chapter xvii.
(   civil war   )

come as you are, as you were
as i want you to be
as a friend, as a friend
as an old enemy
come as you are ─── nirvana

london, england
june 8, 2016
(   crossover   )

The singing voices carry along the rafters as I keep my head bowed and my hands tightly clasped together in front of me. A black and white picture is framed in gold and candles flicker in the front of the cathedral as a casket is carried on the shoulders of the men who loved and respected the woman housed inside it. She doesn't belong in there. No one belongs in a cage, not even in death.

A heavy tear falls from my eyelashes as I take in a quiet breath and remember the last time I had talked to her... the last time I'll ever talk to her. She was having a good day. Her head was clear and she remembered me, Dad, Steve, and everything else. I should be thankful for that. I should be so much more thankful than I am. I guess that's the thing about death; you never know what moment or what word is going to be your last.

"Peggy!" I whirled around to face the old woman who did not look up from her own newspaper, "Do you see this?!"

My aunt's brown eyes squinted as she tried to take in the black and white information for herself, "I do."

My fingers curled tightly around the edges of the newspaper as I read what was written, "Stark heiress proves to lack maturity and the capability of discernment, in both business and social circles. Many say that with the twenty year old woman's most recent behavior, she is much like her father, 'too much like her father'."

Aunt Peggy pursed her lips and shook her head, "Too much like Howard."

I scoffed, still caught up in my anger, "I am not like Howard, thank you very much."

My aunt looked up at me with a raised eyebrow, "You've always had the Stark fire, Little Fighter."

"Clearly!" I snapped and shook the newspaper around in front of me before I scowled back down at it, "Well, they clearly know about Dad and Pepper breaking up. Apparently, he can't make them stay and I can't make them go."

My stomach was knotted up and my head was spinning while I continued to pace around in front of her. Aunt Peggy's face twisted into a frown and she shook her head, folding up the newspaper and putting it into the pocket of her brown wooden wheelchair.

With another irritated scoff, I hurled the thing across the retirement home's yard and then dropped into the grass beside her feet, "This is pointless! They're never going to see me or Dad as any different from what they want to see! This is just absolutely pointless,"

"You're right."

I stopped midway into my rant, pulling back to look up at her in confusion, "What?"

"You're right." She spoke so nonchalantly, closing her eyes against the sunlight, "Trying to change their perspective is entirely pointless."

"Hey..." I crooked an eyebrow up at her, "Isn't this supposed to be where you give me some inspiring kind of pep talk or something?"

"Is it?"

"Yeah! That's what you did with Howard and Dad, right?"

She gave me a rather sassy look, "I thought you weren't like Howard."

I rolled my eyes and looked down to the ground, angrily yanking at the blades of grass and shaking my head. Neither of us spoke for a moment as other members of the retirement home slowly walked or were wheeled by, calling soft hellos to the ever popular Margaret Carter.

Finally, I just couldn't keep it in anymore, forcing me to say quietly, "I'm in trouble, Aunt Peggy. I'm in so, so much trouble."

She reached down and gently took my hand in her old and withered one.

"The press won't leave me alone. I miss going on missions and Dad and I... we miss Pepper. I need her more now than ever. And then there's the whole matter of my brother! And-and, ugh God, Michael Allen won't sign those stupid divorce papers." I groaned out, dropping my elbow on my kneecap and then my face in one of my hands, "And, then, the other thing..."

"I know. This-this is not good." The only other person in the world who knew what was going on squeezed my hand still held in hers, "But, from what I recall, even if that is shaky sometimes, you're not some fragile glass doll, are you?" When I didn't respond, she pressed, "Are you?"

I shook my head.

"I didn't think so. Lisa, you need to remember where you came from." When I gave her a confused look, she cupped my chin and continued, "You are so much stronger than you realize, my little fighter. Remember your past. Look at all of what you've survived. Try to remember."

And if you remember, then follow.

I rub my nose and lean back into my seat between Steve and Sam, the both of whom have been with me since we arrived in London for the funeral of my great aunt and one of my grandfather's closest friends. Even with the plan of going to Vienna after this, I didn't even try to get my father to come. He wanted to come, but I understood when he just... couldn't. He has a thing about funerals. The last he's ever attended was Howard and Grandma's and he's always sworn the next he'll attend will be his own, which always elicits a scowl from me. I think really he just can't bear to watch someone else who he loved and who loved him get lowered into the ground. It's too close to home. It hurts too much.

The priest calls another one of Aunt Peggy's nieces up to speak as I rub my thumb along the hem of my black skirt, trying to breathe in the air that seems stiff and still. I don't really notice the blonde woman standing up in front of us until Sam elbows my arm, in turn having me bump into Steve who looks distractedly over at us. Sam nods his chin towards the blonde woman, making the supersoldier and me look up to see a very familiar face.

My eyes widen just slightly and Steve's head pulls back in recognition. That's, um, Kate, the neighbor or, apparently, Sharon Carter, the agent. I had never met her before Steve and I came across her in D.C. He told me she was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, but I never knew that she was related to Aunt Peg and, from the look on Steve's face as Sharon goes on, he didn't either.

Well... that's awkward.

That whole matter makes it a bit hard for me to focus, but as she continues on softly yet firmly, her words remind me so much of Aunt Peg that I can't seem to think of anything else, "She said, compromise where you can." My eyes flicker down to my lap and I swallow hard, "But where you can't, don't."

My hands and fingers pull against each other as I look back up, absorbing Peggy's last message.

"Even if everyone is telling you that something wrong is something right." My eyes slowly trail to Steve as he seems to take in the words himself, "Even if the whole world is telling you to move, it is your duty to plant yourself like a tree, look them in the eye and say, 'No... You move'."

My gaze drops back down to my lap and my lashes touch the tops of my cheeks as my eyes squeeze closed.

It's nearly a day later when Natasha and I slowly walk into a wide glassy room in Vienna, looking around at the numerous collections of desks and quietly conversing people. The United Nations building isn't exactly how I pictured it would be. I guess I just imagined something dismal and despaired, but this is actually kind of nice. Or it would be if people would stop looking our way in an unhappy mixture of suspicion and irritation. Apparently, some people still aren't overly satisfied with the Avengers' reaction to the Accords. I have a feeling we're not going to be winning any popularity contests around here.

I don't bother fighting the light frown that curves my mouth as I continue to glance around at those surrounding us. Natasha just hands me a nod, holding an impassive face so to ward off anybody who tries judging us. No one talks to us besides the UN staffer who only comes to collect our signatures. As soon as the lady walks away with her clipboard in hand, I let out a puff of air and my shoulders sag a bit. My muscles actually ache from being so tense and my head is still pounding with a near constant headache I've had.

I uncomfortably adjust my black suit coat over my torso, running my hands over my stomach as I try to breathe deeply, "There are a lot of people here."

"A lot of people want this signed." Natasha nods as she glances around over her purple-jacketed shoulder before looking back at me, "And you?"

Wearing a blank expression, I merely blink at her, "And me?"

"Yes, you." She exasperatedly turns on her high heels to look at me straight on, "What do you want?"

Now, that is a good question. What do I want?

I let out a thoughtful and deep breath, "Well, I want everything to go back to normal. I want to keep everyone safe."

"What do you think is the best way of doing that, then?"

"Honestly?" She dips her chin as she waits for me to continue, "I don't know. I have a lot more to consider now. But it's so much harder with everyone always watching..."

Natasha shrugs and clasps her hands behind her back, pursing her lips at those still staring, "With my history the way it is, I can't say I exactly have much experience in that."

"I suppose neither of us is used to the spotlight." A horrifyingly familiar voice speaks up from behind me, making the entire proceedings freeze in motion.

Alarm bells sound in my ears and something sounding eerily like the word 'mayday' is playing on repeat. I slowly turn around and fight back any reaction that will make this any more embarrassing. My lungs feel tight and my hands shake a little as my eyes land on his face.

T'Challa.

Mayday.

He looks good. Of course, he looks good. Why couldn't he have grown a second head, shrunken to the size of an ant, become horribly disfigured, or something like that? But no, he has to be looking gorgeous. I bet he's smug about it too. I bet he knows he looks great in his blue suit and his polite and dashing smile. I bet he's just trying to rub it in. Ugh, no, he isn't. That isn't how he is and that makes him look even better.

Mayday.

T'Challa's brown eyes still sparkle and he still has that nearly childish innocence to his face that is now covered with trimmed facial hair. Yep, he definitely looks good. I should have expected to see him here as eleven Wakandans were killed in Lagos, but now I look both embarrassed and unprepared. I haven't talked to him since that night. Maybe I was too ashamed to. Now I regret it because the last time he heard my voice was when I was drunk out of my gourd and spewing all sorts of things that I wish I never had. My face still burns a little, but T smiles at the two of us all the same.

Natasha slips me a curved smile that seems quietly encouraging before giving the Wakandan prince a polite one, "Oh, well... it's not always so flattering."

He squints at her as if kindly disbelieving, "You seem to be doing alright so far." His eyes turn to me and he nods, "Lisa."

My hand waves a bit and I nod back, failing at giving a smile, "Your Highness."

His eyes flicker at my voice saying his title before he goes on smartly, "Considering how both of you visited Capitol Hill that time ago," I smirk a little, glancing at Natasha as she gives a growing one of her own, "I wouldn't think either of you'd be particularly comfortable in this company."

"Well, I believe I can speak for the both of us when I say we're not." Natasha concedes.

"And that alone makes me glad you both are here."

"Really?" I shake my head a little, speaking up and catching his attention, "You don't approve of the Sokovia Accords, then?"

He looks thoughtful as he purses his lips and sways on his feet, "The Accords, yes." He nods firmly before slightly squinting his eyes and shaking his head, "The politics, not really."

Why am I not surprised?

"Two people in a room can get more done than a hundred."

"Unless you need to move a piano." A white-haired man steps up from beside me with a smile on his kind face.

Natasha and I immediately step off to the side and T'Challa bows slightly in reverence, "Baba."

"Yah." The king of Wakanda's face suddenly turns hard as he looks over, "Miss Stark. Ms. Romanoff."

"Your Highness." I address the king the same as I addressed T'Challa, making the young man stare at me a bit harder than before.

"King T'Chaka." Natasha's voice grows even more diplomatic as she bows her head a little, "Please, allow us to apologize for what happened in Nigeria."

"Thank you." His eyes soften as he looks between the two of us, "Lisa," I put on a smile and take his outstretched hands that kindly wrap around mine, "I am glad to see you are feeling yourself again."

Oh. He knows. So, either T'Challa told him or the news of the 'Great Stark Fall' made it all the way to the other side of the world. And I somehow doubt it was the former. I don't take his mention offensively, though; the king has never been rude or even remotely close to unkind to me. He just wasn't overly thrilled that I was involved with his son and heir to the Wakandan throne.

T'Challa gives his father a brief scolding look out of the corner of his eye, but I just laugh a little and nod, "As am I, King T'Chaka, as am I."

He gives a warm and fatherly smile before turning to talk to Natasha. T'Challa and I cautiously glance at each other again. Neither of us say anything for the moment, partly because we don't need to in order to communicate. He cocks his head at me a bit, clearly apologizing for his father's reference to my... I don't know what to call it. I dismissively shrug a little in response. After that, we know there isn't much else for the two of us to say. We know how we feel for each other. There's just way too much in the way ever do anything about it.

T surprises me though; he has a tendency to do that. He takes a half step forward and opens his mouth slightly, preparing to say something when a voice from the speaker calls us all to our seats.

"That is the future calling." He immediately returns to his original proper stance, speaking seriously, "Such a pleasure."

"Thank you." Natasha quietly gives a polite smile, bowing her head as she turns to leave but confusedly pauses when she glances my way.

Because my feet won't seem to move.

T'Challa and I stare at each other in a strange sense of calm, but my heart is pounding and my hands are shaking a little. I never used to be this nervous around him. It became so comfortable and natural like it was home. And now his father, the stinkin' king of Wakanda, is staring at me and I'm standing in the middle of the United Nations in Switzerland and I can't feel my fingertips. But then all of the butterflies go away and the blood rushes back through my legs as soon as T'Challa gives me a smile. It's polite and still not the usual he used to grant me with, but it's still enough to make my haze float away.

"Lisa?" Natasha takes my arm and briefly raises her eyebrows at me, "Are you ready to sit down?"

"Yes, of course." I clear my throat, smiling at the two Wakandans around me, "Lovely seeing you."

As Nat and I turn to walk away, she gives a nod and says lowly, "Rocky start, smooth end."

"Thanks." I puff out a breath, "Let's not do that ever again."

We all quietly take our seats behind a long rim of wooden desks, waiting for King T'Chaka to stand behind the podium to start off the signing.

The white-haired man who has always tried so hard to protect his elusive country steps up before us all, "When stolen Wakandan vibranium was used to make a terrible weapon, we in Wakanda were forced to question our legacy."

Legacy. God, everywhere I go I seem to be surrounded by the whole notion of legacy. For as long as I can remember, the Stark family has always gone on and on about what their legacy will be. Figures I'd fall for somebody who was just as worried about it.

"Those men and women killed in Nigeria were part of a goodwill mission from a country too long in the shadows." The strong and proud king goes on, making me really see where his son got his passion from, "We will not, however, let misfortune drive us back. We will fight to improve the world we wish to join. I am grateful to the Avengers for supporting this initiative..." 

My eyes dart from the king over to where his son stands by the wide glass windows, staring out at the streets down below. I smile as I think about how he's always been so caught up with anything but diplomacy which I guess I'm thankful for because that was really how we first met. My smile slowly crumbles, though, when I notice how rigid and calculating his stance looks. Something's wrong. I can barely pay attention to the king's last statement before T'Challa suddenly spins around with panic etched on his face.

His eyes meet mine in worry as he screams and begins running for his father, "Everybody get down!"

Panic of my own flies up in my chest as I instinctively stand and watch him leap for T'Chaka. I don't have time to see if he makes it in time before I feel hands grab onto my shoulders and Natasha throws the both of us down underneath our desk. There's no time to further protect ourselves before glass flies in every direction and fire shoots from behind us, licking up everyone's skin and curling up our necks. The blast screams and threatens to burst my eardrums, throwing my body forward and making me crash hard into a mixture of cement, metal, and wood.

The world is ringing in my ears and yet it seems slow and hot. Black smoke invades my lungs and I cough as I wildly try to push some wooden boards from my shoulders. When I look over, Natasha is wincing and slowly pushing herself up beside me. She is covered in thick ash and I imagine I must look the same, but she doesn't look to be bleeding. With that consolation in mind, I immediately whirl around and push a broken desk out of my way to see him.

T'Challa.

He's slowly crawling through the rubble towards his unmoving father. He grabs at the man's chest and lightly shakes him, trying to stir him into consciousness. His hands then shakily find his father's wrist and I can tell immediately that no pulse can be found by the horrific look that comes over his face. His eyes fill with tears and he once more grabs at his father's chest, speaking to him, trying to get him to wake up, to talk to him. Ash falls from above and fire blazes and people scream, but all I can see is them. My eyes fill with tears and my stomach feels sick as I push myself up to my shaky feet, wading through the debris and ash towards him. He cries as he holds to his father's shoulders, pulling him to his own chest and softly rocking him.

As I reach him, my knees are torn and bloody but I can't feel a thing. I gently place a hand on his arm, making him turn to look at me with wide and threatening eyes. My hand moves from his arm and I gently place it to his cheek, trying to let him know that I'm at least here for him. He suddenly grabs onto my shoulders and yanks me to him, wrapping his arms tightly around me. I'm surprised, but I hurriedly hug him back as he continues to breathe, plead, and weep. I hold the back of his head to my shoulder as I try to whisper something that will comfort him. But nothing will.

Nothing will.

♛♕♛

Smoke still lingers in the air, hanging in the form of a thick cloud above the UN building. Responders try pouring water onto the still burning and twisted building while helicopters fly overhead and reporters line along the yellow tape that closes off the scene. Ambulance and police sirens blare, adding to the chaos of people weeping and paramedics running around in hopes of helping whoever they can.

They say James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier, was the mastermind of this attack that killed at least twelve. They don't know where the girl is, the one HYDRA called 'Plan B', but they say she can't be too far from the man, if he has left her still alive, that is. They say a task force is going after the two murderers, but there are numerous people here today who don't want the task force to get the chance.

Two.

There are two others.

The men in black tactical gear and the other task operatives try to quell all the questions that belong to those who rush around in the dazed fear that follows after every terrorist attack.

Because that's what James and Svetlana Barnes are: terrorists.

Two people can be seen sitting on a bench, both a little bloodied and a little disoriented. Neither of them speak as they stare off past everyone, still caught up in the moment that took place not twenty minutes ago.

"I'm very sorry." Natasha speaks in a low voice, sincerity lacing itself deep into her tone as she steps over towards the bench.

Two dark heads sharply turn to look at the red-haired woman who briefly glances down in apology.

Lisa Stark slowly pulls her hand from Prince T'Challa's as his heavy gaze falls from the woman and to the ground a few feet from them. His fingers move to roll and twirl the metal ring that belongs to only a select few: the heirs to the throne of Wakanda.

"In my culture," T'Challa speaks smoothly, still staring off in a controlled daze, "death is not the end. It's more of a... stepping off point." He nods a bit as the two women watch him, "You reach out with both hands, and Bast and Sekhmet, they lead you into a green veldt where you can run forever."

The man's lips pull apart slightly, taking in a soft breath as the weight of his duty becomes more and more clear. Lisa gently leans her chin in his shoulder and his chin slightly tilts towards her, acknowledging her touch. 

Natasha swallows a little, nodding with a soft smile, "That sounds very peaceful."

T'Challa's jaw clenches as his eyes once again flicker to and from the woman's face, "My father thought so."

His movements suddenly change harsh as he slides the king's ring onto his trembling dark finger. 

"T." Lisa speaks quietly with her eyes slightly narrowed, a strange sort of defensiveness taking over her.

Only, the question remains: just who is she defending?

"I am not my father." The new king shakes his head as he does little to fight the rageful emotion building in his eyes.

"T'Challa." Natasha's voice suddenly slips into one of negotiation because that's all that this is to her now: negotiation.

Natasha is negotiating for Barnes and she's negotiating for her daughter, the child that she always wanted.

The redhead keeps her gaze steady and firm while she attempts to hold her tone level, but it comes out raspy all the same, "The Task Force will decide who brings in the Barnes'."

T'Challa's hands clench into fists around his new ring and his shoulders tighten as he smoothly stands to his feet. Lisa's eyes follow him as he does so, her jaw clenching and her breathing growing tighter.

His eyes stare darkly down at her, "Don't bother, Ms. Romanoff." His eyes turn distant, "I'll kill him myself."

Natasha's eyes narrow and Lisa's head tilts back as they watch the man walk away. Without another word and with a dark look in her own eyes, Lisa stiffly stands and walks in the opposite direction.

♕♕♕

    I stand in an emotionless daze, refusing to looking at my reflection in the glass as I stay perched by a window. What stares back at me is not me. It is a desperate shape of me and I refuse to see any part of it.

Not until this is over.

Not until I'm finally free of the strings that have always bound me.

    I try not to think. I know if I think then I'll surely fail. I can't fail. Not now.

    I take in a slow and measured breath as the time draws closer and they do too.

    It's time to remember.

    It's time to remember.

    Remember.

♛♕♛

    A being dressed entirely in matted black cuts through the air, harshly throwing her sharp arms around the fifteen year old Barnes child and catching her before she can run any farther. The young murderer shouts in a panic and her father looks quickly up in horror as the being's razor-blade like wings curl up the woman's black-covered back and arms and curves them up from the tunnel.

    The other being dressed in black leaps down into the tunnel, forcing the Winter Soldier to sprint on as his daughter is yanked out of view. The being with razor metal wings says nothing as she blasts them through the cold air. The Barnes child shrieks while they fly over the streets and the panicked cars, throwing her legs and twisting her back in hopes of being let free. When the girl throws back a hard elbow that catches the being's chin, she only briefly twitches before her rounded black lenses set into her lifeless black mask narrow in anger.

The being suddenly twists and then the two go spiraling over and over and over, severing through the air like a knife. Svetlana Barnes screams in dizziness, sealing her eyes closed as the being pushes faster and harder. The being then snaps her own arms in, curling them around Svetlana's neck in an attempt to seal her away into unconsciousness. The child assassin struggles against the stronger being's hold, gasping as they sweep over the open tunnel. The child suddenly launches her feet back and crashes her booted feet into the being's mask, splitting the thing up the center and throwing her far away. 

Svetlana is dropped down to the concrete road amongst the cars and sirens; her body hitting the ground hard. Still in the air, the being shouts while her body flies back and crashes into another black form that is racing after the motorcycle that zooms past them. The two bodies entangle wildly and they angrily shove at each other, trying to be freed while they continue to race after their targets. Steve and Sam quickly pursue the others, trying to stop the beings and the surrounding police. Svetlana is still trying to push herself up and grasp her bearings when suddenly a metal arm wraps around her waist and then she's being yanked through the air once more.

"Are you alright?!" Bucky yells back, trying to get her onto the backseat of the motorcycle he has apparently commandeered.

Her arms hurriedly wrap around her father's chest, shouting back over the sound she can't hear, "I will be much more better when we're not here!"

"Just hold on!"

Red and blue sirens flash all around them as the motorcycle careens from side to the side, cutting through the racing cars and away from all those who follow behind. The beings in black are still entangled as the man prepares himself against her form. The woman hisses and then shouts when the man leaps off of her.

As he stretches his claws out for the assassins, Bucky throws a hand back and catches the man tightly around the throat. He chokes and gags before throwing his feet out onto the wall and then forcing the bike onto its side. Svetlana shrieks and pulls herself away from the ground. As Bucky throws out his hand, the man climbs up the back of the motorcycle once more, but he doesn't get the chance to strike.

"Get off!" Svetlana shouts, throwing her foot back and kicking the man from the back of their motorcycle and onto his feet.

As the woman in black flies closer, she scoffs and angrily shakes her head as the man lies in wait of her. As he jumps off a car, the woman smirks and ducks out of his reach, forcing him to fly over her head and, in turn, latch onto Sam Wilson and his set of wings instead. The woman swoops by the side of Steve's car and shoots at his tire, trying to make the man slow so she can get her chance.

So she can finally get her chance.

It doesn't go as planned though. Nothing ever goes as planned because, suddenly, Bucky tosses up a rounded explosive that latches onto the overhang above her. Cement and tiles shoot in every direction, making the woman flip out of control and watch as her opponent in black flies past her. He doesn't fully reach the father and daughter still driving the motorcycle, but he gets far enough to slash their tires and soon the two assassins are tumbling onto the road.

The two beings in black land down onto the ground, but the woman is faster than the man at the moment. In cut and brisk movements, she races towards the murderer and slides to a stop over his fallen form. She has her chance. She has to take it. She's got to take it and then something sharp and red flashes within her brain, startling her so much that she nearly forgets her purpose there.

It was 7:01 p.m.

"Help my granddaughter a-and my wife. Please. Help."

With a sharp gasp and her eyes squeezed shut, the woman raises her glowing hand towards his face. The man in black suddenly sprints up and gives the woman a hard kick in the side, making her fly off. She bares her teeth in fury, spinning her body around and glaring darkly across her forehead. The man in the cat-like armor raises his claws towards the Winter Soldier before he too is tackled and thrown away.

All those on the ground eagerly leap up, breathing heavily as they glare darkly at one another. Bucky keeps his shoulder slightly in front of his daughter, but this won't keep her safe from the enemies that are spilling in from all sides. Steve has his arms spread out, trying to keep a peace between his best friend and niece and the unknowns standing across from him. The woman in black, however, has no intention of keeping the peace when she steps forward.

She's absolutely ready to finish her mission when suddenly a man in black and gray metal suit plummets down onto the road in front of her, making a loud thud as he does. The woman immediately comes to a stop and the man raises his thrusters at the two groups. Black SUVS pull up on all sides of them as men in black uniforms raise their weapons, training their barrels upon their heads.

"Stand down, now!" Rhodey's gun trains on all of them.

Neither Bucky nor Svet move, breathing heavily as they refuse to take their eyes from the beings in black. Steve clamps his shield back to his back, straightening from his defensive posture while the unknown man looks around to find he's trapped.

Rhodey then looks sharply over at the two people wearing the black armor, "Take off the masks!"

The woman stiffens and hesitates for just a moment before she angrily yanks off her now split mask. The brown hair of none other than Lisa Stark falls to her shoulders and her blue eyes hold nothing but bitterness. Rhodey and Steve's eyes widen in shock and confusion while Svetlana's eyes only squint slightly, remembering having seen the young woman so many years ago in Washington. Lisa says nothing in defense of explanation, only clenching her fists in anger of having failed.

"Congratulations, Lees and Cap." Rhodey sounds so bitterly disappointed in them as he spits, "You're both criminals."

Lisa grits down hard onto her teeth, her eyes slicing from her uncle and then over to the still unknown man that stands beside her.

The soldiers converge on them all, yelling orders in German as they move to force their hands behind their backs. Svet looks over at her father with wide and terrified eyes as they come closer. The first one that touches her receives a hard backhand across the face and the men shout louder, raising their weapons to point directly at Bucky's head.

"Buck." Steve drops his voice, "This is the only way out of this one."

Bucky tightens his jaw and Svet closes her eyes, giving a soft nod of understanding. The father and daughter are thrown down to the ground and metal handcuffs are locked around the girl's skinny and pale wrists.

Lisa blinks and looks away as her own hands are torn behind her back and handcuffed. Her gaze lifts back up to the unknown man as he moves carefully. His hands rest at the bottom of his mask and then slowly he pulls it from around his face.

The face behind the mask makes Lisa Stark catch her breath and shudder back a little.

It had to be him.

Of course, it had to be him.

T'Challa, the prince of Wakanda.

And that is my first crossover chapter, my friends! Whew, I have no problem in saying that it was a real piece of work. I hope I did it justice! Let me know your thoughts! We got some good T'Challa moments in here that I was crazy happy about! And what is all going on with Lisa? Why in the world is she after Bucky? And what was she talking about with Peggy and then Michael? A lot going on here... Let me hear your theories!

Go check out my corresponding chapter in The Resurrection Overture - Chapter Nine: No Such Thing As Safety!

Funny Thingamabob:

Oooh Sam ahahaha