I move as a well-coordinated team, each of us relying on the others' skills and instincts. It was a dance of death, a ballet of destruction, and with every passing moment, we carve a path through the enemy ranks.

But the battle is far from one-sided. I am thrown back by the sheer force of an alien brute, my back colliding with an uprooted tree. Pain surges throughout my body, but I refuse to yield. With gritted teeth, I fight my way back to my feet, my determination unwavering. The relentless onslaught continues, and I can feel the exhaustion beginning to creep in. But there was no room for fatigue, no time for weakness. I clench my fists, my fingers itching to pull the trigger on my weapon, to keep fighting, to keep the war waging on.

As the battle rages on and the alien forces continue to pour through the breach in the dome, I notice Bucky struggling with his gun a couple hundred feet away from me. His weapon has jammed, and he's desperately trying to fix it. Time is of the essence, and I can't let him be defenseless for a moment longer. Without it, there's only so much he can do, and that's when I don't think, I just do.

Without hesitation, I make a split-second decision. I sprint towards him, my heart pounding in my chest, dodging the gunfire firing from all side. "Bucky!" I yell out his name, my voice cutting through the chaos. His head snaps up, knowing exactly what to expect.

With a quick, practiced motion, I toss the machine gun to him. He catches it with ease, and I can see the gratitude in his eyes. There's no time for words as we both know what needs to be done. We lock eyes for a brief moment, a silent acknowledgment passing between us. Then, as if on cue, Bucky and I move in tandem. He spins around gracefully, his new weapon in hand, and I continue firing at the approaching enemy forces. This is how things should have always been; us fighting side-by side, as the universe meant us to do.

Amidst the chaos of the battlefield, I manage to find my way to the edge of the forest. Bucky, Steve, and a few of our comrades are already positioned there, waiting for Thanos. The tensions are heavy, and we exchange glances, understanding the gravity of the situation.

As the moment of confrontation arrives, Bucky and I lock eyes, an understanding passing between us. We've fought side by side through countless battles, and now we'll combine our skills in an attempt to take down the formidable foe before us. With a nod, we move in unison, Bucky's metal arm gleaming menacingly as he charges forward. I trail closely behind, my senses attuned to every nuance of our coordinated attack. We close in on Thanos, our movements precise and calculated.

Without a word, Bucky takes the initiative. He grabs my arm and with all his strength, he hurls me towards Thanos, aiming for a surprise attack. I soar through the air, a knife in both hands, my body a blur as I close the distance.

But Thanos, wielding the Power Stone with chilling efficiency, is not to be underestimated. With a swift and devastating gesture, he uses the stone's power to redirect our assault. As Bucky and I are helplessly thrown in opposite directions by Thanos' power, fate takes a cruel and unpredictable turn. In an unexpected twist, we collide with each other mid-air, and my head slams into Bucky's metal arm with a sickening thud. Agony flares through me, and darkness engulfs my vision.

I'm briefly knocked out, unaware of the devastation unfolding around me. When consciousness slowly returns, I'm met with a searing pain on the right side of my face, blood oozing from a deep gash. I stagger to my feet, disoriented, and my surroundings blur as I try to make sense of the chaos. I spot Bucky, his eyes relieved when he sees me, and I begins to run towards him as fast as my legs will allow.

But as I close the distance, something horrifying begins to happen. My hands, the same hands that have fired weapons, held loved ones, and fought countless battles, start to disintegrate into ash. Panic surges through me as I drop to my knees, unable to comprehend what's happening. After all this time, it is not a bullet that takes me out. It's a fucking alien species.

"Bucky!" I scream out in terror, my voice cracking with desperation. I extend my ash-covered hand toward him, tears welling up in my eyes. "Bucky, what's happening to—" even my words disintegrate into ash, evaporating in my burning throat. Footsteps pound toward me, but eventually, even sounds dissipate. The last thing I get to keep is my eyes, locking onto his petrified blue ones as he reaches for me. Just when he might scoop me up, the darkness beats him to it instead.

a/n: the freaking blip scene. it hurts my heart. BUT THEY WILL BE BACK :) I hope you enjoyed this one. it took me A WHILLLLLE. -K