*Bucky's POV*

          It's been seventy-two hours and I've run every possibility as to where Avalon could be through my head a thousand times. But there's nothing because there are hundreds of places she could be, all across the world, and I'd never find her. It's impossible. Especially now. There's too much at risk. There has always been too much at risk just because of who I am. A man who is seen as two people who are polar opposites of one another.

But what is the cost? What will be at stake? My dignity? My pride? Maybe. But half of my heart? That's one thing I know for certain. But I know she is okay. For now. She's hiding in plain sight, with no memory of who she was. Just the assassin she used to be. Is.

          She could be anywhere. Here. Austria. Russia. The Middle East. The girl who fought so hard to break through Hydra's programming has been thrown back to square one. She could be on her way to her next mission by now, because they will not let her talent go to waste. They needed her back to cause chaos. Desolation. Destruction. Just as you should. 

          In the meantime, there is much worse yet to come. For some time, I've managed to fly under the radar, and life's been relatively feasible. But not once have I let my guard down. If Hydra was here already, who am I to tell if they're still here? Or if they decided to finally let me be at peace with this life. Whether that is achievable, keeping your guard up is one of the only things left to do. And for the most part, that's been a breeze.

          Walking through the market in Bucharest, an uneasy feeling grows in my chest. The few people I pass, I feel their eyes boring into my skin as if they know something I don't. Murderer, that's what they think. As I wait to cross the busy street, that's when I notice a man staring at me, holding a newspaper in his hand. His eyes flicker down towards his paper, analyzing it before glancing back up at me. Pure terror flashes over his features. I walk towards him, and within a second, he's running out of his shack and down the street.

          Immediately, I take the foreign newspaper in my hands, and that's when I realize why people were staring. There was a bombing and I've been framed for it. As if these past few days could get any worse, it's only just begun. And somehow, I already know that whoever is behind this, is already one step ahead.

What the hell do I do?

~

           Closing the door to my apartment, I already know that there's someone inside, waiting for me. My footsteps are quiet, making sure that I don't step onto the creaking floorboards, and then, I pause. Steve Rogers. I'd be happy to see him due to the fact that only days ago, we were trying to figure out all possible ways to search for Avalon. But I know exactly why he's here; for a crime I did not commit. That's beside the point because the people need someone to blame and the committer needs someone to frame.

          He's holding a book. My journal, specifically, and he's flipping through the pages. Before I can say anything, he closes the journal, placing it on the table beside him. Our eyes meet, disappointment and confusion flash across his features, briefly, before Steve takes a step towards me.

"You know why I'm here?"

My body tenses, my metal hand balls into a fist, "I wasn't in Vienna. I don't do that anymore."

          Footsteps can be heard coming up the stairs and on the roof of the apartment complex. The authorities are looking to capture me. Arrest me. For a crime that I didn't commit. The blood has to be on someone's hands and it's mine. Steve notices my hesitance, his eyes glance towards the door and the windows. You know what has to come next. There's no way around it.

"This doesn't have to end in a fight, Buck," as much as I would like to believe him, I know that, in this scenario, it isn't true.

          Foreign voices are heard outside the door, planning their break-in. None of this would've happened if someone didn't frame me, but as I said before, someone needs to take the blame, and it happens to be me. Again. I glance towards the door and then back at Steve, noticing that he's scared. But for me.

"It always ends in a fight," I state, taking off the glove on my left hand, the sun glistening off of the metal exterior. "And if that's what I have to do, I'll always fight."

          I didn't know why I said that or what came over me. But the words felt familiar. Accurate. But one thing I know for sure is that whatever the outcome of this, it won't be good. I know what to expect when it feels like the entire world wants me dead. This was bound to happen the moment my identity was revealed, and hell, I didn't know who I was either.

Fighting. Running. Hiding. It's all too familiar. Greeting me with open arms, I submerge myself into the lifestyle I've known for decades, but this time, I have a purpose; to find the one person who knows how to go undetected. The person behind the mask who was hidden for so long. Rising from the depths of isolation, she will be my mission to find. I have to be the one. 

a/n: hey there! long time, no see! I've struggled over the years to gain back my creative spark. nikki got back into writing and she inspired me to continue writing mine! and yes, that will include the sequel to the art of war!! please be patient with me. I will have updates!! - k