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𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝘼𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙍 𝙏𝙀𝙀𝙉 𝙈𝙊𝙑𝙄𝙀.

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄: Eventually, I Will Be

𝐒𝐓. 𝐏𝐀𝐔𝐋'𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐋 ─ 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐍, 𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 

𝟐𝟐 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐄 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟔

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☆

Lizzie had never been to a funeral before. 

Her arm went stiff twenty minutes into sitting on the uncomfortable pew, crammed in between Steve's broad shoulders and Sammy's attempt to rip her hair out. Halfway through the service, she would've let him. Steve had noticed her discomfort, taking her hand in his to try and ease the anxiety. Lizzie didn't have the heart to tell him that it wasn't the situation—of sitting and listening to strangers talk about Margaret Carter—but the people. Too many people, and being sat in the front of them all had her on edge. 

It was what her aunt founded and created that had so many agents and espionage in the room, and if Lizzie paid close enough attention, she would be able to pick them out. That should make her feel relief, but instead, she remembered when she got the text saying that S.H.I.E.L.D. was HYDRA. That changed things. 

It had officially been two days since they got the call, and Lizzie learned something valuable about the impact of death in those two days: everything else kept going—so that was what Lizzie had to do. She showed up to school the next day, took her English final, and finally had her presentation on Padme with Peter Parker. They were the only ones in the class to get an A, and when Lizzie's reaction was a stark contrast to her usual behavior, Peter caught on that something was wrong. They had a short, last conversation.

"Hey...are you, um...is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine, partner," she replied with a smile before Peter's uneasiness could reach her. "Just tired. We have our games tomorrow, so I'll be able to sleep on the bus there. But hey, I'll text you okay? We can all hang out this summer."

A flash of recognition crossed over Peter's face and the subject was dropped after that. Lizzie played. Midtown lost. Two double headers in two days, only to be picked up from the hotel room they were staying at by her parents, and off she went to the funeral in only five hours. Her team had known the situation and surprised Lizzie by wearing ribbons for Alzheimer's, something that gave her the drive to finish off the extra innings—but it was robotic, monotonous, and Lizzie wasn't sure why she hadn't cried since that day at the Avengers Institute.

The daze through the service lasted until there was a shift in weight, and she no longer felt crushed by her family members. She realized the change was Sharon standing up from next to Steve and Sam. Lizzie's ears blocked out everything else the room, watching as her sister quietly made her way up to the podium. She didn't know Sharon was speaking. Then again, her and her sister hadn't seen each other in weeks with her stationed outside of the country for her job. Sophia locked herself away to comfort her husband, so it was just Lizzie and Steve.

"Margaret Carter was known to most as a founder of SHIELD," Sharon started, and Lizzie swallowed hard when she realized that her sister had slipped into Spy Sharon briefly. Professional. But then they met eyes, and Sharon's softened. "But I just knew her as Aunt Peggy."

Lizzie's jaw clenched when she felt the lump in her throat grow, her lip pursing to the side to keep her tears down. The only thing holding her to reality was Steve's iron-clad grip, the occasional squeeze to remind her he was still there—but it wasn't strangers talking anymore, and it wasn't Margaret Carter anymore.

"She had a photograph in her office—Aunt Peggy standing next to JFK. As a kid, that was pretty cool, but it was a lot to live up to... which is why I never told anyone we were related," Sharon said softly, pausing for a brief moment to glance over at Steve and Lizzie. "I asked her once how she managed to master diplomacy and espionage in a time when no one wanted to see a woman succeed at either. And she said, compromise where you can...but where you can't, don't. Even if everyone is telling you that something wrong is something right. Even if the whole world is telling you to move...it is your duty to plant yourself like a tree, look them in they eye and say 'No, you move.'"

Lizzie bit down hard on her bottom lip when she felt the first tear fall slowly down her cheek, trying her hardest to ignore the sniffling of her cousins and uncles behind her. If there was ever something that she was proud of, it was knowing that she was raised a Carter. Not because of the legacy behind the name, but because of the strength of character it meant she was related to. That legacy felt less whole now.

"One of the last conversations that I had with her...she was happy. Smiling wide as can be, cheering on her niece as she got a double..." Sharon swallowed, her eyes catching the crowd and giving them a weak smile "...which, I can tell you, Aunt Peggy knew as much about the game as you all do by the looks on your faces...but she told me that she was finally able to retire...that her final mission was completed. And reminded me of what I was truly fighting for. That's what she was best at." 

Staring at the casket, Lizzie realized that she, too, felt a little less whole now. 

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When the first breath of fresh air hit her lungs the moment that the funeral ended and the burial was finished, things felt different. All of her relatives got together to share their love for one another, and Lizzie got to hold her third cousin for the first time, the newborn bringing a warmth to her heart that she desperately needed. The lunch she'd gotten with her family at a cafe near their house was peaceful, and there was gentle chatter among her family as Mike and Steve laughed with one another. Something in that moment was necessary and needed.

Sharon and Steve weren't able to hide their sudden interest in their phones. They may have been subtle enough to keep her parents oblivious, but Lizzie noticed the glances and clear frustration on Steve's face. He had never been great at hiding it. Lizzie knew that it was the event happening in Vienna. The Sokovia Accords were being signed by half of the Avengers with the other half fighting to stop them. What Lizzie didn't know was that while she was holding her baby cousin, Natasha had shown up with a few parting hopes to get Steve to sign it.

"Oh, forgot to tell you," her father started the conversation when they walked through the lobby of the hotel, holding his arm out to stop Lizzie. She looked up at him in surprise, Sammy's sleeping body held closely in her arms. "Ma and I are heading back in a bit because of work, but she packed you a bag for a two more days. Sharon said she was able to get a window off of work, and we thought you needed a breather from Brooklyn for a bit—" 

"Dad," Lizzie interrupted him from ranting. She'd gotten it from him. Mike met eyes with his daughter, noticing the way they were watered up and grateful upon him. "Thank you...are you going to be alright?" 

Mike smiled softly at his daughter and then he looked down to Sammy, carefully making the exchange so that Lizzie could have mobility in her arms again. "I will be. Don't worry about me. Are you going to be alright?" 

"I—"

"MJ, Mike." 

Before Lizzie could even think about a truthful answer to that question, they were interrupted by Sam Wilson's call for their attention. The expression on his face made her heart drop. The feeling got no better when she noticed her mom wearing something recognized as pure horror. Sophia's eyes were focused on the television in the lobby, hand over her mouth, and Lizzie wasn't sure what she was expecting to see on the screen—

Bucky Barnes was not it. Lizzie's hands fell to her sides, unable to take her eyes off the television as it declared a state of emergency. The United Nations had been bombed. Her mouth grew stale the longer she watched, her thoughts weaving in and out as she watched the building explode. She felt like she was going to vomit when a hand suddenly grabbed her bicep. Mike was looking at her, his mouth moving as he nodded over her head, and Lizzie was moved with ringing ears to the elevator. A quick shuffle, and then she was back in the hotel room.

Lizzie saw her mother's concern staring back at her, offering her water, but Lizzie's ears were still humming. Only when something in all of the white noise came through did her head perk up in full-blown panic. "...at least twelve are dead—" 

"Steve," she called out to him, her blurry eyes reading the room to find him. He was stuck on the TV screen, his jaw tight. Mind dissociating. She tried again. "Steve. Who was there? Who went—" 

When she didn't get the response out of him, her desperation turned to Sam, who nodded. "Nat." 

Lizzie's sharp inhale pierced Steve's ears until Sharon's phone went off. Sammy stirred at the tension, suddenly muttering to their father with watery eyes. That was when Lizzie felt a hand lay on top of hers, and she turned back around to see her mom still crouched in front of her. Sophia had the tears Lizzie couldn't create. There was a second there—between mother and daughter—that was said without words. Sophia watched her daughter become something else. Someone else. Lizzie set her shoulders back, expression blank of any grief, and held onto her mother's forearms pull both of them standing. That was when Sophia knew. 

She watched her daughters meet eyes before Sharon spoke. "I have to go to work." 

"There?" Sophia's concerned question was followed by a gaze at the destruction on television. 

Sharon ducked her head in a small nod and turned back around, moving to collect her belongings in the other room with only a small glance to Steve. He didn't move his eyes away from the television—Lizzie actually wasn't sure he had. Mike, with a confused and questioning Sammy, grabbed a hold of his wife before she could follow behind Sharon. 

"I'm going to stay," sounded like the elephant in the room coming off Lizzie's lips. Sophia's hands dropped in defeat at her side, but she didn't protest. Mike glanced down at his wife, then to his youngest daughter, before nodding. "I'll call you. As soon as I know anything." 

Lizzie made that promise to them, and then she turned back to Steve. She reached out to grab his forearm, urging him gently out of whatever mold of protection he'd built up in that moment. "Steve...Steve, hey." 

Finally, he turned away from the screen to look down at her, his face shadowing an emotion she couldn't describe before it disappeared. Steve looked over to Sharon, and Lizzie met eyes with Sam, before the four of them settled into an idea of what they had to do next. 

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𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍, 𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐘 ─ 𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐄

"Fancy seeing you here, Baby Carter."  

Seeing Carson Mayfield was the highlight of her day, and she could tell that Sharon felt it too, but nausea hit the back of her throat despite this. Lizzie gave her a half-hearted smile in greeting, but the deja-vu short-circuited her brain back to S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters. The buildings looked similar. The people looked similar. Back when she thought it was boring. Back when she had a comparison of Disneyland. Now, the memory only garnered hell. 

She crossed her arms over her chest, glancing between the two blondes. "This feels a whole lot like deja-vu." 

"Too bad you didn't have me there." 

Lizzie's eyes softened when she saw Tony approaching, business-suit intact and a smile ready for chaos. "Hey, Tony." 

"Hey, squirt," he muttered back, nudging her crossed elbow. "How'd the plant project go with Peter Parker?" 

"Why'd you remember his name—" 

"—good use of alliteration. Shows I'm smart," he sent her a wink before turning to the two women standing off to the side, talking to one another in whispers. "Okay, ladies. Anyone have any ideas on where your knights in shining armor have disappeared off to?" 

"It's disrespectful you think I'd need a knight to save me," Carson said, looking at him with raised eyebrows. "And no, Tony, we don't know where they are." 

"It's disrespectful you think I can't tell your lying—" 

"—that's a terrible thing to say to someone in a wheelchair, Tony. You should be ashamed." 

The sound of Everett Ross' voice cut through the lighthearted banter, and Lizzie almost choked on her own saliva when it was her last name called out. Brown eyes moved sharply across the room to find the man in question asking for her sister, and then she found him. He approached by himself, and Lizzie ignored the hum in her chest to say that she expected someone very different. Perhaps her views on people in power had been skewed. 

"Do we have a location on Rogers and Wilson?" the man, Ross, asked the moment he joined their small group. Only when he noticed an addition did he pause, frowning at Lizzie. "Can I ask what you're doing here?" 

"She's our assistant," Tony piped in first, and then cleared his throat. "The Avengers... assistant..." 

Lizzie bit down on her tongue to prevent herself from saying anything about her demotion. Instead, she turned to look at Ross with a polite smile and stuck out her hand. "Nice to meet you, sir. My name is Lizzie." 

A flash of recognition crept onto Ross' face, and Lizzie noticed, but he said nothing about it and shook her hand anyway. Then, he turned to Sharon and Carson, crossing his stare between the two of them. His body language blocked her out of the conversation, Tony as well, and both seemed to notice the clear outcast presented. She turned in his direction, eyebrows raised high. 

"You do assistant-y things," was his start. Lizzie blinked. "Associate?" 

Lizzie pursed her lips and turned back to the conversation. "I was an associate for S.H.I.E.L.D." 

"That's so much better than consultant." 

"I don't know where he is, Tony." 

The small talk had a purpose, and Lizzie could read the room. Tony pursed his lips, eyeing the way Carson's lip curled in evident upset at what was happening between them and Ross. Obviously, Tony knew that both women had an idea of where Rogers and Wilson were—but if he was placing his bets on who knew exactly, Lizzie Carter always won gold. 

"Something tells me you're lying." 

She clucked her tongue. "You caught me. I actually inserted one of those pet-chips into him the last time Wanda knocked him unconscious—smart, right? Anyway, checked it a few minutes ago, there's an app for it—turns out he's in London. Highgate Cemetery, if I'm right—" 

"Lizzie." 

"—no, Tony," Lizzie turned to face him, crossing her arms again. "I don't like that you're sitting here trying to interrogate me. Because you know what happened last time someone was doing that? Sharon almost died. Steve almost died. I almost died. A lot of people did die. So you can drop it, and talk to me about my final exams, or we stand here in silence because I'm not going to give you an answer." 

Lizzie Carter stood there, brown eyes never flinching when Tony stared back into them with equal authority. An unruly feeling burned into his chest in recognition of her fate, because a fire had been lit underneath the feet of the fifteen-year-old girl that couldn't be burned out. Grief, Tony figured, over things that she hadn't healed from. The other half, he supposed, he and the others had a hand in. Tony began to nod his head carefully, and then he moved his attention back to the others. 

"You get an A?" 

"Of course." 

"Thatta girl." 

───○☆ ✸ ☆○───

"—no, Romania was not Accord-Sanctioned. Colonel Rhodes is supervising clean-up..." 

Lizzie's frown sunk deeper when she watched Steve and Sam walk through the doors of the CIA compound, considering they were the subject of interest in the phone call Tony was on (and had been on for the last twenty-two minutes, she kept time as she bit her nails; she missed her headphones). Natasha was with them now, a new face to the compound walls. The redhead sent a brief smile in Lizzie's directly, but she quickly returned back to her stride. Lizzie's eyes narrowed when she noticed that her sister wasn't among the group following them back, but Carson barely acknowledged that as she tried her hardest not to look at Sam. She quickly returned to her laptop, only occasionally sparing glances. 

"Consequences? You bet there'll be consequences...obviously you can quote me on that because I just said it, anything else? Thank you sir," and with that, Tony ended the phone call much to everyone's relief. Lizzie noticed Steve's eyes catch hers from across the room, and she shook her head. 

"'Consequences?'" he asked anyway.

"Secretary Ross wants you both prosecuted. Had to give 'em something." 

Steve's face fell. "I'm not getting that shield back, am I?" 

"Technically, it's the government's property—wings, too," Natasha retorted, turning over her shoulder to send the boys a mindful smirk. "Got them all stocked away by Agent Mayfield." 

Sam's smile grew, shaking his head as he looked over at the blonde in question. "Oh, that's cold..." 

"Warmer than jail! Lizzie, back to your algebra." 

Lizzie rolled her eyes at him as he walked away, making sure to raise her voice. Sam and Steve entered the large glass wall compound that her and Carson were sitting in. "Semester's over! Be more involved!...hey, boys. Welcome to the Fish Bowl." 

"That's not gonna catch on, MJ," Carson said, rubbing her eyes in exasperation. She only stopped when she heard the sound of someone sitting next to her, and she dropped her hands to glare at the man. "Add this to the list." 

Sam's face twisted. "Oh, come on." 

"What's the list?" Lizzie asked, intrigued. When she had two pairs of eyes looking back at her, saying nothing, she frowned. "Fine. Don't tell me about the list. Instead, which one you wants to explain what happened? Did you find him?" 

Her questions were directed at Steve, who stood in the corner of the room quietly. "Yes." 

Sam jumped in to add. "And then the CIA found him." 

"And then they found you," Carson finished, clearing her throat. "Well. At least, you aren't getting prosecuted." 

"You took my wings—" 

"—hm, means I know exactly where they are, don't I?" she said casually. 

Lizzie glanced over at Steve, then she looked to the three of them. "Anyone want to take a trip with me down to the vending machine?" 

"You three go," Steve offered. 

There was a moment of hesitation out of Lizzie before she nodded, standing up alongside Sam. He quickly stepped behind Carson, grabbing hold of her wheelchair, tugging playfully on a few strands of her blonde hair as he did so. They made their way out of the now-esteemed Fish Bowl, and Lizzie was a half-step behind them until she got to the exit where Steve lingered. A hand reached out to grab his, and she squeezed. 

"Okay?" she asked, searching for something in his eyes. 

Whatever it was, she didn't find it. "Okay." 

They left it at that for the time being. 

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The evaluation that Lizzie was told would be performed on Bucky sounded like a nightmare to her. That, however, was just in conversation. Sitting in the Fish Bowl, staring at a monitor of Bucky, with no sound, was very different. An anxious itch rose in her throat and she tried to ease it by moving her dog-tags around on her neck. Some internal part of her continued to push down the last memory she had of Buc—no, of the Winter Soldier. Bucky was not the one who hurt her that day. Bucky was what kept her alive, and the dog tags with his name on it.

"The receipt for your gear." 

Both Steve and Lizzie looked over at the sound of Sharon's entrance. She had disappeared for some time, enough time for them to begin worrying. The blonde sent a reassuring smile to Lizzie first, and then she nodded at Steve. Something was shared in their eyes that Lizzie didn't understand, but she knew they did. Knowing her sister was okay, she returned back to the screen.

"'Bird costume'?" he read aloud, his eyes shooting up to glare at Carson. She shrugged in reply. 

Lizzie's hands curled tighter together as she watched the screen, wishing to all hell that she could hear what was going on. Then, after a short static, sentences started to have sound. All heads turned to see Sharon looking away from the comms. A muffled exhale in relief came out of Steve, and he turned back to the screen. Lizzie kept her eyes on Sharon a moment, causing her sister to stand behind her chair. There was a brief question in the air between them: are you okay? Which was followed up by two small nods. 

 "I'm not here to judge you," the psychologist on the screen, evaluating Bucky, cut through the tense air with his next words. " I just want to ask you a few questions. Do you know where you are, James? I can't help you if you don't talk to me, James." 

"My name is Bucky." 

Lizzie's throat burned at the sound of his voice. 

"Why would the Task Force release this photo to begin with?" Steve asked suddenly, glancing back at Sharon for the answer. 

Sharon's eyebrows furrowed. "Get the word out, involve as many eyes as we can?" 

"Right," he said, like she'd confirmed his point. "It's a good way to flush a guy out of hiding...set off a bomb, get your picture taken...you get seven billion people looking for the Winter Soldier." 

"You're saying someone framed him to find him." 

Sam, who had been sharing worried looks with his girlfriend, gave Steve greater fuel. "Steve, Car and I looked for the guy for two years and found nothing." 

"He didn't bomb the UN. That turns a lot of heads." 

"That still doesn't make sense, though...someone framed Bucky, right? Because why would a ghost in hiding decide that he wants to bomb a meeting that big? 'Cause that doesn't guarantee that the person who framed him would get him. Just that someone would recognize him, and that someone would bring him here..." Lizzie's words slowed down to a complete stop when she realized that all eyes were on her, coming to the same conclusion that she had while she spoke. "So that means whoever framed him already knows he's here." 

The three of them turned back to the screen, but this time, Lizzie's elbows rested on her knees, ready to spring up. "Tell me, Bucky...you've seen a great deal, haven't you?" 

"I don't want to talk about it." 

"You fear that if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop...don't worry. We only have to talk about one." 

Before anything else could be said between the two, everything went black. The monitors turned off, red lights instantly flashing to signal the outage. The rush of adrenaline that sucked the air out of Lizzie was enough to get her standing, her body reverting into panic-mode as she tried to calm down her mind. Steve looked expectantly toward Carson, and she answered his unspoken question. "Sub-level five. East wing. Be careful." 

Steve and Sam set off, leaving the chaos to ensue outside of the protected Fish Bowl, and plans to start inside of it. Carson and Sharon looked to one another, already headed into conversation with Carson leading. "You need to go—and you need to take her with you. You'll need all the help you can get. I'll try and get through the systems to figure out what happened on my end." 

Their eyes turned to look at Lizzie, standing there in leggings and a plain black-T shirt, looking both fifteen and fully grown all at once. Only seconds later did the alarms begin to blare throughout the facility, and suddenly, the sisters and Carson were back in a situation they remember all too well. What felt like ten minutes passed before Sharon nodded, and she tilted her head to the exit to get Lizzie to follow her. On their way, they ran into Tony and Natasha, both making their way hastily down the same route. 

"Follow me!" she instructed, leading the three of them mindless through hallways until she stopped suddenly. 

Once inside the door, Sharon started into the armory to grab what she could, leaving Tony and Natasha to do the same. Lizzie's eyes roamed aimlessly around the room before she stopped, quickly grabbing a hold of the compound bow and rooting through a number of black arrows. Certain ones were modified, and she went to the colored ones of "blue and red" with injection syringes at the point—before she could figure them out, Sharon had secured a gun into her waistband, swiftly clipping something around her, and ushered the blue arrows into her hand. In her other hand was an ear-piece. 

Lizzie barely had the chance to realize it was a quiver on her back before she followed after the loud sounds, staring at the backs of three adults as she fiddled with the ear-piece. "Do we have a plan here?"

"Stay on the second level of the cafeteria, Lizzie. Don't directly engage. Blue arrows have a sedative in them—use more than you think, he's a super-soldier. Tony, you distract him and then Sharon and I will engage. Lizzie, go, right here—" 

Natasha's instructions were clear, so Lizzie didn't waste any time thinking through them before she hustled up the stairs to the second floor of the cafeteria. At least a dozen people were up there, cramming and pushing through the tables to get to the staircase. Lizzie winced when a larger man hit her shoulder especially hard, but she sifted through the crowd until she was at a clear point. Grabbing a table, she pushed it with her thighs until it was against the edge of the overlook and climbed onto it.

Then, she saw Bucky. An arrow already set, Lizzie kept her eye on him as he entered into the facility and started to attack any agent who came near. Natasha was heard through her ear. "We're in position. Lizzie?" 

"I've got eyes. You want me to shoot?" 

"Wait for Tony." 

Another voice, Tony, interrupted. "I'd prefer him to be sedated before I do this. On my call, MJ...ready? One, two..." 

An arrow whizzed through the air, landing directly into the exposed flesh between Bucky's neck and shoulder. He yanked it out instantly. She reached to grab another, watching as Tony walked into the line-of-sight, sending a shockwave through the air before Bucky could find where the arrow came from. Another pulse, and then Lizzie didn't have a clear sight anymore. She muffled out a sound before jumping off the table, running down the pathway to get to the edge of the staircase so that Bucky's back was turned to her. 

The sound of a silenced gunshot rang through the air, and Lizzie aimed just in time to see the panic settle in Tony's face when he realized he'd just evaded death. His eyes widened further when he saw the arrow hit Bucky's right shoulder, only a few inches away from being right in his face. So he took the opportunity to hit Bucky, but that only sent him into a chair moments later after taking a hard punch from the man.

Suddenly, Bucky had the chance to find the owner of the arrows. Lizzie's arm dropped when they met eyes, and then it became clear that Bucky wasn't looking at her—no, the Winter Soldier was. Before the Winter Soldier could advance on her, Sharon appeared and quickly engaged in combat, sending a rough kick to his chest. Lizzie's arm raised again, and she cleared her throat, closing one eye and focusing on a clear shot. She ignored the pain of watching her sister get hit, and the moment she saw Sharon go flying into a table, another arrow was sent to the Winter Soldier's chest, near his heart. 

That particular arrow caused him to stumble. He ripped it out, but only for Natasha to launch herself onto him next. Lizzie ignored the urge to look at her sister, keeping her eyes trained on Natasha as she fought the Winter Soldier. He eventually threw her down on a table as well with her in a chokehold, and Lizzie sent another arrow into his back—but she quickly realized they did not have a failsafe for being beaten, and Lizzie reached into her quiver when the Winter Soldier started toward her up the stairs. But it was empty. 

Lizzie dropped the bow, searching for a clear exit route, but he was moving too quickly. The gun in her waistband grew heavier. Swallowing every version of her wanting to escape, she whipped it out and aimed it at the Winter Soldier. Her first shot went to his shoulder, but he avoided it easily. Lizzie continued to step back, another shot at him, for him to deflect again with his arm that time. Then, he was too close, and he threw his arm out to punch her.

Lizzie fell to the ground before he made contact, rolling across the ground and firing off another round from behind. Unfortunately, it grazed the metal arm, simply flickering off of the limb with a small spark. Lizzie swiped at his feet, but hadn't expected him to grab a hold of her shin, dragging her to him. She used her other leg to kick him in the only available place, his balls, giving her enough time to free her leg. That didn't give her enough time to get away, though, and he grabbed her throat roughly once again, pulling her from the ground.

This time, Lizzie didn't claw for freedom. She looked directly into his eyes, not breaking contact. Neither did he. Just when she thought that was it, a heavy weight crashed into the Winter Soldier. She fell to the ground, gasping at the rush of air going into her lungs, watching as a fight broke out between the Winter Soldier and the new king of Wakanda, T'Challa, whom she found out yielded a generational superhero in their culture. 

Struggling up to her feet, she used one of the chairs next to her as leverage. Rubbing at her throat, she reached to grab the gun that skidded during the fight. Before she moved to the Winter Soldier, she made a fast glance over the edge of the overlook to see Natasha helping Sharon up. Then, there was the sound something heavy hitting the ground, and another following soon after when Lizzie watched T'Challa rise and look around. 

"Where is he?" the man asked loudly. 

But the Winter Soldier was gone. 

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